#dragontries

The Boogie-man. Zombies. Ghosts. Mummies. Werewolves. Monsters . Mike Baker had never really understood them. He understood the concept, and the literature, but he didn’t understand the need. It was just the need to be scared. Or even more, the need to force the fear of darkness into the shape of something understandable. Because that is what all these so-called supernatural monsters were, weren’t they? Just images made by scared children on a moonless night. A howl? A wolf! A growl? A zombie! A mug falling down? Definitely the leftovers of a dead person. Not the wind. Obviously not the wind.

Mike never said that he didn’t believe that something was hiding in the dark, far from it - being a soldier, facing new threats every other day made him learn that in fact there was always something around the corner, ready to attack. But nonetheless, he was sceptical of the supernatural.

Living in this world for 54 years he never met any kind of supernatural monster that could have been killed with only silver, salt or fire. In fact the only monsters he met were people. People acted way worse then any animal or entity ever could, hurting others and themselves, acting selfish and rude, being agressive and stupid. Obviously not every person, but he was facing terrorists, he believed he had seen the worst of worsts. He had seen men murdering innocent people, he had seen organizations turn children into mindless soldiers and he had seen mothers killing their loved ones and then themselves for the ‘greater good’. He had seen a lot. Like a lot . But he had never met any kind of supernatural monster, so yeah.

He had every right to be sceptical, and ironical, because he did not understand the fear of the unknown and darkness like a normal person did. Howls? There was no werewolf able to sound as a friend dying from an open wound. A growl? The unhappy sound of a terrorist being cuffed. A mug falling down? The reaction to a newly found biochemical weapon. No monsters, just people. Bad-people.

He started to feel bad for the monsters in books, tv shows and poems at one point. All that screaming, shouting and wanting to capture or kill them… Why were they the ones being chased? That was the other question. Why were the monsters always bad? Why would a werewolf or zombie or mummy or anything attack the human beings, like they did in the stories? To hunt them, taste their blood and eat them and their brains? Oh come on.

The fact that sharks don’t even like the taste of human meat must mean something!

But it could be the blood... All animals had blood, why would a vampire attack that one human being, when they could hunt a calm cow, or something. Much less screaming, much less effort, much easier target.

And don’t even start with the brain bullshit. Why would anything try to eat the brain?! The people mindlessly attacking others for being a little bit different than they are were empty anyway!

And also, why would a demon or spirit or whatever the fuck attack humans after their life? What if they are stuck and just need help? What if they just want to be friends?!

He believed in ghosts, tho, he did. But not the… ‘the white sheet with two holes for the eyes on it’ kind, obviously. He believed the ghosts of the past. The screaming in his nightmares about the wars, the eyeless people standing behind him in the mirror, the feeling of his mother’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

Ghosts.

But not the hollywood ghosts scaring innocent people. His own ghosts. Some of them were bad, some of them were good, even soothing. Mementos of his childhood, his first love, his daughter. Good ghosts, who never wanted to hurt him, in fact most of the time, they helped him in their own way.

And after all… everything started with a ghost.

The ghost of his father.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

When he first noticed the familiar figure, he was in the middle of buying baked beans in the supermarket. He was all alone, thinking about calling Penelope after dinner, to ask where would his grandson want to go this year for a little Trick-or-treating during Halloween, minding his own business with the cans, when he noticed a tall, dark figure just outside the shop’s front window.

He didn’t even notice it first, but when he felt the unmistakable feeling of being watched, he looked up, right at the dark figure. The long coat, the old hat, the wide shoulders; he caught himself thinking, Dad…? But his father died at least thirty years ago, so yeah. It was kinda suspicious.

He looked around, trying to find out if anybody could see the figure, and as he looked back, the window was empty.

Strange.

But the ghost of his father had never been a bad omen. Maybe he should visit his grave. Or perhaps it was a reminder that he forgot to put on his watch this morning, the one that once belonged to his father.

Shrugging, he went back to pick the beans and that was it.

Or so he thought.

Because, not long after this, he noticed the figure again. He was just arriving to his boat after a disgustingly long day of work, ready to open a beer and crash on his couch, when he saw the familiar silhouette from his peripheral vision. He turned his head, but as the last time, the figure was gone.

Mike lifted an eyebrow. It was his father’s birthday coming up soon. Heh. Motherfucker never missed a chance to make people wish him happy birthday after all.

Shrugging it off again, he entered the boat, and did as he planned with his beer and couch.

But obviously, it happened again. The tall figure standing patiently, just looking at him from afar when he arrived home, bought his supplies, walked down the streets. The well known shadow never moving, never looking like it was alive, never changing.

He once even noticed the figure standing at the docks, as if waiting for him to get home. It was strange and the feeling of being watched never seemed to disappear.

The last straw was when he noticed the shadow during the night he was with his daughter and grandson, Trick or treating, having fun. He almost missed it again, the silhouette standing in a dark alleyway just the other side of the road. As he saw the shadow there, Mike got furious all of a sudden. Hanging around, waiting for him was one thing, but bugging him during family times? A real jerk move.

As he noticed, he immediately stopped in his track and turned towards the figure, stepping down the pathway. His gaze was fixed on the figure that looked like its usual, frozen self, but as it noticed his attempt of getting closer, it did the strangest thing: it moved.

It wasn’t a scared wince or anything a normal human would do when they were discovered doing something bad, it was just a surprised lift of shoulders and a slight tilt of hat, but it was something . And as Mike took one more step forward, the figure did the same thing backward. And that was when the good omen of his father turned into a human monster, because who else would follow him around every night just standing still and watching. He had a stalker. One of the most disgusting kind of monsters.

His instincts kicking in, he reached for his gun, but the second he touched it an ear-rippingly loud car honk pushed him out of his state of mind. He was standing in the middle of the road and a very angry driver just honked at him again.

Looking at the man behind the wheel, Mike sniffed and let his gun slip back into its holster. He glanced back at the figure, but that motherfucker was gone. Of fucking course.

Great.

Not caring for the loud honking at all, he turned back and stepped on the pathway again.

A stalker.

Glancing back at the other side of the road, he lifted his chin, looking around.

A ghost? A stalker? A monster, maybe. A human one, who was apparently afraid of him.

It didn’t matter. It was time to end their relationship.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Except the figure disappeared.

Not in the term a ghost would, because Mike still felt like he was being watched, but he didn’t see the silhouette again. It pissed him off, but he was smarter than giving up. Instead, he turned to his team.

He asked Marius - one of the best tinkerers the world has ever seen in his opinion - to install a few cameras around his boat, so that he can monitor every movement from within his home, and Marius - although a little bit weirded out - delivered. Mike was satisfied, he finally got a chance to get ahead of the mysterious staker, now all he needed to was to be patient and he never had a problem with that.

He waited for three weeks without seeing the shadow again, but on the fourth Friday, he finally caught it on record. Since the cameras were recording live, and he spent his nights sitting in front of them, he just caught a glimpse of the figure’s coat. It was fucking four in the morning, and he was doozing off before, but the second he saw the movement, he got on his feet and reaching for his gun, he rushed to the exit of his boat, all tiredness forgotten.

The adrenaline was rushing in his ears as he burst out of the door, gun in hand. It took him just half a second to find the figure in the darkness, then he was already charging towards it, running like he never ran before.

“Stop right there!” he shouted and again, he caught the figure off guard; it winced from the sudden sound in the otherwise peaceful night. It looked around, trying to find a place to hide, clearly trying to escape, but the old soldier was fast. The moment the figure turned away in an attempt to run, it made a mistake and Mike caught it’s arm in his iron grip. The force of him tugging at the figure efficiently knocked it’s hat off just to reveal a patch of sweaty, ginger hair. He lifted an eyebrow, tugging at the arm again, trying to get a better look, but the figure just seemed to have more than enough of this abuse.

Knowing all too well that trying to slip from Mike’s grip was a useless motion, it instead planted its feet and turning on its heels it kicked the soldier on his side, efficiently knocking the air out of his lungs. Wheezing, Mike immediately let go of the arm, gasping for air. Growling swears he looked at the figure, but it was on the run already, making distance between the two of them.

Spitting, Mike got himself together, and rushed after the figure. He had been waiting for this fight since Halloween and he wasn’t going to let that motherfucker run away once more. The figure was fast, but Mike was angry, and it made him more dangerous and reckless. He had no problem keeping up with the pace, in fact, he was catching up to the shadow step by step. He was ready to finish this.

In their chase, Mike kind of forgot to look where he was going, but it didn’t really matter. The only thing in front of his eyes was the prize of finally catching this motherfucking stalker, the changing of landscape around them didn’t matter at all-

Until it did.

Mike had no idea how, but they ended up in the more abandoned corner of Hereford. There were mostly suburban areas or empty factories on this side of the town. How did they even get here!? He looked around in concern, taking deep breaths. He had no idea, he only started to notice everything around him just now.

He still had the figure right in front of him, but their distance started to grow as his legs got tired of the running. The adrenaline in his blood slowly faded away, and with that, his energy did too.

He soon noticed himself gasping for air, his sight getting a bit blurry, slowing down, which was- not a problem namely because the figure was heading towards the last building in the line, which turned out to be a… a church? Really? A church.

Before he could ridicule the shadow in his head, he saw it run straight up the front stairs of the building, and the next thing reaching his mind was the loud band of the door being shut.

Taking big gulps of air, Mike let himself collapse on the ground, eyes fixed on the building. This might have been the strangest night of his entire life, and it was far from over. Giving himself a few minutes, he just sat there, watching the building, kind of waiting for the figure to escape again, but there was no movement around the church. Odd.

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and stretched as he stood up. Twisting, he popped his spine and with a low groan he approached the church. He couldn’t see any movement around the door, but as he stepped on the first stair, he noticed how a light had been lit in the window of the church tower. So, there was somebody home.

He pulled his gun out - just in case - and stepped to the door, slowly pushing it in; it wasn’t even properly closed. Holding his weapon as steady as possible, Mike stepped in. It was pitch black. Grimacing, he fished his small flashlight out of his pocket, turning it on. The narthex was empty, only a few old benches left, waiting since god-knows how long, for people who never came.

Mike looked around and noticed a smaller entrance door. Stepping there, he glanced inside the nave and seeing no movement, he entered. Looking around, he lowered his gun a little. Rows of benches, hand-made pillars, a few old, wooden sculptures of Saints here and there, with their additional little plaques of info. Mike hummed, directing his flashlight at each of them. There was nothing unusual, really just a worn down little church. He didn’t even know that there was a church in this part of the town and he has been living here for a good 10 years now.

Getting deeper into the building, he started to measure the space in his head, trying to find the stairs into the attic. It was a small church so it was not many places where they could hide the way up. His hard guess was behind the main altar, so he made his way there, making sure he was as silent as possible.

As he arrived into the crossing, he stopped to take a quick look into both of the transept sides, that was when he noticed it. It wasn’t a big thing to notice, but it was strange on its own. On one side he saw an old Virgin Mary, the other held an equally old St. Joseph. Squinting, he glanced back at the other sculptures in the nave. All of them were old, but otherwise clean. The benches were left to rot, but every statue was in the best shape, not a single part missing or paint being spotty.

“What the fuck?” Mike heard himself whisper, but glanced in the direction of the main altar. The Jesus there was in the best shape possible. Mike shook his head, and stepped up to the main altar. He glanced at the sculpture, tilting his head a little. “Listen, if he is just a strange fan of mine I won’t hurt him, but otherwise… I can’t promise you anything. Don’t come after me later, okay?” with a smirk, he shook his head. Always an atheist.

Behind the altar, he noticed a small door, hidden from even the front rows. Getting more and more relaxed in this very strange situation, he lowered his gun completely as he entered the small door and there he found it. The stairs to the attic! According to the soft lights at the top of the stairs, he found what he was looking for.

He switched off his flashlight and started to climb still as silent as possible. He was about… 99,9% sure the stalker knew about him, but still. This time, he wanted to be the one hiding in the dark.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

He was around half of the stair when he heard some kind of a rustling under his boots. He froze in the middle of his movement - not wanting to be heard -, and looked down in a slight panic. Squinting, he leant down; a plastic bag? Okay, what now?!

He gently stepped off the bag and lifted it up in the weak light of the staircase. Mike’s eyes rounded as he recognized the object in his hand. It was a very strong bag with rows and rows of writing printed on it, informing the handler about the date, the place and the type of blood. 0-. Mike closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping that the plastic bag would… maybe miraculously turn into fairy dust and butterflies, but the plastic bag remained. Normally he was okay to see this bag, it was a useful little object, you know, saving lives here and there, but- this one was empty. Why the fuck was it emtpy, it was clearly used before. He glanced up at the top of the stairs. Okay what the fuck.

Taking a gulp of air, he stuffed the bag in his pocket and continued his way up. As he got to the last few steps, he first noticed a door on top of the stairs, and it being slightly open, he heard a soft sound. Stopping yet again, he tried to concentrate, and soon could make out the sound of fabric rustling and gentle tones of a piano.

Getting more and more confused, he finished his journey up, lifted his gun in front of himself, and without knocking or giving any warning, he burst into the attic, just to be greeted by a pair of green eyes fixed on him. He lifted his eyebrows. He has seen this look somewhere, but he couldn’t, for the love of god, tell where.

The eyes belonged to a - very - handsome face of a young man. He had elegant and sharp features, with a bit of arrogance hidden in his posture. He was without a doubt attractive, but Mike couldn’t care, because the young man had locks of ginger hair on his head, and who had that as well? His dear stalker. So he pointed the gun at the other, who was annoyingly calm.

“It took you long enough to get up the stairs. Might be the age,” said the stranger, with an amused little smirk. He looked away, down to the table and reaching out he poked on the phone laying on the surface. The soft piano stopped. “I started to get worried.”

Anger building in him, Mike gritted his teeth. “Who are you? Why are you following me? What do you want? What the fuck is this?!”

The stranger smiled at that, looking back at him, never noticing the gun. “My name is Olivier Flament. I have been following you, because I need to ask you a favour. I would like to ask for your help in an important matter. As for what… I believe this is my home.”

Struck by the strange honesty of the other Mike blinked a few, lowering his gun just a tiny bit. “What matter? Why were you following me?”

“I told you, I need your hel-”

Mike cut in. “Why were you following me everywhere for almost three months?”

The man fell silent, he glanced at the table. He almost seemed… shy?

“Spit it out!” Mike grumbled, making the other look up. His posture might have been calm, but his eyes were like the sea before the storm.

“I didn’t know how to approach you, see my lifesty-”

“So you decided to follow me, even with my family and when I try to catch you, you run? Almost not suspicious.”

Olivier looked at him for a few long seconds, trying to figure him out. It has been harder than he planned so far, and if he didn’t play it cool, he would get into a deep problem. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare you, but-”

“Oh you didn’t scare me.” Mike lifted his gun, pointing straight to the other’s head. “You made me angry. ”

The young man turned his head down, now looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you or your family, I swear to God. I need your help. Please, just listen-!”

Mike watched him, standing there, one hand on the table, leaning there a bit, trying to move away from him. He noticed something… inhuman in this man, something otherworldly. The posture, the face, the eyes… It was so strange. Not unpleasant, far from it, just odd.

The soldier lowered his gun a little, and took the plastic bag out of his pocket, throwing it in front of the other. “What is this crap?”

Looking down, Olivier hummed. “That’s my favourite. I probably had the same type back in the Dark Ages, and now I find it delicious.”

Mike’s grip on the gun tightened. “Quit the jokes, mate!”

The young man didn’t answer, he just glanced to the left. Following his eyes, Mike looked away, just to see a little fridge. It had an open cooler bag in front of it, what had about 10-15 similar blood packs in it. He looked at the man again, grimacing in disgust. “You are sick.”

The other shook his head. “I am really not. Don’t think that I enjoy drinking human blood in particular. It is not a very exciting diet after 800 years, but it does what it needs to, and still better than starving, or hunting and hurting the innocent.”

Mike glanced at the bags again, and then back at the man standing in front of him. “If you tell me, you are a fucking vampire, I will vomit.”

The sides of Olivier’s mouth pulled up into a gentle smile, and crossing his arms in front of him, he nodded. “I suppose… my secret’s out.”

“You are joking!” Mike blinked.

Olivier shook his head with that amused little smile. “No. And you didn’t vomit. Surprising.”

The soldier shook his head. “You are crazy!”

“Says the man who chased another through a town, gun held high, ready to murder.”

With an unamused grimace Mike rolled his eyes. “You should be happy that I’m just holding my gun and not using it.”

“Not to sound too smart, but that wouldn’t do too much harm on my body. See, this is the problem. As far as I know, I’m pretty undestroyable.”

Mike lifted an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Olivier nodded. “If you would like, I can show you,” before finishing, he already reached for a letter opener on his table. It looked sharp, and he held it out for Mike to see, then without a heartbeat, he pressed the edge into his own palm.

For reasons unknown, Mike immediately reached out, to catch his hands before he could hurt himself, but confusion hit him even more, when there was not a single drop of blood coming out of the wound. In fact, the raw flesh - or at least what was supposed to be the raw flesh - did not look the way it was supposed to look like. It was not red and healthy, but grey and… there wasn’t any blood. Not a single drop.

Mike slapped his palm across his mouth, and shutting his eyes, he took two steps back, turning his face away. There was no blood, there was no smell, there was nothing . Nothing human. What the fuck. Now he felt like vomiting. He looked up at Olivier. “What the fuck is… What!?”

The man looked at him and humming, he put down the letter opener. He picked up a piece of fabric, wrapped it around his hand. It didn’t really serve any purpose other than hiding the disturbing wound from Mike out of pure sympathy. It wasn’t an easy thing to see. “You seemed very confident in yourself just a second ago.”

“Fuck.” With a huge sigh, Mike held back his dinner, and taking a deep breath he adjusted his posture. “Okay. Okay. Let’s pretend, for a second, that I believe you. What do you really want? What kind of help do you need from me ? Do you want to eat me, or something? That is why am I here?”

Hearing this, Olivier suddenly seemed annoyed. “If you would just calm down a little, I would tell you everything!”

“Get on with it!” Mike shouted suddenly, with his gun held up again.

The man- or vampire- or what the fuck stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes helpless. He bit his bottom lip and turned his head down again, lifting both his hands in a soothing motion. “Please... “ he glanced up at him again, almost scared. “I know exactly how this sounds, alright? But I… I don’t want to cause harm to you, I swear. I wanted to introduce myself to you, but I have spent the last… forty-something years of my life being in- being alone, and I had no idea how to approach you! This is the truth, I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you, you are not my type! I do not even enjoy hunting humans, all that screaming and blood and waste…” Olivier shook his head slowly, looking Mike in the eyes. “I swear. I don’t want to eat you, I don’t want to harm you, I’m more than happy with those bags. I genuinely need your help!”

