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Heirs of The Cold War (Skeith x Nettik_Xes)

Skeith Takahata II

Skeith Takahata II

Lesbian Anarchist
Joined
Feb 26, 2009
Location
Elsewhere
Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum
If you wish for peace; prepare for war.

Fires raged through the small Russian town of Bagrationovsk. This town, located only two kilometers from the Russian-Polish border, was being ravished by an unknown enemy. They seemed well armed and very dangerous. Fifteen year old, Naomi watched from her window in horror as soldiers went house to house dragging people from their homes. She could hear her own front door being bludgeoned by the soldiers. She knew that the door wouldn’t hold and that soon she too would be dragged into the streets.

Almost as if emerging from the shadows themselves, a hand wrapped around the mouth and waist of the young girl and pulled her into the shadows. A gentle and familiar voice greeted her ears, causing her pounding heart to settle some. “Shh… I’ve got you…” It was the voice of her older sister, Maria. The hand moved away from her mouth and turned her around to face her. “Naomi, you need to get out of town, immediately. Some friends of mine are waiting out back with a truck.” Maria was too frightened to argue. Before she could speak the front door was burst open by the unknown soldiers. They quickly began pouring into the house.

As if it came as second nature, Naomi felt her sister leave her side and disappear out of the room. The sounds of gunfire were silenced within moments and only the sound of the last body collapsing to the floor remained. When Maria returned, Naomi could see what had happened. Her older sister was covered in a red fluid that Naomi knew full well to be blood. “Come now, we need to get out of here.” Naomi took her sisters hand and followed her out the back door of the house. A military grade transport truck was there waiting. “Quickly, climb in!” Maria insisted, hoisting the girl up into the truck.

As the truck began to pull away, Naomi managed to speak. A tear stained cry; “Maria!” Maria stood in the middle of the road watching the truck as it disappeared into the road. Naomi’s last sight of her older sister was the sight of her taking a round in the leg and disappearing into the shadows.

September 28th, 1974

The rain poured down harshly on that cold September night. Each step was more exhausting than the last. She’d been from one town to the next seeking answers and aid wherever she could find it. It was in a small town in Mexico that she heard about a band of soldiers who would take any job, granted you could afford them. It was her only hope.

She pursued the lead she had found to middle-America where she’d finally managed to give up hope. She’d been meeting with contacts and supposed allies of these soldiers for weeks and had been told by each that if her story checked out she’d be contacted. She was out of money and out of hope. She put the last of her savings down on the counter of a small restaurant to by a small sandwich and drink. Taking a seat towards the end of the bar she began to slowly nibble away at the sandwich. Her eyes turned to look out at the rain that was pouring down, a small sigh escaping her lips.
 
Indeed in Mexico there were many groups of mercenaries. Many were soldiers from other nations, larger nations. The wide majority of the special operations squadron “Almighty Aphrodite” were Grecian, having been started by a small group of Italian soldiers that defected in order to escape their small-time arms smuggling operation. The name was a little ridiculous, but the group did good work. Among the mercenary world, they had a fantastic record mission-wise, but nobody ever took them entirely seriously due to the name. Their leader claimed it was supposed to work just that way. Off the radar, but those that were genuinely looking would find them just fine.

Truth was, the group had found out about Naomi weeks ago. They were already done with the background checks. All they needed was a liason to make sure that everything was on the up and up. Enter Dominic Gray, a United States soldier who defected for greener pastures. Mexico wasn’t his first choice, but the same amount of green bought a lot more there than in the states. Funny thing was, he fit in quite well, being half-hispanic, but the buzzed cut and stern look told otherwise. He was no casual resident, despite his casual slothing. The tall man dropped himself into a seat next to Naomi before he announced his presence. “Hola. Hope you don’t mind me sitting here. But I figured you’ve been waiting to talk to us long enough.”

