BWS: Pt.2
#2 of BWS
here you go
life has been breathed
-
How many days has it been? You can try all you like, attempting to wrap your head around the scale of time you've been here, but it's been too long. Once the console arrived, it helped pass the time somewhat, but you were still left annoyed. Sure, the west really had improved on their games in these years, but games weren't worth playing if you were going to be stuck on this goddamn wheelchair. Luckily, your luck had changed today. "<So, we're finally going to do it?>" The doctor walks into the room and hands you a clipboard.
"<All you have to do is give the word and we'll move you to the operating room and start.>" The clipboard was a giant list of requirements and plans on what to do with your legs. Mostly, it was getting out extra shrapnel and then unfucking your knees. Good with you.
"<Let's get this done. I'm sick of being a waste.>" The doctor nods and opens the door. "Mila, grab the wheelchair and follow the doc. I'm finally getting the operation." She jumps up and grabs the back of the seat, somewhat anxious, at least enough for it to be visible. "Don't worry. I should be the one doing that." She isn't happy with the quip.
"But what if something goes wrong?" Nope.
"That simply isn't going to happen. We have the best doctors here, the best equipment, and all the medical supplies needed for an infinite number of operations. Nothing will go wrong with this." Mila tenses up, then sighs, her shoulders falling low.
"Okay. Let's get this over with." You couldn't agree more.
-
-M-
It's been God knows how long. Mikhail is still in the operation room, and that's worrying you. It should be over by now, right? What went wrong? Was his knee unable to be fixed? Did one of the doctors mess up horrifically? The time only adds to your distress, and it's eating you up. As you grab your tail for something to hold close, you hear yelling. No. Please no. Standing up, you open the door and peer inside. It's not what you expected.
"<Suck my dick! If I can walk decently so far, I'm doing the rest!>" Mikhail's voice is booming with anger, and you can see his silhouette behind the surgical drapes of the room. "<You expect me to just sit on my ass after being stuck on the wheelchair for so goddamn long? Fuck off.>" The doctors are tense, standing straight up, unnaturally. It's easy to see their fear, and the way they sound only amplifies it.
"<Mikhail... if you don't rest your leg, it could be c-catastrophic. It's an unnecessary risk, we->"
"<Listen. Either shut it or pack your bags. I don't have time for this. I've got work to do.>"
"<Understood.>" The silhouette of the man who you worried so much over walks through the drapes pushing them aside. As he walks closer, you can see the annoyance on his face. As Mikhail lifts his head and sees you, that melts away to a content smile. With a rush, you run towards him, brushing into his chest and wrapping your arms around him. Mikhail smiles and puts a kiss on your cheek.
"I was worried about you, ya know that?" Oh please, you weren't that bad... right?
"I was the one who needed to be worried. Thank God you're fine, I was pretty stressed. So, how's the leg?" He bends it back and forth to show off its return to normalcy.
"Back in action. Feels a bit odd walking, but it'll be all good soon enough. In the meantime, we need to get moving. St. Petersburg isn't going to wait for us." Wait, you were going back? Shit. Well, the 'HQ' should be set up well, right? "And before you ask, yes, yet another helicopter is coming to get us. I'm not driving all the way there." That's no issue with you. If anything, that's a blessing. Moving to his side, you hold onto an arm as you walk through the hospital. You nuzzle into his shoulder as he chuckles. As you enjoy your moment with him, the lights down the hall turn off. It slowly moves through the halls, snuffing out all the light in the area. It's dark, and something is wrong.
-
What? If the fucking engineers in this building fucked up on your last day here, it'd be one hell of a gaffe. Walking through the halls, you find that the doctors are rushing around, confused as can be. It's not surprising, considering they need light to work properly. Suddenly, a scream from below pierces your ears. Great, someone fell downstairs. Walking towards the elevator, you sigh as it is already occupied. Waiting for it to arrive, you and Mila both stand to the side, and it opens.
