OLD WARS.

NIKOLAI VOLKOV. 42. IDAHO FALLS ENFORCER. FATHER. EXECUTIONER.

musings. reflection. tasks. intro.

SURI FAROOK. 26. IDAHO FALLS SOLDIER. SPY. FIRESTARTER.

she just nods, the name feeling much more familiar once it’s complete.  she knows only a little of him, remembers a few moments in passing from when he roomed with gil.  she knows he is a soldier, but she can hardly hold that against him.  nevertheless, the interaction with him in the infirmary had frightened her, made her feel like she had eyes on her.  “okay.”  ophelia is smart, but she’s lived a privileged life all things considered.  she isn’t used to this- the sneaking, the hiding, the lying.  it seems however, that she will have to get used to it quickly.  “i- i’ll try.”  how do you avoid showing weakness when you feel so delicate?  she’s sure her cracks have already begun to show- nik can see them, it’s likely simon did too.  how long until she crumbles?

matty is a good boy, she wants to tell him.  he’s grieving, she wants to say.  nik should understand that pain just as well as she does.  but she also knows he is right.  like ophelia, he is following in his father’s footsteps.  moving up to enforcer gets him one stride closer.  throwing her under the bus could get him there- but she believes she knows him well enough to know he wouldn’t do that.  there’s a guilt he’s held since max died, a guilt she’s tried to free him of.  nik and matty hold similar roles in her life- both her notifiers.  perhaps nikolai still feels this guilt too, and perhaps it’s the reason he’s willing to help her now.  if the volkov is looking out for her, she has to believe that matty will too.  “he won’t say anything, but i’ll be careful.” 

she immediately begins to worry about her mother.  if people are questioning ophelia, will they question her too?  “yeah, okay.” she responds to him, but her mind is racing elsewhere.  katya has always been clever, this secret won’t eat away at her like it will her daughter.  she will be able to carry herself with confidence despite what she knows.  even so, it will trouble ophelia who has always been one to worry.  “nik i- i told my mom.  you’ll look out for her, won’t you?  please?  she won’t need it but- i do.  i need to know i haven’t put her in danger.”  her eyes are filled with sorrow and concern as she looks at him.  if she had a choice, nikolai volkov would not be the person she would be asking to protect her family.  but she doesn’t have a choice.  all she can do now is hope that history won’t repeat itself.

he wants to believe her. more than anything, he wants to believe her. but matty is a little too close to home. in how the boy acts, in what the boy desires, nikolai sees vissarion. do the two really have any differences? maybe only that vissarion was raised with cruelty. but were matty given vissarion's exact circumstances, would they not have both ended up the exact same way? it makes matty almost impossible to trust, and nik is certain he can’t trust ophelia's hopefulness either. there is of course the variable that ophelia grew up with matty at her side, and there's a bond there that nik doesn't possess. but in the same vein, vissarion grew up in close proximity to his sister's too, it didn't stop him from sinking a metaphorical knife into either of their backs. the tactician in him wants to make it crystal clear that matty is not a person she can put all her trust in. but the human being in him, who sees a heavily pregnant woman, scared and unsure, wants to comfort her. his contradictions cancel each other out, and he's left quiet for a moment too long. “okay.” he’ll be keeping a watchful eye, not quite allowing himself to hope that matty won’t fall too far.

she asks him, in theory, a very simple question. one that, in theory, doesn't require much work. protect a woman who's always been good at keeping herself out of trouble, and making herself too valuable to lose. but there is one crucial detail that makes this ask something that twists nik's insides into painful knots. once, he promised ken would return home to her, to katya too. instead, he brought back only his wedding ring, not even a body to bury. nik falters. he swallows, eyes most certainly not meeting hers. “katya...” he exhales slowly. “as long as you don't tell anyone else that she knows anything, katya won't need me to look out for her. i'll do it, i mean. i'll do it. but...” finally, he meets her eyes, “alexei won't get rid of someone like her, even if she was on his radar. and she's not. don't... don't worry about her.” worry about yourself, you're an easier target. worry about being seen talking to gilbert, start distancing yourself from him if you really want to be protected. these days he’s a ticking time bomb. he swallows down so much and maybe she can see it in the very subtle way he looks pained. 

Felix utters a soft thanks when the other man pauses in whatever he’s doing to help him out, but the fact that he lingers after they transfer the body to the burn pile is something that Felix hadn’t expected.

Neither is the inquiry in relation to his dad. He has to bite his tongue, in a rare moment of wariness of his words, when he wants to immediately respond and add: and Mara’s. He knows the cat’s kind of out of the bag already since the Water Treatment Plant, takes pride in finally being able to own up to variations of the sentence: Yeah, that’s my mom and dad. Hell, he’d even confirmed it to Daiyu Volkova of all people, but Felix knew less of this man. As friendly as one could sound in the midst of their grim task, Nikolai Volkov was still a Volkov. And Felix didn’t know enough about his character to make that kind of gut decision like he had with Daiyu. His opinion of this man was still somewhat yet to be determined.  If there was a chance he didn’t have the information yet… and it wasn’t something they wanted him to know, he didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth.