With jaws clenched, Mike watched his every move, considering his options. He slowly lowered his gun, and side-eyeing the vampire, he turned around to observe the surroundings. It was a way of getting used to the situation, and also it was a test of the other. He wanted to see how Olivier reacts to him in his own home, if it could even be called that. With a frown, he looked around.

The attic was spacious, with a few smaller windows built into the roof. It was divided into two, a smaller room, which reminded him of an office, that was where they were standing. It had a heavy, old table - Olivier waiting patiently beside that - pushed under a window, close to the wall, an equally old leather chair, a few cabinets with papers, candles, smaller and bigger containers, a small, locked chest, and other unusual stuff piled on them and the fridge with the fantastic blood bags in it.

The other half of the attic was just behind Olivier. Not knowing what to expect, Mike looked around. He didn’t see a bed or a coffin or anything where somebody would be able to rest comfortably, but he had a hard guess that Oliver - if he was truly what he said to be - didn’t really need sleep. However he saw an old couch and two nice armchairs in front of a- a- a bookshelf. Well. A bookshelf was a very, very weak expression. It wasn’t just one bookshelf, he saw at least three or four of them, and each one was stacked with books. And not just the shelves, no, there were books everywhere. Everywhere. It looked like a motherfucking library over there. Piles of books behind the couch, around the armchairs, stuffed into the window slots, put on the beams and around the columns. It was so messy, yet amazing, Mike couldn’t help but let an amused little snort out.

He looked back at Olivier, who was still standing next to the table, waiting for him, without a single movement. He didn’t take a breath, he didn’t blink. Sniffing, Mike lowered his gun completely. “A vampire?”

Olivier nodded.

“How old are you?”

“As far as I remember, I have been turned-” he hummed. “ around AD 750-850.”

Mike lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘around’?”

Olivier cleared his throat, looked away as if he was embarrassed. “We didn’t really have birth certificates back then and my memory is kind of blurry from a 1200 years of perspective, don’t judge me.”

Mike hummed. “Is this your real name?”

“I have been called many names over the years, I don’t know if you have noticed, but it’s sort of suspicious if somebody uses a name for 1200 years, but don’t worry. For those who I wish to get close to myself I am Olivier Flament, yes.”

“Why are you talking like this…? I’m a simple man.”

“Then you might know that old habits die hard.”

Not being able to hold back, Mike smirked at that. “Touché.”

Olivier nodded gently. “Would you like to ask anything else?”

“Who turned you? Are there more of you?”

Looking away, Olivier started to fidget with the phone - actually an iPhone - on his table. “I don’t really know who turned me and I don’t know about the others. To be honest, I don’t wish to have any connection with them anymore. I have had enough, especially since the so-called “Dracula” figure ruined our reputation in popular culture.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Mike almost burst out laughing. “You are- you are hurt by the movies?”

“Since they tell false facts, obviously yes.”

“Why don’t you correct them, then?”

Now it was Olivier’s turn to lift his eyebrow. “And how do you expect me to do that? March over, knock on the silver gates of Hollywood and say ‘Excuse me, we do not actually sparkle under the sunlight, says me, an actual vampire!’ or what? I’m not a fool. As soon as I tell the humans what I am, there would be one of these two options: one, they would want me to turn them into vampires as well, for the fun of living forever, or the second, they would panic as the herd of animals they are and chase me until they either catch or kill me. Not like they would succeed in any of these options, but it’s easier for me to just lay back in silence and busy myself with the old knowledge of the early ages.”

Mike, taken aback, just shut up for a few seconds, lifting his palms in a protective gesture, but it was for the looks only. He somehow did not feel the need to protect himself anymore, in fact, Oivier reacting so seriously to a simple joke put him at ease. He liked it here, and he found himself being interested in the other. It was still a far-fetched idea, and he was still 60% sure that he will wake up on the ground in his boat, with a few empty bottles of whiskey around him, but this wasn’t so bad after all. The vampire seemed almost nice, and he was never really down to judge at the first glance, so why not wait and hear him out?

Noticing his own rambling, Olivier fake-cleared his throat again and turned down his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I assume you have been saving this up since a very long time.”

“Indeed.”

With a small, amused smile Mike shrugged. “It’s okay. But if you don’t want to tell people what you are, why tell me?”

“I have heard about you before, and I trust that you won’t tell my secret to anybody. I believe you could help me with my problem. I know it is very hard for you to understand my reasons and drive, but I put my trust into you.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “What do you need my help for?”

“I want you to help me die.”

Mike turned towards the man standing on his right, eyes wide with shock. He let his gaze wander, just for a second, on the other. His tall, proud posture, his handsome face, basking in the dim candle light, his gentle, green eyes now looking at him full with hope, expecting help. How could a so-called monster look this innocent, the soldier couldn’t fathom. Why would he want to die? And more importantly, why would he want to be killed by somebody like Mike?

In his wandering, he almost missed the way the other’s lips pulled into a small smile. “You won’t help me, will you?”

Lifting his chin a bit, Mike looked the other in the eyes and he couldn’t help, but think ‘what a waste’, but shook his head anyway. “I don’t enjoy murdering people, but if you have a good enough reason I will. But you have lots and lots of explaining to do before we get to it.”

The man seemed caught off guard- almost surprised for a second, but his smile widened as hope filled him even more.

Mike shook his head, looking away. What a waste. He didn’t like the idea of killing the other. He kind of started to like him in a very twisted way, but he understood why somebody would want to die after 1200 years of living in the dark.

Olivier stepped closer to him, offering his hand gently, a smile as bright as the sun.

Mike glanced away with a low sigh. “What have I gotten myself into? Mike Baker, by the way.”

“I know!” with a soft laugh, the vampire shook his hand. “I told you, I have heard about you. And as for what… Let’s just sit down, and let me tell you my story first, okay?”

Stepping back a little, Mike looked him in the eyes. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay. You can start with how you know me.”

Olivier nodded, and stepped into the other part of the attic, gesturing towards one of the armchairs. “Have a seat.”

Mike put his gun on the big table and followed Olivier into the ‘living-room’. He looked around a bit, observing the piles of books here and there and with an amused smirk, he sat down. The armchair creaked under his weight and he frowned. “How long since you invited anybody here?”

Olivier looked at him, sitting down on the couch. “This is a fairly new place for me, truth to be told, I have only lived here for about ten years. But in the term of having interaction with humans and other vampires… It’s been just about thirty years or so. I prefer being alone.”

Nodding, Mike kicked off his shoes and put his legs on top of a strong pile of books. Olivier rolled his eyes with a smile, but he didn’t say anything. “So,” Mike began. “Why me?”

Fidgeting with his fingers, the vampire looked away, and then back at Mike. “I knew your grandfather, and also your dad.”

During the day, his brain was working on high; during the night, it needed a fast and efficient way to store all the information he received - and for a boy who was barely allowed to leave his backyard, the amount of input was- surprising. Being homeschooled for most of his childhood, never having a chance to explore, make friends or just learn to climb a tree- it was not an easy way of living for a kid, especially when the child in question was energetic and interested in everything.

Being closed in and supervised, shielded from even the wind with such a lack of stimulus would have made any grown up go crazy. Having all the time in the world, and still nothing to do, no way to process, could push the brain into overdrive; and in order to protect one’s sanity, the mind would try to tire itself - mainly with asking every question, or opening every trauma; thinking about things a normal person doesn’t have time to think about on a regular day.

Experiencing something similar for just a few months made adults develop depression and other issues, so it was expected that a child would not be able to bear with years and years of the same cabin fever. But Erik - being as resourceful as he was - developed a way to manage. Instead of trying to escape his prison all the time, he decided to store these desires in his heart for later use. He was a smart boy and he knew more than enough that his parents wouldn’t be able to shield him for all his life, so he turned to learning. And by learning, he meant books, and by books, he meant all the books he could put his hands on, not caring if it was about tales, science, culture, languages, geography, animals or history - he wanted to read all.

And since he had all the time in the world, with nothing to do, he did indeed read all the magazines, plays and books he could reach. When other children were hanging out in school, he was reading about space and stars. When boys his age were playing hide and seek on the streets, he learnt about ancient Greece; and when they were making friends, he was making plans. After all his parents were able to keep his body in one place, but they had no power over his mind wandering to the fantastic castles of Russia, the beautiful seas of Australia or the endless deserts of Africa.

Books gave him so much inner freedom he was able to completely shut out the fact that he had never experienced a true childhood, and he was happy. At the age of 15, instead of chasing girls like a normal boy would, he spent his days reading and learning about everything, and during the night he lied restlessly, dreaming about the places he wanted to visit, things he wanted to see, goals he wanted to achieve. The images were so vivid in his head, he sometimes thought he could just reach and touch them.

He read all about the wonders of the world and, while patiently waiting for his turn to decide, he planned fantastic journeys to places his parents would never even dream about. He locked all these desires deep into his heart until he finally became old enough to choose his own path, and by the time he got asked ‘What do you want to do with your life’ he already had an answer ready.

He knew his parents wanted to keep him safe, that they wished him to become a lawyer, stay close to them, have a peaceful career, with a silent family of his own and die after a long, successful and very boring life - so of course he did the exact opposite!

Signing up to military training was his way to rebel, and soon he discovered that it was the best decision he ever made.

By the age of 25 he was able to travel to countless countries and cities with the army. Becoming an Intelligence Officer was the most suitable for his abilities and desires, and after learning Dari and ending up in Afghanistan he finally - for the first time in his life - found his place and purpose. For a while. He had all the time in the world to explore the colorful culture, the traditions, the good and also the bad sides of Kabul, and he fell in love with the city in no time. He could say that he was finally living all his dreams, but Erik still struggled with sleeping.

He was busy with all the work, all the information, all the responsibility day after day, yet it was just not enough for his brain to get tired - or this time maybe it was too much. During his childhood, the lack of input kept him awake; when he was a teenager, the fantastic future was not letting him have his rest. And when he was just fulfilling the dreams he always had, working for greater good and helping others and living in a different country, it turned out to be a bit too much to handle. It was without a doubt pretty ironic.

As the situation in Kabul grew more and more tense, he got less and less sleep. He needed to work 48-72 hours in one go, and when he finally had a few hours of peace, he fainted. It was sleep, but not rest. Both his mind and his body were strained to their limits, and as the tension collapsed in the city, so did he. He arrived at a crossroad, and in order to survive, he took the harder path and cut every connection that tied him to the outer world.

After he escaped Kabul for the first time in 8 years of active service, he felt- hopeless. Lost. Weak.

Relieved.

Relieved?

Relieved like a man who just cut all the chains that held him down would be. For the first time in his life, he had nobody to tell him what to do. No parents, no commanders, no nothing. When this realisation washed over him, he felt exhausted and energetic at the same time.

For a few days, he had been wandering close to Kabul to see if anybody would come after him, but when nobody arrived after two weeks, he understood the gift that fell into his lap.

It wasn’t simply about shaking all the chains of command off himself, but it was true and total freedom. He had the power to forget his original culture, his ways of living, his career, his belongings and even his name. He got the chance to peel every layer of paint, and start with a blank, white canvas if he wanted- and oh he wanted! He wanted to escape from his previous life.

The next day the first thing he did was to sell every item he owned, even his watch. He got so drunk on the newly discovered freedom, he allowed himself to get lost in time as well. With nothing but the money he got, a small backpack and water, he started his aimless journey around the country, and for two whole years, he didn’t even look back. Without doubt, that was the happiest time of his life… or so he thought.

He spent his days wandering from town to town, exploring more and more of the rigid beauty of Afghanistan. He was living from one day to another: when he found work, he got paid, when he gambled, he lost his money, and when he couldn’t find any food, he didn’t eat. All of his previous life experiences were stripped off him, and he became a man whose only purpose was to satisfy his needs. He fought for food, water and shelter, like an animal, and it was just such an easy way of living for him that he was able to shut his brain out for a while and live for the moment.

During his second year of complete isolation, he travelled through the Dasht-e Margo desert in order to get to Lashkargah for his next Buzkashi tournament. Crossing the endless sands on foot was a challenge on its own, and he wanted to try it for so long now.

Before he started his journey, he planned his route and scheduled in a few extra days as well. He wanted to allow himself the luxury of getting lost. He packed all the water he could and got on his foot to conquer the grim dunes of The Desert of Death .

As he arrived at the Dasht-e Margo, he allowed himself a minute of silent appreciation. He knew that it was one of the deadliest deserts of the globe, and he knew that he needed to respect it. He felt that if he could cross these sands without getting lost or going insane, he could do anything, so he set foot in the desert, having no idea about the way it would change him.

The first day and night went as peacefully as possible, but the next morning he discovered a very important factor: There was nobody here to talk to . He was completely alone, with nothing but the sea of burning sand under his feet, the september sun on the sky and his own thoughts. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he only had his mind as company, and getting deeper into the desert, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to open Pandora’s box, yet it was too late to turn back now.

By the second night came the realisation of the parallel between his childhood and this desert. His body might have not been confined in a house, but wherever he turned there was nothing except the sand and the sun. It was a physical jail in a form, with his mind having all the time to think - and as a good cabin fever worked, soon he started to ask every question, open every trauma and think about the things he didn’t have time to think about in one and a half years.

By the third day, he opened up every shut door in his soul, and gave himself into the unspeakable amount of remorse he felt for his parents and the army. He knew that he was being selfish when he cut his ties, and truth to be told, he missed his previous life. He knew that everybody thought he was dead, and he didn’t go back to tell them otherwise. He simply didn’t want to. He wanted to be alone, he wanted to do whatever he wished for, so he just did that without thinking twice. He lied to himself that it was for his survival, but it really wasn’t. He just saw the opportunity to disappear from the radars, and he took it.

He allowed himself to be dead, because death meant free from the burdens, but it also meant being free from all the good he had in his life, the things he missed! For example, he missed his friends from the army, he missed calling his father on a silent sunday evening, and he missed having people ready to catch him if he was falling. He missed being alive.

Four days into the desert, he felt the worst he had ever felt in 33 years. His body was burning, his heart was breaking, his mind was ready to shut down. He couldn’t shake the memory of his own betrayal out of his head, no matter how he tried. Even worse, every time he closed his eyes, he could imagine the worried face of his father, and the tears of his mother as his colonel told them he disappeared. He knew he needed to go back, but still wasn’t ready to accept his failure.

On day five, he couldn’t take a step. He just sat for hours, looking into the mirages the sun created, thinking about his decisions, and where he turned wrong. He shouldn’t have left Kabul, he shouldn’t have learned Dari, he shouldn’t have signed up for military training. He should have stayed home, to not disappoint his family like this. He should have listened to his parents.

The sixth morning came with a short rain, and he just stood there, eyes closed, shoulders dropped as the water was sinking into his hair, beard and clothes. It was a perfect match to his also cloudy mood. He felt like the worst shit the world has ever seen. He planted his face into his hands and let himself be weak for just a second, the rain was there to hide the pain anyway.

He didn’t know where to turn or what he wanted from life anymore. He was ready to give up. The Desert of Death was getting the best of him, yet his legs were still moving, his lungs still filled with air, and his heart still pumped blood. He felt like dying, yet he kept going on, for reasons unknown.

On the seventh evening, he reached both the breaking point and the oasis. He felt the same when he escaped Kabul, only this time, it was all his fault. All the betrayal, all the pain, all the selfish decisions were on him, there was nobody else to blame.

He dropped his bag in the sand and, collapsing next to the shallow waters of the oasis, he simply pushed his head under in an attempt to calm his storming mind. Since he was here, in the oasis, he got less and less rest, and by this point, his whole body trembled with every step he took. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to cross the desert anymore.

He pulled his head out of the water, taking big gulps of air and he just stared at the small waves he created. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to fix everything. He took a deep breath, and lied on the ground, turning towards the sky. The sun was just about to set, he could already see the first stars of the night.

He kicked his boots down, and pushed his burning legs into the chilly water, waiting in silence as the last rays of the sun disappeared. He wanted to fix it, yet he wanted the freedom. How would the two of these meet..? How could he make it work?

He knew that he needed to go back, he didn’t know how, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. But how would he still keep his independence? How would he still travel and live his dreams? He didn’t want to be stuck in the same place for eight years without change. He was still in love with Kabul, he could imagine himself living there, but not as an intelligence officer, just a native. He still wanted to travel, and explore and live his life.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to solve this somehow.

He needed to let go of everything one more time, and start with a blank canvas yet again, but this time, he needed to make it good. This time, he needed to make his decisions based on his happiness, not out of rebellion or fear. He needed to keep himself and his well being in the focus, while still satisfying others.

He took a deep breath, wiggled his cooling toes and slowly, opened his eyes, to be greeted by the clearest night sky ever seen. When he was a child, and he read about space, he always wished to see the stars and the Milky Way in person, and now that he was here, he simply didn’t know how on Earth did he miss this until now?! What a fool he was.

Watching more and more stars lit up, one after another, he suddenly felt small… insignificant. His problems were gone as he was drinking up the fascinating view.

After a week of feeling down and tense, he suddenly felt calm, even happy. From this perspective, his problems seemed as small as he was at the minute. His lips pulled into a smile and closing his eyes, he fell into a gentle, deep sleep, for the first time in his life. That night, there was nothing in his mind, no storms, no emotions, nothing. He felt empty and peaceful, and he slept like never before.

It was the most fucked up feeling ever; spending seven days breaking down all the walls he built around himself just to end the terror fulfilling a childhood dream that washed tranquility over him, and the next morning he woke up refreshed, relaxed.

He sat next to the water and refilled his bottles, letting his mind wander again. This time, it wasn’t about hatred and remorse, but ways to fix this. He counted the memories from all across his years that he considered happy, and analysing them, he set foot on the sand to finish the journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erik spent approximately two whole weeks in the Desert of Death, and this trip on the endless sands turned to be his personal El Camino . The Erik who entered the desert died on the way, and the Erik who left was a different person. From the next day, he started to work on his return, thankfully he didn’t need to wait for too long. When Nokk found him, he was more than ready to live.

To his biggest surprise, getting into contact with the military again was easy. His knowledge and input about the country and the people came in handy, and even though he wasn’t completely off the hook because of this whole disappearance act, his help with dismantling a major insurgency operation was his testimony of loyalty, and without a doubt, he excelled. He even got the attention of a whole new circle, and when Six reached out to him, he accepted the opportunity with gratitude.