A few men walk out, guns at the ready, pointed at the doctors, telling them to get down. Shit, yet another attempt on your life. What are you, the Tito of the East? Handing Mila your handgun, you grab a scalpel off a table and walk behind one of the men. He turns around, his mask hiding his face, but not his emotions. He's pissed about the situation, but as you drive the scalpel into his neck, that changes to surprise. Grabbing his rifle, you spin it around and pull. A series of blasts go off, not just from you, but from Mila too. The men fall, and you stare, confused.
"Who the fuck are these people?" The doctors are shivering, but they need to get moving and fast. "<Hey, get security up, full alert. Tell everybody, barricade yourselves, and take arms. I'm checking this out, get going.>" They run down the dark hall, and you kneel down next to the bodies of one of the men.
"I-I thought this was supposed to be safe? What's going on?" You move the shirts of one of the assailants and see a familiar tattoo. Stars on the shoulder. Well, he was local. Fuck, this complicates things, and badly. "Mikhail?"
"Traitors. Guess it isn't over yet. Fuck. I didn't want to drag you deeper into this mess. Come on, follow me."
"Wha-" Mila stops before she even finishes the first word, and only runs with you. Through the halls, you come to a door you need to pass through. Locked. This won't do. Stepping back, you run forwards and kick hard, breaking it open. The frame falls, and the handle flies off into the stairwell, where it falls far below with a loud bang. Then, yelling.
"<Hey? Peter, did you get him? Wait, I'm coming!>" Shit. You motion to Mila to head up, then you move to the edge of the stairwell. Aiming your rifle down, you don't even look, you just hold the trigger down. Around 20 rounds go off, then a click lets you know that it has run its course. Dropping the rifle down, you run up the stairs, making it eventually to the roof.
"What do we do now? They'll be coming for us!" Mila is worried, and you can understand why. Too many men want you dead, and they're coming for you.
"Get behind those vents. Shoot, hide, do whatever will keep you alive. I'm waiting for them." She's confused and unwilling to leave you alone. "The first few are coming. Ready for the fun?" Mila slides to the side of the stairwell opening, and you smirk as the first man walks through the door. With a kick, he falls to the side, dropping his shotgun. "Keep watch on the stairs. I have him where I want him." The man stands and readies a knife, waiting for you to make a move.
"<You're outnumbered, just give up, and we'll be taking you to our boss.>" Ignoring the man, you run forward at the masked assailant, and dive, tackling him to the ground. A fist to his face knocks a tooth out as you pick up the assassin and throw him forwards, into some vents. He collides into it, leaving the metal to ring throughout the air. The man takes initiative, and rushes forwards with the dagger, thrusting at your midsection, but not fast enough. You step back and then slam your head into his, leaving a very solid sounding 'bam'.
Mila has gotten busy, as she's busy dealing with some more people on the stairs, leaving her to deal with lead rather quickly. With the sounds of your pistol in her hands, as well as the various others firing back, you crouch down to the masked man and grab his neck, squeezing tight. "<Who sent you?>" He grabs your arms, but fails to make any significant progress. "<Fine, let's do this the fun way.>" You haul him up, to the edge of the top floor. There's a floor below, so you won't be falling down to your doom, but it's glass, with a metal walkway across. Suddenly, the man clings to your jacket and falls over the edge. The fall doesn't matter, it's you both colliding into the hard metal that does. He pushes himself up, as do you, and it seems to be a standoff.
You aren't going to back down yet, so you ready your fists in sync with your opponent. "<I'll tell you when you're dead, how's about that?>" His bloody smile mixed with the taunt is ineffective at irritating you, but you're making the first strike. Stepping forwards, you grab an arm swung at you, and pull. He moves forwards, and you slam a knee into his gut. He takes the blow surprisingly well and delivers a blow to your chest.