“Yeah. That’s me,” he says instead. And then there’s the thanks. Unexpected. “Yeah… no problem. Just helping out where I can,” this, at least, is something he doesn’t feel like he needs to filter with omissions, despite the fact that it was grim work. 

nik walks back to the pile of once-residents, but he's not done. he nods towards the bodies, a wordless order to assist. with snooping eyes and ears everywhere, nik would rather look busy when talking so publicly to someone he knows he shouldn't. “how many of these people do you recognise? you haven't been here too long.” he has a point, but gaining trust has never quite been his strong suit, this is not an environment he knows well. nik sighs as he grabs the legs of the next body. why is hurting people easier than this? “you're not burying anyone you know enough to miss, right?” he's certain he saw teddy and the doctor alive. it's also written all over felix, he's free of the weight of loss as heavy as those two deaths would be. but he’s cautious of feix seeing him as a bad person to be knowing an awful lot about him. so nik keeps mara’s name out his mouth.

they lift the next body and nik isn't quite looking felix in the eye. “i just mean... it's not great work, it's not the safest work either. but it's better you and me are doing this than all these people's families having to throw their... executed loved ones into a fire. that's why i appreciate it.” there's no trace of that gratitude on his features, but that would be a luxury he can't afford. with a light swing, they throw the body into the growing flames. when nik turns back to the pile still to be burned, there's more soldiers carrying bodies out the building. “got our work cut out for us.”

—  🏹  —

“I didn’t say that.” There were plenty of advantages when it came to keeping familiar with the QZ and those who lived in it. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if she had committed the residents to memory, including him. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was at a disadvantage, not familiar with her as much as she seemed him. But in the end - he couldn’t bring himself to care. There wasn’t much she could do with his name and role in the place.

There is a change in her demeanor when he turns the question around. He’s intrigued by it, an elbow resting against the table and fingers finding home beneath his chin. A sentimental reasoning for staying from the place she called better.

“You don’t think your sister would want you somewhere ‘better’?” He remarked curiously. At her follow up question, direct and to the point, he doesn’t shift his gaze from hers. “We all lose people.”

“i know,” she's watching him carefully, as if that would make henrik any easier to understand, “it just sounded like you weren't all too convinced.” her spoon drags across the bottom of her not yet empty bowl, gradually losing more and more interest in her meal, shifting now to this tall unknown. she wonders if now, as he shifts, if he's watching her just as closely as she hopes she is watching him. she wonders if this is a stand off, or two wild beasts who've regard each other with curiosity. she’s forgotten all about mike.

“dunno.” realistically she knows the answer to that question. she knows where farah would want her to be. but the glutton for punishment in her refuses to accept a gift like that now she's alone. “it's not like i can ask her to confirm.” her sometimes morbid sense of humour doesn’t always land, but she’s betting it wont make this man so much as blink. she hopes not. that would be boring. any reaction is better than none. suri crosses her arms on the table between herself and her food, shoulders slumping a little. “so...” she looks at him expectantly. “who have you lost?” to her, it’s obvious. i shared one, now you.

“The people they’re sneaking out won’t be here to trust them, though? What the fuck?” Her response is rapid-fire quick, confusion blooming over her features. It sounded like a sack of shit. And it was good, sure, to let people out of here if they wanted to — but then Alexei wasn’t going to waste his resources on dissatisfied civillians anyway. Only if he could easily shoot them in the legs and rob their bodies, perhaps.

He looks away and she starts to stare at her hands as she ponders the subject she’d brought up herself. Then he brings the question Gilbert had forgotten to ask ( as he tended to ) and Daiyu lifts her shoulders. An honest display of hesitation, before looking up. “If anyone’s going to …” Her voice trails off, the thought of setting something right, of balancing some kind of scale, of making her father afraid for once, to make him face the mortality he seems to be in denial of — it is enticing. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Her eyes narrow as she looks back up at him. “You’re not making any fucking sense. If you want him dead and to get out after, we can make a plan. Death of night, be quiet and quick, take the routes we know.” She grits her teeth, shakes her head. “If that’s what you wanna do, turn around, abandon everything and everyone here, then we could’ve done that. Already.” She’s reaching dangerous territory, questions of why, why he had been so aware that this was a cruel place and still allowed his own son and Alexei’s children to grow up in it. Why he had never tried. Why even now he wasn’t trying. She doesn’t blame him, but she does know it’s too little, too late. “I’m not doing that. Finishing him, standing by whatever is brewing and then abandoning, fuck that. No.” They either hatch a short-term plan to run to the wilderness or they sit it through. Build something real. Face their responsibility and do something with it, rather from run from it. Daiyu is guilty of it too, after all.

