Word Count: 2678
Old Friends
New Bombay, way down bellow the floating Transit Hub, through layers of silky clouds, was a glittering behemoth. Smoky in parts, it was carved out by winding rivers and metallic super-highways that looked alive due to the constant stream of moving lights. Miroslav Ivanovich stood motionless for a few moments, looking through the transparent platform at the city.
He took the sky-elevator down to street level. The first yellow cab broke off from a long chain of yellow cabs, momentarily breaking off the illusion of a giant, hovering, mechanical caterpillar, and floated up beside him.
Where to chief?
Chinatown.
Hop in.
The alloy super-highway shone brilliantly under the LED streetlights as the cab blazed at a dizzying speed. Everything was a melancholy tint of blue. Ivanovich soaked in the atmosphere. Downtown was predictably cluttered with mega-skyscrapers, super structures of glass and carbon that rose high above, almost touching the night sky.
Thatll be 15 credits.
Ivanovich paid the driver and walked out.
Much like international hotel chains, Chinatowns always looked the same. Ivanovich looked across the square at the food vendors frying and grilling tasty morsels of meats and noodles, at the bright, welcoming restaurant and bar signs randomly scattered all over the area. He stood for a moment and breathed in the spicy air. Then, he started walking towards a busy intersection, took a left at Altamont Street and took the third left into a narrow alley. After a bit of walking and sidestepping puddles formed by melting ice from all the fish vendors, he noticed the blinking pink Club Mono sign, bordered by glittering blue and yellow interweaving rectangles. Ivanovich went in.
The bar was almost empty, sans a few gloomy looking creatures of the night. Ivanovich ordered a whiskey on the rocks. Few minutes later, a scrawny man came in and sat next to him.
It sure is hot in here. he mumbled.
May be you need to wait for a cool breeze. Ivanovich replied without looking.
The man hissed, Follow me., and left.
Ivanovich followed the man, through winding alleys and back streets until they stopped at a small rectangular court-yard. The court-yard was shaded by the surrounding decrepit brick walls that were breaking down in places, and lit by feeble lights coming through the windows of various run down apartment buildings.
You have a package for me., the whole thing smelled like a trap, but Ivanovich needed the package. He had no choice but play along.
Sure, sure. I have your package. But...wave weapons are hard to come by these days, boss. We have to renegotiate the price.
This isnt a very good way of doing business. If you wanna stay in this business for a while, you actually have to build up trust by keeping your word.
Heh, thats well and good boss, but supply and demand you see. I have something you need, I know you wont get it anywhere else. So...
Fine, how much do you want?
Triple.
Ivanovich whistled softly. He wasnt authorized to spend that kind of credit.
Ok, show me the weapon.
The man pointed into a shadowy corner, another man came out from the shadows with a metallic cylinder. He clicked a button somewhere, and the cylinder neatly opened in half, revealing something, it was too dark to see.
I need to see it., Ivanovich walked closer.
Thats far enough boss, youre covered. The scrawny man warned Ivanovich and motioned his partner to walk closer with the cylindrical case. There was a grip inside the case, polished alloy the color of obsidian. It glinted dully.
I need to see if it works, turn it on.
The scrawny man jerked his head at his partner. His partner picked up the grip from the case and dropped the case on the floor. He activated the metallic grip and suddenly there was a tiny hum in the air. Like hundreds of bees buzzing. The area in front of the grip was hazy, the micro-meter thin carbon polymer blade was almost imperceptible. It oscillated too fast for human senses. Ivanovich calmly took one step forward and kicked the scrawny man onto the invisible blade.
Military grade nano-devices in his bloodstream, dormant till now, activated instantly. The rest was almost programmed, senses were enhanced, distances were calculated, application of necessary force and muscular pressure determined and enforced on the fly. He dived and rolled immediately to the back of the man holding the blade as shots whizzed into thin air. Ivanovich rose up near instantly, held the other mans sword hand and snapped his neck before he had a chance to react.
The scrawny man was sliced cleanly from left shoulder to liver. His upper torso slowly slipped away from the rest of his body with a sickening, sleek motion.
Ivanovich made a few mental adjustments and threw the blade at the corner where the shots came from, shielding himself with the inert body of the second man.
A muffled gurgle followed the soft sound of sliced muscle tissue and bones. Then everything was quiet, aside from the soft drone of the vibrating blade.
Old habits died hard. Ivanovich crouched motionless.