Staggering backward, you recover enough to block off another set of jabs towards your face. His attack seems to be wearing you down, but it provides an opportunity to hit back. Falling back, you kick both of your legs hard. His knees bear the brunt of the attack, and he falls forwards. Stomping on one of his legs, he's effectively done. Kneeling down to him, you grab his mask and pull it off, leaving an unremarkable man behind it. He stares at you with hatred, but that's no matter to you. "<You know, I didn't have to ask. I was being kind. I gave you an opportunity to give up, and you squandered it. Fine then. Soon enough, you'll see Vladimirov in Hell, just wait a bit, will you?>" He looks at you in horror that you know, but it'll be the least of his worries soon enough. Pulling him by his vest, you push him over the railing, and onto the glass.
With the sudden weight and pressure of the failed killer, the glass shatters, leaving the man and many shards to fall down to the ground floor. The sound of the sudden smash is only complimented by the man's scream, which lasts until a loud 'thump' rings from the bottom of the building. Alright, so it true. He's trying to get power for himself. Damn, you'll need to reach Dimitri, and fast. Still, you can't just teleport out of here, there's plenty of unwanted bastards running around the area.
Turning around, you run up to some ledges, climbing up, concrete slab after concrete slab, until you reach the roof. Mila's holding back the metal door, seemingly out of bullets. Running to her, you roll to grab the leftover shotgun before you make it there. When you arrive, you slam up to the doorframe, next to an anxious Mila. "No ammo. Still plenty more." You smile, shake your newfound toy, and raise a hand.
"Keep the pistol, and hide until I call for you. When it's safe, I'll yell, and you haul ass over here. Right?" Mila nods and sprints off. Finally. The door is opened, revealing several masked men who were not expecting you. That bad a bad decision, and that's not just from you. An expert would back you up on their tactical failure, and his name was Saiga.
With the ear-deafening first blast, a masked man falls back. A giant hole is ripped through his chest, and the blood and guts are for all to see. He falls down the stairs, and an empty shell bounces after him. All of the men are looking at you in fear, you're the only one with a gun ready and aimed. The silence is piercing, but you can fix that. "<Good day, comrades.>" Your fingers tighten, and once more, you start up the bloody process.
Shot after shot, the assassins fall down the steps, unable to effectively fight back. Some aim in your direction, but their bullets fly wildly off, finding concrete instead of flesh. At the end of the short flight of stairs, their bodies lie. Well, it'd make cleaning up easier for the janitor, wouldn't it? "Mila! It's good! Get over here, get a rifle, and take some mags! We're cleaning this place out!
Mila busts through the door as you walk down, the bright red of her casual shirt contrasting the dull grey of the building. She seems out of place when she grabs a rifle and a chest rig, but you know that she has the skills to prove her deadliness. "Goddamn... how do you do it?" Turning to Mila, you give her a stare, confused as to what she said. "I mean, do you just not care about killing? Nothing about it bothers you?" Grabbing your own rifle, you pause and think.
"It's not that I don't care, it's just that this is what I have to do, and I feel no remorse. If somebody has made bad enough choices to get in my way, that's their problem, not mine. Plus, it's one hell of a time." She's conflicted, eyes looking at the bodies while she slowly breathes.
"Alright. I still don't enjoy this, but if I have to do it, then I gotta." Yeah. It was something you were both entangled with. Neither of you really have a choice to leave this life, so being butchers on the battlefield is what she resigned herself to, and what you embraced.
"If you're ready, follow me." You hear Mila's footsteps behind yours, signifying her plan. Moving through halls, you search room after room, finding either body of staff or the assassins, or nothing at all. It's worrying, the lack of any other contact. Something is wrong, but you don't know what. An elevator dings, and lights up. Fuck. "Hey, get behind something, and wait for my lead." You both split up, moving across the room. Both of you have rifles ready, aimed at the door, prepared to spray 5.45mm on any idiot unlucky enough to be sent on their suicide mission. When the elevator reaches your floor, it stops. Then, the door opens, and you sigh in relief. Your own men. "Mila, it's good." The men spot you and rush over.
"<Boss, are you alright?>" Lower your rifle.