Arriving in England opened a whole new chapter for him. He never imagined living in this country, it wasn’t too appealing for him; but as he learnt more about Team Rainbow and  his new teammates, he decided it was worth every rain-soaked shoe and shitty weather. Being selected into a group with such amazing soldiers was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Here he needed to fight to prove that he was worthy of his place, and the others kept challenging him all the time for the first few months. They wanted to see if the new guy could handle the weight or not. It was hard, but he kept pushing against them, and soon, they welcomed him in the team with open arms.

He also realised how terrible he was in social interactions. He was just so bad at making friends, he worked so much different than the others, it was madness. For the first few weeks it seemed that he always spoke before thinking, he kept hurting people, making the others mad at him. It was very similar to a bunch of kids in the playground, but since he never experienced that, he had no idea how to make it work, but eventually he started to change. Slow and steady, he learnt to listen, think and answer. The team started to get used to him, and soon he was an anchor for everybody. They came for his insight and advice, and friendships started to form.

By the time the two new teammates arrived, he had already carved his name in the marble side by side with Morowa. They had been in active duty for almost three months now, and he was satisfied with how his life was going.

Both his mind and body were equally tired most of the days, he was able to rest. It was still not the same as in the desert, but he was getting there. He called his mother every week, and he actually told her stories about the places he visited and the things they worked on. He also already had a few vacations planned to countries he had yet to visit, so all in all, it was a decent way of living. He didn’t have any reason to complain, until- until the two new arrived.

He heard a few rumours about them from Mike and Jordan. He knew that one of them is some old, experienced captain of a fortress. He also heard that the other was an adventurer, and he was already excited to hear their stories in exchange for his own. He really wanted to have a friend who would be as invested in traveling as him. He couldn’t wait to meet them.

On the morning of their arrival, he had been hanging out with Yumiko, testing a few new breaches for Jordan in the workshop. When they got back to the canteen, there were the two newcomers. The old man with white beard and a real sword tied to his side, and the other was- um...

Blinking, Erik stepped next to Jordan, to get a better look at the other newbie. He felt his mouth dry, his knees weakened. The other newbie - a lady - was just- she was so beautiful. Her darker skin, her curly black hair, her features, her everything. He never expected to see something this mesmerizing in the middle of Hereford.

Around him, everybody was moving to greet the duo, and he was just standing there, questioning the existence of God.

Jordan looked up at him and slapped his upper back gently. “You are drooling, pal.”

His eyes snapped at the man. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Come, pretty boy, let’s greet them!”

Nodding, Erik followed Jordan, and soon he was shaking hands with both the old man - Jalal - and the woman - Saana. She even had a pretty name. That was just unfair. She also had a firm handshake, sparkling eyes and a sassy smirk hiding in the corner of her mouth. Erik already knew that she was amazing.

“Oh, are you really Erik Thorn? I’ve read about your work in Kabul, it sounded risky.”

Erik’s heart skipped a beat again as he nodded. “It was risky, yes. Especially keeping the tourists alive!”

Saana’s lips pulled into a wide smile hearing that, and that was the end of Erik. He felt his hands shake so he let go of Saana’s hand and looked away. He felt his face warming up. It was- it was the most embarrassing thing ever. He was 36 years old, the Afghan ladies loved him, and he had plenty of experience with them, but this- this was a whole different deal. He felt like a little boy all of a sudden. He felt so stupid. Thankfully Saana didn’t seem to notice, or she was decent enough to pretend not to notice his obvious longing. She looked up at him once more, and stepped away, to greet Mike instead, leaving Erik just enough time to slap himself in the face mentally.

He hoped that this sudden interest in Saana would fade after a few days, that it was just the excitement of something new, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. After bumping into the woman in every goddamn place possible, he realised how small Hereford base really was. His life turned into a hot mess and suddenly he missed his good old hermitage very much, thank you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Saana - it was the exact opposite. Erik found her fantastic. Sanna was not only very attractive in appearance, no! She had the audacity to be smart, funny, interesting, gentle and on the top of it an excellent soldier! She got the hostage out, she solved the team dynamics, she was flexible and confident, and she was everything Erik has ever wanted to be. Saana made life look so easy, but Erik knew that it wasn’t, even for her. He has heard about the adventures of the woman, and he couldn’t imagine how hard it was to keep everything in order, but Saana made it work and he just wanted to learn from this amazing woman.

He found himself wanting to be around Saana, not just in the terms of friendship. He wanted to show her Kabul, and he wanted her to guide him through all her own adventures. He wished to be by her side, but he had no idea how to approach somebody so perfect. He was afraid that he would mess it up, so he didn’t do anything for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His lucky day -or maybe lucky night- came on a stormy Friday in early March. The base was still freezing, and he couldn’t for the love of god fall asleep. They had a big mission going on soon, and he was lying in bed, eyes open, thinking about the new triggering mechanism for his torch, when the first lightning hit the ground. It was so loud he winced in his bed. He looked out of the window as the first drops of rain started to fall. This weather reminded him of his childhood; during storms his mother always made a cup of tea for him, and they stayed up late, cuddled in a big blanket, talking.

He scratched his beard and glanced at the other bed, where Olivier was sleeping peacefully. With a small smile on his lips, he got to his feet and put on a sweatshirt. A cup of tea sounded nice, especially in the cold. He left his room and headed towards the cafeteria. When he turned into the corridor that led towards his destination, he was surprised to see light inside. Shrugging it off, he walked to the door. His hard guess was Ryad or Timur wandering around, or maybe Dominic trying to steal some of Adriano’s delicious biscotti. Without thinking twice, he pushed the door open and stepped in, only to be greeted by Saana, hunched over something at a table.

Blinking a few times, he bit his lips. Nobody was around, just the two of them, he wasn’t even sure if that ever happened before. “Good evening!” he greeted gently, but when no answer came, he stepped closer to the woman, to notice how her eyes were shut. She fell asleep on top of her papers and notebook, hand still holding the pen. He couldn’t hide a smile. Oh, so amazons still needed rest.

He watched her sleep for just a few seconds, and went to the kitchen to put up a kettle of water to heat. Then he left into the common room, to get a blanket from one of the armchairs. Arriving back, he made two cups of tea. He placed both mugs on Saana’s table, and unfolding the blanket, he gently covered the woman with it. To his touch, Saana winced and looked up at him. Her face was wrinkled, hair messy, eyes tired. Nobody was in their best form two seconds after waking up, but Erik still found her perfect.

Saana rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulder. “Thanks. I was working on our next mission, but I guess I fell asleep.” she smiled. “Thank you” she took the mug Erik offered her, and when the man gestured to the place next to her, she nodded.

Sitting down, Erik smiled at her. “Do you always work during the nights?”

“Only when I can’t sleep!” Saana smiled and glanced down at her work.

Erik lifted an eyebrow and followed her gaze to the maps, and weather forecasts and notes. “You sure take this seriously,” he said in amazement.

Saana nodded. “I have never been to this side of Chile, and we are approaching a fortress in the mountains. I just want to make sure that we will come back in our original packages.”

“And I thought I did my homework!” the blonde snorted. He then looked at the leather covered notebook by Saana’s left. “Can I?” he reached out and with an approving ‘sure’, the woman handed him the book.

Erik opened it gently and started to scan through the pages. There were notes and amazing sketches about the places Saana visited before. He couldn’t hold back a smile as he slowly shook his head.

“What?” Saana asked, embarrassed.

“It’s just- I’m just wondering, how are you even real!”

Blushing, Saana placed a hand on her chest with an almost offended smile. “Excuse me?”

“Oh nothing, nothing! It’s just that you exist only to selfishly humiliate us, normal human beings, with this amazing, sassy elegance you have!” Erik smiled at her.

With mouth falling open, Saana rolled his eyes. “I- I will take that as a compliment!”

Tilting his head, Erik smiled. “Good. It was a compliment.”

“Oh, so you compliment every lady like this?”

Erik stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. “No, not at all. Just the special ladies!”

With a soft giggle, Saana placed her hand on the notebook, trying to pull it away from Erik. “You are horrible!”

“Oh no, no, no! Please! I will behave! Please let me look at your amazing pictures!” Erik did not let go of the notebook just yet.

Saana shook her head. “Okay, okay, fine! But only with one condition.”

“Which is?”

The woman let go of the book and instead, she pointed gently at Erik’s tattoo. “I would like to hear about Afghanistan a bit more.”

Erik glanced down at his tattoo, then back at Saana. “Well… if you want to hear everything, one night is not enough time. I’ve spent ten years in the country.”

With a cheeky smile, Saana nodded. “I don’t think that we will be able to get rid of each other soon anyway.”

His lips pulling into a smile, Erik said. “That is true. In this case, I would like to hear more about your adventures, starting with how you lost your fingers.”

Saana looked down at her hand, and up to Erik again. “That is a gory and disgusting story.”

“I’m all ears!”

Saana poked his side with her elbow gently. “No! You owe me a story about Kabul for now!”

With a resigning sigh, Erik nodded. “But Kabul might not even be that exciting! You can’t build up my interest like that, and then leave me hanging!”

“You are such a- so we are playing mind games now, hm? Emotional blackmailing, hm?”

Erik glanced in her eyes with a pout. “Only if it's working…?”

A good hearted laugh burst out of Saana, filling the canteen with life. “I can’t believe this! Okay, let’s make a deal. You will tell me a story about Kabul now, and then we will go to have some sleep, and tomorrow, I will tell you the story of how I lost my fingers during dinner?”

The blonde shut his mouth immediately, looking the other in the eye without blinking. He considered every possibility and outcome thoroughly and started to nod furiously. “Yes, I would love that very much!”

Satisfied with herself, Saana produced one of those fantastic, bright smiles. “It’s a date then. You pick the restaurant.”

Now it was Erik’s turn to get flushed. A date-a date-a date- adate . He felt his mouth open, but the sound didn’t come out. He was shocked. “A date?”

Saana smirked at him. “You didn’t think that I would invite you to steal food from Adriano and eat it surrounded by the others, right? So it’s a date. If you want it to be a date too!”

Erik looked at her, and started to nod furiously yet again. “Yes, I would love that very much!”

The woman next to him laughed again, and turning towards Erik she waited patiently until the man’s head cleared out just enough to start one of the Kabul stories. He didn’t plan this to be so easy, but he was undoubtedly happy with the sudden turn of events.

The next day, they accidentally stayed at the restaurant talking and exchanging stories for so long, the main chef needed to warn them that they were about to close. Erik knew he would remember that day until the end of his times.

During the dinner, Saana mentioned that she never visited a planetarium, and Erik discovered that despite his undying love for space, he neither set foot into one before. With that, their second date was decided.

They spend the third date in one of Maxim’s hunting huts, eating cereal out straight out of the bag, talking about their life in the army. Erik asked what was the worst thing that happened to Saana, and in exchange, he told her about the day he disappeared. He felt insecure at first, talking about his biggest shame, but Saana just lied there next to him, in the dirt, and listened to his every word without a single word of judgement. When he finished, the woman propped herself up on her elbow, and touching his face gently, she kissed him. It was the best date of all his life, and he already knew that he wanted more. He wanted it all.

For the fourth date, Erik planned a trip for them to Arthur’s Stone, which was just about 20 kms away from Hereford. When they began their journey in the morning, the sky was clear, the sun shining bright, but in a few hours the weather turned upside down, bringing an earth shaking summer storm with it. They were in the middle of nowhere when it hit, and both of them were soaking wet in just a few minutes. He was so angry and disappointed, he could shout. He knew that there was a National park near the Stone, and Saana loved forests, yet they were stuck on a plain field, drowning in mud.

When he opened his mouth to say his apology to Saana, the woman just hugged his neck and gave him a kiss, getting him even more wet, than he was before. She then smiled at him, with that amazing, bright smile of hers and pointed at a barn in the distance. “I bet, you can’t outrun me, Erik!”

She let go of him, starting her race towards the destination, and with that Erik’s anger was gone.

They spent the night in the barn, accompanied by a few horses, cuddled close to keep each other warm, talking about the places they wanted to visit. Until this point both of them planned for only themselves, but soon, their separated trips merged into shared ones. Saana - with all honesty - told him that even though she would never want to leave Erik behind, there were still a few places , like Antarctica, where she wanted to go alone. Understanding what this meant to Saana, Erik obviously accepted her decision, and asked if he could wait for her at the end points of those trips.

With sparkling eyes, Saana put her head on his shoulder, caressing his cheeks with her gentle fingers. “Yes, I would love that very much,” she whispered.

Erik smiled at him, and hugged her close, planting his face into her naked shoulders. “I will wave you goodbye, and I will greet you again, after the 50 days.”

Saana chuckled. “You mean 52 days. The first guy who crossed Antarctica on foot took 52 days.”

With a smile, Erik looked at her. “Saana, I think both of us know that you will never be satisfied with a second place.”

Laughing, the woman nodded, giving him a kiss yet again. “I guess you are right!”

Erik placed a kiss on top of her forehead and hugging her waist closer, he closed his eyes. During that night, in a shitty barn, surrounded by horses, cuddling naked next to one other, Erik found his deep slumber again, just like back at the oasis.

The next morning, he thought it was just one occasion. He was most surprised when, during their fifth date, he fell asleep just as easily as the last time, with Saana pressed against his back, hugging his waist.

They had spent the day in a small Welsh village, exploring the history of it together, then they had dinner in a fantastic little restaurant, and arriving back to their hotel room, they spent the next hours making love to each other. He planned all these outcomes, but he was sure, he won’t be able to sleep, so waking up in the morning, to Saana’s ice-cold feet pressing against his upper thighs, was both a pleasant and an unpleasant surprise. He opened his eyes with a loud yelp, and when he turned to the woman, she just smiled at him innocently. “What happened darling? A bug bit you?”

He wanted to make a smart remark, but before he could open his mouth, he decided to look the woman up and down. Her hair was messy, her eyes sparkled, she was covered in the soft sheets of the hotel, and he knew his future was next to her. So instead of commenting on her being a mountain troll, he gently cupped Saana’s face in between his hands, and gave him a soft kiss. Giggling, she hugged his neck and pulled him closer. As they parted, he pressed his forehead to the woman’s, eyes closed, caressing her arm and that was it. He never looked back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly their relationship got stronger and stronger, and they spent more and more time together. Erik found true rest only with Saana sleeping next to him, and couldn’t have been more grateful for it. It was clear as day that they were happy together, and as he discovered more about Saana, he fell deeper into the pit.

It wasn’t easy all the time, there were days, even weeks, when both of them were stressed from work, and he started to see how Saana - despite being a goddess in his eyes - was just as human as him. She was messy, she spent way too much time working, and when she was stressed she sometimes took it out on him. He soon understood her struggles with always trying to be the best and that she often forgot that she could count on him as well.

To his greatest surprise, the biggest discovery was that he didn’t mind any of this. He wanted to be there for Saana, even if his only job was to make her a tea and cover her in a blanket, when she worked. He never asked her to change, and just as easily as he did, Saana accepted his own strange bits as well. She was by her side, when he was angry, when he was broken, when he was weak, always holding him together with all the love she could give.

Both of them listened when the other needed them to, and they knew how to help. They were not afraid to ask for help and let the other close, because both of them knew that they were just meant for each other, and that after the storm, there will always be able to see the clear skies again.

Their days together turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years, and they never stopped to love and support each other.

Erik was there, when Saana was shot during a mission, sitting sleepless next to her hospital bed until she woke up. She was by his side, when his father got sick, holding his broken pieces together, shielding him from the world. And, as he promised, he was the last one waving goodbye when Saana started her journey across Antarctica, and he was the first to greet her by the goalline.

When Saana was not next to him, because she was on a mission alone, he tended to go back to his old habits of lying in their empty bed, thinking about his previous life. He got himself remembering his childhood, the early years of the military practice, Kabul, his two years long runaway, and that first date with Saana. He found himself smiling, because after all, every struggle he ever had was worth it in the end. He was happy, he loved like never before, and he was loved just the same.

He sometimes got himself thinking that what if it will be over one day? What if, Saana will get to her sober senses and just leave him behind. He wouldn’t blame her, he was not a Prince Charming on a white horse. He wasn’t rich, he wasn’t perfect, he still didn’t know how to say her mother’s name correctly, and he always left the toilet seat up. To his luck, Saana didn’t care about any of these, and she was not afraid to tell that to him over and over again, if she saw he needed it.

Saana had an inhuman sense to read his mood, even when he turned inwards. She always knew what he needed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For example, now, on the evening of the 6th of May, mere minutes before midnight, just as his insecurities were about to rise in him about their wedding tomorrow, Saana sensed his distress and waking from her sleep, she placed her hand on the sides of his face. “You are not sleeping, my love,” she whispered.

With a low chuckle, he pressed a kiss in her palm. “Yes, but you can rest, I’m all good.”

Saana yawned and fidgeting, she rolled him over gently to be able to press against his cooler back with her chest. She hugged his waist, pushing her warm cheeks against his skin. “You are not, I can tell. Let me guess… You are afraid that my father will not accept you in our family. You are sad, because your dad can’t be with us tomorrow. And you are thinking that after eight damn years of strong and stable relationship, I still deserve more than what you are able to give me.”

Erik bit into his lips, listening to Saana with a wide grin on his face. “You know me.”

“Of course I know you. And I know that my father will love to have you as his son-in-law. I also know that even if your dad will not be able to be here physically, he will be looking down at us from Heaven and he will be pretty damn proud about your sexy little wife. And for the last part- Erik, I know you love me, you keep telling me every day. Not with your words, but with your actions. For example how after eight years, you still bring my morning coffee to bed in my favourite mug. How you only fill the rows of the newspaper crosswords I have no idea about but leave the rest for me because you know that I love them. How you suppress your muffled screaming every time, I press my cold feet against your skin… These are small and insignificant to you Erik, I know! Trust me, I know! But I also know that I would never want to press my feet against anybody else. I will press them against your skin for the rest of our lives, and if you have any complaints, I don’t care!”

Erik closed his eyes, listening to Saana, biting the inside of his mouth to hide a soft sniffle. He lifted one of the woman’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Have I ever told you about the Oasis in the Desert of Death?” he whispered.

He felt Saana’s lips pulling into a small smile against his back. “Only a few hundred times, why?”

“Because you are just like that Oasis.”

At that, Saana propped in her elbow to get a better look at his face. “Elaborate, please, my love.”

