Second Victim [February 17, 1964, 10:00 pm - continued from Groznyj Grad Tour, Part II]

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

[Completed - continued in Second Victim, Part II]

Kassian let the badge Liadov had tossed fall to the ground next to him, instead of making an attempt to catch it, keeping his hands on his rifle and his gaze trained.

"Sorry," he said, quickly. "No disrespect, Major."

He knew it would look that way anyway, given his background, and general disdain for the MVD. Things had changed, though, in ways he hadn't even sorted out yet.

But a sniper who lost focus, even for a moment, was usually sooner or later a dead sniper. Kassian had a faint scar at his hairline that attested to that sobering truth, save for the fact he'd been extremely lucky.

He kept what Liadov had just said about a second body in the back of his mind, a cold and remote fact. Detachment. A sniper's armor against the world.

Or at least Kassian's armor, though lately it had developed a few chinks.

The knowledge that he hadn't seen or talked to Isaev all day, not since they'd woken up that morning, lurked like a shadow in peripheral vision, one that was just a little too defined to ignore.

"I'll use it when I need it," he told Liadov, referring to his MVD clearance. "Go ahead get back inside. I'll cover you, and report when I've reached someone."

Technically, he should have called Imanov first, given that they were partners in this venture. Or at least tried Ocelot's frequency as the MENT had requested. Either would have been acceptable variations on standard operating procedure, but as Liadov retreated to the door, Kassian tuned his CODEC to Isaev's frequency instead.

Comments

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

It was the first thing Rakitin had said in half an hour, and it made absolutely no sense.

Under the composite lab table, Nika turned his head with an incredulous and withering look of utter incomprehension.

"..What?"

His expression shifted abruptly.

"You're not still eating those mushrooms," he accused.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

A certain quality to the tone made Ippolit abandon his observation of the soldier spirit momentarily. Liadov was looking at him as though Rakitin had just handed him a live armadillo.

Every time he thought they'd reached a tentative understanding, Liadov made no sense at all.

"No," Ippolit said, puzzled but honest. The effect of the glowing mushroom had worn off after a good night's sleep, with the only lingering effect being occasionally thinking in colors that he was fairly certain weren't supposed to be in the visible spectrum. He'd made a mental note to be more careful about accepting food from homical maniacs with gasmasks. "It's more or less expected that an soldier's spirit in unrest settle in a place like this. This is unusual behavior, that's all."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

"...You think Captain Irinarhov is a ghost?"

Nika stared, then he started laughing, despite the gravity of the situation.

"Believe me, Irinarhov is all too real."

He snorted, shaking his head, patting Rakitin on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"I should know," he said. "I almost sent him to the Gulags."

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"Oh," Ippolit said, a little crestfallen. He was so sure he had been feeling a strange outer energy coming from around here somewhere. His senses must be off.

He nearly jumped at the unexpected contact when Liadov patted his shoulder, and almost missed the significance of his words.

"You did?" Ippolit looked at Liadov curiously. It was difficult to adjust his thinking of the preternaturally silent soldier to prosaic physical terms. "He doesn't seem to be holding a grudge."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

"It was a troika. A panel. I was the dissenter," murmured Liadov, distractedly, trying to listen for any clue of what was happening outside the lab. "I spared him the trip."

He shrugged.

"And now he's guarding my life. Ironic, isn't it?"

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"I see," Rakitin said.

He stared out through the open door. He hadn't heard gunshots or a fwoosh. That had to be a good sign.

"Funny, how the past comes back to haunt us."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

Nika turned his head at the choice of words.

"...He's not a ghost, Polya. Young Pioneers' honor."

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"I believe you, I believe you," Rakitin said. "Poor phrasing."

He relaxed somewhat. There was the sound of faint conversation from the hallway, something that as far as he knew rarely existed concurrent with someone being set on fire.

"What's going on out there?" Ippolit wondered. "He's late."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

"This is ludicrous," said Liadov, finally, sighing. "I'm getting up."

He glanced at Rakitin.

"You can stay down there if you want. But no one's coming in here. Iriarhov would have gone down by now, and he wouldn't have gone down without a hail of gunfire."

He glanced at the table.

"I say we get back to work. You said there were some tiny fragments of rock that you brushed off the limbs. I wonder...might it be consistent with the surrounding rock outcrops?"

He shrugged.

"Any lead you can give us- fibers, hairs. It would narrow down the search to either on base or off."

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"Might as well," Ippolit said, getting up. If something got past their guardian sp-- sniper, there wasn't much chance the flimsy lab table would stand up to them, though it would certainly try.

He transferred one of the rock fragments to a petri dish and examined it beneath the microscope.

"Basalt. It could have come from the caves near here."