He picked up the case, away from the quickening pool of crimson, walked towards the sword. It lay, the blade vibrating calmly within the ruins of what used to be a young man.
On his way out, he looked back and stared hard at the scene of carnage left behind by someone he did not like very much, the fact everything worked out in his favor, no one left alive to identify him did not make him like the person any better.
Calmly Ivanovich made his way out of Chinatown onto Broad Street. Multitudes of vendors were selling everything from street foods to bootlegged accessories to dubious orgasm enhancers. Enhanced prostitutes, reconstructed in images of popular Bollywood superstars lined the corners.
A statuesque brunette approached Ivanovich, her angular face stunning under the harsh neon, blemish free, perfect. Dark eyes glittering as nearby strobe lights flashed off of her irises. Her moist lips glistened. They were sex.
Whats the matter cowboy, dont you want your cock sucked by Miss India? I look exactly like her, I promise. I suck exactly like her too, from what I hear. She whispered scandalously as Ivanovich tried to make his way through.
May be another time sweetheart, I have a meeting.
New Bombay throbbed. It was sweaty and chaotic. The air was thick with the smell of food, sex and objects, everything was being bought or sold. Cars and personal transports zoomed by as Ivanovich made his way though throngs of people. Neural enhancements activated and pulled up data from the local net, the quickest route to his destination was calculated and superimposed on his retina. The map was encrypted, for his eyes only. He followed along.
The route lead him near the skeleton of a mega skyscraper, the building was under construction. The construction site had the look of an abandoned yard. Ivanovich approached calmly, another tourist lost in the mazy grid. He walked under massive scaffoldings that blocked the night sky. Someone approached from the shadows and stopped a few feet short.
Long time, Vanya. The man growled.
Ivanovich approached and they hugged warmly.
How have you been Misha? You old wolf.
It had been years, but Mikhail Sorokin looked the same. Just about.
Not bad, I love this city. How are the old friends treating you back home?
It never ends, Misha. Ivanovich said in a tired monotone. But you know that already.
Heh. That I know. At least Im out here, far away from all the politics and bureaucracy. The job is stress free, night guard at construction sites. But I guess even with a loose leash, old spies can never really retire.
Guess so Misha. Unless one decides to get off the grid completely.
Well, at least the retirement benefits are nice. Sorokin scratched his scruffy white beard and looked out at the nearest intersection. The LED streetlights were covered in a misty haze, the roads were blue-black. They were the only people around for blocks, the financial district had nothing to offer anyone after hours.
Lets go up Vanya.
They rode the freight elevator in silence. Sorokin stopped the elevator midway through. They walked out to a partially completed floor. It was cold at a height of 2500 feet. Sorokin walked away and came back with a backpack.
Change into this, He said while handing Ivanovich the backpack. Up on the roof its freezing, youll need the atmospheric insulation and the oxygen. Leave your clothes in the bag and leave it on the floor here, Ill dispose off them later. At the South-West corner of the roof youll find what you need. I was not told any more details. I prepared a change of clothes and papers for you, youll find those in a backpack on the roof as well. Sorokin paused. He swallowed and looked off at the distant lights. Far away parts of the city were at sleep. Look, Ill be leaving now, and be back in an hour to tie up the loose ends. Be careful not to leave any traces behind. Good luck Vanya.
Thanks, old friend. Ivanovich was shivering. Sorokin clapped him on the shoulder and headed back into the elevator. It started with a grinding noise and went down.
Ivanovich opened up the backpack and took out the polycarbonate bodysuit. He quickly got dressed, fastened the weapon to the suit and discarded all his old clothes into the backpack and waited for the elevator to come back up.
The roof was bone chillingly cold, according to the ambient temperature readouts the suit provided him. The integrated night-vision system illuminated everything with high fidelity clarity and saturated objects of interest in blinking red. Ivanovich walked towards the South-West corner and picked up the backpack first.
Always prepare your exit plan first. Tradecraft.
He smirked at the old memory. Some things were always the same, no matter what else changed.
Then he walked towards and activated the Mikoyan-Grumman MiG FX 155 Peronal Flight Machine. In the office they simply called it The Cormorant. It was a sleek black unit, all soft curves. It turned on with a slight throb, the anti-grav thrusters kicked in. The moon was well up on the clear sky, and everything was very well lit for miles. There wasnt much time left, he quickly entered the destination into the navigation system of the Cormorant and checked all his equipment. Everything he needed was on board, or on the body suit.