Erik looked up at her, with a soft smile on his face. “When I arrived at that oasis, I was nothing more, but a broken man. I was depressed and weak, I was barely able to stand. I just realised how big of a fool I was for running, how wrong I was. I collapsed on the sand ready to die, but by that oasis I found a piece of myself I lost during the years. I was just lying there, looking up at the sky, and I suddenly felt light and calm. By the water, I realised everything I did wrong, and the ways to fix it. That oasis gave me new life, and you are just the same. You are always there to help me, always there to catch me, always there to remind me why I want to keep going on. You bring me peace and rest, and for that, I love you more than I have ever loved anybody else. You are my present and you are my future.”

Now it was Saana’s turn to hide a sniffle. She rubbed her nose, and took a deep breath glancing away. After a few minutes of silence, Saana looked back at him and clearing her throat, she smirked. “If this is not your goddamn wedding vow for tomorrow, I’m going to be very disappointed!”

Laughing burst out of Erik, as he hugged Saana close to himself, pressing soft kisses on her neck and skin. Shaking with laughter as well, Saana hugged his neck and pulled him into a deep, loving kiss. Parting, she placed her hand on Erik’s face and smiled at him. “I love you so much Erik Thorn. I would not give you up for anybody or anything. You are mine, and I’m yours. And nothing can change it.”

"Yes! Yes, perfect!" IQ started to fairy clap her hand, fully excited.

“Okay, but what do I do if he says no?” Jäger looked at her, palms ridiculously sweaty.

Immediately freezing, IQ bit into her bottom lip. “Well… I don’t think he would, you know? I think if you feel like this, it might be because he let out certain vibes as well!”

“Or that you are just a loser~” sang songed Bandit with a smirk. He didn’t even look up from his book. IQ immediately punched him in the shoulder, causing the man to wince. “Oh my god, Woman! What the fu-”

“You are no help at all! Marius is struggling here!” IQ shook her head.

With an angry grunt, Bandit sit up, placing down his book. “Listen, MamaMonika! Marius is a battle trained soldier, one of the bests of GSG9, one of the most amazing mechanics both of us knows, and his only goal is to ask his fucking crush on a date. I think he is a big boy, he can do it without you mommying him all the time!”

Hearing all this, Jäger’s lips curved upwards into a happy little smile.

IQ hummed, looking back at her teammate. “Well, you are not wrong. Marius, you can do it!”

“I don’t even understand what is your damn problem, the guy is 10 years younger and 10 cms shorter than you, you have the advantage in both!” grinned Bandit again. He picked up his book in an attempt to go back to reading, but looked up one last time. “However, I made a bet with Maxim and Jordan, so I hope you fuck it up!”

IQ planted her face into her hands, because now Jäger’s face started to turn into a grimace.

The woman stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Look at me, at me! Not at him,” IQ glanced at Bandit, who was still smirking. She looked Jäger in the eyes. “Look at me, Marius. You can do it. You have been wanting him since Christmas and you made a New Year’s Vow to ask him on a date. You like him, and he likes you and even if he doesn’t like you the way you want, he is still mature enough to not poke fun at you. It’s going to be fine, and you can’t even lose anything!”

Jäger looked at her and listening he started to nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“Because you are amazing, funny, kind, smart-"

"Fucking cringy and awkward!" Bandit was a big help, yeah.

"- and fantastic! Don't listen to Dom, he is just jealous."

Bandit snorted at that, and IQ smiled at Jäger. "Are you ready?"

With a deep breath, Jäger lifted Goyo's book. "My palms are sweating, my knees are trembling, my throat is clogged-"

"Did you catch the flu?" Bandit lifted an eyebrow.

Blinking confused, Jäger shook his head. "No?"

"Then get yourself together and woman up! Be like Monika. She would stomp there, grab that guy by the ear and order him to go on a date with her!" Noticing the dark glare of IQ, Bandit smirked even wider. "In the most adorable and dominatrix way, she could!" he even winked at the woman.

Jäger let out a little laugh at the way IQ was shaking her head now. "Back to the point! You are good Marius. You can do it! Just be yourself!"

The man looked at his teammates for a few seconds, considering the options, storing the information, then, with a nod, he straightened up, hugging Goyo's book close to himself. "Very well. Wish me luck!"

"Break a leg-!"

"That way César would be able to catch you when you fall!" snorted Bandit.

Actually laughing at this, Jäger nodded and left the room. The two remaining German listened to his footsteps fade, then Bandit looked up at IQ.

"Do you really think he can do it, or you just pushing him, because you bet 25£ on him?"

IQ smiled at him. "Of course he can do it! Now come on. We need to catch our show in the Nerd Room."

Bandit placed down his book and got up, joining IQ. "Do you think Mark really put bugs everywhere on Base to be able to track the bet?"

Now IQ was the one smirking. "I helped. Trust me, there are bugs everywhere!"

Bandit hugged her close to himself for a second. "When you do stuff like this is the time I know I have the most amazing best friend!"

"And when you say stuff like this" replied IQ. "Is the time I know you are high!"

Grinning Bandit opened the door to the Monitor room - the home of Dokkaebi, Mute and all the nerds. "We will never know!"

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Jäger found Goyo in the common room, next to Mira, Amaru and Thermite. The later three were arguing about some sort of development for the Vulcan shield, but the Mexican wasn't really talking, just listening, as usual.

The German walked in, reassuring himself.

Breathe in- breathe out. It’s going to be okay.

When Goyo noticed Jäger, he turned his face away from the others to look at him, and offered the smallest and warmest of smiles, effectively shattering the German’s courage into tiny, knee-trembling pieces.

He felt his mouth dry out, his hands starting to shake, his previous plans vanish into thin air. It’s so not going to be okay!

For a second, he considered turning back and hiding under his bed for the next decade. That way at least he could have been safe, nobody to bug him. He could even be a ghost.

He glanced back at the door, biting into his bottom lip. Running seemed so easy and nice, for a second he even forgot why he was here.

Then he looked back at the group of people, and noticed that Goyo was still looking at him, his beautiful brown eyes waiting patiently for Jäger to join them.

The German loved his eyes. They were fantastic. The most amazing mix of red and brown, spotted with green here and there. Glaz wished to paint something this perfect! Looking into his eyes felt like walking in forest on a fresh autumn morning. There were times, when only looking at the Mexican during a training or live mission calmed him down. When he looked into Goyo's eyes, he felt appreciated and maybe even a bit special. But most of all, he felt safe.

And this on its own was worth fighting for, so he pushed aside his fears and braced himself.

With a big gulp, he clenched his fists and approached them. "Hey guys!"

As usual, Amaru greeted him in a cheerful voice. “Marius! It’s so good to see you, help us out here. Elena and Jordan are fighting over the new blueprints of the Vulcan!”

His eyes fidgeting on the book, he glanced at Goyo, then at the others and their papers. Five minutes didn’t really matter, did they? Maybe this would calm down his nerves a bit. So he joined and put the book in his pocket.

As he was hunching over the blueprints, he totally missed the little glance Goyo threw at his always cheerful partner. Amaru smirked at him.

Scratching his neck, Jäger took a pencil from the table and, literally lying on top of the big papers, he started to correct the design flaws or the constructions that were technically infeasible.

Mira and Thermite nodded along his work, offering new ideas. Amaru was kind of helping, but Goyo was only watching the scribbles of new plans, the other three, and especially Jäger. Always Jäger.

Amaru glanced at him and poked him in the side with her elbow, but Goyo gently waved her off.

When Jäger finished, he placed down the pencil and humming, looked at Mira and Thermite. “It might be easier this way!”

The Spanish tilted her head and looked at the American. “I told you he will correct most of it! You can’t actually store lava in those cans Jordan!”

“So what? A man can have dreams!”

Rolling her eyes, Mira lifted the blueprints. “Thanks Marius!”

Jäger smiled at her. “No problem. If you leave them in the workshop, we can go through them tomorrow together- I mean if you want!”

The Spaniard looked at him, lifting an eyebrow a little. Lightning fast, she glanced at Goyo then back to Jäger. “Why not now?”

Jäger - catching the little glance - felt himself blush a little. “I have stuff to do!”

“What kind of stuff?” Mira smiled. Jäger wanted to murder her. He was sure she knew about the bet. Of course she knew about the bet! In fact, Thermite was one of Bandit’s best friends, so he surely participated as well. Jäger wasn't sure about Amaru, but at this point everybody was a possible betting suspect, either ready to help or to hold him back.

With a wave of anger, he turned his face towards Goyo. "Can I steal you for five minutes?"

Blinking, the Mexican nodded. "Sure! I will be right back!" he looked at Amaru, who nodded with a smile.

As they left, Mira looked at Thermite. "I will take Eliza on a date from the money I win!"

Thermite shook his head. "It's still not over Elena. If you lose, I'm taking her on a date!"

Mira flushed all of a sudden. "You can't always steal her based on you two being best friends!"

Thermite winked at her. "You should have bet on Marius, not against him!"

The Spaniard punched him in the shoulder in anger.

Amaru smiled at them. "Oh come on kids, calm down, this is just a game!"

"Says the woman who bet 50£ to her loss?" smirked Thermite. "Why do you want to lose?"

With an all knowing smile, Amaru looked in the direction of the entrance, where Goyo and Jäger left. "Because I bet against César, and I know how happy he would be if Marius did ask him out on a date!"

Mira's eyes rounded. "He bet on Marius? That's cheating!"

Thermite shook his head. "Technically he didn't say anything yet, so… he is still in the game!"

Amaru grinned. "Yes, he is!"

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

"You look pale, are you okay?" Goyo asked, walking side by side with Jäger.

"Y-yeah, sure! Everything is okay!" came the shaky reply. Jäger looked down at the book in his hands.

Come on!

Clenching his eyes, he recalled IQ's voice, how she tried to calm him.

Breathe in-breathe out. He can do this!

"I just brought you back the book back you lent me!" he offered said object to Goyo.

Blinking, the Mexican took it, almost not being able to hold back a smile. "I told you, you can keep it, didn't I?"

Jäger bit into his lip. Goyo did tell him, didn't he? Fuck, now he looks like an idiot! Shit.

"Y-yeah?"

Chuckling, Goyo shook his head. "You forgot?"

"Maybe."

"Well, you can still keep it. I know you love these more than me, it would be in a better place with you."

"Thank you, César!"

"Nothing to thank me for. Was this all, you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah!" answered Jäger, then blinking he started to stutter. "I-I m-mean, n-no! No of course not I-I um...um… w-wanted to ask something, to be honest!"

"Oh, yeah? Should I be worried?" Goyo smiled at him, making Jäger's heart skip a beat.

"W-why would you do that? No! Nothing to worry about!"

"I'm just pulling your leg, Marius. You seem so stressed. Come on, let's take a walk outside, shall we?"

Jäger looked at him, nodding furiously. A little fresh air might calm down his nerves.

Heading outside, none of them were talking. And it was- perfect. They always did this, just existing side by side, and that was it. Jäger loved it, being around Goyo was putting him at ease like nothing else.

When they were out with friends and he ended up sitting next to the Mexican, he usually fell asleep on the man's shoulder. Goyo never complained. This went with movies as well, they watched together or when they were on a plane coming home after a mission. It started to become the best place for Jäger to sleep on, even though Goyo was shorter than him. He always found a way to snuggle up to the Mexican’s side.

Thankfully, the chilly February weather calmed down his burning skin a bit as they got outside. Goyo started their usual path, walking towards the hangars to check out Jäger’s helicopter.

He looked at the German, who was still deep in his thoughts, then glanced up at the Base’s windows. He didn’t even need to search for too long, he soon found a few noses pressed to the Nerd Lair’s window - Bandit, IQ, Mute, Dokkaebi, Fuze. They were watching like hungry hawks.

With a small smile, Goyo massaged the bridge of his nose and looked at Jäger. “So, how are you? You seem a bit distracted as well!”

The German glanced at him, blushing all of a sudden. “Yes! N-no-!”

Goyo lifted an eyebrow with a small smile. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes! Yes! I’m just a bit- maybe a bit stiff? But- I need to ask you something!” Jäger stopped in his track, turning towards Goyo, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders.

Not even surprised by the sudden repositioning, the Mexican looked up at him, straight into his eyes, lips curving into a small smile. "I'm all ears."

Jäger watched his eyes for a mere second, bracing himself. It's going to be alright. Just be Monika.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but the moment he wanted to speak, he noticed his friends - noses still pressed against the window.

He lifted an eyebrow, pulling a face. "Oh fuck me-"

“Maybe later-” he heard the Mexican whisper and snapped his eyes at him.

“W-what?” he stuttered. His knees started to tremble again.

Goyo - with a face calm and collected - looked up at him again, gently petting one of Jäger’s hands on his shoulder. “You wanted to ask something, right? Ask it!”

With an audible gulp Jäger nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Right!” he glanced at the window once more. He saw Bandit shaking his head, and he felt his fingers clenching into fists. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for every possible answer, best and worst and nodded to himself.

“W-would you like to g-go on a date with m-me…?” he muttered, closing his eyes for a second.

Goyo just stood there, silent, unmoving.

Oh great. Now Jäger was an idiot and Bandit would win. Fantastic. Fantastic! As one more, silent second went by, his disappointment turned to sadness.

He turned his face away, rubbing his arm, trying to hide his frustration. He felt like a disaster.

Then he felt Goyo’s voice, warm and rich, making his eyes round. “I can’t give you a proper answer until you look at me, Marius.”

Fumbling with his fingers, Jäger glanced up at him just to be greeted by Goyo’s beautiful smile. He could not calm down immediately.

Goyo lifted his hand, waving Jäger closer. With never seen excitement, the German straightened up and stepped closer to the other. Goyo looked at him, his smile turning into a grin. “I thought you would never ask!”

Jäger couldn’t hold back a wide grin. He wanted to jump out of his skin in excitement, he wanted to shout, to run a mile, to do anything that would deduct his previous stress and newly found energy.

“S-so is that a yes?” he heard himself ask. Dammit anxiety! He wanted to slap himself.

With a laugh Goyo reached out and grabbed a handful of his collar, pulling him down to press their lips together. Just like that!? The motion was so smooth and calculated, Jäger could not stop his endorphin filled brain from thinking about Goyo thinking about this as well. He felt himself high, he was happy, now his hands started to shake because of this as he hugged Goyo’s waist, kissing back.

He heard the Mexican’s little laugh, as he pulled back. “Eager, aren’t we?”

Jäger bushed. “I’m sorry…?”

“Are you?” grinned Goyo.

The German shook his head. “Not a bit.”

“I know you like Valentine’s Day, but not the crowd, so February 15th? Does that work for you as the date?”

Blinking a few, Jäger burst out laughing. “Sure! Y-yes please!”

“Deal!” Goyo pressed one more kiss on his lips and stepped back. “Shall we go?”

Jäger grinned at him. “Sure- just one second!” he turned towards the window where he saw the others and flipped them a finger, then turned to Goyo. “They made a stupid bet-”

“I know!” nodded Goyo. Wide eyes, Jäger looked at him to be greeted by a small smirk. “I bet on you asking me, and you did it!”

“H-hey!” Jäger almost fainted and when the Mexican started his way back to the building he ran after him, totally missing the celebration in the Computer room.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

“I won!” IQ popped down next to Bandit, who was still sitting next to the window. “And you lost!”

Bandit looked at her, his lips pulling into a sly smirk as he reached for his smoke.

IQ crossed her arms in front of her. “Why are you smiling? You lost…!”

He pulled out one thread and put it in between his lips. He lit it and blew out the smoke. “Did I?” Bandit patted her knee. “I lost, like- 10£.”

Her eyes widening, IQ leant closer. “How!?”

Bandit looked at her. “I never said I bet against Marius, Monika.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said, but that only was to get Marius going!”

Mouth falling open the woman shook her head, a smile bloomin on her lips. “You fucker. You made like… 20 bets with everybody and none of these were against Marius, hah?”

Bandit nodded. “I’m rich.”

“You fucking fucker. But how did you lose that 10£ then?” IQ tilted her head.

Bandit looked out the window, satisfied. “The only bet I made against Marius was- with Marius.”

IQ both amazed and scared shook her head. “You- I can’t even-”

Bandit looked up at her. “I knew he could do it, Monika, but not using this opportunity to collect money is just stupid!” he winked.

“Evil.”

“Genius.”

“I can’t even!” IQ shook her head and still trying to process all the info, she stood up and left Bandit by himself.

Grinning the German looked after her and out of the window. He could still see Jäger and Goyo, and he just couldn’t stop the proud smile spreading on his lips.

He glanced down at the box, which he held in hands and let out a small sigh, fidgeting with one of the corners until he heard a small snort, coming from his left. He turned his face towards the woman, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with him, and let out a little, weak “What?”

“Nothing special. It’s just still entertaining to watch you trying to function outside of your comfort zone.”

He felt a small blush spread on his cheeks. That, too, was just because of the weather. “It’s just cold. And we have been walking the past hour from the train. But I’m happy that at least you are enjoying yourself.”

The woman couldn’t hold back a small smile with a doubting shake of head, but both of them knew that she would not point out the way Vigil’s legs started to slow down a bit, as his knee got weaker and weaker. He wanted to lie, that it was about the weather as well, but he needed to face the truth: he was getting more and more anxious.

He glanced at the woman by his side again, who was the exact opposite: she was relaxed, more than ever, looking towards their destination with a fond smile on her lips. She looked at him, then back to the house. “Don’t look at me. I’m just so happy that you came with me after all. I would have been a bit sad, if you weren’t here. Happy, too, but mostly missing you.”

At that Vigil took an audible gulp with a soft nod, hugging his box closer to himself. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down and nodded again, this time, to collect himself. It’s not like he didn’t know what was waiting for him in the house, it’s just- that he was scared shitless! How will he make a good impression? Will they like him? He honestly hoped so. He wanted to make it good. He wanted to make the woman proud.

A punch on his left shoulder - coming from his company - woke him up from his daydreaming. It was so strong, he almost dropped the box, and he turned to face the woman, confusion all over his face. “Now why did I get that?!”

“You are overthinking it again! And don’t you dare lie about this, I know!”

There was a long moment of silence, as they were looking at each other, but then he just nodded. “Okay-okay. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize!” the woman soothed the punch on his shoulder with a grin. “Just stop it. I’m here, with you. I invited you, and nobody will question my choice. They know that I wouldn’t bring you home, if I wouldn’t at least like your stupid face!”

Vigil shook his head at that, now with a soft smile. “Okay, I got it.”

