The Sorrow spoke, and the Fury was certain he was the only one who could hear him. It was as calming as the most powerful of sedatives. A transmission to guide the cosmonaut back to the shores of sanity.
Slowly, he lowered his flamethrower, turning away from the Ocelot squad, searching for the source of the voice. There was no disturbance in the atmosphere, no ripple of light or disembodied spirit medium as he would have expected. Rather, he could feel the icy coldness closing upon him, like spindly skeletal fingers pressed ever so gently against his jugular vein.
It was comforting.
“Thank you.” The Fury intoned to the empty night sky, still disoriented as though waking from a trance.
A few of the flame soldiers stepped back, unsure what to expect from their temperamental leader, who seemed to be off in a world all of his own creation.
“Captain, are you alright?” Io asked finally, taking a step forward.
“No.” The Fury replied, laughing softly behind his respirator. “But that which does not kill me…” he trailed off; there was no need to finish the old adage. They all knew it too well, his patrol. “Phobos and Deimos: your mission is to track down that soldier that was so hell bent on defending this place. Find out what he knows. Iapetus and Pasiphaë, I want you to find our favorite fascist and interrogate him by any means you deem appropriate.”
The two soldiers glanced at each other, Iapetus nodding and Pasiphaë grinning as she shouldered her rocket launcher. “Any means necessary.” She laughed, delighted by the prospect.
“Io, you stay here. The rest of you are dismissed. Now go!”
The patrol departed, and the Fury and his lieutenant exchanged knowing glances as Volgin approached the burned out ruins. Right on time, and the cosmonaut found delight in the fact that the Colonel demanded answers from Ocelot first, and not the soldiers notorious for murder and arson. Mostly though, he was content to stand back and watch, and Io remained nearby with his icy smile, content like a child who had been allowed to stay up an hour past bed time.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-22 06:44 am (UTC)The Sorrow spoke, and the Fury was certain he was the only one who could hear him. It was as calming as the most powerful of sedatives. A transmission to guide the cosmonaut back to the shores of sanity.
Slowly, he lowered his flamethrower, turning away from the Ocelot squad, searching for the source of the voice. There was no disturbance in the atmosphere, no ripple of light or disembodied spirit medium as he would have expected. Rather, he could feel the icy coldness closing upon him, like spindly skeletal fingers pressed ever so gently against his jugular vein.
It was comforting.
“Thank you.” The Fury intoned to the empty night sky, still disoriented as though waking from a trance.
A few of the flame soldiers stepped back, unsure what to expect from their temperamental leader, who seemed to be off in a world all of his own creation.
“Captain, are you alright?” Io asked finally, taking a step forward.
“No.” The Fury replied, laughing softly behind his respirator. “But that which does not kill me…” he trailed off; there was no need to finish the old adage. They all knew it too well, his patrol. “Phobos and Deimos: your mission is to track down that soldier that was so hell bent on defending this place. Find out what he knows. Iapetus and Pasiphaë, I want you to find our favorite fascist and interrogate him by any means you deem appropriate.”
The two soldiers glanced at each other, Iapetus nodding and Pasiphaë grinning as she shouldered her rocket launcher. “Any means necessary.” She laughed, delighted by the prospect.
“Io, you stay here. The rest of you are dismissed. Now go!”
The patrol departed, and the Fury and his lieutenant exchanged knowing glances as Volgin approached the burned out ruins. Right on time, and the cosmonaut found delight in the fact that the Colonel demanded answers from Ocelot first, and not the soldiers notorious for murder and arson. Mostly though, he was content to stand back and watch, and Io remained nearby with his icy smile, content like a child who had been allowed to stay up an hour past bed time.