He fastened himself to the Cormorant and jumped off.
There is always a delay during high altitude jumps with anti-grav machines, as the onboard anti-grav control systems calculated required thrust on the fly, judging from sensory measurements of elevation, altitude, momentum and weight.
That delay translates into a freefall.
There is nothing quite like jumping off a 5,000 ft tall building and dropping like a rock towards the heart of a thriving megalopolis.
Ivanovich gritted his teeth and held on as the glittering bottom seemed to rush towards him at a frightening speed, the grid like pattern of the city vividly clear, enhanced by the night-vision system as he fell through misty clouds. As his mind almost reached the nearest edge of panic, the anti-grav systems calibrated themselves and the Cormorant switched directions to its destination. It flew him rapidly, sweeping through the air gracefully and near silently, curving between glassy skyscrapers at dazzling speeds, high above an old fashioned metal bridge crossing one of the many rivers, eventually landing him on the roof of a moderate sized condominium far away from the glitz and noise of downtown.
Ivanovich pulled up the building blueprints on his retinal display and rappelled down quickly to the 23rd floor. Thermal readings showed the apartment was not empty. However, the sole occupant of the place seemed to be at sleep. He curved out the circular area highlighted in blinking red, the bathroom window, and entered the apartment silently.
He made his way into the bedroom, stood next to the bed and took a long look at the man sleeping on it. Ex military commander Nikolai Vasiliev. He looked old and frail, a far cry from the man Ivanovich used to know, years ago. Everyone cowered under his lead back then.
Wake up Nikolai.
Vasiliev woke up with a start. He reached for something but Ivanovich was quicker, he grabbed Vasilievs arm and picked him up from the bed. He twisted Vasilievs arm, applying enough pressure to induce pain but not enough to break it, and lead him to the chair across the bed.
Wh-whore you? Whats the mea...
Shut up. Ivanovich took off the headpiece from his polycarbonate suit. Seeping moonlight illuminated half his face. The other half was enveloped in darkness. He wasnt very young anymore either. His face was worn and tired.
Vanya? What are you doing here...?
You know very well why Im here Nikolai. The atrocities you committed during the Border Wars of 76 could never be forgiven.
That was war! Nikolai Vasiliev growled, for a split second he was the fearsome man he used to be. But only for that split second.
Ivanovich didnt move a muscle. His face was made of stone as he looked at Vasiliev, looked through him as he spoke in a subdued voice, with controlled fury hidden just beneath the surface.
It was war, yes. You killed men, women and young children because of their ethnicity. You committed genocide in the name of our empire. You wanted to cleanse the Russian Empire of unwanted...elements, as you used to say during your little speeches. Ivanovich paused, the words came out hard and his lips quivered in fury as he continued, You uprooted whole villages and got fat off the loot. If it was up to me, I would have killed you then Nikolai. But it wasnt up to me.
What do you mean? You were under my command during the war, for two months till you were transferred to the Western Front. We were good friends.
I always worked for Sector 8, Nikolai. There were rumors about you, so we decided to watch you. You were useful so the kill order was not given, at the time...even though the Empire was aware of your crimes, her hands were tied, she had to look the other way.
Vasiliev was shocked.
You? Internal Security Intelligence? I should have known. You have the nerve to accuse me of war time atrocities? What about you? You stood and watched it all, and you did nothing. Vasiliev smiled crookedly.
I know, and for that I will never forgive myself. But at least Ill make sure youre dead.
I paid my dues Ivanovich. My testimony ensured the conviction of the rogue Commanders within our ranks and brought a swift end to the war. I have always been loyal to the Empire. The nation granted me free passage and anonymity.
That they did, they had no choice. You wouldnt have testified without a deal. But some mistakes can be corrected, even through thick layers of politics and bureaucracy. The nation wants to correct a mistake, a mistake long overdue for correction. A correction she owes to her citizens.
Ivanovich pulled out the sword and turned it on. Its soft drone saturated the silent bedroom. He took a step towards Vasiliev.
Vasiliev looked to the floor and muttered to himself.
This cant be happening, not after so many years, not after what Ive done for the Empire. Youre the coward who did not act for what he believed in, at least I did what I thought was right. Dont do it Vanya, Im just an old man. We were good friends, once...
I was only pretending.
Ivanovich neatly sliced off Vasilievs head which rolled off the chair with a soft thud. He then took a deep breath, turned off the sword, stood in complete silence and gazed off at the rising moon.