She focuses on her anger, in trying to dissipate it because she’s afraid she’ll let it burst past her seams and wake someone. Gilbert, a soldier, an enforcer. Daiyu claws herself in the thighs and stares at Nik. “Fine, got it.” It’s bullshit. It’s going to end up the way things like this always end up, because Daiyu has had her attempts at rebellion and revolution and seen the results. Fuck them, then, if they don’t want her, if they don’t think her trustworthy — Gilbert and Zahra should know where her loyalties lie, but apparently it’s not enough. “We’ll just let them plan overthrowing my fucking dad and sit idly by. Sure, that’s something I just let happen.” It’s all nonsense, all fucking, utter bullshit. Daiyu takes a long sip of scalding tea, tears of pain jumping in her eyes. She swallows the tea, blinks hard. Daiyu does not cry after all: that’s one of the Volkov lessons that has stuck. “So what do you suggest I do? Tell them that I know, or just … distract good old dad?” That she can do, but she’s not sure if it’s a prize she wants to pay for this so-called rebellion. “It sounds like bullshit, Nik. It sounds like bullshit.”

“i didn’t say out. they're sneaking people around the zone, around the enforcers. stockpiling, planning.” nik has seen too many react to daiyu's frustration and anger with more of it, and he's always refused to be one of those people. her throwing knives have never been able to stick into his steely exterior anyway, and he doesn't believe she ever has or would want to hurt him, so he takes her sharpness like a pill that has to be swallowed. is there anyone more equipped to do so?

she says yes, and nik isn't sure if that makes her braver, or more rage-filled than he could ever be. there's a silence as he considers what an event like that would look like. would it be in the chaos of all out war? would he watch daiyu throw her father from the roof of the mall? or would she hang him in the streets? would there be cheers? will alexei finally get what he wants from her? enough violence to take on the most dangerous person in the room and stand victorious. will he die with a smile on his face? “you can change your mind. any time. you can be pointing the gun to his head and if you need me to, i'll do it.” it has to be as clear as day, clearer than anything else. “do you understand me? you can always change your mind.” it's not stupidity he fears will get in the way, but her stubbornness.

“we don't... have to go anywhere. if you want to stay after he's gone, we'll stay.” what he won't admit, is how the idea of staying in idaho falls forever feels suffocating. like walking through a cemetery with everyone you've ever hurt on your way to work. selfishly, he wants less guilt, less reminding. “i didn't say we would abandon anyone.” it's curt, followed by a quiet sigh. disappointment in himself. “there are people i can't leave behind. and those people have people they can't leave behind. i was just... i wanted you to know...” another sigh, more frustration aimed inwards. “once he's gone, we can do anything you want. anything.” it's the least she deserves, and it’s about time he stopped hiding behind his excuses.

Not every soldier would respond like this and for that he is grateful. Certainly, there are more important things in the zone than the appearance of a bright bird, but it has been a long week. Month, even. No matter how Simon might pretend to be above it, it still gets to him in ways, too. Besides, what is he supposed to do? Ignore it, not point it out? His hand returns to him, pats his jean pocket until it retrieves a small, busted notebook where he scribbles down sighting along with the date.

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, looking back up to the bird once he’s done writing. The pencil stub and bit of paper return to his pocket, gaze not tearing from the tiny thing. “They’re around here quite often too. Just gotta look well.” And that Simon does: observant nature comes in handy in a multitude of ways. “Hm, sometimes. But I prefer the real deal, anyway.” A static picture couldn’t move, after all, and would only trap the creature in a forever pose. He smiles a little. “It would be fun. To migrate one season and return the other …” Strange, wasn’t it, how the birds weren’t at all affected by the cordyceps? Life for them must have improved over the years, especially for scavengers. “In a next life, maybe.”

from what she catches of simon's handwriting, it's cleaner than her own, but she still doesn't have time to decipher the words properly. “hey, what you writing down there? you keep note of every cool thing you see?” curiosity makes her a bulldozer. when interest piques, her tiny statute will clamber over any and everything to get a good grip on the knowledge she seeks. this time, it's simon and what he does when he isn't being a perfect soldier. suri makes a motion to grab, aimed at the pocket he just tucked the notebook away into. “can i see?” 

“that explains it. not had much time to stop and gaze up at the sky since ending up here. it's all ‘suri, fix this trap’ or ‘suri, set up a new trap here’ or ‘suri, you aren't scared of the dark are you? you go first down the pitch black stairs that has fungus growing all up it’.” she huffs but with no real resentment. having too much to do has been a blessing, even if her sore muscles don't agree. the less time she has to think about farah, the better. “yeah, you're right,” she hums, “better seeing them in person.” there's a weak smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, not from lacking enthusiasm but of how her focus tears in two, impatient fingers already back on rigging the trip wire. her eyes are mostly back on her work, but with simon's spoken dreams suri drifts back to the bird, then to him, her smile softening. “i want to be a bird in my next life, too. spend my life up in the trees, the clouds. not once thinking about infected.” her eyes find his with more stability this time, they longer, almost piercing. “maybe we'd find each other again. migrate together.” the thought, while perhaps strange, is comforting to her, and suri shoots him another smile before looking back down at her work.

When Daiyu puts her mind to it she can be surprisingly calculative. Which means this: figuring out where Suri Farook sleeps, making sure her roommate Demie is out on patrol and lying in wait. It’s not wholly calculative, mind you, hardly the Volkov way of waiting for the right opportunity or setting up a grand scheme to see one of your enemies toppled — but it’s better than bashing the other’s head in with a lunch tray with everyone present.