He looked up at the woman again, watching her features change as she looked around the familiar environment, how she lifted an eyebrow, how she rolled her eye on one smaller house with too much Christmas decoration and how her lips were always stretched into a smile. He had never seen Zofia this calm and collected, and honestly, he was so  glad to see this side of her. She looked so happy, being back here, Vigil automatically felt himself relax at last.

He caught himself wondering how this all happened; him and the strongest woman he had ever met, getting this close.

He couldn't even remember how their friendship started. There was a huge argument that involved Blackbeard, Blitz, Zofia and of course, him. How did it go? He couldn't recall it anymore. It didn't even matter anymore!

All that mattered was that it was months ago, and that he felt sad and angry, having such a fight with the only person he felt completely calm around, then surprised, when all of a sudden, Zofia sat beside him, asking if he was okay.

He couldn’t even answer first, thinking about the unknown reasons for Zofia’s question. They had never really spoken before this occasion, they weren’t friends or anything. He might have been one of the few people who weren’t really afraid of the woman, also, he was in kind of good terms with Zofia’s troublemaker sister too. Vigil’s first guess was that the woman just wanted information about Ela from him, but he immediately knew that he would disappoint Zofia: being in good terms with Ela never meant that she liked you, it only meant that she thought of you as a golden trashbag surrounded by normal ones. That was just the way Ela saw the team. Vigil didn’t really care, he simply was glad that the younger didn’t feel the need to poke fun at him.

Weeks later Zofia told him why she asked him in the first place: the woman was worried. As a participant of the argument, she was watching the reactions of Blackbeard and Vigil during the conflict and she somehow felt that the latter was very upset. When he questioned Zofia, she just shrugged and offered a smile. “Honestly? I don’t know. All the other time you look like nothing is able to get close to you, but that argument hit you in your soft spots. I remember, your hands were shaking a bit.”

For somebody who is as used to being unreadable as Vigil, this was like a punch in the face. Being exposed was always his greatest weakness. He knew, he could just wave it off, tell Zofia that it was only her imagination, but anxiety was already sitting on his shoulders, whispering shit into his ears, to tip him off again. Zofia turned away, and he looked down on his hands, noticing they were shaking again. In an attempt to hide his discomfort, he hid his hands under the table, focusing on calming himself down, but it didn’t work. If Zofia found him out this easy, then probably the others were reading him like an open book as well.

Zofia looked at him again, her eyes narrowing instantly. She glanced down, like she could see under the table, then she placed a mug of fresh tea in front of Vigil with a small smile. “You don’t need to hide it. I only knew, because I wanted to know!”

Vigil lifted his eyebrow, still not showing his hands again. He was upset that his body was such a traitor. He blinked at his ballistic mask sitting next to him on the bench, a reached out for it silently, soothing his fingers on the cold, smooth material.

Watching his every moment, Zofia sighed. “You looked much like Ela looked, when we were little and our dad was shouting at her for not being, well, like me,” her voice was suddenly sad, fidgeting with his own mug.

Now that made Vigil look up, forgetting his mask immediately. He looked at Zofia’s hands, then at her eyes, trying to find what was in her head. The woman just sat there, staring back at him with a calm, but sad expression, and Vigil started to get confused. Why was she showing such a vulnerable side of her to him was something Vigil didn’t understand.

“I can hear the cogs turning in your head from here. If you want to ask, then do it.”

Clearing his throat, Vigil nodded. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to show you, that if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

“But I’m not your sister. And I will never be! I don’t even know anything about her.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Zofia leant against the back of her bench, looking at him with a frown now. “Yeah, you don’t really look alike.”

“Then why? I don’t really see any point in you talking to me other than getting intel from me about Ela’s doing, but I know what you already know: that she is not my friend. She might not hate me as much as she hates everybody else on base, but still-” Vigil finally felt harmony wash over him again, his hands stopped shaking, so he reached for his mug.

Zofia watched his movement, a smile spreading on her face again. “Will you believe me if I told you, I don’t actually care about Ela at the moment? Based on this monologue of yours, I predict that you must have been thinking about this question at least for a month, so allow me to clarify. I don’t hang out with you, because of Ela. If you were on good terms with her, that would make me happy, but I don’t select my own friends based on my sister’s interests.”

Vigil found himself frowning, so he quickly calmed his face. “Your own friends? Is this how you think about me?”

“Well, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me for tea or lunch every second day for the last two months!” Zofia snorted.

Blinking, Vigil looked into his mug to avoid eye-contact. “Friends?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Oh come on!” grinning, Zofia reached out to pat his shoulder. “I don’t know either, okay?”

“Elaborate.” Vigil glanced at her again.

Accepting that she can’t escape the answer, Zofia shrugged. “Sometimes I have so much stuff on my shoulders, it’s just nice to be with somebody who is as calm as you. Having a cup of coffee or anything with you is just nice. You are calming me down, that’s it.”

Vigil felt something move deep inside him, a small, but warm feeling. He watched Zofia, and nodded, then looked back into his mug. “That is sweet, but horseshit.”

Zofia burst out laughing, hiding her face in her palm, to calm herself down. Watching this reaction, coming from the usually collected army woman, Vigil found himself doing something he barely did: he smiled. It was little and hidden, in the corner of his mouth, but it was there.

Zofia noticed as well, and - even if she wanted to - she didn’t point it out. She smiled back at him and that was it. That was the start of their friendship, and Vigil soon realized how lonely he was without Zofia.

It was not like a shitty Hollywood movie, about how his life was sunshine and rainbows because of the woman, no. He loved to be alone, and he didn't even think about hanging out with Zofia all the time, neither did the woman. No. They were perfectly fine with how they were before, but spending some afternoons shoulder to shoulder, with a cup of whatever in hand, happened to be a life-saver sometimes.

It was not about the talk, or anything really - especially since Vigil barely started to speak about his day willingly - it was about the peace. Both of their lives were full of stress, anxiety and fight. Especially fight, against the White Masks or unknown terrorist organizations, fights against their teammates in tired, angry moments, and against themselves. In Vigil’s case, mostly against himself.

He struggled to let Zofia close for months, thinking about ways to escape, to run away from her. Why did he want to hide - that he didn’t even know, whenever he had the chance to have tea with Zofia, just to listen to her rambling about Valkyrie being an asshole again, or how her daughter improved in school, sometimes about she missing her husband. After a while Vigil caught himself actually asking about these, especially her family. It was so calming to listen to a woman, who loves her daughter and husband this much. He couldn’t even imagine how she managed to build him into her cramped timetable, but she always did. She always had time for him, and it made both of them so happy.

Zofia wasn’t always a delight, of course not. When she was tired or annoyed, she was so damn tiring. First, Vigil didn’t actually know how to react to Zofia’s endless sarcasm, so he took a step back, closing up a bit, but still stayed with the woman, listening to her banter. A few of  these later, when they finally arrived home after a three week long mission, he had enough, and shouting he let Zofia know, that it was simply draining for him to listen sometimes, which made the woman lift her eyebrow, her face changing. Vigil waited, heart throbbing in his throat - as much as he wanted to hide it, he didn’t want to lose this friendship. It was strictly against his nature to attack somebody like this, but it needed to be done for better or worse. He didn’t even notice how his hands were shaking.

At that, Zofia burst out laughing, completely breaking Vigil’s anger in half - he got so confused all of a sudden, he was expecting a punch, instead this... joy? What the fuck?

Zofia wiped her tears, and stepping closer to him, she gently soothed a palm, on his face. “I didn’t know you were capable of shouting, Chul Kyung, I really didn’t!”

Completely struck, Vigil held onto her wrist, not strong, just to hold onto something, so he wouldn’t faint. “Aren’t you m-mad?”

“Why would I be mad? I’m grateful you told me, this means that you finally trust me enough to share your honest feelings, and that makes me happy. I’m sorry for pouring all of my stress on you, I shouldn’t have done it!”

Vigil was looking her in the eye, searching for any lie or doubt, but when he couldn’t find any, his lips were drawn to a small smile. Zofia grinned at him, and - for the first, but not the last - she hugged him close, patting along his back. Hating whenever a stranger touched him, Vigil expected that he was going to freak out, but he didn’t. He was surprised how easy it was to relax against Zofia, hugging her waist as well. And that was pretty much it: both of their anger and stress gone, in a second.

And Vigil finally understood.

It didn’t start because Zofia wanted to crack his shell. She was so loving and gentle inside, such a beautiful soul, she would never do such a thing. Okay, she might have wanted to, to some people, but she soon let go of this when it came to her sister, and she never even tried it on Vigil. No. It started with her needing somebody whom she could trust, and that surprisingly turned out to be Vigil.

Why? He didn’t know, and he caught himself thinking countless times, how he didn’t really want to know after all. It was a nice feeling, to be trusted like this, in good and bad as well, especially when he found out how Zofia worked.

During mid-august, Ela went on a mission, and it went as badly as possible; in fact, she needed to be rushed to a hospital the second they arrived back to England. Vigil was with Zofia, when she got the news, and of course, he couldn't let her go alone. Zofia was in shock - the mere thought of losing her sister made her sick no matter their current relationship.

Arriving at the hospital, an annoyingly calm doctor announced that Ela was on the operation table, and that they needed to wait. Maybe for minutes, maybe for hours, and with that, he was gone.

Zofia was trembling, in her anger at the doctor and worry about her sister, making every moment a real torture for her. Vigil didn’t know what to do, what to stay. He just stood there, watching his friend boil, not being able to help. The best he was capable of was to save the doctor from Zofia, who wanted to strangle the man with her bare hands if that meant  she could save her sister. It didn’t, but she wanted to do something. Anything.

Vigil remembered this feeling, so similar to what he experienced years ago, but they always told him to keep silent. They never allowed him to let his anger out, and watching Zofia like this made his heart ache too. He stepped next to her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Come, sit down. Being angry will not solve anything…”

Flashing him a death stare, Zofia brushed off his hand. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, because I swear to God, I will punch you in the face!”

Counting the risks, Vigil nodded. “She will be alright, you know that too.”

“She has been shot in the chest three times! How can you say that she will be alright?!” Zofia snapped at him, trembling. “How can you tell me, that she will be alright?!”

“She has had worse,” Vigil looked at her, placing his hands on both of her shoulders. “She is just too stubborn to die, and you know that too. Come on, sit with me.”

Zofia looked up at him, eyes tired and worrying. “This is not- How can you- How dare you to-!? I don’t want to fucking sit down, I don’t want to fucking calm down! I want my sister be off of that goddamn operation table, and I want a stupid fucking doctor to come out and tell me that she is perfectly fine, and that this was just one of her stupid pranks!”

Vigil nodded, and took a deep breath, getting ready for what was coming. “And you know it’s not that. Please, just take a deep breath, and try to calm down!”

And there it was. Zofia’s fist swinging in the air, and meeting with his chin with so much force he needed to take a step back. After the first, came the second, and a third, Zofia hitting him wherever she reached, angry tears falling down her face. Vigil knew what was happening, and he knew that he would have a few ugly bruises, but it was okay. Zofia needed this, and he wanted to help.

A few punches later, as the anger and stress turned to tiredness, Zofia started to slow down, so Vigil stepped closer and hugged the furious woman to himself as much as he could, covering her as best as possible. Zofia, realising what this was all about, hugged him back, hiding in his whole presence. “I’m scared.”

“I know. I’m afraid as well,” he whispered, looking at the operation room’s door, still not letting go of Zofia’s still shaking body.

“What if I lose her? I’ve lost her once, and I wasn’t even  able to make up for that, but if she di-”

“She won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

Vigil looked at her, with a small smile. “I told you, she is too stubborn to die from a ridiculous injury like this.”

“You don’t know that,” whispered Zofia, hiding her face into the crook of Vigil’s shoulder. “You can’t be sure of that, Chul Kyung…”

He didn’t answer to that, and both of them knew that he didn’t need to answer. Instead of talking, he hugged her as tight as possible, like he was afraid Zofia would fall into small pieces that instant.

They spent an eternity like this, clinging to each other. Vigil never let go, because Zofia needed him, and he needed her as well. After minutes or hours or weeks, when the woman was finally able to normalise her breaths, she let go. Zofia slowly wiped one tear down, looking at him. “Thank you.”

Vigil patted her shoulder gently. “You don’t need to thank me. I know you would have done the same.”

Zofia nodded slowly, allowing a small smile. “Still. I’m so grateful for you, Chul Kyung, I can’t even tell you!”

Vigil looked at her, not being able to deal with such a compliment, he looked away, with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know-”

“Hm?” Zofia blew her nose.

“You are awful at saying my name,” he looked at the woman, whose eye went wide with that.

“W-what!? I’ve been pronouncing your name wrong for months, and you choose this time to point that out?!”

Vigil, biting into his bottom lip glanced away. “I didn’t want to stop you from trying…”

Hearing this, Zofia had the strangest reaction of all time- she started laughing. She was laughing so hard that fresh tears run down her face, as she was hugging Vigil once again, knowing that he would be by her side whenever she needed.

Ela didn’t die, of course, Vigil was so right in this: the woman was so damn stubborn to die like this.

She needed to spend about a month in the hospital, and she was as angry as ever, constantly fighting with the doctors, nurses and everyone who dared to make her stay. When she was finally out, Zofia was at last perfectly calm again. No matter their stupid war, they were still sisters, after all.

In the beginning of December, when Vigil told Zofia that he wasn’t able to fly back to Korea this year because of the mission on the 28th of December, Zofia, reasoning that Poland was closer than Korea, immediately invited him to spend Christmas with her and her family. Vigil felt thankful, but fearful at the same time. Spending the Holidays with the woman sounded undoubtedly fun, but her family- her daughter and husband- how do you act with people like them? How will he be able to hide his anxiety? Zofia reassured him, that it would be okay, and that she will protect him, so he agreed to come. He promised that he would visit his family the moment he gets back from his mission.

A few days before their trip, he caught Ela, alone in the kitchen, and asked her where would she spend the holidays. Ela shrugged, and told him that Lion asked her if she wanted to crash in his flat for a few days, so they can get wasted and cry about life being unfair to them.

With a doubting rise of his eyebrow, Vigil told Ela that he was going to spend Christmas with Zofia, and that she should come too. He learnt about the Christmas traditions of Poland, when he wanted to ‘punch’ information out of Zofia about what kind of present he should bring, he knew that they usually put an extra tableware for unexpected visitors. He told Ela that Zofia would be happy to see her. They had never talked about this, but come on, he knew Zofia more than enough now to know that Ela visiting would be the greatest present to her. He told Ela that she can’t leave Lion behind, so Vigil simply asked her to invite Lion as well.

He liked Lion, he was sure they could make it good.

Ela, struck by Vigil’s stupid idea waved him off, telling him that she won’t come. “Zofia doesn’t want me to ruin her Christmas with her perfect family, and she already has you, so- no. That’s not a good idea.”

Nodding, Vigil let her go, and went back to finish packing. He was very excited and terrified at the same time, but he trusted Zofia more than anybody. On the morning of the 23th of December, he picked up his bag and the box of cake he picked as a present, and met with Zofia, ready to travel across Europe with her.

When they stepped into Poland, he felt his anxiety rise again, but he trampled down the feeling. They got on a train, and after one and a half hours of sleeping on each other's shoulder, they were here, walking towards the beautiful house with the young pine tree in front of it, together.

This was the moment he noticed Zofia snapping her fingers in front of his face. “We are here, sweetheart, are you with me?”

Blinking the memories out of his eyes, he looked at the woman. “Sorry, I was just- thinking.”

“Your hands are shaking again, are you okay?”

"Just the usual anxiety, don't worry!" sighed Vigil, but when Zofia opened the gate leading into the garden, he still couldn't move.

Zofia looked back at him. "What's in your mind? Wanna tell me?"

“It's nothing, I’m just…”

“‘I’m really nervous to meet your family…?’” Zofia offered with a gentle smile. Of course she knew. She knew him better than he knew himself.

Vigil nodded slowly. "I mean- Your husband might hate me, your daughter only speaks Polish, which I don't, and I just- I want them to like me!"

With a fond smile, Zofia stepped outside again, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. They know everything about you. I have told them how you are my best friend, how you helped me, how you keep me company in even the worst times, how important you are to me and how much I love you. Trust me. They know."

Suddenly struck by all this, Vigil couldn't even answer. After a long pause, he slowly nodded, tranquility washing over him, and stepped inside the garden with his bag and box in hand.

Hearing all this coming from the woman made him unspeakably happy. He felt pretty much the same towards her.

She was his anchor, she was his way to hide from the rest of the team. She was there when he was sad, angry or anxious, always steady, always stable, to help him forget the bad and concentrate on the good. Zofia was somebody he didn't miss before he knew her, but now couldn't live without her. She was his better part, companion and best friend, and for that, he was forever grateful.

Their Christmas started off perfectly. Zofia's husband was funny, and straightforward, just like she was. He wasn't afraid to make jokes and thankfully he put Vigil at ease without too much effort. Vigil liked him.

Their daughter, who he couldn't really understand, was adorable and loud, a perfect mix between her two parents. She was chatting, always bombing him with her adorable chirping, no matter their language difference. He liked the little girl as well, even though he didn't understand anything.

The Christmas preparation went as smooth as possible, from the decoration of the tree to the cooking. Vigil was able to help with the food as well, enjoying the mixed scents of all different dishes.

When they were preparing the table for the Christmas feast, they put on one extra tableware as well, because of the old Polish tradition. Vigil thought that it was a nice gesture and he decided that he will do the same for the rest of his life, not caring about it not being a Korean tradition.

From the bottom of his heart, Vigil wished for that seat - and maybe even one more - to be filled soon, and he didn't even need to wait for too long.

In the middle of their twelve part Christmas feast, when Zofia was bringing in the fish stew and his husband was translating between Vigil and their daughter, they heard soft knocking on the door.

"Who can it be at this hour?" asked Zofia confused, putting down the food. She looked at her husband who simply shook his head, not having a single idea either.

Zofia then looked at Vigil, like he might know anybody from the Polish neighborhood, but he shrugged as well, getting to his feet, to go check on the door with the woman.

They heard the knocking again as they entered the hallway, so Zofia shouted a small “Coming.”, but glanced at Vigil again. “And you were mocking me the last time I told you about our extra seat tradition!”

Vigil offered a little smile. “I did not laugh. I find it adorable!”

Shaking her head, Zofia unlocked the door and opened it, immediately freezing to her place. Not because of the sudden gust of cold, but because of the two familiar faces she saw. Ela and Lion were standing in the doorway.

Vigil’s smile grew wider.

Zofia and Ela were staring at each other for so long, it started to feel awkward.