Old Friends
New Bombay, way down bellow the floating Transit Hub, through layers of silky clouds, was a glittering behemoth. Smoky in parts, it was carved out by winding rivers and metallic super-highways that looked alive due to the constant stream of moving lights. Miroslav Ivanovich stood motionless for a few moments, looking through the transparent platform at the city.
He took the sky-elevator down to street level. The first yellow cab broke off from a long chain of yellow cabs, momentarily breaking off the illusion of a giant, hovering, mechanical caterpillar, and floated up beside him.
Where to chief?
Chinatown.
Hop in.
The alloy super-highway shone brilliantly under the LED streetlights as the cab blazed at a dizzying speed. Everything was a melancholy tint of blue. Ivanovich soaked in the atmosphere. Downtown was predictably cluttered with mega-skyscrapers, super structures of glass and carbon that rose high above, almost touching the night sky.
Thatll be 15 credits.
Ivanovich paid the driver and walked out.
Much like international hotel chains, Chinatowns always looked the same. Ivanovich looked across the square at the food vendors frying and grilling tasty morsels of meats and noodles, at the bright, welcoming restaurant and bar signs randomly scattered all over the area. He stood for a moment and breathed in the spicy air. Then, he started walking towards a busy intersection, took a left at Altamont Street and took the third left into a narrow alley. After a bit of walking and sidestepping puddles formed by melting ice from all the fish vendors, he noticed the blinking pink Club Mono sign, bordered by glittering blue and yellow interweaving rectangles. Ivanovich went in.
The bar was almost empty, sans a few gloomy looking creatures of the night. Ivanovich ordered a whiskey on the rocks. Few minutes later, a scrawny man came in and sat next to him.
It sure is hot in here. he mumbled.
May be you need to wait for a cool breeze. Ivanovich replied without looking.
The man hissed, Follow me., and left.
Ivanovich followed the man, through winding alleys and back streets until they stopped at a small rectangular court-yard. The court-yard was shaded by the surrounding decrepit brick walls that were breaking down in places, and lit by feeble lights coming through the windows of various run down apartment buildings.
You have a package for me., the whole thing smelled like a trap, but Ivanovich needed the package. He had no choice but play along.
Sure, sure. I have your package. But...wave weapons are hard to come by these days, boss. We have to renegotiate the price.
This isnt a very good way of doing business. If you wanna stay in this business for a while, you actually have to build up trust by keeping your word.
Heh, thats well and good boss, but supply and demand you see. I have something you need, I know you wont get it anywhere else. So...
Fine, how much do you want?
Triple.
Ivanovich whistled softly. He wasnt authorized to spend that kind of credit.
Ok, show me the weapon.
The man pointed into a shadowy corner, another man came out from the shadows with a metallic cylinder. He clicked a button somewhere, and the cylinder neatly opened in half, revealing something, it was too dark to see.
I need to see it., Ivanovich walked closer.
Thats far enough boss, youre covered. The scrawny man warned Ivanovich and motioned his partner to walk closer with the cylindrical case. There was a grip inside the case, polished alloy the color of obsidian. It glinted dully.
I need to see if it works, turn it on.
The scrawny man jerked his head at his partner. His partner picked up the grip from the case and dropped the case on the floor. He activated the metallic grip and suddenly there was a tiny hum in the air. Like hundreds of bees buzzing. The area in front of the grip was hazy, the micro-meter thin carbon polymer blade was almost imperceptible. It oscillated too fast for human senses. Ivanovich calmly took one step forward and kicked the scrawny man onto the invisible blade.
Military grade nano-devices in his bloodstream, dormant till now, activated instantly. The rest was almost programmed, senses were enhanced, distances were calculated, application of necessary force and muscular pressure determined and enforced on the fly. He dived and rolled immediately to the back of the man holding the blade as shots whizzed into thin air. Ivanovich rose up near instantly, held the other mans sword hand and snapped his neck before he had a chance to react.
The scrawny man was sliced cleanly from left shoulder to liver. His upper torso slowly slipped away from the rest of his body with a sickening, sleek motion.
Ivanovich made a few mental adjustments and threw the blade at the corner where the shots came from, shielding himself with the inert body of the second man.
A muffled gurgle followed the soft sound of sliced muscle tissue and bones. Then everything was quiet, aside from the soft drone of the vibrating blade.
Old habits died hard. Ivanovich crouched motionless.