Which isn’t to say she hasn’t considered doing just that. Everyone else seems ruled by inaction when it comes to this vengeful Grizzly, so Daiyu will take the blade and wield it herself. Despite her promises to Nik. So here she sits, lying in wait, the magazine of her gun fully filled but the safety clicked on. Head snaps up when the door opens, the gun resting calmly on her knee. Suri’s comment makes her even more furious — that kind of retort could’ve been made by her. 

“It’s to keep you from doing something stupid,” she says, putting in effort to control her voice, to not let some of her rage leak through. Because it’s there, for this stranger who played nice with her but carried secrets, who somehow got burrowed so deeply under the skin of people she cared about that they’d let her not just live, but would lie to protect her. This sister-avenger from the faction who’d killed her own. “Close the door. Come, get in. Time we have a chat, don’t we?” She gestures to the other bed. “Seems someone slipped up when they questioned you upon arrival. Missed some crucial details.”

“alright, no funny business.” she's never had much respect for authority, just enough to scrape by off the radar. which is why suri closes the door and takes a seat not on the bed daiyu points to, but the one she's also sat on. what's that distance matter anyway? suri has been told tales of what people like the volkovs did before the outbreak, and she's be stupid to think they're any less dangerous in this world. if she wants to kill me, there's not much i can do about it. not much. there's almost too little space to use that gun now, but suri doesn't doubt that the girl who beat mike's face in would still use it. suri hopes it doesn't come to that.

“what details are you talking about?” suri sits slightly hunched, fatigue settling in, but her eyes remain sharp. “‘cause i get it, i'm new, easy person to try and pin for mike. i don't know what you heard, but i didn't do shit to him. and how many people do you have lying around who can make bombs that don't blow up in your pocket? and blow up when you want them to?” she's pleading for her life, for her spot in this mall while desperately trying to give up nothing. she might as well be selling her soul to a devil. at first there was one reason to be here. bring yen back something he can work with. then one reason became more than she can count on one hand, and her original goal floats further and further away from her reach.

𝟑𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄. 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋. @cordiiceps​​

Above him, a case of mass confusion unfolds. At first it’s just a quiet stirring, which morphs into screams, and then suddenly all hell breaks loose. Now, infection spreads rampant like fucking wildfire through the mall. A horrified crowd of citizens stampedes the ground floor as the rest of the mall wake up in terror, realizing what’s happened. They try to run for their lives, though their efforts are surely futile. Vincent, living two floors above the lowest level, decides to run deeper into the mall ( in the opposite direction of the crowd ) and towards the service stairwell. He knows that it connects to the makeshift communication center, all the best radios and ancient telecom technology huddled into a room on the first floor. It’s his only chance at letting the rest of Idaho Falls know what’s happening before the infection arrives on their doorstep.

But after word is sent out, what next? In the adrenaline rush, Vincent only planned so far ahead. He didn’t consider that once he’s in the communications room ( a makeshift thing, a converted storefront with a small storage area in the back ), the glass wall and weak doors will provide no protection from a surge of infected once they track him down. After radioing Zahra with news of the outbreak, Vincent begins the heavy work of barricading himself in, using anything he can to block off the windows and doors. He sweats as he shoves a desk against the door, working like mad to board everything else with found materials — though he knows old cardboard boxes won’t do very much.

After sending out what feels like a hundred distress signals across the QZ, only silence meets him from the other end. Getting desperate, Vincent gives in, trying the private frequency that he knows belongs to his father, which is only to be used in emergencies ( one of many measures taken in order to ensure his paternity is kept secret ). “Come in, Nik,” he pleads to the airwaves, “do you read?” The line has no response, time stretching to eternity as Vincent has only the groans of runners and screams to listen to, coming from the other side of the glass. “Dad,” he croaks out to the frequency instead, halfway a prayer, feeling certain now that neither his father or God will hear him. “Please answer me.”

it’s him and daiyu in the stairwell, almost at the door to the roof, with infected trapping them from both sides when the crackle of his radio sounds and a voice siezes his heart. vincent. there’s relief in hearing him alive, but it’s quick-burst. then comes the dread of knowing for sure vincent is stuck here, somewhere. nik is facing down the stairwell, two runners barrelling up towards him over the body of a third that he just pushed down, leg now broken but already scrambling back up the stairwell as fast as it can. nik can’t answer his son, not yet. maybe it’s a waste to use a bullet here, but nik uses just one, firing it between the eyes of the runner that reaches him first. that body drops and slides down the stairs, holding off the one with a broken leg a little longer. 

it makes it easy to grab the next runner but it’s clothes and throwing the body over the stairwell. but there’s no time to watch the runner fall when there’s a hand grasping at his foot. nik crushes the last one’s head under his boot as he pulls the radio out his belt. “vincent? vincent, do you hear me?” in a brief moment’s peace, nik meets daiyu’s eyes. it doesn’t need to be said, they’ve never had to voice things, have they? i need to go find him. you’ll be okay, won’t you? she nods, and he’s already rushing back down the stairs. “where are you? i’m at the mall, in the stairwell--” his words are cut off by inhuman noises, and his blade finds the brain of another once-resident as he waits for vincent’s location. 