Getting anxious, Ela shakily cleared her throat, glancing away. “I know I said that I wouldn’t come, but… do you, by any chance, have two more seats for us..?”

When she realized what she heard, Zofia burst out laughing, and stepping closer, she hugged her sister in her arms immediately, a happy tear running down her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, first, I don’t need to give you a reason. You only need to accept my decision, which you are not doing, so fine! You won! I don’t want to go, because you know that I hate crowds. You know all too well, how I hate loud Brits, especially when they are dancing and shouting and they do stuff to annoy me! This doesn’t mean that I don’t like you, or I don’t support your relationship with Timur, and you know this too! I don’t even understand why do we need to have this conversation again!”

Kapkan let out a sigh turning his head away slowly. Both of them knew that he didn’t give up, neither did Tachanka win. It was obvious that the hunter was going to pressure Tachanka a bit more until he either gave in, or got so angry he starts to shout at Kapkan, sending him to hell and back.

It was the same argument over and over again since a couple of weeks ago Mira and Ash announced that they were going to the Pride Parade together. Both of them looked so happy and proud, Kapkan immediately felt the need to join them. Getting Glaz - his boyfriend - into the game was very easy. The sniper loved him, and as he often said: he was too old to deny his feelings or hide who he was in an attempt to please other people, complete strangers or society.

They had their rough times during their first years together, with work, with their families, not to even mention how Russia was still one of the most scary countries when it came to gay people. First, they were afraid to tell about their relationship to anybody, let alone their teammates, but both Fuze and Tachanka accepted it surprisingly easily. Kapkan never counted Fuze as potential thread to their happiness, seeing as Fuze was very young, and not really Russian, but Tachanka, the oldest, the wisest, the man who loved to collect everything connected to their homeland or the Soviet Union, the man who made faces when he saw Blitz and Jackal kiss, the immediate support coming from this man was quite a surprise.

Later, when he asked Tachanka about it, not even hiding his astonishment, the older just let out a big laugh. “Maxim, you, Timur and Shuhrat are my family. Maybe not by blood, but by heart. All three of you have accepted me as I am, why would I deny the same from you only because you told me that you enjoy being with Timur? I’m glad that two of my friends are happy together, and I will fight anybody who would try to take this away from you, end of story!”

Kapkan was - with the easiest word - moved. It was a rather warm feeling; being accepted like this. Even his family - the blood one - had their questions and problems, asking about them, trying to shake their relationship, trying to make sure that Kapkan understood that he will eventually go to hell for loving his sniper. Compared to Fuze’s and Tachanka’s reaction, this was a shitty and cold approach.

The main reason for him pushing the older to join them was nothing else but this: he needed Tachanka to have his back whatever happens. The older didn’t even need to say or do anything, his presence was enough for both Kapkan and Glaz to feel safe. Not because they couldn’t protect themselves, not because they knew that Tachanka would kill anybody if they would ask him to do so, but because he was their family too. Their biggest support and their family.

Unfortunately, Kapkan didn’t feel the slightest remorse when he used their strong bond against Tachanka.

“Fine. If you hate it this much, then you don’t need to come. I will just go with Timur and Shuhrat, and you can stay home. I just thought that you, ‘big part of our family’, would enjoy sharing this with us, but if you don’t want to, I will understand! No hard feelings!” Kapkan looked back at Tachanka, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The older was watching him, his expression blank, even a bit bored. He let out a big sigh, rolled his eyes and finally shrugged. “This is shameless emotional blackmailing, you fucking asshole, and you know it!”

Kapkan’s lips pulled into a half grin. “But is it working?”

Tachanka wanted to murder him. “Unfortunately, yes, you smug little piece of shit.”

Happily grinning, Kapkan nodded. “Thank you very much! I promise you going to enjoy-”

“Hold up, hold up! I’m going with you, but we need to set some rules. First, I’m not wearing any rainbowy color, no-hoh-hoh. Second, no dancing, and if anybody wants to drag me into anything, you either take them away, or I will kill them. Third; you are getting me beer!”

A big laugh erupted from Kapkan and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling Tachanka close for a second, giving them a hug. “Sure thing, Sasha!”

Tachanka just stood there, rolling his eyes with a small smile, but in the end, he just hugged the hunter back. “I hate you.”

“I know, but what can I do? You love me as well!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As is turned out, the Parade was not that big of a deal, really. Okay, it came with hundreds and hundreds of people; all kind of sex and race, people with their lovers, with their families and friends or just random faces, who weren’t even from the LGBTQ community but wanted to show their support. To be fair, they did dance and sing, and they did their weird shit, which Tachanka hated, but it wasn’t about sexual orientation; the old Russian just hated people in general.

He couldn’t understand why would anybody do such a thing of their own free will, but when he was walking next to his friends, the truth suddenly hit him. Probably others were blackmailed to hang out here too!

At this thought, he couldn’t hold back a smile. It wasn’t that bad really, especially when Bandit whipped out three cans of his favourite beer. It was against the rules of the parade, of course, but Tachanka planned to say something cheesy about his undying love towards beer if anybody would question why he had alcohol. Wasn’t it the parade of love, after all?

Speaking about love, Kapkan and Glaz were walking next to him, their fingers entangled, happy little smiles on their faces. Whenever Tachanka got enough of the loud pile of people, and wanted to shout or escape he just glanced at them and calmed himself down. They enjoyed themselves, who was he to ruin it for them?

Their final crew on Pride Parade contained Ash and Mira, gently holding hands together too, next to them Bandit and Thermite, who were roaming around like small children, making friends with everybody, Glaz and Kapkan, leaning against each other, Fuze, who was looking around like he was lost, and Tachanka, who protected his beer like it was his baby.

After about two hours spent on the Pride, Tachanka was finally calm, the last murderous thought long forgotten. At least he expected so. When there is a Pride Parade, there will most certainly be some people protesting against it. Tachanka didn’t expect a group of grown up people standing there with big signs, rude comments written on them. But that wasn’t really a problem, no. They simply didn’t notice them or their shouting on purpose, they were chatting, they were having a good time.

But as Tachanka went to one side of the marching queue to throw away his empty beer can, he heard a man shouting. This wasn’t anything new, and he didn’t even bat an eye, until he heard the man say, “Fucking look at those two faggots, holding hands like they own the place. Disgusting! I wish I could show them where to stick their fucking rights, pathetic!”

Wrinkling his forehead, Tachanka turned to the direction where the man was pointing. He somehow expected that the ‘two faggots’ were Kapkan and Glaz, but even he was surprised about the sudden anger blooming in him as his expectations turned out to be true. This asshole was pointing at his two teammates, who were only holding hands. They didn’t even kiss or something, they were just holding hands. Tachanka narrowed his eyes, turning to face the man. “How about you shut up, hm?”

The man, and the group of nasty looking punks who were his company all turned towards the Russian. There were about eight of them, and they looked like absolute losers to Tachanka. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching them, anger burning in him slow and steady.

The man clicked his tongue, stepping closer to the cordon separating the Pride March from the protesting shitholes. “What did you say fuckface?”

“I just said, you should shut up. Why do you talk shit about them, if you don’t know anything?” he stepped closer to the man too and leaned against the cordon, to look him in the eye.

The guy rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about their-”

“Then why don’t you just shut up and go back to that nasty basement of your mom’s where you came from, and stop talking shit about the people here, hm?” Tachanka even dared to smile.

The man shut his mouth, but he stiffened up, looking like an angry cat, that could attack anytime. “I dunno if you noticed, but this is a free country! I can talk about anything, anywhere and nobody will arrest me for it! I can spare my opinion about these faggots being disgusting.”

Tachanka burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you are just as dumb as you look!”

“What did you say, you asshole!?” the man snapped at him.

Smiling, Tachanka looked him upside-down. “Boy, go home, read some books, finish  high-school and open your eyes, okay? Being this dumb is not attractive around the ladies!”

The other one started to shake, his face turning red with anger. “Big words coming from the other side of the fence, but come around, and I will show you where to stick your advice, bitch!”

Tachanka shook his head. “Nah, kiddo, I don’t have time to play with you, my friends are waiting for me. But you know what? I will tell them how you wanted to ruin their good times so they can have a good laugh, because you are not anything else just a joke.” winking, the Russian turned his back to the man, walking back towards his chatting friends.

Suddenly he felt something heavy hit the back of his head and heard something clunking by his feet. He felt pain, and got his hand there. He felt a bump forming, but thankfully he felt no blood. Tachanka looked down to the ground, to find the source of the noise and found a beer can. He lifted it up, looking back at the man who was still standing there with a proud smile on his face. The guy’s friends were standing not too far, laughing their asses off.

Tachanka had two choices. One was to go back to the guys, never mentioning them this idiot, and forgetting the bump on his head; or two, show this asshole that he can’t just abuse people for fun, then go back to his friends and tell them about this fucker. Obviously he choose the second option.

Before the man could even react, Tachanka was there, grabbing a handful of his shirt, lifting him up slightly. The Russian pushed the beer can in the face of the other. “Did you throw this, sweetcheeks?”

From the sudden turn of events, the man let out a squeaking sound, looking up at Tachanka. He still wanted to look smug, so he simply answered. “And what if I did, eh?”

“Well, if you did, I will be the one coming around to push my feet down your throat, you little piece of pathetic dogshit. If you didn’t do it, and we assume that some little bird threw this on me, I will let you go, so you can grab your little friends and get the fuck out of my sight before I change my mind. You choose.”

“Or you can just let me go, before one of my friends will call the cops!” the man still tried to look all smug.

Narrowing his eyes, Tachanka let go of the man, pushing his hand in his pocket. “Oh, and what am I going to do to defend myself against the police, god lord! Oh, wait…?” Tachanka took out his old Spetsnaz pledge, nearly showing it into the guy’s mouth. “Do you really want to test out who the cops would trust, some dirty mouthed asshole punk who just came here to annoy people because he doesn’t know how to live his own life; or a highly trained soldier, who came here to support his - also soldier - friends during a Pride Parade?”

To Tachanka’s biggest satisfaction, the smile froze to the man’s face, panic suddenly filling him up. Tachanka tilted his head, looking him dead in the eye. “Now listen here, you little shit. From now on, I will come to  the Pride with my friends, every damn year, just to fight pieces of shits like you, and if I find you and your little friends here, and you are not going to be on this side of this cordon, I won’t be this soft on you. Understood?”

Nodding furiously, the man took a shaky step back.

“Good!” smiling, Tachanka waved the beer can. “And thanks for this gift, how did you know I love this brand?”

The man didn’t even give an answer, he just ran back to his friends, not looking back at Tachanka. Feeling very satisfied, the Russian went back to his friends, opening his new beer with a low hiss.

“Where did you get that?” Bandit tilted his head. “That’s not mine!”

“Ahh, a very kind gentleman gave it to me earlier! Pride might be a bit fun after all.”

Kapkan couldn’t hold back a smile. “So, do you think you will come with us next time too?”

Tachanka glanced back at the rude man and his friends. They were packing their stuff a little worried, they looked like they will leave anytime. Tachanka turned back to Kapkan, nodding. “Sure! That way I can talk to similar gentlemen from time to time!”

Kapkan az ajtó felé fordította a fejét egy kissé fintorogva, aztán egy sóhajtás kíséretében körbenézett a bárban, ahol voltak. Kicsi és kényelmes hely volt, valamiféle pincehelyiség. Néhányan ültek csak rajtuk kívül az asztaloknál és a pultnál, egy unalmas csütörtök este volt. A terem sarkában egy öreg zenegép állt, egy nagy “Nem működik” feliratú táblával rajta. A pult mögött egy unott arcú, huszonvalahány éves lány rágózott miközben a telefonját nyomkodta. Az utca szintre néző ablakokon a lemenő nap narancssárgás fénye szűrödött be. A nőnek igaza volt, valóban korán volt. Kapkan megvakargatta a nyakát ott, ahol nem takarta a pólója, majd visszaülve az asztal másik oldalán lévőre nézett.

A nő fiatal volt és csinos, úgy harmincöt év körüli. Világosbarna haja rövidre volt nyírva, a szemeiben pimasz csillogás játszott. Az ajkai kedves, ám sokat sejtető mosolyra húzódtak, ahogy Kapkant fürkészte. Mintha vonzónak találta volna a férfit, de legalábbis borzasztó szórakoztatónak.

- Rendben, végülis miért ne? De csak pár ital, aztán tényleg mennem kell.

A nő bólintott egyet. - Rendben, kicsit beszélgetünk és utána haza engedlek a pasikádhoz!

Kapkan csak vigyorgott erre egyet és hátradőlt. Az asztal túloldalán a nő már intett is az unott pultosnak és hamarosan mindkettejük előtt egy-egy pohár drága whiskey hevert. Kapkan magának nem ezt választotta volna, hanem valamiféle német sört, vagy orosz vodkát, de az ajándék piának mindenki örült. Még akkor is, ha az olyan pocsék lé, amit csak Thermite tudott meginni.

Finoman odakoccintotta a poharát a nő kezében lévőhöz, aztán belekortyolt az aranyló folyadékba.

Ahogy elfogyott mindkettejük itala, a nő azonnal újra rendelt, majd mikor a második kört is megkaptak mosolyogva az asztalra könyökölt és közelebb hajolt. Kapkan agya finoman zsibogni kezdett az italtól, érezte, hogy az érzékei kissé eltompulnak, a szemei homályosabbá válnak. Már egy pohár is ezt tette vele? Kezdett vénülni. Zavartan megvakargatta a borostáját és hátradőlt. - Szóval mire vagy kíváncsi?

- Nem is tudom. Milyen ebben a csapatban dolgozni?

- Remek! - mosolyodott el Kapkan. - Életem legjobb melója, őszintén! Minden nap azért kelni fel, hogy megmentsd a világot igazán nemes. És legalább a munkatársaim is nagyon szórakoztatóak.

- Igen? Ki is a főnökötök?

A kérdés hallatán Kapkan mocorogni kezdett a székében. Körbelötyögtette a poharában maradt whiskyt és elpillantott. Igazán nem kellett volna erről beszélnie senkinek, de valahogy úgy érezte, hogy ebben a nőben megbízhat. Az, hogy kezdett nehezedni a feje az italoktól sem segített túl sokat. Az ajkait rágcsálva válaszolt a kérdésre.

- Nekünk nincs igazán főnökünk, vagy vezetőnk. Mindenki egyenrangú a csapatban. Mármint, nem katonai rangban, nyilván. Az idősebbek közül van, aki már lassan tábornok, a kezdők meg épphogy a századost nyalogatják alulról, de a csapaton belül nem a katonai rendfokozat dönt, hanem az, hogy ki mire képes és milyen szituációban használható, a tehetsége, vagy a fegyvere. Senki sem… - Kapkan megvakargatta a borostáját megfelelő szavak után kutatva. Miért is mondta el ezeket? - ...jobb a többieknél. Mindenki egyenrangú.

- Szóval teljesen vezető nélkül működik a csapat ilyen jól? - a nő felvonta a szemöldökét, mint aki nem hiszi el. - Miféle hatóság figyeli a munkátokat?

Kapkan csak mosolygott. - A NATO, azt hiszem. Minden küldetés alatt és után jelentéseket kell nekik írnunk, azt elküldjük az összekötőnek és már kész is vagyunk!

- Összekötő? Miféle összekötő?

Mielőtt válaszolt volna, Kapkan ismét beharapta az ajkát, a pólója egy kilógó cérnaszálát piszkálgatta. Nem akart többet mondani, de a nő résen volt és intett a pultosnak, hogy töltsön nekik megint. Mikor a kezébe kapta az új italt, és abba is belekortyolt, Kapkan megkönnyebbülten felsóhajtott. - Csak egy civil, aki néha ránéz a csapatra, hogy minden legálisan működik-e!

A nő hátradőlve fürkészte az arcát, a karjait maga előtt keresztbe fonta. Egy pár pillanatig hallgatott, mintha ott sem lett volna hirtelen, a tekintete úgy kiüresedett. Biztosan gondolkozott. Mikor ismét megszólalt, Kapkan meglepetten pislogni kezdett.

- Ő lenne ‘Six’? - mosolygott rá a nő.

Kapkan a szemeibe nézett és lassan bólintott, belenézve a poharába. - Ő lenne Six. De ő nincs benne aktívan a küldetésekben. Ő csak egy civil, egy ártatlan ember.

A nő bólintott és ahogy Kapkan felnézett az arcára, hirtelen végtelen elégedettnek tűnt.

- Tudod mit? Nekem most már igazán mennem kellene! - Kapkan eltolta a whiskys poharat és felemelkedett a helyéről, de abban a pillanatban fájdalom nyilallt a fejébe. Odakapta a kezét, és fintorogva visszaereszkedett. A halántékát kezdte masszírozni.

Az asztaltársa mintha meg se hallotta volna az előbbi mondatot, intett újra és a pultos megint töltött a poharukba. - És milyen emberekkel dolgozol még együtt? Azt tudom, hogy a Spetsnaz benne van a kis elit csapatban, az nyilvánvaló, de miféle másik osztagok vannak még?

Kapkan lassan ránézett, majd a bár ajtaja felé pillantott segítségkérően. Nem lett volna nagy séta, a feje mégis annyira hasogatott, hogy lábra állni is alig tudott volna. Az ujjai a poharára siklottak, a hideg üveg kellemesen belesimult a tenyerébe. A nőre nézett és harcolva magával rázta meg a fejét kicsit. Nem akart válaszolni. - Nem tudom! Biztos mondták egyszer - mosolygott rá. - De nem figyeltem. Vagyunk mi az oroszok, van egy rakat amerikai, meg német, meg egy csomó minden más. Asszem van francia is, de megtévesztenek az akcentusaikkal.

A nő láthatóan nem volt megelégedve ezzel a válasszal, kissé elhúzta a száját. A tekintete láttán Kapkan gyomra lassan zubogni kezdett.

- És mifélék ezek az amerikaiak? Vagy a németek? - hajolt közelebb a nő kérdőn félrebillentve a fejét. Nagyon igyekezett mosolyt erőltetni az arcára, de Kapkan látta a szemén, hogy egyre feszültebb. Bizonyára, mert rossz kérdéseket tett fel neki, vagy pont, mert Ő válaszolt rosszul? Kapkan nem tudta eldönteni. Ellenben a következő válasz nagyon gördülékenyen érkezett.

- Idegesítőek! - egy vigyor kúszott az arcára a nő meglepett ábrázatát látva. - A legjobb barátaim. Mindketten nagyon hasznosak, az eszközeik és a tapasztalatuk elengedhetetlen ahhoz, hogy a csapatunk hatékony legyen, de idegesítőek, mint a szemét - Kapkan elégedetten meglötyögtette a poharában maradt italt és az utolsó cseppig ledöntötte.

