The Fury waited patiently as the Major and the sniper discussed him, dissected his every thought, speculated on his motivations. He listened mostly out of curiosity, only picking a few words here and there over the wind and dull roar of his jetpack.
Isaev appeared, suddenly, unexpectedly. Even from his side of the smoked glass, the cosmonaut could tell how pale and unkempt the lieutenant was. He questioned for a moment perhaps one of his men had done something to upset the Ocelot soldier; Deimos found sadistic delight in such perverse endeavors.
He was fully prepared to take his leave and let them settle it themselves; the thrill of standing among the smoldering ruins was too much temptation. The soldiers were disbursing anyway, no need to hang around --literally and figuratively-- any longer and waste rocket fuel.
The cosmonaut had not expected his own lieutenant to burst through the rooftop door and run towards him, shouting and flailing. Phobos and Deimos followed, then Iapetus, Pasiphaë with her RPG-7 slung over her shoulder, and a few more flame soldiers already struggling to replace their gasmasks.
“A corpse!” Io shouted, “they’ve found a corpse in the greenhouse!”
“It was all clear when we departed.” Deimos offered, stopping just short of the ledge where the cosmonaut hovered. “We checked it three times, top to bottom.”
The Fury considered his words, then nodded. There was no reason for disbelief; they would have admitted, Deimos especially, to murder. Bragged about it, even. If they had gone so far as to drag the unconscious man who put up such a struggle back to the East Wing so that he would not perish in the blast, then they certainly had nothing to do with the alleged corpse.
“Meet me there.” The Fury ordered. Turning, he flew off into the approaching darkness, leaving the Krasnogorje patrol standing there in the thick black smoke that remained.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-15 06:33 am (UTC)Isaev appeared, suddenly, unexpectedly. Even from his side of the smoked glass, the cosmonaut could tell how pale and unkempt the lieutenant was. He questioned for a moment perhaps one of his men had done something to upset the Ocelot soldier; Deimos found sadistic delight in such perverse endeavors.
He was fully prepared to take his leave and let them settle it themselves; the thrill of standing among the smoldering ruins was too much temptation. The soldiers were disbursing anyway, no need to hang around --literally and figuratively-- any longer and waste rocket fuel.
The cosmonaut had not expected his own lieutenant to burst through the rooftop door and run towards him, shouting and flailing. Phobos and Deimos followed, then Iapetus, Pasiphaë with her RPG-7 slung over her shoulder, and a few more flame soldiers already struggling to replace their gasmasks.
“A corpse!” Io shouted, “they’ve found a corpse in the greenhouse!”
“It was all clear when we departed.” Deimos offered, stopping just short of the ledge where the cosmonaut hovered. “We checked it three times, top to bottom.”
The Fury considered his words, then nodded. There was no reason for disbelief; they would have admitted, Deimos especially, to murder. Bragged about it, even. If they had gone so far as to drag the unconscious man who put up such a struggle back to the East Wing so that he would not perish in the blast, then they certainly had nothing to do with the alleged corpse.
“Meet me there.” The Fury ordered. Turning, he flew off into the approaching darkness, leaving the Krasnogorje patrol standing there in the thick black smoke that remained.