“Oh, someone thinks highly of their own opinion, don’t they?” Zahra counters, defensiveness gone and a grin in its place. “I’m pretty sure the saying is giving your two cents, not four.” She takes a sip of tea as she considers his next question. It’s a fine line to walk, making the rest of them trust Nik. To trust her enough to trust Nik. The only person who could currently be on board is Gilbert, but that’s all to do with his own relationship with Nik and nothing to do with trusting Zahra. “I don’t know, tell them I know a guy who’ll do things for us, no questions asked? Drop some hints that it’s you after a while until it’s time to do a big reveal?” Zahra shrugs. “I’ll figure something out. I’m great at being subtle, okay? As previously mentioned, I’ve been sneaking around for ages. Snuck around with Daiyu for years. It’ll be fine.”

She pauses at her own mention of Daiyu. Her thoughts flicker back to the chaos of the mall, seeing the runner on top of her. How close she— they, the entire QZ— came to losing her. Things would be so much worse for Daiyu if they were to get caught, if Alexei found out his own daughter was working behind his back. Zahra opens her mouth, ready to ask Nik not to tell Daiyu about all this, to keep her out of it. But she can’t. Nik shouldn’t have to keep a secret Daiyu would probably find out anyway. She closes her mouth and focuses on running her finger around the edge of her mug instead. “No,” Zahra says, answering Nik’s last question. “Uh, there’s a few more. Felix, who I guess is Teddy and Mara’s son? And Eva. I think there’s a few no questions asked soldiers in the mix, but it’s mostly us six to start.”

Her gaze moves from the mug back to Nik. “Do you think it’ll be enough? Just smuggling things and people around?” There’s been so much loss recently, so much damage. Zahra can feel something humming in the air. She wasn’t around for Alexei overthrowing FEDRA, she’s only heard stories from the residents who were, but she can imagine this is what it felt like moments before. Unrest and anger looking to be directed. “Shit’s only going to get worse before it gets better, isn’t it?”

it was never any surprise to him how zahra and daiyu ended up for a time. especially now, he sees so many things the two share. zahra grins much in a similar way, and so he can't stop himself grinning back, remaining muted. “it's just the simple fact that i've been alive longer than you, know more than you, but hey, i won't force you to listen to me,” he teases. “two, right. why is it two cents?” he asks with genuine curiosity. nik brings his cup to his lips, sipping at the still piping hot liquid, and sets it back down. nik hums in vague approval of her plan. it's not that he doesn't trust her to do what needs to be done, it's that this plan doesn't instill any confidence in him. but what will? nik sighs slowly, trying not to dwell on the dread inducing fact that he can't think of a single thing that would make any of this easier, any less terrifying. “sure,” he mumbles, not looking directly at her.

“teddy and the doctor are a thing?” it seems like a stupid thing to miss now, there has to have been a foundation of trust to start something like this. he makes a mental note of all those names, and wishes there were more names of people who can keep their heads down. but he's already got his work cut out for him if he's to keep enforcers off gilbert's back and eva's. this was never going to be easy. he's got no more room for losses either, there's only so many headstones a man can build for loved ones before there's no longer enough to keep him fighting to see another day.

“no,” he says clearly, “but it's all that can be done for now. eventually it'll have to come to stealing resources, making sure the zone doesn't take alexei's side, and that won't be easy. alexei might be... everything that he is. but he's given these people purpose and safety from the infected, that counts for a lot these days.” he shifts, discomfort just barely visible on his tense features. “all were doing now is throwing water out a sinking boat. eventually we'll need to fix the boat, or the boat sinks with us in it.” her question makes him pause, but he meets her eyes again. “yeah.” this is what he's always been afraid of, knowing it'll somehow get worse.

There’s an inhale, something sharp, and she pushes the mug forward on the table. Daiyu stares at the way the tea moves, then looks at Nik. There’s little effort made to hide how she feels, eyes betraying the hurt at this revelation. Two weeks since Gilbert had broke the news, two weeks in which she’d let his words circle her head endlessly and had expected that Nik might break the silence. Two weeks in which not just he and Gilbert had known, but another person she trusted. Zahra. Was it a matter of trust? A lack of faith? A hesitation to invite someone like her into the bunch? 

Daiyu clenches her jaw, pulls her hands under the table where she sits on them. No fists balled, just yet, but the impulse is still there. “Starting something. What? People’re being snuck out, so what?” Less mouths to feed was hardly a concern, was it? It was the rest of it, the promise GIlbert had made. “Teddy, he’s not got the fucking foggiest idea, and even Mara …” She shakes her head. “This sounds vague, like vague bullshit. Is there more? Or, what?” There had to be more, with this many people involved. 

