Something about Volgin’s reaction to the cadaver pleased the Fury in ways he could not fully explain. It was indifferent nonchalance, casual detachment, and typically Yevgeny Borisovitch. The value of human like was negligible, unless it was someone who was particularly useful to him.
The cosmonaut had flourished at Groznyj Grad, with such indifferent commanders. The destruction of the greenhouse would only be a footnote on some official report.
Lieutenant Io nudged the Fury, rousing him from his thoughts. “So they found his equipment hacked off and shoved down his throat?”
“Yes.”
“They should let Ivan Raikov have a look.” Io whispered, a cruel smile spreading over his thin, pale lips. “He could probably make a positive identification by the curve of the cock.”
The Fury did not even bother with an attempt to hide his laughter, it was better to let the others simply speculate why the lunatic was laughing. “No no. They’ll have to blindfold him and shove it down his throat before he’ll have any idea who it once belonged to.”
The Lieutenant snorted, but took a sudden interest in his boots when Volgin looked their way.
“As Io and I were saying,” The Fury spoke, taking a few steps toward Volgin, gloved hands raised in mock surrender. “My men are already two light-years ahead of the Ocelot squad. I sent them to find the soldiers who typically patrol this area, and Major Krauss as well… since the proverbial skeleton was found in his closet.”
He looked around, surveying the burned out greenhouse as if for the first time, light gleaming ominously across the arch of his helmet. “The Major should have been more careful about storing the barrels of fertilizer so close to the heater. I warned him. Twice.”
Though the cosmonaut had, truthfully, warned the German twice, it had nothing to do with keeping noxious chemicals near open fires.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-24 03:34 am (UTC)Something about Volgin’s reaction to the cadaver pleased the Fury in ways he could not fully explain. It was indifferent nonchalance, casual detachment, and typically Yevgeny Borisovitch. The value of human like was negligible, unless it was someone who was particularly useful to him.
The cosmonaut had flourished at Groznyj Grad, with such indifferent commanders. The destruction of the greenhouse would only be a footnote on some official report.
Lieutenant Io nudged the Fury, rousing him from his thoughts. “So they found his equipment hacked off and shoved down his throat?”
“Yes.”
“They should let Ivan Raikov have a look.” Io whispered, a cruel smile spreading over his thin, pale lips. “He could probably make a positive identification by the curve of the cock.”
The Fury did not even bother with an attempt to hide his laughter, it was better to let the others simply speculate why the lunatic was laughing. “No no. They’ll have to blindfold him and shove it down his throat before he’ll have any idea who it once belonged to.”
The Lieutenant snorted, but took a sudden interest in his boots when Volgin looked their way.
“As Io and I were saying,” The Fury spoke, taking a few steps toward Volgin, gloved hands raised in mock surrender. “My men are already two light-years ahead of the Ocelot squad. I sent them to find the soldiers who typically patrol this area, and Major Krauss as well… since the proverbial skeleton was found in his closet.”
He looked around, surveying the burned out greenhouse as if for the first time, light gleaming ominously across the arch of his helmet. “The Major should have been more careful about storing the barrels of fertilizer so close to the heater. I warned him. Twice.”
Though the cosmonaut had, truthfully, warned the German twice, it had nothing to do with keeping noxious chemicals near open fires.