"<Yeah. Just got lucky. Tell me, the hell took you so long?>" The men shift around, and the leader takes his helmet off.
"<Our transport was... bombed. We had to run over here.>" Well, they got the surrounding areas too.
"<Fuck. Alright, secure this area, and arm anybody who'll fight for us. I'm evacuating via helicopter, and I'll get some men over here quick, and with heavy weaponry.>" The men salute, and runoff, radioing the other groups of personal guards to search for any living combatants. "Goddamn. The day my legs work again, and I have an assassination attempt." You and Mila walk to each other and embrace. "When this is all over, I'll get us one hell of a vacation. No more fighting, just relaxation. I promise." She nuzzles into your neck, her tail wagging.
"Please let it be soon. We've been fighting too much, and I don't want to risk either of us getting hurt. It's already happened to you so many times, just be careful. I never want to see you again like I did when we first met. Can you please just be more cautious?" Shit. She has a point, you didn't want anything happening to either of you, but with how things were looking, it was only going to be more and more dangerous. You couldn't break her heart, so you did what you could.
"Trust me, I will now relax. Come on, let's get back to the roof. I don't feel like standing next to all of these bodies."
"Good idea." You head up, minding to avoid the pile of corpses at the bottom of the stairs, and stand in the chilling breeze. As Mila leans onto you, a burning feeling develops in your gut. You know what it is. Lying, you could do that easily. But lately, with her... it's difficult. You don't want her to know about what you'll be doing, but keeping her in the dark feels just plain wrong. She should know, she should have an idea about what's going on, yet she won't. Most likely, she'll be either back in the West, or somewhere safe in the East, while you'll be back to your unorthodox profession.
It's wrong.
Yet it'd only hurt worse to deny her request for your safety directly. That's something that you simply cannot do. "It'll be smooth sailing from here. I'm the guy on top, I can get the men to do the fighting. Once we land, it'll be calm, hopefully. If Dimitri is doing a good job, then we won't have to worry about shit like this. You know, I dreamed of doing stuff like this." Mila looks up, interested in what you had to say. "When I was younger, I had pretty much everything, but I still had so many dreams. Ruling the world, all of that shit. Soon enough, reality hit hard."
"Hey! Matthias! Come here!" Dear Lord, what did the old man want now?
"Yes, father?"
"I need you to run this over to Mr. Lai, and be careful about it. Hot stuff. Fifty thousand worth." Oh, wonderful. If he didn't always speak in code, it'd be so much simpler. 'Oh, run this suitcase full of pistols to the corrupt government official a few blocks down, don't get caught!' Why the hell did dad have to bring you into this? Old bastard.
"Understood." Grabbing the 'package', you set out of the house. House. Bullshit, it was a mansion. Jeez, wonder how he bought it? It's not like he's a rich bastard with ties to the government or something... Looking around, you walk through the busy streets of Singapore. It's a vibrant place, with good food, mostly good people, but best of all, good opportunities for work. This kind of work.
It isn't glamourous. It can be downright deadly. Still, when it's over for the day, the stack of cash work provides you with is more than enough of an incentive to keep going on. It could be said the same for almost everybody else in the same field as you, but there are exceptions. Some get high off of the thrill that accompanies illegal activities, and they can't come down. For others, they don't have a choice. Still, it's high-paying, and you both want and need the money.
It's a typical Friday, with the streets completely packed with people heading either home or to a bar. Raising a hand, you hail a taxi and jump in. "Where do you need to go?"
"About 500 meters down the street, on the right. It's a fancy house, with a red brick stone wall surrounding the property." Pointing down the street, the driver nods and pulls back into the road.
"No problem lah." The roads are of good quality in this district, so the ride is fairly smooth. Looking out the window, the skyscrapers cast shadows upon the city, keeping much of it dark despite the light that is seemingly so prevalent. It isn't quick. With busy roads, getting anywhere in this metropolis is a damned nightmare. The people know this all too well, their faces are worn and wrinkly, the after product of the mechanically rigid life they live, almost a feudal sort of devotion to their workplace.