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “People are going to hang, again. He’s gonna dole out punishment and they’re all going to be facing walls until a bullet crashes through their skull —” Pessimism chokes her and she stops talking, digging her fingers in her thighs as they’re still stuck under her legs. “Gilbert. He seemed under the impression that I’d —” There’s something strange twisting her features, fear or shame or guilt or maybe something like thrill, too. “That I would want to do it. Kill him.” She pauses, not sure if that’s a question or statement, what she wants from Nik in regards to that. What does it say of her, that someone thinks her so easily capable of an act like that? What does it say of her, that she thinks herself capable of it? “But that’s the plan? He dies and we run? We turn our back? Because if that’s it, what the fuck’s stopping us?” Her father bled. She’d seen it. She’d caused it, nails scratching at his features. “You need to tell me properly, if you want me in on this. If you want me to have some kind of faith in this.” She huffs. “If they want me in, anyway.”

sometimes he wishes she’d lash out at him more. it would be easier to stomach his guilt if she made him bleed for it. but that’s not who they are, it never has, it never will. this love has cost him time and time again, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. it must be due punishment that he sits here and endures the hurt on her face. he so desperately wants to look away, but he can’t quite bring himself to. 

she’s skeptical, of course she is. he’d be more worried if she wasn’t. at least she isn’t running head first into this. nik is quiet as he always is, but very much present, absorbing every word with thorough consideration. she’s right, mostly. teddy and felix haven’t been here anywhere near long enough to know the extent of alexei’s cruelty and games, not even mara’s four years is enough. eva, too. and gilbert, who moves with his heart and not his head. then zahra, who’s competence shows, but in nik’s aged eyes, is still a young soul and ripe for making mistakes, mistakes a movement like this can’t handle. but these people together, not alone, now that could be something. “if this is going to work, they need the zone to trust them. that’s what they’re doing now.” 

more people to hang means more blood on his hands, and finally his eyes drop from hers. for a long time, he had himself convinced that killing left no mark on him. that he didn’t enjoy nor detest it. he’s not so sure now. maybe it would be easier to not think about if gil wasn’t so gentle with him as he washes blood from his clothes. nik is silent for a moment, he considers not asking, but he finds himself curious. “do you want to?” he asks, devoid of any judgement. there’s a part of him that would have loved to have been the end vasily met, and another part that would be sickened at the thought of stooping so low. but which part is strongest in her? “what’s stopping us is over half the zone would die for him. i can’t take on that many people, neither can you. his pedestal needs to crumble so we can reach him and make it out afterwards.” 

when — 12 july where — outskirts who — @cordiiceps​

“Hold up —” Simon extends long fingers, laying them on Suri’s clever, fastworking hands. His other hand reaches up, pressing a finger against his lips in an attempt to demand silence from someone who, well, usually isn’t. He doesn’t consider that this might be indicative that there’s something out there they need to be quiet for, some kind of danger — trespassers to catch off guard, a stray runner. No, he doesn’t consider it at all. He is dead-serious in his demand for her to halt.

His gaze pulls from her, back to the place he’d been looking before. Electric wire dangles, no longer active, but one one of the still-taut lines there’s a bird. His index finger leaves his lips, points at it. “A blue grosbeak. Don’t see them in town much.” In the more wooded areas, sure, but he doesn’t see them venture out here often. Simon stares at it, doesn’t think much of Suri next to him. Still, his willingness to make her pause the trap she’s fixing is something. It does not mean he is personable or anything of the sort — it just means there’s a common ground he is down to walk on. For Simon, that might count as some sort friendship. 

her fingers are fast and nimble. suri's first traps were small, made of wood and wire, and designed to catch small things. rabbits, mice, squirrels. but as she grew, so did the size of those traps. now they’re big enough for people, living or less so. she's crouched, frog-like in front of a trip wire, in the middle of tying the wire to a broken down four seater car when simon's hands stop hers. there's a flash of excitement in her alert eyes as they dart around. but when she realises a second later that it's more likely to be people than infected, that excitement fades. i miss home. 

except it's not either, and her heart rate slows back down to normal. “no way,” she whispers, eyes lighting up with wonder this time around. “never seen a blue one before.” she forgets about the trap, now her world is only the mesmerising blue of the grosbeak's feathers. “seen yellow ones, uh, what're they called... evening grosbeak? never a blue one.” she smiles, almost laughing. “aren't you pretty?” she says sweet and soft up at the bird on the wire. “don't you wish you had a camera?” she asks, briefly glancing in simon's direction before her eyes return to the bird. “what i would give to be able to fly, man...”

“i don’t know nik, they weren’t the only ones to say something to me,” ophelia admits.  “another soldier, simon i think, he asked me about mike the other day.  i didn’t tell him anything but- i dunno, it kind of spooked me.”  she doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s not really her own guilt that she’s worried about.  she knows people aren’t likely to accuse her of the murder.  there is no real scenario in which a small pregnant woman would be capable of taking down an enforcer.  it was the information she knew that worried her, and what people would do to get that information if they really wanted it.