He picked up the case, away from the quickening pool of crimson, walked towards the sword. It lay, the blade vibrating calmly within the ruins of what used to be a young man.
On his way out, he looked back and stared hard at the scene of carnage left behind by someone he did not like very much, the fact everything worked out in his favor, no one left alive to identify him did not make him like the person any better.
Calmly Ivanovich made his way out of Chinatown onto Broad Street. Multitudes of vendors were selling everything from street foods to bootlegged accessories to dubious orgasm enhancers. Enhanced prostitutes, reconstructed in images of popular Bollywood superstars lined the corners.
A statuesque brunette approached Ivanovich, her angular face stunning under the harsh neon, blemish free, perfect. Dark eyes glittering as nearby strobe lights flashed off of her irises. Her moist lips glistened. They were sex.
Whats the matter cowboy, dont you want your cock sucked by Miss India? I look exactly like her, I promise. I suck exactly like her too, from what I hear. She whispered scandalously as Ivanovich tried to make his way through.
May be another time sweetheart, I have a meeting.
New Bombay throbbed. It was sweaty and chaotic. The air was thick with the smell of food, sex and objects, everything was being bought or sold. Cars and personal transports zoomed by as Ivanovich made his way though throngs of people. Neural enhancements activated and pulled up data from the local net, the quickest route to his destination was calculated and superimposed on his retina. The map was encrypted, for his eyes only. He followed along.
The route lead him near the skeleton of a mega skyscraper, the building was under construction. The construction site had the look of an abandoned yard. Ivanovich approached calmly, another tourist lost in the mazy grid. He walked under massive scaffoldings that blocked the night sky. Someone approached from the shadows and stopped a few feet short.
Long time, Vanya. The man growled.
Ivanovich approached and they hugged warmly.
How have you been Misha? You old wolf.
It had been years, but Mikhail Sorokin looked the same. Just about.
Not bad, I love this city. How are the old friends treating you back home?
It never ends, Misha. Ivanovich said in a tired monotone. But you know that already.
Heh. That I know. At least Im out here, far away from all the politics and bureaucracy. The job is stress free, night guard at construction sites. But I guess even with a loose leash, old spies can never really retire.
Guess so Misha. Unless one decides to get off the grid completely.
Well, at least the retirement benefits are nice. Sorokin scratched his scruffy white beard and looked out at the nearest intersection. The LED streetlights were covered in a misty haze, the roads were blue-black. They were the only people around for blocks, the financial district had nothing to offer anyone after hours.
Lets go up Vanya.
They rode the freight elevator in silence. Sorokin stopped the elevator midway through. They walked out to a partially completed floor. It was cold at a height of 2500 feet. Sorokin walked away and came back with a backpack.
Change into this, He said while handing Ivanovich the backpack. Up on the roof its freezing, youll need the atmospheric insulation and the oxygen. Leave your clothes in the bag and leave it on the floor here, Ill dispose off them later. At the South-West corner of the roof youll find what you need. I was not told any more details. I prepared a change of clothes and papers for you, youll find those in a backpack on the roof as well. Sorokin paused. He swallowed and looked off at the distant lights. Far away parts of the city were at sleep. Look, Ill be leaving now, and be back in an hour to tie up the loose ends. Be careful not to leave any traces behind. Good luck Vanya.
Thanks, old friend. Ivanovich was shivering. Sorokin clapped him on the shoulder and headed back into the elevator. It started with a grinding noise and went down.
Ivanovich opened up the backpack and took out the polycarbonate bodysuit. He quickly got dressed, fastened the weapon to the suit and discarded all his old clothes into the backpack and waited for the elevator to come back up.
The roof was bone chillingly cold, according to the ambient temperature readouts the suit provided him. The integrated night-vision system illuminated everything with high fidelity clarity and saturated objects of interest in blinking red. Ivanovich walked towards the South-West corner and picked up the backpack first.
Always prepare your exit plan first. Tradecraft.
He smirked at the old memory. Some things were always the same, no matter what else changed.
Then he walked towards and activated the Mikoyan-Grumman MiG FX 155 Peronal Flight Machine. In the office they simply called it The Cormorant. It was a sleek black unit, all soft curves. It turned on with a slight throb, the anti-grav thrusters kicked in. The moon was well up on the clear sky, and everything was very well lit for miles. There wasnt much time left, he quickly entered the destination into the navigation system of the Cormorant and checked all his equipment. Everything he needed was on board, or on the body suit.