It should be a crime, but the men on top have the whole labor sector under their grasp. Nobody who is on the radar can get away from whatever meddling plans they may have, which leaves you as one of the few who can live a life without feeling the need to either flee or have a mental snap. Still, it isn't pretty work. Life can be a knife's edge away, and you aren't keen on continuing to live like this. As soon as you store up enough cash, you're running. To where? At this point, it seems that only God would know. Hopefully, he wouldn't be laughing at you, but then again, the chances never seemed to be on your side.
"We're here, lah." Handing a handful of bills, you exit without a word. In front of you, lies a metal gate, the only entrance to the dwellings of the businessman. Bullshit, he was a con artist. A ruiner of lives, the type of man who'd fire a man with a starving family, just because he couldn't work as well. Mr. Lai was scum. Absolute scum. He cared for nobody except for himself, and if you were next to him, you might as well have had 'stab here' tattooed onto your back. Still, father wasn't one to turn down profits, so here you were. Walking to the gate, you press a button on the mounted intercom and prepare yourself.
"This is the extravagant domain of Mr. Lai Chee Peng. What is your business here?"
"This is Matthias Cromswell, son of the Mr. Cromswell. I am here on the behalf of my father to conduct business with Mr. Lai." The intercom doesn't respond. They leave you waiting for at least a few minutes before you finally get a response.
"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Cromswell. Please, come to the front foyer. Mr. Lai is waiting for you." The gate opens, sliding to the left. Stepping into the property, you walk to the front of the building, which is something different, that's for sure. The yard is immaculate, perfectly trimmed, and the house itself looks like you'd be able to buy a small country with it.
"Ah, Matthias Cromswell. A pleasure to meet you." God, this bastard even sounded annoying, arrogant as can be. The only thing you could trust this man in was that he couldn't be trusted. At least father kept a decent façade about betraying people.
"Likewise, Mr. Lai. I was told that in exchange for the delivery, that I would be taking fifty thousand in SGD. Do you have it?" Mr. Lai tenses up, then relaxes. Reaching out, he puts a hand on your shoulder, which you quickly push off. "No negotiation, Mr. Lai. I'm here for fifty thousand, plain and simple."
"Rebellious as ever, are we. Now, listen. I have some money in the back if you'd just follow me..."
"That's not happening. You can bring it out, but I'm not following you into some murder room. I'm no fool, Mr. Lai." You can see one of his eyebrows flinch, and his smile slowly dissipate.
"Fine. Wait here." He stomps off and heads further into the house. Good. It seems like your steadfast refusal to negotiate is paying off. Waiting more and more, you're getting bored. Focusing on random things just to stay conscious. The white paint on the walls, the patterns on the floor, the sound of several men running in the house... wait, what? As you notice this, you see that the gate back at the front is locked shut. No, this wasn't supposed to happen!
Partly out of fear, and partly out of knowledge of the oncoming men, you bolt. Out the foyer, you run to one of the walls, only to hear a loud crack. "Stop!" Ignoring the call, you jump and pull yourself over the bricks as another gunshot rings off, this time landing close. Falling over the other side, you sprint over the road, and into the slums of Singapore. There, you hopefully wouldn't be followed. Hopefully.
Hope. One hell of a concept. It seems good enough, but relying on it can allow you to fall down hard, like many times prior. It isn't good to hope that something is good enough, rather, you strive to improve your situation. The slums become more and more decrepit as you move through them, their neglect becoming obviously apparent. Concrete cracks as windows are shattered, and nothing is done but to cover it up. The ruinous demeanor of the narrow back alleys might be in your favor, as a lack of sunlight leads to it being rather hard to see. Sliding behind some left behind trash, you wait. Footsteps are in the distance, and they only grow louder. They weren't letting you get away for free.
All of these suited men, and yet they fell for such a basic trick. Running past, only one stays behind to search. One-on-one odds may seem nice, but being a young teen meant that you weren't on even grounds. He was big, built. No way you'd just walk up to him and knock his lights out. So, you waited. And waited. Eventually, it came to where you could no longer wait.
