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Life went on.
Heat and noise, startling after the cold open space of the courtyard, enveloped Liadov and Rakitin as they walked into the mess hall. It was a little early yet, and the building was half full of soldiers boasting, arguing, laughing. It was easy to slip under the surface, though Ippolit was peripherally aware that he still merited a few odd looks. He was used to that.
It was an opportunity to recover from the inquest, and Rakitin was grateful. Isaev's calm stare had been as disorienting as Irinarhov's forgiveness. The interview had been bad enough, but it hadn't disturbed him to this extent. Rakitin hadn't been been given that quality of fear by a man's mere presence since...
...since a long time ago.
The chill was leaching from his mind, now, with the awareness that the case had taken a temporary reprieve. Nika seemed relieved as well.
The corpse would be as dead in the morning.
Rakitin felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. The day was done. It was unlikely the rest of the evening would provide any especial trials.
By the time they took their places at the accustomed table, Polya had regained the equilibrium to find it all darkly funny. Some days it was as though someone had written half a tragedy and half a farce and thrown the pages in the air.
"So," he said to Nika conversationally, "I hear Molokov's replacement came in today."
December 18 2007, 07:49:45 UTC 4 years ago
"Pardon?" he asked, absently. "Oh. Molokov."
AKA the corpus delecti.
He lilted an eyebrow in mild incredulity.
"You mean the German imported himself a new piece of ass?"
December 18 2007, 08:57:42 UTC 4 years ago
Krauss had been there, Polya thought, but he hadn't precisely been paying attention.
"I wouldn't put it past him. From what I've heard, Krauss has all the attention span of an epileptic seagull."
Polya sipped at his tea meditatively. Likely Nika was as distracted as he was. It was good, to share light words with a comrade.
He was vaguely aware that, sometime when he hadn't been paying attention, for the first time in recent memory, he had become comfortable with someone.
"This guy doesn't look like the sort to go for it. But then again, who knows?"
Polya gave an obscure smile, a little sadly.
"They say you can't tell anything from appearances."
December 18 2007, 18:04:31 UTC 4 years ago
"I've never believed that," he declared, taking an idle sip. "I know how people love to say it."
"You can't judge a book by its cover..." He waved his hand. "Looks can be deceiving."
He leaned back, surveying the room that teemed with soldiers and officers, tacitly segregated. The Ocelots in their northwest corner, holding court amongst themselves. No doubt discussing the turn of recent events, and the inquisition they'd undergone. The mood should have been sober, but it wasn't exactly that.
More subdued. The expressions and exchanges he witnessed were still good natured and amicable.
Majors Ocelot, Krauss and Raikov, along with the Black Ops man- now in major rank insignia, a gargantuan and obvious slav. Nika frowned. Interesting.
The regular GRU, almost window-dressing. An expendable Spetsnaz troop that seemed inexhaustible, or interchangeable. He wasn't sure which.
And the Flame Soldiers, at their standard table, of course. Misanthropic and inward-turned to a man, and a woman. Making no secret of this to the objective eye.
To the left were nurses chatting with secretaries and coyly fending off half-hearted passes from the soldiers. The men in question probably spent their nights in each other's arms, either for preference or lack of complication, and one only needed to observe slightly more acutely to know this; intent was not present in the actions they took.
"No," he said slowly. "I don't believe a word of it. Here's a new phrase for you. If it quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, don't call it a peacock."
December 19 2007, 00:59:39 UTC 4 years ago
"You mean no one's ever surprised you? Turned out not to match his plumage?"
Personally, Polya constantly found his first judgements overturned. Undoubtably Nika's were more accurate.
December 19 2007, 02:37:55 UTC 4 years ago
"Of course not," he said. "I'm always correct."
Then a slow smile broke over his face, turning into a rare grin.
He shook his head.
"No one's right all the time."
Nika looked at Polya calmly.
"But the truth is, one is rarely surprised when he looks closely at the offered plumage, not just with cursory eyes, but with discerning eyes- and with all his senses, considering context, history and probably motivation."
December 19 2007, 06:46:42 UTC 4 years ago
"You'll have to tell me what you think of this Utrov, if you meet him. My own impressions have a bad track record."
He shot a surreptitious look to either side, confirmed that that no one was listening, and lowered his tone regardless. He grinned sheepishly.
"At first glance, I actually thought Isaev and our sniper were...closer than comrades."
December 19 2007, 06:54:10 UTC 4 years ago
"Which Utrov?" asked Nika, confused, setting down his teacup. "What are we talking about?"
The other statement was more clear.
Liadov paused, shrugged and poured more hot water into his cup, pushing it aside and letting it steep.
"They are, to be sure."