Someone observant would have noticed another arrival, a woman hanging back and keeping an eye on the whole area. She had bright green eyes and hair as red as a stop light. It’d been cropped quite short though, and was mostly covered by a wet beret, maroon. She looked quite stiff in comparison to the man talking. And drenched. Apparently only one of them used umbrellas. And contrary to the man, it was easy to assume she was military. Drenched as it was, she bore a heavy military dress in olive drab, but with no marking of rank or even name. To her credit, the jacket had been left open, showing off a soaked gray tanktop underneath. It was too thick to do much more than just cling to some of her more defined features. Men weren’t too happy though, only being a b-cup.
 
Her first instinct was to ignore the man. But as soon as he spoke she brightened up quickly. "Thank god!" She spoke in a clearly Russian accent. "I feared that I'd fallen prey to a scam!" She quickly rubbed at her bright blue eyes, brushing her wet blond hair away from her face. She extended her hand quickly, attempting a civil greeting.

"My name is Naomi Sokolov." She shook her head after a moment. "But ofcourse you already know that..." Her gaze shifted to the woman back towards the door. Her stern expression did little to redirect the russian girl's intrigue. She shook her head once more before returning her gaze to the man who had addressed her. Her excitement was nearly impossible to hide, for the first time in weeks she'd managed to feel some form of hope.
 
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Sokolov. I hope we can do business with you. We’ve been checking up on your case, mainly to make sure there’s nothing government about it. A good few of us are on some less than reputable lists. But we do our jobs well, I assure you. Now, the mission you want is search and rescue, right? We’re going to need to know as many details as you can give us.” He ordered a drink from a passing waitress, calling for a separate bill while he was at it.

“Don’t mind my associate. We work in pairs at all times when possible. Can’t be too careful, yes? The name is Dominic, and I’ll be liason. We call her PJ. She’s kind of green to the lifestyle, so she’s still stiff.” He looked back and found the woman shooting him a glance, apparently rank wasn’t an issue here. “Why don’t you tell us what you need?”
 
Naomi nodded in response to the man's words. "Yes ofcourse." Her words came as a combined reply to everything he had said. Her gaze shifted to the woman once again before returning to him. "It's my sister. Our town was assaulted by an unknown military power. The were tearing everything apart, burning the town to the ground, and killing everyone who didn't answer them..." She shuddered at the memory. "My sister managed to smuggle me out of town with some guerilla fighters. But..." She paused, breathing deeply. "She was shot during my escape."

She lowered her gaze after a moment. Her face growing grim at the memory. "My sister's good in a fight, sir. I don't know where she learned it. She doesn't talk about her job, or where she goes when she leaves. It's just me and her, see? Our parents died some time ago..." She shook her head after a moment. "N-none of that's important right now..." She said as if scolding herself for getting off track. "My point is, my sister is somewhere in southern Russia and she's alive. I know it..." She paused as doubt settled on her face. "She has to be..." Her gaze returned to the man after a moment.

"I know your rates are expensive and I don't have anything right now. But my sister... She has a large supply of gold bars hidden beneath the foundation of our house. If you can find her the gold is yours... And I am willing to offer what ever services I can to help with the mission."
 
Dominic listened sympathetically to the woman talking to him. It was a sad story. Separated sisters. But it was a sob story. That was it. Unfortunately, the girl ruined her chances by saying she had nothing now. Mercenaries didn’t take I.O.U.’s. Sad, but the truth was that they couldn’t do a mission for nothing. “I see. I am terribly sorry for your sister. But. You just admitted you have no money. We have to have our money up front. We need to cover operational costs somehow. So… you’re shit out of luck. Mercenaries require money. I know you said you have some, but that’s not a great assurance. You could very well be gone before we got back, and we could come home empty-handed because you lied. We’re risking our lives out there. We need money first. I’m sorry.”

With that, he got up and walked away, not even giving a chance for the woman to plead a case. Dominic was a practical guy. And he was very by the book. PJ was following him out it seemed, as she started walking towards the two as he was walking out. But he went out, and she stopped at the woman. When he was gone, she handed the woman a business card from her jacket pocket. It was wet around the edges, but the digits were there. “I’ll take it.” Her voice was flat, monotone. “Call me later.”
 