With a push, a bag of garbage is shoved to his legs, and both fall to the ground. He won't be down for long at all. It was time to be quick, you'd end up dead in here if you weren't. In a mad dash of adrenaline and fear, you rush to the fallen man and reach for the only item that would equalize your fight. In a flurry, you grab his pistol, and a struggle is quickly ended when your ears are deafened. Dropping the gun, you see the man has a red blot on his shirt.
Blood. Standing only to soon keel over, you vomit. It'd finally happened. You killed somebody. Standing up, you feel horrifically torn. You just killed a man, but you had to. Right? Nothing could've been done. A door opens, and a muzzle twitches. A fox stares in fear, and you grab the handgun. "Keep quiet, and you'll be fine. Close the door, and this never happened. Running to where the men originally came, you feel nothing but fear. Fear for what they'll do to you if they caught you. Fear for what'll happen if the anthro didn't keep her mouth shut. Fear of the line you crossed.
Making it to a street, you hail yet another taxi. Hopping in, you toss some bills and yell. "You know where to go, so go! Fast!" He didn't hesitate. With a sudden rush, you are driven back home. Stepping into the courtyard, you find it hard to believe what is happening. Walking to the front door, everything feels just plain wrong. Your stomach hurts, you feel dizzy, and without any worry about what is happening, rather, worry about what happened. Pushing the door open, you see your father with a beer and a magazine, sitting at the front room's table.
"So, did our friend hook us up?" You stumble to the table, tossing the briefcase onto it. Dad's expression goes from happy expectancy to worry at a moment's notice.
"He tried to kill me. I just shot a man. He's dead." Walking away, you leave him in shock as you head to the patio. Stepping outside, you peer into the sky. The clouds are gone today. The sun is shining. You're alive. Yet you aren't feeling all chipper. Leaning onto the metal railing, you feel a horrific crawling on your back as if God himself decided to cast down your sins as physical torment. It worked.
-
"So, I was a young fool with some cash, and a conflicted worldview. I did what I could to get out of there, but it all led back to the same problems, just further in the north. It always followed me, so I decided becoming the incarnate of it all would be just a benefit, no?" You look over the railing, seeing men in white suits loading plastic wrapped bodies into vans. They'd either be burnt, or buried. At this point, you didn't care.
"So, you're telling me you started off young? As in, childhood?" Shaking your head, you brush away her doubt.
"As a lifestyle, yes. As in killing, no. That first spilling of blood and soul was far later. Don't think I'd be able to do that at a younger age."
"... does it hurt to talk about it?" Mila inches closer to you, laying a hand on your back.
"It used to. Knowing that I was once somebody that wasn't so deep in this game, that my mind was still normal. Now, I'm a conflicted man. Sometimes, I see it as if I was weaker back then. Sometimes, I feel that I lost an important part of me. Whatever it was, I can't go back." Mila's fur stands up, leaving it to sway in the afternoon wind.
"Yeah. Tell me about it. So much shit happened, and there's nothing I can do about it." You feel that.
"Look at us. I'm knee-deep in a plot to gain world-power, and you're essentially a genetically altered warrior-slave. No offense." With a sigh, she leans onto the railing, just as you do.
"None taken. It's the truth. Funny, after all of this, I had to travel across the world to meet a psychotic half-Russian criminal to finally feel love. Now, he's all I have. Life is bullshit, man." She hit the nail on the head. Life can really fuck you over.
"Yeah. Hopefully this chopper will get here quick. We've got to make it back to our favorite place in the world, fast. Plans don't get made by themselves." No response is given. She stares off into the distance, blinking every few seconds. Moving your right arm around her, she moves her tail around your legs. "I can't believe this is what we have to go through."
Turning to face you, Mila seems worried. "It's scary." You pull her close and embrace, shielded from the cold. "I love you."
"I love you too." For once, you weren't lying to her.