December 19 2007, 07:21:13 UTC 4 years ago
Nika's words made their way to his brain.
Polya blinked.
"What?"
December 19 2007, 07:48:00 UTC 4 years ago
"Oooh, sounds good, whatever it is," he said, in an exaggerated whisper.
Over the back of the pathologist's head, he tossed the MVD major a wink.
Aryol's eyes gleamed dark, full of boundless good nature and a particular easy warmth. He hadn't seen the major since he'd brought him breakfast and let him sleep in, but Aryol had been thinking about him that day, on and off.
He put his tray down next to the pathologist, across from the major.
There was no one else at the table. Aryol wondered if they always sat alone.
"So, what's going on?"
He sat down, looking between them, still smiling and looking faintly amused.
"Did something interesting happen?"
December 19 2007, 08:07:02 UTC 4 years ago
Polya jumped at the unexpected voice behind him, banging his knees against the table.
By the time he saw he was Nika's Black Ops lover, he was already laughing.
The thought crossed Polya's mind that he should find an excuse to extricate himself and leave them alone, but Aryol had already sat beside him, looking entirely at ease. A little close, to Rakitin's way of thinking, but then, he tended to keep a zone of space around himself that anyone else might find excessive.
Polya relaxed. It was impossible not to like the guy.
"Not until you scared the hell out of me." He grinned. "Fuck, you walk like a cat."
December 19 2007, 08:11:47 UTC 4 years ago
Liadov paused, laughing.
He rubbed his brow.
"Yes, well...how are you, comrade?"
December 19 2007, 08:48:24 UTC 4 years ago
"I'm good," he said, "except when I'm bad."
He took a sip of his coffee and smiled over the rim, offhanded and easy.
"You know how it is."
Aryol caught and held the major's gaze for a moment.
"How about you, comrade?"
His eyes were briefly intent, but after a moment schooled his features into a more decorous expression and turned to include the pathologist.
"Was it a good day?"
December 19 2007, 09:33:00 UTC 4 years ago
It was a good word to employ when you didn't know the name of the man whose ass you'd been fucking for three solid nights.
Or indeed, when you didn't know the name of the man who'd been fucking your ass for three solid nights.
Yes, very useful indeed.
Liadov paused delicately, adjusting his MVD cufflinks in a habitual gesture.
"It went as well as can be expected," he said.
There was no harm in telling the soldier, he thought.
The Ocelots had been interrogated and debriefed, and Liadov knew it would be all over the base by morning anyway.
"There's been another murder. A little less grisly, but no less depraved."
He glanced at Rakitin.
"So...about average?"
December 19 2007, 09:57:23 UTC 4 years ago
And here they were sitting, drinking tea, being so calm about it all. Aryol guessed that you didn't have to be in Black Ops to enjoy a little black humor. He knew it was true of the major, but the pathologist had seemed quieter and more serious to him at first.
He looked between them again.
"How depraved?"
He leaned forward.
"Only average? Can I see the body?"
December 19 2007, 10:01:55 UTC 4 years ago
Liadov considered, then leveled his hand and tipped it in the universal gesture for so-so.
Nika wryed his lips.
"I've seen more depraved things done to a man's body."
His eyes avoided contact but his tone spoke entendre.
"I would certainly let you see it- but that's Lieutenant Rakitin's domain. He'd need to give his blessing."
December 19 2007, 10:09:52 UTC 4 years ago
He looked across at the Major with mild eyes.
"I've had a lot of experience in the area, actually."
His tone was entirely blithe.
After a moment, his gaze shifted to Rakitin, and he smiled reassuringly.
"Because of my Black Ops training, that is."
December 19 2007, 10:11:56 UTC 4 years ago
He rested his elbows on the table, looking down at the blank, wavering surface of his tea.
"No marks at all."
He looked up at Aryol, and gave a small, friendly smile.
"You must have seen your share, eh?"
December 19 2007, 18:05:28 UTC 4 years ago
"Well...you know," he said. "I don't like to brag."
He looked up and grinned.
"Anyway...yeah, I'd be interested. Professional curiosity."
Aryol knew a man who could kill and leave no marks at all.
He began to eat more in earnest now, though politely, pausing to chew, setting his fork down between bites. Aryol looked across the table at the major.
"So this was the sex killer, right? Same deal?"
It occurred to Aryol then that the major probably didn't want to talk about it.
Aryol's gaze turned slow and thoughtful.
The major looked like he could use a neck rub, Aryol thought.
Among other things.
"Long day, huh?" he murmured.
December 19 2007, 19:57:49 UTC 4 years ago
He paused and toyed with a sugar cube, before tossing it into his tea.
"For the moment, we have no overwhelming evidence against him," Nika said carefully. "It's all circumstantial. But then, Polya hasn't finished analyzing all the scene samples yet. Anything could happen."