“i- i don’t think so.  i guess i don’t know.  but matty- i mean, he’s my friend.  i don’t think he’d say anything, do you?”  he came from a family of enforcers- but so did nik.  maybe she is too trusting.  maybe friend is too generous a word.  perhaps matty wouldn’t describe her in the same manner.  but she feels like she knows him, sees pieces of herself in him, sees pieces of max in him.  it’s those pieces of max that make her feel like he wouldn’t hurt her.  never anything to worry about.  he says it and a part of her really believes him.  she believes neither nik or daiyu would turn against her- but would eddie get the same treatment?  

nik’s voice reeks with concern which makes ophelia feel like she’s said too much.  maybe her rush to defend herself gave away more information than she intended.  she swallows, her nails digging into the palms of her hand as she clenches her fist shut.  “yes i-” she looks around again out of instinct.  “i was running from everything and i found him in the hallway.  he uh- had stab wounds to the chest and had lost a lot of blood.  pulse was weak, he was gone within a minute,” she speaks like she would on the job, avoiding emotion and sticking to the facts, carefully leaving out any mention of eddie and his knife.  “i didn’t know what to do, there was so much going on i- i just ran, i’m sorry.”  it would be a lie if she said she wasn’t scared in this moment, if she said a part of the anxiety in her voice wasn’t real and raw.  however, she chooses her words carefully, shows just enough emotion to hopefully distract him from asking any more questions.  because his next inquiry is the big one.  now she has a choice- she can tell him: nik, the enforcer, gil’s nik, vincent’s dad, alexei’s brother.  a part of her gut tells her she can trust him, but another part remembers that rope in his hand and tells her it’s not worth the risk.  her mind can’t stop picturing eddie above that body.  eddie, who in that moment, looked an awful lot like another boy she knows.  a boy who’s lost two fathers.  a boy who, if given the chance, would avenge either of them.  so in her heart there is no question.  she looks at nikolai and she makes a choice.  she lies.  “no, nothing.  it was just him.”

“simon? sandhu?” shit. Блядь. he keeps the mounting concern hidden under his decades of iciness, offering her only a look of thoughtfulness, consideration. these circumstances are far from ideal, but it's nothing worse than he's experienced before. i will do right by her. finally. “if he comes round again, you act normal with him. nothing more, nothing less.” if someone were to see the way nik talks to her, with distance and no smile, they might think he's trying to bleed something out of her. but if they could hear him, they'd hear the softness in his orders. “he's not someone you want to show any weakness to. walk around here like you don't know anything about mike. start looking over your shoulder, and they'll sniff you out.”

he's her friend. it's not a concept nik knows very well. a volkov has no friends, no one on their team. so as much of the kid's life nik has seen and all that time spent training him, it doesn't make the leash his brother has on the young alston kid any less noticeable. if matty were crueler, he might as well have started going by vissarion. “i don't know with matty,” he says quietly in a burst of honesty. “alexei has his claws deep.”

weary, worn out feet drag the rest of herself home just barely. as carefree as her blasé demeanour portrays her to be, she is not free of the clutches of anxiety. this cold war makes patrols tense and heavy, trust and playfulness becoming rarer by the day. she swears barbosa eyed her up more than once today. she wasn’t sure if he wanted to take a bite out of her or offer up her remains to a volkov. which would be better, is what she is thinking about when she closes the door of her shared room behind her. 

“oh, fuck—” she was supposed to be alone tonight, with demie out on the night patrol. but that has not been the case. not only is someone else sitting on her bed, it’s not just anyone. a volkov. it’s dark in the room, so suri doesn’t clock the gun right away. but as she takes a step closer, “fuck me, scared me shitless. listen, babe, if you wanted to fuck me you could have just—” the light catches the metal and this odd situation becomes a little clearer. but only a little. 

suri stops in her tracks, eyes first locked on the gun, then daiyu’s gaze. possible explanations zoom around the inside of her skull. does she know where i’m from? does she know about the wall? did anso say something to her? or is this about gilbert? does she even know him? “what’s that for?” she asks, never one to bother beating around the bush. 

There is something uncomfortable about this situation, something unprecedented. Daiyu hasn’t visited Nik like this – in the death of night, without warning – in quite some years, but there hasn’t been unrest in the air like this in years, either. She moves away, into the small living room-kitchen situation and loiters there, resisting the urge to start biting at nailbeds. Daiyu taps her foot in stead, wired as she waits. She cannot help but wonder if he’s annoyed with her, pissed off even, for coming here at this hour, for the childishness of the gesture. She has half a mind to go back to what she’s been doing these past two weeks: avoidance.

As he comes in and busies himself with making tea, she continues to stand at the edge of the room, only sitting down when he does. Fingers wrap around the mug, the heat hardly needed during a summer night like this. “Thanks.” There is a lot of unspoken ground between herself and her uncle. Quiet understanding. Lessons he once taught her that don’t bear repeating but have burrowed deep within her. It isn’t as if they lie, it is just that not everything needs to be said explicitly. That some things are best ignored, like the beast that is Alexei and how alone Daiyu feels, has felt. It’s uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than seeing your uncle in bed with a man you dislike half the time.

