The cosmonaut heard his soldiers before he saw them: the heavy footsteps on the concrete stairs, the rattle of equipment echoing down the narrow hallway. They arrived by hovercraft, he realized at last, landed on the roof and took the fire escape through the laboratory, down the steps, to the main hall. Unconventional, but effective.
“Haven’t missed much.” Phobos offered, opening an eye and smiling to his comrades. “‘S the most boring movie night ever.”
The Fury nudged him, and he nodded, taking his place between Deimos and Pasiphaë.
“There’s been another murder.” The woman blurted at once, “I was with investigators Rakitin and Liadov when the news came.”
“Liadov?” Deimos questioned with a sour scowl. “You fucking traitorous whore!”
“Shove it up your ass.” She hissed back leaning out of line, “I reported for my inquisition like I was told to. I’m not a whore, your mother’s the only whore I know.”
The other flame soldier stepped out of line, ready for a fight, until he saw the glare that the Fury was giving him
“Shut up.” The cosmonaut interrupted. “Both of you, shut the hell up.” He wouldn’t have cared one way or another if the two got into a bloody brawl right there in the main hall in front of the entire populous of Groznyj, if not for the words Katerina had spoke only moments before. “Another body?”
“Yes Sir, they said they recovered limbs that don’t belong to Molokov. I saw them for myself, sitting in a bucket of ice. The limbs, I mean, not the investigators.”
Phobos giggled at the mental image; Io only smirked.
Taking a deep breath, the Fury looked up at Volgin. Rakitin and Liadov hovered around him like a bad omen, only confirming what the woman had reported. Another murder.
“They’re planning a search for the body,” she continued, “but they won’t find anything without aerial support. Not in the dark. If we were to get the hovercraft in the air…”
But the cosmonaut was already nodding in agreement. “Yes.” Hurriedly, he was uncoiling the tubes of his respirator, zipping the front of his space suit.
The cosmonaut wasn’t sure what compelled him to agree. He rather liked the investigators, even as abrasive and insulting as the interview had been. The thought of a psychopath stalking soldiers, assaulting, killing, hacking without reason…it bothered some part of him that still remained human. It went against his mission of purity by fire. He wasn’t willing to stand idly by when the search lights of the hovercraft fleet would lend illumination and guidance to the search.
“Why?” Deimos asked at last.
The Fury took one last drink of his coffee before securing his respirator, handing the half-full cup off to Phobos. “Because it’s the right thing to do in this situation.” Beyond the Ocelot squad, the doors opened and the remainder of the Cobra Unit entered the hall. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d held in since hearing the gory news. The Fear, pushing the End along in his wheel chair, the Joy and the outsider, with the Pain, obvious among the common soldier. “Imagine what it would be like if it was your comrade who was lost. Think of what it would be like if you lost Io to the sick son of a bitch doing all of this. That is why we’ll help tonight, Dmitry, in spite of your hatred for Liadov.”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-06-17 05:10 am (UTC)“Haven’t missed much.” Phobos offered, opening an eye and smiling to his comrades. “‘S the most boring movie night ever.”
The Fury nudged him, and he nodded, taking his place between Deimos and Pasiphaë.
“There’s been another murder.” The woman blurted at once, “I was with investigators Rakitin and Liadov when the news came.”
“Liadov?” Deimos questioned with a sour scowl. “You fucking traitorous whore!”
“Shove it up your ass.” She hissed back leaning out of line, “I reported for my inquisition like I was told to. I’m not a whore, your mother’s the only whore I know.”
The other flame soldier stepped out of line, ready for a fight, until he saw the glare that the Fury was giving him
“Shut up.” The cosmonaut interrupted. “Both of you, shut the hell up.” He wouldn’t have cared one way or another if the two got into a bloody brawl right there in the main hall in front of the entire populous of Groznyj, if not for the words Katerina had spoke only moments before. “Another body?”
“Yes Sir, they said they recovered limbs that don’t belong to Molokov. I saw them for myself, sitting in a bucket of ice. The limbs, I mean, not the investigators.”
Phobos giggled at the mental image; Io only smirked.
Taking a deep breath, the Fury looked up at Volgin. Rakitin and Liadov hovered around him like a bad omen, only confirming what the woman had reported. Another murder.
“They’re planning a search for the body,” she continued, “but they won’t find anything without aerial support. Not in the dark. If we were to get the hovercraft in the air…”
But the cosmonaut was already nodding in agreement. “Yes.” Hurriedly, he was uncoiling the tubes of his respirator, zipping the front of his space suit.
The cosmonaut wasn’t sure what compelled him to agree. He rather liked the investigators, even as abrasive and insulting as the interview had been. The thought of a psychopath stalking soldiers, assaulting, killing, hacking without reason…it bothered some part of him that still remained human. It went against his mission of purity by fire. He wasn’t willing to stand idly by when the search lights of the hovercraft fleet would lend illumination and guidance to the search.
“Why?” Deimos asked at last.
The Fury took one last drink of his coffee before securing his respirator, handing the half-full cup off to Phobos. “Because it’s the right thing to do in this situation.” Beyond the Ocelot squad, the doors opened and the remainder of the Cobra Unit entered the hall. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d held in since hearing the gory news. The Fear, pushing the End along in his wheel chair, the Joy and the outsider, with the Pain, obvious among the common soldier. “Imagine what it would be like if it was your comrade who was lost. Think of what it would be like if you lost Io to the sick son of a bitch doing all of this. That is why we’ll help tonight, Dmitry, in spite of your hatred for Liadov.”