He tried to sound objective, unconcerned. He made no mention of Isaev's alibi, as that was best left unstated beyond the room- both because of the implications to the perception of their comradeship, and because the more Kassian's statement became known, the more scrutiny it would bear.
Someone might have seen Irinarhov leaving his wing, or worse yet, his room.
Liadov smiled.
"Polya has proved to have an unexpected and abrupt talent for asking penetrating questions."
December 19 2007, 20:50:50 UTC 4 years ago
He didn't miss the laden glances that passed between the other two.
Shooting range tonight, Rakitin decided.
Late.
"That Isaev..."
He folded his hands under his chin, brooding. A single glance from the man was all it had taken to shatter his nerves, and he still didn't understand why.
"Why do I get the feeling that we could have his prints on a bloody knife and he'd still slip out of harm's way?"
4 years ago
4 years ago
4 years ago
December 20 2007, 03:34:28 UTC 4 years ago
His tray of food pushed off to the side, half eaten, it grew cold and undesirable.
He wanted more than anything to disappear at that exact moment, like sugar dissipating into warm coffee.
There was no mistaking the man who sat down across from him like some apparition from his nightmares. He wanted to believe that it was impossible, that the phantom stranger had not returned from the place Krauss had sent him, because there was no returning from those places.
Deliberately, Krauss inched closer to Ocelot, keeping his eyes averted as he nudged his cup of tea along.
All he could think about was running for the door, but it was futile. Limping along with his bad hip, he might make it to the table occupied with flammable lunatics before the Lynx closed the distance in two massive steps, three if Krauss was lucky, caught him with gargantuan hands and snapped his neck with aberrant grace.
What an awful thing it would be, Johann realized, for the very last sound he heard to be the crunching of his own vertebrae.
All of a sudden, he felt violently sick.
He wanted to flee for his life, but he remained rooted firmly to the bench seat, wincing into his cup of tea and expecting his untimely and messy demise to come at any second.
December 21 2007, 00:14:08 UTC 4 years ago
Lynx had elected not to accompany him.
So to mess it was, he thought, and once he'd hit the canteen, he'd realized his obvious course indicated the Majors' table.
Alexei studied the German as he ate. Not menacingly, not even particularly intently. But steadily.
He didn't say anything, but then, conversation had seemed lacking from the first.
Ocelot was reticent and brooding, and Raikov was uncharacteristically taciturn as well- possibly because he knew Lynx had been spending time with the Colonel, and because he was being shielded from the whole incident. Drawing conclusions that displeased him, no doubt.
But Krauss, that was a surprise.
Krauss was never silent. Always loquacious, animated, over the top.
The German seemed uneasy. Well, that was an understandable response, under the circumstances.
Lynx had not been expecting to come face to face with the man who made him dead.
Not like this. Not so civilly and well-lit. Not by chance.
Alexei smiled.
"You've already lost a few fingers, Johann. What now? Did they cut out your tongue?"
December 21 2007, 05:27:55 UTC 4 years ago
The Major cursed in an incomprehensible garbling of German and Russian, fumbling with his napkin in an attempt to sop up the spreading puddle of tea before it reached the edge of the table and dripped into his lap.
He started to stand, banged his knees on the edge of the table, sat back down out of necessity.
“Verdammte Scheiße! Nein. No. Nyet.” The German laughed nervously, because he couldn’t stop himself. “Ich habe kein… nothing… no.”
With a painful wince, Johann stole a glance at the formerly dead man.
Jesus fucking Christ, and he was even smiling. That was the most unnerving part, the behemoth bastard was sitting across the table, smiling like he’d just asked about the lovely weather.
Smiling like he’d enjoy breaking every bone in Krauss’ body, and leaving him for the vultures to pick at.
A bead of sweat trickled down the German’s temple, and it seemed unusually warm in the mess hall.
“I swear to God, I was only following orders!”
Had he a thin kopek for every time he’d muttered that phrase, the Major would have been able to retire to a lush tropical island, and ever have to worry about frozen snowy Russia again.
"Only orders, that's all!"
January 2 2008, 07:07:16 UTC 4 years ago
"You never took an order in your life, not unless it served you," he said stonily.
His gaze flicked over the German, taking in his immaculate uniform and fastidious grooming. It was a sharp package belied by the almost imperceptible vibration of animal panic.
It was a response that Alexei could almost smell.
"You can relax, Johann," he stated. "It's not part of my authority to deal with you."
Lynx raised his pale blue eyes to the German's, also a pale blue, but wider and more hectic.
"Volgin wanted to take it up with you himself."
January 2 2008, 23:59:52 UTC 4 years ago