But there needs to be changes, don’t there? Her fingers splay on the table, spread out. The wood is cool to the touch. “So much, isn’t there?” Her index finger pulls up, extends again. “Up, I mean. There’s so much, and I don’t seem to know half of it. I don’t — something bad is bound to happen, with this manhunt.” Daiyu scrambles to find words. Nik speaks too little, she too much and together they don’t say much at all. This is why she’s shit at the interrogating: she comes to her points in confusing ways, both too vague and direct at the same time. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know something is changing. I know you — I know what happened, in the middle school. I know that Gilbert wants him dead.” There’s a pause, a silence. “Not as in, he thinks about it. He concretely wants it. And you — well, I don’t know, I don’t get what’s happening. So you tell me what’s up.” A pause. “If any of this is real, or just more bullshit.”

he knows what's coming. he thinks he could even predict it down to the word choice, he's been watching her for her whole life. there was a time where he thought - arrogantly so - that he was doing a good job helping her grow. she has so much more than he ever had, has she not? she had siblings who, despite their darknesses, loved her in their own ways. she has a lighthouse, a fortress to retreat into in his presence, someone to rely on. but its gotten harder to wield that arrogance, especially when he looks at her now.

it's clear as day that this manhunt will change the zone, it already has. but nik doesn't do much in the way of acknowledging her observation. instead, he continues to listen, eyes trained on his niece carefully. her next words make his heart ache, because it shouldn't have taken her coming to him. he should have told her before gilbert. but that memory of her pleas in the basement of the mall in the dead of night plague him.

“it's not bullshit,” he exhales slowly, eyes moving to the steam rising from his cup. “i should have been the one to tell you. it's more than gilbert. well, i don't think the doctor is stupid enough to try and kill alexei, but...” he rubs his sleepy eyes. “mara and teddy, they're starting something. they're trying to help people, sneaking around the travel ban. and they've got people helping them. felix, gilbert, zahra. and eva.” he pauses, because fear has its shackles on him too, they’ve become a part of him. “but i think... altogether. and with us.” another pause, this time he looks directly at her. he wonders if she can see how scared he is. “we might have a chance. and then we can go... far away from here. wherever you want.”

— 🩹  —

It takes a moment for Gabriel to gather himself back together, let the adrenaline leak from his veins. They’re safe in here, he thinks; a door between the two of them and the outside, walls that keep them separated. He wonders, momentarily, what this room used to be in a past life before it became a home. Was it an office? A storage room? Something else entirely? It doesn’t matter and yet he can’t stop thinking about it. Not until his attention returns to Suri and he sees the blood staining her skin.

He searches the room briefly before returning to her, kneeling where she has slipped to the floor. There is a damp cloth in his hands now, one that he takes to scrub gently across her skin, searching for breaks in her flesh with the eye of a medic. She could’ve been bitten or scratched without knowing…and if that were the case, he was locked in a room with a ticking time bomb –

No, he couldn’t think like that. She was fine. She said she was fine. The blood wasn’t hers…Was that a reassurance?

His eyes lift to her face when she speaks, though what she says surprises him. “Gilbert?” He repeats, having a difficult time drawing a connection, where the man came into the picture in the here and now. “Yeah - He’s uh - it’s…complicated.” As if Suri didn’t already know that. The bond forged between the two, him and Gilbert - it was formed between mutual trauma, necessity, understanding…survival.

“How did you feel about him before?” Gabriel asks, his eyes dropping back down to continue scrubbing the blood from her hands. “Before…Farah?” He clears his throat, a moment or two passing in silence as his hands still, his fingers curling around hers. “You hate him because his actions - because - because we killed your sister. Right?” He swallows, his thumbs tracing along the ridges of her knuckles. “He wasn’t…He did what he thought was right.”

warm water meets the stinging on her back and she hisses, but doesn't pull away. his touch is much like hers, gentle but not timid. maybe she is doomed to a never ending spiral of hurting herself in order to feel this level of comfort, in order to feel this much of farah. it's in this moment that she realises there's no one left at home who will always treat her wounds like this. yennefer can, has, but he's a temperamental beast. but here, she has gabriel. she has ophelia. she has marseline. even the doctor. back home, however, there are no more gentle hands.

she remains hunched into her knees, hands gripping her shins, blood soaking into her trousers. “why's it complicated, because he left you behind?” to her, there's no other reason gabriel could label it as such. eva left her behind, but eva will always be in her heart. suri would sell her soul to the devil for eva, what's complicated about that?

gabriel comes back with his own questions, and suri finally lifts her head, but her eyes are locked absently, like she's looking at somewhere completely different to the mall. “i dunno... i didn't hate him, that's for sure,” she sighs. her head whips to face him, eyes suddenly alight. “we?” she frowns, eyes searching for something but also unsure of what that something looks like. “you didn't make that bomb. he did.” but then she truly considers the concept. was it not a plan gabriel was in on? was it not something he had the chance to say no to?

if you can forgive a man for not stopping it, can't you forgive a man who just wanted to be free, and you just so happened to lose something in the process of that freedom?