A nő szemei egy pillanatra megint kiüresedtek aztán bólintott. - Kik ők? Mesélj róluk.

- Ahh, az egyik Jordan, a második pedig Dom. Elég vicces a történet, ahogy barátok lettünk. Az elején borzasztóan utáltam mindkettőt, Jordan nem tűnt másnak, csak egy ostoba bohócnak, Dom pedig kibaszott idegesítő volt, akaratos és mindenki különlegesnek tartotta a hülye beépülős feladat miatt, amit a Rainbow csapat előtt csinált! - Kapkan hátradőlt, ahogy elöntötték az emlékek.

Hosszú évekkel azelőtt, mikor a Rainbow csapat aktája nem volt több pár porosodó lapnál a NATO asztalán és az egész alakulat csak öt, végtelen profi, ám végtelen idegen csapatból állt, Kapkan sokszor belegondolt, hogy vajon jó döntést hozott-e, amikor felajánlották neki a kinevezést. Végülis csak azért fogadta el, mert tudta, hogy más Spetsnaz tagok is lesznek itt, de hamar pofára esett; első ránézésre a csapata használhatatlan volt. Egy zöldfülű kölyök, valami álmatag művész, és egy idősebb pasi, aki azt hitte ő a faszagyerek, de minden második edzésen feleslegesnek bizonyult a fegyvere, csak veszélybe sodorta a többieket vele.

Kapkan hamar arra a következtetésre jutott, hogy jobb lesz neki ezek nélkül, egyedül, akkor hatékonyabb lehetett, hisz úgy csak magára kell vigyázni! Ha valaki akkor azt mondja neki, hogy az ‘álmatag művész’ lesz élete szerelme, akinek a karjaiba mindig vágyik, valószínűleg képen röhögi, aztán jól be is töri az orrát. Akkor, évekekkel korábban még szentül abban a hitben élt, hogy sosem tudna egy férfit szeretni. Akaratlanul is mosolyogni kezdett az emlékképen. Mekkorát tévedett, atyaég!

Sajnos az óvó magányra való törekvéseit hamar sutba kellett dobnia, mert bár ő meglett volna egyedül, úgy tűnt a csapat többi tagja viszont nem tud nélküle létezni. A fronton és a vadászat közben szerzett tapasztalata elengedhetetlennek bizonyult, tekintve, hogy voltak olyan tejfölösszájú kölykök, akik még a húszat sem töltötték be és máris itt voltak. Ez nem csak sértette a becsületét, de egy kis extra löketet is adott, hogy jobb legyen; meg akarta mutatni, hogy jobb, mint a gyerekek, akiket beválogattak.

Először az edzések, majd az első éles küldetések során is remekelt, mindig a legjobbak között állt, mindig hatékony volt. Nem csak azért muzsikált ennyire jól, mert bizonyítani akart, hanem mert nagyon hamar kialakult benne egy védelmi ösztön is az esetlen, fiatal társaival szemben. Ott volt még bőven a fenekükön a tojáshéj, bizonytalanul fogták a fegyvereiket, és Kapkan nem értette, miért csinál valaki ilyet? Miért válogatnak be gyerekeket, akik nyilvánvalóan hamar meg fognak halni? A ketyeréik szórakoztatóak voltak, valóban, de nem annyira elengedhetetlenek, hogy az életüket veszítsék miattuk. Ráadásul egy gyenge tag a csapat gyengeségét is jelentette bizonyos esetekben, miért hát kockáztatni?

Ott volt például az az angol fiú, Mark. Annyira fiatal volt, és annyira szerencsétlen, néhány feladat során Kapkannak megfordult a fejében, hogy ő fogja lelőni, csak azért, hogy a csapatot mentse. A másik kérdéses férfi, az egyik amerikai volt. A kódneve: Thermite. Kapkan elsőnek nem értette, hogy egy ilyen bolond, egy ilyen forrófejű bohóc mit csinál a csapatban. Ön- és közveszélyes volt, több alkalommal is tönkretette Kapkan felszerelését, és az oroszban egyre csak gyűlt a feszültség.

Az egyik edzés során, mikor Kapkant a védő, Thermiteot pedig a támadó csapatba osztották, elhatározta, hogy megmutatja az amerikainak hova dugja a robbanószereit. Csak a megfelelő pillanat kellett. Ahogy a három percük telni kezdett, az orosz azonnal hergelni kezdte saját magát, hogy a megfelelő pillanatban elkaphassa az amerikait.

A csapatuk jó volt, de az ellenfél egy kicsit jobbnak bizonyult; pár másodperc alatt kiszedtek két védőt; Smoke és Rook kiestek. Így maradt a nyakába két bosszantó német, egy, aki olyan idegesnek tűnt, Kapkan esküdni mert volna rá, hogy látja a tenyerét izzadni, egy meg, aki olyannyira nem vette komolyan a feladatot, hogy még rá is gyújtott, és jókedvűen, dohányfüst köröket eregetve várakozott. Úgy nézett ki, mint aki ilyen helyzetekben tudja csak kialudni magát, és a karikákból a szeme alatt Kapkan arra következtetett, hogy ez nagyjából helytálló teória is lehet.

Nem kedvelte őket. Egyiket sem. De Kapkan inkább megrázta a fejét és a feladatára koncentrált. El kellett kapnia Thermiteot, vagy megbolondul; ez volt a legfontosabb feladata, az első és egyetlen. Nem is érdekelte, hogy a kört esetleg elveszthetik. Thermite nem nyerhetett többet.

Kapkan mindenre felkészülve egy olyan falhoz húzódott, amiről tudta, hogy az amerikai robbanó szőnyege be tudja törni, és nem is kellett sokat várakoznia. Hamarosan meghallotta a jól ismert hangot, ahogy Thermite az eszközét a falra rakta, majd finom kopogást, ahogy a férfi kihajtogatta azt. Kapkan esküdni mert volna, hogy azt is hallotta, mikor Thermite azt motyogja "C4 a helyén". Számításai szerint öt másodperce volt addig, ameddig a fal berobban, az idő pedig lelassult körülötte. Hallotta Thermite távolodó lépteit, az ismerős kattanást és a puskapor illatát a levegőben. Látott néhány szikrát, ahogy a szőnyeg elkezdte átégetni a fát, és felkészülve a robbanásra: a szeméhez emelte a fegyverét felállt. Ölni készült.

Ahogy a szikrák lassan ívet kezdtek leírni a falon, megszorította a fegyverét, de hirtelen egy teljesen más fajta füstszag is utat talált az orrába, majd egy durva kiáltást hallott.

- El az útból, babushka! - a következő pillanatban pedig az idősebbik német egyszerűen félre lökte. Ahogy Kapkan megbotlott, és oldalra huppant még éppen látta, ahogy a másik férfi lecsapja a földre a saját eszközét - egy felturbózott akkumulátort - és áram alá helyezi vele a falat. A szikrázás abbamaradt, a robbanó szőnyeg kiégett. A másik oldalról azonnal dühös, akcentusos káromkodás hallatszott, a német pedig a legelégedettebb vigyorral az ajkain hátralépett.

- Nyald meg a seggem Brunsmeier! - kiabált be Thermite.

- Kurvára okosabb lehetnél annál, minthogy mindig ugyanoda rakd a szarodat, Trace - kiabált vissza a német vigyorogva, majd lazán felkapva a fegyverét találomra átlőtt a könnyű, habkarton falon, és hamarosan felszólalt a csapattársak elvesztését jelző dudaszó. Eltalálta. Találomra lőtt és eltalálta.

Kapkan leesett állal bámulta a jelenetet, és mikor a német odalépett mellé azzal az ütnivalóan elégedett ábrázattal, csak még több méreg lepte el. Már őt is meg akarta ölni.

- Mi van, csibém, mit bámulsz? - fordult a férfi Kapkan felé, aki egyből felpattant, és elkapva a német kabátját vágta durván a falnak. Már éppen betörte volna az orrát, de abban a pillanatban felhangzott a kör végét jelző szaggatott dudálás. A német viszont még nem fejezte be. Könnyedén belemarkolt Kaplan ruhájába és úgy mozdult, hogy leszorítsa a férfi karjait megakadályozva az oroszt az esetleges ütlegelés megkezdésében. Patt helyzetben állva néztek farkasszemet, mikor a német megszólalt. - Legközelebb ahelyett, hogy várakozol és tökölődsz inkább lődd ki a robbanószert a falon keresztül, ez nem atomfizika, Baryshnikov! - a német még kacsintott is egyet, aztán egyszerűen ellökte magától a döbbent Kapkant és összeszedve a másik németet kisétál együtt a harctérről.

Smoke és Rook is hamarosan előkerültek, morogva azon, hogy az edzőmeccsekhez használt ‘játék töltények’ túl nagyot csíptek. Doc erre csak annyit mondott nekik, hogy örüljenek, ha nem komoly lövéseket kapnak.

Ahogy elhaladt a kis csapat mellet, Kapkan megpillantotta a bosszantó németet és amerikait beszélgetni. A testtartásuk, a gesztusaik, ahogy egymásra néztek, mind azt sugallta az orosznak, hogy jóban vannak. Remek. Két ilyen kibaszott idegesítő alak barátságot köt. Egyszerűen remek. Rosszabb párost el se tudott képzelni, biztos volt benne, hogy halálra fogják idegesíteni.

A legnagyobb meglepetésére, a német felé intett, miközben a másiknak magyarázott valamit és mindketten odafordultak. Kapkan felvette a leggyilkosabb arckifejezését, nem akarta, hogy gyengének tartsák egy ilyen ostoba hiba miatt. Csak még jobban meglepődött, mikor a két férfi elindult felé és már felkészült arra is, hogy lekiabálják a fejét, vagy elkezdenek kekeckedni, de megint koppant az álla a padlón, mikor az amerikai a világ legbarátságosabb mosolyával kezet nyújtott neki.

- Jordan Trace! Kódnév: Thermite. Dom mesélte, hogy mennyire felbosszantottalak az Exo szőnyegekkel! Jelenleg még fejlesztés alatt állnak, ha esetleg megégettelek a gyakorlat közben velük, akkor ne haragudj!

Kapkan kikerekedett szemekkel nézte a kezét, aztán csak zavartan megrázta. - Maxim Basuda. Kódnév: Kapkan.

- Meg kell, hogy mondjam neked, őszintén csodálatosnak tartom az EDD-idet. Annyira király ötlet, nem is értem, nekem miért nem jutott eszembe! - Thermite tovább csacsogott, a gesztusai befogadóak voltak, a viselkedése kedélyes. Kapkan nem is értette, hogy lehet valaki ennyire bolond. Meg amúgy is, ellenségek voltak! Miért ilyen kedves?

Az amerikaihoz képest a másik, a német, csak figyelt, mintha ki akarná ismerni Kapkan minden mozdulatát és vonását. Az orosz elpillantott a beszélő Thermiteról, és a másik szemeibe nézett, de az csak féloldalasan elvigyorodott.

- Nem vagy egy barátkozós típus, mi? - kotyogott közbe Thermite. - Nem gáz, mert én viszont az vagyok! Van kedved velünk jönni ebédelni?

Kapkan rápislogott, aztán tétován bólintott. Végülis jó ötlet kifigyelni az ellenséget a természetes közegében, nem? A vadászat is nagyjából így működött, és ő imádott vadászni.

- Jaj, tényleg, milyen faragatlan vagyok! Ő itt Dominic Brunsmeier, a kódneve: Bandit. Mesélte, hogy fellökött az edzés közben és milyen mérges lettél! - Thermite mosolya lankadatlan volt, Bandit arcán a vigyor csak még önelégültebb lett.

- Valóban - válaszolt Kapkan kurtán, szemmel verve a németet.

- Legközelebb nyugodtan vágd szájba, teljesen el van szállva magától csak mert lehúzott pár évet egy ilyen beépülős melóban - ahogy beszélt, Thermite el is indult vissza ebédelni.

Bandit erre megforgatta a szemét. - Azért ne legyél rám mérges, mert menőbb vagyok mint te, Tracy!

Thermite erre csak oldalba bökte a könyökével. Kapkan összehúzott szemekkel figyelte őket.

- Te meg ne vágj már olyan pofát, mint aki mindjárt gránátot dug a seggünkbe, mert kibaszott kényelmetlen. Ez csak egy edző meccs volt, babushka, csak játék. Lazíts. Legközelebb majd elkaphatod Jordan tökeit - fordult felé Bandit, Kapkan pedig elpillantott. Nem szerette, ha a prédája észreveszi, hogy figyel.

- Ne aggódj, nem azért nézlek, mert szép vagy, hanem mert úgy festesz, mint egy kéthetes zokni, amit teletömtek lószarral - Kapkan pimaszul rámosolygott, mire a német hehhent egyet és inkább rágyújtott.

- Nem lehet mindenki olyan, mint egy kibaszott szőke herceg, hm? - Bandit finoman a támadó csapatok között álló német társára bökött az állával. Hát az a pasas valóban úgy nézett ki, mint valaki megtestesült álma.

Kapkan és Thermite is követték a tekintetét és hmmentve bólogattak mindketten, aztán csak beértek az ebédlőbe. Kapkan odaült hozzájuk enni, később pedig vacsoránál is csatlakozott a két férfihoz. Még maga is meglepődött azon, hogy a prédái milyen hamar lettek a barátai.

- Mikor fogsz a lényegre térni? - vágott a mese kellős közepébe a nő az asztal másik oldaláról.

Kapkan felvont szemöldökkel nézett rá. Nem volt a legudvariasabb így valaki szavába vágni. - Te voltál kíváncsi arra, hogy milyen osztagokkal dolgozom együtt. Ilyenekkel.

A nő megforgatta a szemét. Az arckifejezése már régen nem jókedvet, hanem dühöt tükrözött. Kapkan elhúzta a száját a viselkedésváltozás láttán. Ahogy csend telepedett az asztalukra, hallotta, ahogy az eső elkezd kopogni a pinceablakokon. Hirtelen hidegebb is lett, és ő összehúzta magán a pulcsiját. A kedvenc pulóvere volt, az, amit Glaztől kapott egy karácsonyra, de mikor…? Végigsimított az anyagon, de a gondolataiból a nő hangja egyszerűen felriasztotta.

- És mégis milyen feladatokat kaptok, Maxim? - billentette félre a fejét.

Kapkan az ajkaiba harapott. Nem akart válaszolni, ez igazán belsős információ volt, és nem egy civil dolga. Hogy leplezze a zavarát az asztalon lévő bögréjéhez nyúlt és bizonytalanul kortyolt egyet, aztán fintorogva belenézett a bögrébe. Tea? Mégis mi…?

- Kérdeztem valamit, Maxim - nézett rá a nő feszülten, Kapkan nagy levegőt vett. Kissé magával küszködve nézett újra rá.

- Rengetegféle feladatot kapunk. Főleg terrorcselekményeket kell megakadályoznunk. Hallottál már a White Masks szervezetről? Mi azért vagyunk, hogy nekik ne legyen lehetőségük merényleteket elkövetni. Ez ennyire egyszerű! - mondta végül, aztán nyelt egyet. Nem érezte már jól magát. Haza akart menni, Glazhez.

- Kicsit pontosabban, Maxim. Mesélj ezekről a terroristákról nekem. Annyira érdekel! - a nő újra elmosolyodott. Kapkan megint felpillantott a szemeibe.

- Nézd… - megakarta szólítani valahogy a nőt, de hirtelen nem jutott eszébe a neve. Hogy lehet az? Biztos bemutatkoztak, mikor beértek a bárba. Vagy nem…? Kapkan az ajtó felé fordult. Mikor is jöttek be a bárba? Megint visszanézett a nőre és egyre feszültebbé vált. Tudta a nevét... Valamiféle V betűs volt; Veronica, vagy Vivienne? Hasonló. Egyáltalán honnan is ismerte őt?

- Milyen küldetéseket kaptok? Hogyan próbáljátok megállítani ezt a szervezetet?

Kapkan küszködve összeszorította a száját. Nem mondhatta el, de mégis el akarta. A bögréjébe nézett, aztán mégis elmosolyodott kicsit. - A legelső küldetésemen a White Masks ellen be kellett törnünk egy konzulátusi épületbe. Elrabolták valami politikus egyik hozzátartozóját és borzasztó mennyiségű pénzt követeltek érte - nézett fel a nő szemeibe, aki egy pillanatra megint elégedettnek tűnt, észre sem vette a Kapkan szája sarkában kúszó kis vigyort.

- Ezt a kibaszott nagy szopást nem hiszem el! - morgott Bandit, ahogy a helikopterben ültek. Thermite mosolyogva ránézett, de nem szólt semmit, csak felrakta a lábát a szemben lévő ülésre.

Kapkan viszont nem bírta szó nélkül. - Mi lenne, ha végre egyszer az életben képes lennél befogni azt a nagy szádat?

- Óóó, ne haragudj, uram és parancsolóm, netán bosszantalak?

- Mióta megláttalak bosszantasz - fordult felé Kapkan.

- Srácok, kussoljatok végre - tartotta fel az ujját Thermite, ahogy rájuk nézett. Mind a ketten odafordultak, hogy valami csípős megjegyzéssel visszavágjanak, de az amerikai szótlanul a társukra mutatott. Az aktuális küldetésre magukkal kellett hozniuk egy negyedik tagot is, Thatcher választása pedig a németek másik támadójára, IQ-ra esett.

Mikor Kapkan elsőnek lépett be a Rainbow csapat bázisára, és az újoncok között meglátott néhány nőt, egy vörös hajú, szigorú arcút, egy barna hajú, apró, mosolygóst és egy unottan rágózó szőkét, azonnal azt gondolta, mit keresnek ezek itt? A nők nem illenek a katonaságba.

A véleménye borzasztó gyorsan hatalmasat változott, mikor megismerte a három nőt. Ash, nem csak az amerikai csapat vezetője volt, de az egyik legmegbízhatóbb és legnélkülözhetetlenebb társ lett a támadó csapatokban. A nő pillanatok alatt átlátta a szorult helyzeteket és azonnal képes volt használható stratégiát kitalálni. Nem egy gyakorló és éles szituációból keveredtek már ki az ő irányításával.