He fastened himself to the Cormorant and jumped off.
There is always a delay during high altitude jumps with anti-grav machines, as the onboard anti-grav control systems calculated required thrust on the fly, judging from sensory measurements of elevation, altitude, momentum and weight.
That delay translates into a freefall.
There is nothing quite like jumping off a 5,000 ft tall building and dropping like a rock towards the heart of a thriving megalopolis.
Ivanovich gritted his teeth and held on as the glittering bottom seemed to rush towards him at a frightening speed, the grid like pattern of the city vividly clear, enhanced by the night-vision system as he fell through misty clouds. As his mind almost reached the nearest edge of panic, the anti-grav systems calibrated themselves and the Cormorant switched directions to its destination. It flew him rapidly, sweeping through the air gracefully and near silently, curving between glassy skyscrapers at dazzling speeds, high above an old fashioned metal bridge crossing one of the many rivers, eventually landing him on the roof of a moderate sized condominium far away from the glitz and noise of downtown.
Ivanovich pulled up the building blueprints on his retinal display and rappelled down quickly to the 23rd floor. Thermal readings showed the apartment was not empty. However, the sole occupant of the place seemed to be at sleep. He curved out the circular area highlighted in blinking red, the bathroom window, and entered the apartment silently.
He made his way into the bedroom, stood next to the bed and took a long look at the man sleeping on it. Ex military commander Nikolai Vasiliev. He looked old and frail, a far cry from the man Ivanovich used to know, years ago. Everyone cowered under his lead back then.
Wake up Nikolai.
Vasiliev woke up with a start. He reached for something but Ivanovich was quicker, he grabbed Vasilievs arm and picked him up from the bed. He twisted Vasilievs arm, applying enough pressure to induce pain but not enough to break it, and lead him to the chair across the bed.
Wh-whore you? Whats the mea...
Shut up. Ivanovich took off the headpiece from his polycarbonate suit. Seeping moonlight illuminated half his face. The other half was enveloped in darkness. He wasnt very young anymore either. His face was worn and tired.
Vanya? What are you doing here...?
You know very well why Im here Nikolai. The atrocities you committed during the Border Wars of 76 could never be forgiven.
That was war! Nikolai Vasiliev growled, for a split second he was the fearsome man he used to be. But only for that split second.
Ivanovich didnt move a muscle. His face was made of stone as he looked at Vasiliev, looked through him as he spoke in a subdued voice, with controlled fury hidden just beneath the surface.
It was war, yes. You killed men, women and young children because of their ethnicity. You committed genocide in the name of our empire. You wanted to cleanse the Russian Empire of unwanted...elements, as you used to say during your little speeches. Ivanovich paused, the words came out hard and his lips quivered in fury as he continued, You uprooted whole villages and got fat off the loot. If it was up to me, I would have killed you then Nikolai. But it wasnt up to me.
What do you mean? You were under my command during the war, for two months till you were transferred to the Western Front. We were good friends.
I always worked for Sector 8, Nikolai. There were rumors about you, so we decided to watch you. You were useful so the kill order was not given, at the time...even though the Empire was aware of your crimes, her hands were tied, she had to look the other way.
Vasiliev was shocked.
You? Internal Security Intelligence? I should have known. You have the nerve to accuse me of war time atrocities? What about you? You stood and watched it all, and you did nothing. Vasiliev smiled crookedly.
I know, and for that I will never forgive myself. But at least Ill make sure youre dead.
I paid my dues Ivanovich. My testimony ensured the conviction of the rogue Commanders within our ranks and brought a swift end to the war. I have always been loyal to the Empire. The nation granted me free passage and anonymity.
That they did, they had no choice. You wouldnt have testified without a deal. But some mistakes can be corrected, even through thick layers of politics and bureaucracy. The nation wants to correct a mistake, a mistake long overdue for correction. A correction she owes to her citizens.
Ivanovich pulled out the sword and turned it on. Its soft drone saturated the silent bedroom. He took a step towards Vasiliev.
Vasiliev looked to the floor and muttered to himself.
This cant be happening, not after so many years, not after what Ive done for the Empire. Youre the coward who did not act for what he believed in, at least I did what I thought was right. Dont do it Vanya, Im just an old man. We were good friends, once...
I was only pretending.
Ivanovich neatly sliced off Vasilievs head which rolled off the chair with a soft thud. He then took a deep breath, turned off the sword, stood in complete silence and gazed off at the rising moon.