A második, Twitch, az apró francia nő lehet, hogy nem volt olyan temperamentumos és bátor, mint Ash, de a technikai érzéke páratlan volt. Ő segített kicsit kipofozni Kapkan EDD-it, és a férfi rövid úton megértette, hogy miért kedveli annyira Twitchet. A nő minden mozdulatából sugárzott a profizmus, a munkája mindig tökéletes volt és kifogásolhatatlan, a humoráról nem is beszélve. Kapkan szeretett időt tölteni vele.

A harmadik, IQ, aki most mellettük volt, az előző kettőnél is pimaszabb volt. Ő volt az, aki nem félt visszaszólni senkinek, ha nem értett egyet, és az egyetlen, aki rezzenéstelenül állta, ha Thatcher leüvölti a fejüket, mikor ostobaságokat csináltak. IQ sosem nézett vissza és sosem követte el ugyanazt a hibát kétszer, erős volt és független. Most, a helikopterben ülve mégis idegesnek tűnt. Az arca sápadt volt, a kezei remegtek.

Kapkan azonnal abbahagyta a Bandittal való vitáját, és közelebb húzódott a nőhöz. - Jól vagy Monika?

- Hogyne… - bólintott IQ, aztán ahogy a helikopter jó nagyot rázkódott a levegőben, leszorította a szemét és megfeszült. - Csak nem örülök annak, hogy egy második világháborús csotrogánnyal visznek minket egy ennyire veszélyes helyre. A terroristák tizenöt mérföldről meg fognak minket hallani, és akkor a spéci lopott kis rakétáikkal alánk gyújtanak, ami elhiheted nincs a kedvenc halálnemeim között. Még ha Marius vezetne, de nem… Egy vén hülyét kaptunk, aki még szerintem direkt bele is megy minden légörvénybe - kifújta a levegőt és nyelt egy nagyot. Próbált a nyugalomra összpontosítani. Nem járt sikerrel.

- Jé, ez a csavar vajon honnan pottyanhatott ki? - emelt fel egy rozsdás csavart a gép padlójáról Bandit.

IQ hatalmasra kerekedett szemekkel nézett oda, Thermite meg azonnal oldalba bökte a férfit. - Mekkora egy agyhalott gyökér vagy!

Bandit csak legyintett. - Jaj ugyan már! Monika, minden rendben lesz, ez a tragacs többet látott már, mint mi hárman együttvéve. Nem lenne menő egy olyan gépen meghalni, amit már a hidegháború alatt is hullaszállításra használtak? Lehet, hogy az a rozsda nem is rozsda, hanem vér!

Kapkan a tenyerébe temette az arcát, Thermite pedig szenvedve felnyögött, de IQ láthatóan értette, hogy Bandit mit akar és finoman elmosolyodott. - Ha nem fogod be, a te véredtől fog tovább rozsdásodni, bízz bennem!

Bandit szélesen rávigyorgott, kacsintott is egyet. - Ugyan, tudom, hogy imádsz!

- Azt imádnám, ha nem akarnál szándékosan megijeszteni!

- Most miért? Tényleg nem tudom honnan van ez a csavar! - adta a kezébe Bandit. - Talán te megtalálod a helyét, úgyis te vagy a legértelmesebb itt.

Kapkan az égre emelte a tekintetét, Thermite viszont a tenyerébe nevetett. - Elég nagy és nehéz, valószínűleg a szerkezet része lehet, nem?

- Az nem rossz ötlet - vakarta meg az állát IQ a csavart forgatva, és az út hátralévő részében arról beszélgettek Thermitetal, hogy mégis honnan az istenből eshetett ki a csavar.

Kapkan elmosolyodva nézett rájuk, aztán a németre pillantott, aki csak elégedetten, lehunyt szemekkel ült. Az orosz már megtanulta, hogy Bandit mindig tudta, mit kell mondani; ezen tulajdonsága néha borzasztó fárasztó volt, ilyen esetekben viszont kifejezetten jól jött.

Ezek után még azzal a tragacsal is sikerült különösebb gond nélkül odaérni a bevetés helyszínére, és IQ nem is lehetett volna nyugodtabb, amikor behatoltak az épületbe. Nem volt nehéz feladat, ezért küldtek csak négy embert. Ráadásul négy milyen jót! IQ eszközével minden taposóaknát és csapdát kiszagoltak, Kapkannak hála, sajátokat hagytak hátra, Thermitenak köszönhetően minden falat ledöntöttek és Bandit gondoskodott arról, hogy minden rájuk támadó ellenfél rövid úton holtan essen a földre. Kifejezetten elégedettek lehettek magukkal, az egyik legsikeresebb küldetésük volt.

A problémák akkor kezdődtek, mikor egy bomba mellénnyel ellátott terrorista jött velük szembe. Az alak felemelte a fegyverét és azonnal célba vette őket, a csapat pedig nem volt elég gyors; egy golyó eltalálta Thermite vállát. Kapkan abban a pillanatban elrántotta a sérült férfit a többi golyó útjából, Bandit és IQ pedig fedezékbe ugorva tüzelni kezdtek.

Kapkan leszorította Thermite sebét, a férfi pedig dühöngeni kezdett fájdalmában. Villámgyorsan leakasztott az övéről egy kézigránátot, majd abból kirántva a csapszeget hajította egyenesen a terrorista alá. Annak éppen csak annyi ideje maradt, hogy lepillantson, majd egy akkora robbanás rázta meg az épületet, ami kihatott a ház szerkezetére is. A falak recsegve-ropogva omlottak össze. Thermite kifejezetten élvezte volna nézni, ahogy összerogy az épület, de éppen azzal volt elfoglalva, hogy szitkozódva elszorítsa a sebét. Tovább kellett menniük.

Természetesen az összes még élő terrorista odasereglett a robbanásra, tűz alá véve a csapatot. A következő zseniális ötlet IQ-tól jött. A három férfi elsőnek bolondnak nézte, de aztán beleegyeztek; fel a tetőre, és onnan újra le az épület másik részén, ahol tudták, hogy a túszt is találják.

Thermite sérülése kissé lelassította ugyan őket, de sietősen magukkal rángatták a szitkozódó amerikait, és sikeresen be is jutottak a túszhoz, aki mint kiderült egy hat év körüli kislány volt. A kezei a háta mögé voltak kötözve, a szája beragasztva. Ahogy a gyerek meglátta őket, a szemeiben valami furcsa öröm és düh csillant majd mocorogva, vergődve próbált kiszabadulni a fogságból.

Bandit közelebb lépett hozzá, hogy segítsen neki kiszabadulni, de a kislány azonnal sikongatni kezdett, a lábával egy asztal fele rúgkapált. IQ azonnal odaszaladt, ahogy meglátta a gyermek ijedtségének okát, a körmét kezdte rágni.

- Srácok… Másfél percünk van és ez a hely a földdel lesz egyenlő - nézett fel a nő. Az asztal alatt legalább hat téglányi C4 volt egy időzítőre kötve. Az óra még nem ketyegett, a kábelek viszont a kislány alatt lévő szőnyeg felé vezettek.

Kapkan odatámogatta Thermiteot, aki összehúzott szemekkel nézte meg a kioldó szerkezetet. - Amint megmozdítjuk a gyereket arról a szőnyegről, elindul a visszaszámlálás.

Bandit is odalépett, aztán visszanézett a kislányra. - Másfél perc bőven elég idő…!

IQ megrázta a fejét. - Nem biztos. Nézd ezt? Még legalább hat-hét irányba vezetnek el kábelek ebből az egy bombából. Ha megmozdítjuk őt, akkor akár egy pillanat alatt a nyakunkba robbanhat az épület.

Bandit lerángatta magáról a sisakját és letéve egy asztalra guggolt le a bomba mellé. - Azt a kibaszott… Nem vagyok benne biztos, hogy ezt csak úgy hatástalanítani tudjuk, nézzétek ezeket az illesztékeket. Ha egyet elvágunk, az összes többi azonnal robban.

Kapkan elővett egy zseblámpát és körbenézett a szobában kicsit alaposabban. - Valamilyen módszer biztosan van arra, hogy ezt megússzuk. Vegyétek elő az agyatokat, elméletileg mi vagyunk a profik legprofibbjai!

Bandit megint a gyerekre nézett és felállva elindult felé, ezúttal nagyon igyekezve, hogy a lába még véletlenül se érjen a szőnyeghez. A magasságát kihasználva hajolt közelebb a kislányhoz és finoman lehúzta a szájáról a szigszalagot. Finoman a gyerekre vigyorgott. - Jó nagy szarba keveredtél, hm, kiscsibe?

A gyerek felnézett rá, beharapta az ajkát. A szemeiben inkább ült bizonytalanság, mint félelem - De ti segítetek, ugye?

- Az a cél - bólintott a német. - De neked kell segítened nekünk elsőnek. Mondtak valamit, hogy hogyan lehet ezt az egészet hatástalanítani?

A kislány bólogatni kezdett. - A-az egyiknél, v-volt egy kártya! Azt mondták azt bele kell dugni, és akkor nem robban.

IQ és Kapkan összenéztek. Fogalmuk sem volt, hogy melyik terroristánál lehet a kártya, idejük pedig nem volt minden holttestet átnézzenek.

- Attól tartok, az nem fog menni - vakarta meg a szakállát Bandit. - Nem mondták, hogy hova vittek még bombákat?

- Nem! - nézett rá a gyerek. - Nem mondtak semmit…!

Bandit lassan felállt és körbenézett. Egy pillanatra úgy tűnt, hogy nincs kiút, aztán Thermite felnézett. - Hány kiló vagy?

- H-harminckettő - nézett rá a kislány.

- Jordan ez nem egy elcseszett Indiana Jones film, nem fogjuk tudni kicserélni a súlyát! - morgott rá Bandit. - Használhatóbb ötlet?

- Ha alulról kirobbantjuk a plafont az egyik Exo töltettel, akkor rövidítjük a menetidőt legalább negyvenöt másodperccel - szólalt meg Kapkan.

A másik három azonnal ránézett és Thermite elvigyorodva elkezdte előpakolni a holmijait. Azonnal tetszett neki a terv. IQ a bombákra nézett, aztán Kapkanra, Bandit pedig elismerően hmmentve grimaszolt egyet. - Működhet…

Bandit megint a kislányhoz fordult. - Ez veszélyes lesz, és meg is sérülhetsz, de megígérem neked, hogy kijuttatunk és visszaviszünk a szüleidhez, mit szólsz?

A kislány hatalmasat nyelt a bombákat látva, de a szemeiben a német már csak elhatározottságot látott. - Rendben!

Bandit elvigyorodott és a többiekre néz. - Maxim, te viszed a robbanótölteteket, te vagy a leggyorsabb, aki ért ehhez most, hogy Jordan céltáblának képzelte magát. Monika, te segíts nekem. Abban a pillanatban, hogy Maxim átrobbantja a plafont, én elkapom őt - intett a fejével a gyerek fele. - Te pedig segítesz Jordannak leereszkedni. Megfelel?

- Hát kurvára nem tudom ki kiálltott ki téged főnöknek, de jól van! - bólintott Kapkan, majd felkapva Thermite tölteteit már ott sem volt.

Bandit megint a kislányhoz fordult. - Mi a neved?

- Ellie - nézett rá a gyerek.

- Félsz, Ellie? - közben a német felállt, és az övére erősített horgas kötelet felhajította, hogy a kampók beakadjanak az épület erős acélszerkezetébe. IQ odalépett mellé és a sajátját, majd Thermiteét is ugyanúgy feldobta, hogy le tudjanak ereszkedni Bandit és a gyerek után.

A kislány finoman megrázta a fejét. - Már nem…

Bandit lepillantott rá. - Bátor kis majom vagy te, mi? - úgy helyezkedett, hogy azonnal el tudja kapni a gyereket, IQ pedig közelebb támogatta Thermiteot.

Egy szinttel lejebbről halk, orosz káromkodás hallatszott és az Exo töltetek ismerős

kopogása hallatszott, majd Thermite adóvevője felsercent. “Töltet a helyén. Lépjetek hátra, és viszlát a túlvilágon!”.

Bandit nagy levegőt vett, a kislányra nézett. - Háromra elrúgod magad és a nyakamba ugrasz, rendben Ellie? - a gyerek bólintott, Bandit pedig gyorsan elvágta a kezeit leszorító köteleket. - Számolj hangosan.

Ellie bólintott és amint alatta szikrázni kezdett a padló, a szőnyeg pedig lassan elkezdett ívesen átégni, számolni kezdett. - Egy… Kettő… Három!

Abban a pillanatban, hogy kiejtette a száján a hármat, a gyerek elrúgta magát a leomló padlóról és Bandit kinyújtott karjába vetette magát. A német kissé durván, de stabilan szorította magához.

- A túsz a miénk, azonnali evakuálást kérünk! - kiálltott bele a saját mikrofonjába IQ, és átkarolta Thermiteot. - Másfél percünk van a robbanásig!

- Gyertek már! - kabált fel rájuk Kapkan, aki a robbantott lyuk mellett állt egy kicsivel odalent. - Másfél perc kurva kevés!

Bandit szorosabbra fogta a kislányt és már ereszkedett is le vele, Kapkan pedig IQ-hoz és Thermitehoz szaladt, hogy segítsen a sérült barátjának. Ahogy haladtak kifelé, IQ tizenöt másodpercenként értesítette őket a robbanásig hátramaradt időről.

Egy perc tizenöt másodperc, hatvan másodperc, negyvenöt másodperc, harminc másodperc, tizenöt másodperc. Az egyik sarkon eléjük került egy, még valami csoda folytán élő terrorista, IQ pedig hezitálás nélkül fejbe lőtte.

Kettő másodperccel a robbanás előtt léptek ki az épületből, a futást nem hagyták abba. Ahogy IQ órája nullát ütött, az épület és a föld megremegtek és a falak fájdalmas recsegés-ropogás közepette darabjaikra omlottak. A rengeteg robbanószer olyan löketet generált, ami ledöntötte a négy felnőttet a lábáról. Bandit, ahogy esni kezdett magához szorította a kislányt, IQ Thermiteot védte a nagyobb sérüléstől.

Ahogy levegőhöz kapott, Kapkan lassan felült, kitörölte a szeméből a kormot és a törmeléket majd halkan megszólalt. - Hát… nem mondom, hogy nem örülök, a barna színű gatyámnak…

Bandit erre horkantott egyet, Thermite pedig lassan rázkódni kezdett a nevetéstől. IQ óvatosan a lábára állította, hamarosan ő is kacagott már. Bandit a belé kapaszkodó kislány fejére simított, és finoman rámosolygott. - Megvagy, csibe?

Ellie még az épületben tomboló lángokat nézte, aztán bólogatni kezdett. - M-meg…

Bandit megkönnyebbülten felsóhajtott, Kapkan pedig odalépve hozzájuk felhúzta őket a földről és megveregette a német vállát. - Nem hittem, hogy valaha ezt mondom neked, de nem is vagy annyira hülye, mint kinézel.

Thermite persze most sem bírta ki, közbekotyogott. - Most aztán vehetsz magadnak egy új sisakot, haver!

- De legalább új barátokat nem kell magamnak vennem - fordult feléjük Bandit, Kapkan pedig rávigyorgott és még egyszer megveregette a vállát.

- Kicsit mégis örülök, hogy te voltál bent a főnök - tette hozzá IQ boldogan. - Élünk! És egyben vagyunk! Alig hiszem-

- Nem a mézes-mázas barátságotok sztoriját akarom hallani, Maxim! - csattant fel az asztal másik oldalán ülő nő, kizökkentve Kapkant a gondolataiból.

Kapkan felnézett rá és összehúzta a szemeit. - Talán nem tetszik neked, ahogy mesélek? Mindig a szavamba vágsz, pofátlan vagy!

A nő szemei dühösen megvillantak, és odakint hatalmas villámlás támadt. Ahogy Kapkan felnézett, az ablakot már csillogó fehér hó fedte és ő mélyebbre bújt a kabátjában. Ahogy megérezte magán a vastag anyagot, azonnal a poharába pillantott, ahol tea helyett már friss feketekávé volt.

- A küldetésekről... - kezdte a nő, de Kapkan felállt.

- Nem mondok neked semmit a küldetéseinkről! - már lépett volna ki a boxukból, hogy elinduljon haza, mikor a nő is felpattant és egy kést vágott a fa asztallapba. Kapkan lepillantott, a penge pár milliméterrel vétette el csak az ujjait. Mikor került a nőhöz ez a kés?

Kapkan a másikra nézett és hirtelen eszébe jutott végre a neve. Nagy levegőt véve szorította le a szemeit.

A következő pillanatban, mikor felnézett, már nem a bárban ült, hanem egy hideg hajókamrában. Nem volt rajta semmi más, csak egy rongyosra izzadt és vérezett nadrág, és hirtelen fájdalom öntötte el mindenét. Mintha mindene égett volna. A látomásból már ismert nőre mosolygott és kiköpött némi vért az említett lába mellé. - Victoria! Ahh, már megint ezzel próbálkozol?

A nő dühös arccal nézett rá, aztán a Kapkan mellett álló asztalhoz lépett és felvett egy, sárgás folyadékkal telített fecskendőt. Az orosz úgy sejtette, valamiféle igazságszérum lehet benne. Emiatt mondott el dolgokat az álmok során. Kapkan karjába egy vékony infúzió volt vezetve, ahhoz most a nő a tűvel.

- Már… legalább hatodik napja csináljuk ezt Vicky, nem hiheted, hogy sikerülni fog! - vigyorgott rá Kapkan, a nő viszont válaszul csak szájon vágta. Kapkan felszisszent és még egy adag vért köpött a padlóra.

- Mindenki megtörik egyszer, Maxim, csak veled ez egy kicsit több időt vesz igénybe. De ne félj, előbb utóbb mindent kiszedek belőled, és akkor végre megölhetlek…!

Kapkan elmosolyodott. - Amikor így ráncolod az orrod, úgy nézel ki, mint egy malacka!

Victoria egyenesen a bőrébe vágta a tűt az infúzió helyett, Kapkan felszisszent.

- Akármennyit próbálkozol… A barátaim… M-már úton vannak… És… kimentenek… tudom…! - azzal Kapkan szemei előtt elsötétült a világ, és mikor megint felnézett, egy ismerős bárban ült.

- Csak nem akarsz máris itt hagyni, Maxim? - billentette félre a fejét a nő finoman az asztal másik oldalán ülve.

Kapkan elmosolyodott és keresztbe font karokkal hátradőlt. - A párom már vár… És holnap reggel amúgy is korán dolgozom. Igazán nem lenne szabad átmulatnom az egész éjszakát!

A nő erre csak nevetve legyintett egyet. - Fiatal vagy, Maxim!