Naomi quickly rose to her feet when the man moved to leave. "But... Sir!?" She felt her heart sink when her request was rejected. She sat back down on the stool lowering her head into her hands in defeat. That was until the woman Dominic had called PJ approached her. She looked down at the card before taking it. She didn't say anything at the time she only nodded.

A few hours later, she approached a payphone. She quickly put a couple quarters in and dialed the number on the card. She bit her lip as she waited through the ringing, her heart beating madly. She kept her wits about her. Looking out of the phonebooth to make sure there were no suspicious characters. Mexico was a very different place than her home in Russia and that terrified her.
 
The other end picked up rather quickly. “Naomi, right?” The other side asked immediately. The woman on the other end was at her own payphone, now in something much less wet. Though her hair was drenched. Showers of the intentional kind were one of her relaxing activities. Showers of the natural kind however, much less so. “I need to know two things. What town is she in? And what does she look like? If she’s alive, I’ll perform an extraction as soon as possible.”

(Sorry for short, but it's a phone call. I've never been able to have a detailed post about a phone call. XD. It's like a weakness... like kryptonite. XP)
 
((Ha ha! No worries. I understand.))
Naomi released a sigh of relief. "I don't know exactly where she is. When I last saw her it was in our home town; Bagrationovsk, it's two kilometers from the Russia-Polland border." She paused for a moment as if she were assuming that PJ was taking notes on the other end. "She shouldn't be difficult to spot in a crowd. You see, she's an albino." She wiped some of the wetness from her forehead. "Be careful. She's a fighter, like I said. I've seen her nearly draw a knife on friends due to reflex."
 
“I see. Don’t worry about payment. I’ll have her as soon as I can.” PJ did indeed have a few notes. Especially since she didn’t know Russian. Slight hitch in the plan there. Irish Gaelic, Japanese, and Spanish. All those languages, and they didn’t ever come in handy when it really mattered. Go figure. She was about to hang up the phone but she decided to have one last word. “Promise.” Then the phone line was cut off by her hanging up. Personal skills weren’t really her thing.

She immediately brought out a PDA, trying to find out exactly where this “Bagrationovsk” was located. PJ was going to buy tickets, grab her binoculars, and head out. She’d have to procure weaponry on site. Most of her objectives were scouting anyway. She’d keep the bloodshed to a minimum.
 
Naomi wanted to thank her as well as dispute the fact that she had taken the job and denied payment. However the line went dead. "Hello?" She sighed before hanging up the phone. She bit her lip as she stepped out of the phonebooth and began walking towards a local homeless shelter. At least there she could have a place to sleep and eat. She was filled with a mixture of hope and dread. Someone was trying to save her sister, but there was a chance her sister had already been killed or worse. The best she could do was pray and she intended to do just that.

Back in Russia, what few survivors were left from the 4,000+ citizens of Bagrationovsk were trying to rebuild what was lost. Smoke still rose from the ruined buildings and the smell of burnt and rotting flesh clung to the air. The bodies had been moved to a pile and set a blaze. Though not a proper funeral, it was better than allowing their loved ones to become food for the crows and wolves.
 
An old rickety truck brought a red-haired woman to a smoldering town in southern Russia. Having taken some time to pick up basic Russian, she was somewhat ready for her observation mission. But collecting data would be hard. The truck stopped in front of what was likely a grocery store of some sort and she piled out. A quick translated thank you to the driver, and he was off. The city was not in great condition, but it seemed that the attackers had moved on. Now she had to find either a translator, or someone who spoke English. The woman was certainly out of her way, but she was going to see this through.

Now she was in much the same kind of gear as she was in Mexico, namely heavy military grade dress, but she was still unarmed. As it was, she was masquerading as a relief worker. The united states was really up on sending out relief efforts all over the place, so it wasn't so unlikely a story. But where to start was the problem.
 
Amidst their grief and confusion, there would be little the people of Bagrationovsk could provide for information. The best of anyone's knowledge was the location of her home and that she frequently left town, sometimes for several days or weeks. She frequented a local cutlery where she frequently purchased new knives and other bladed utensils, including the occasional machette.

In a forested region outside of the small town, the missing Maria tracked a supply convoy of the enemy. She wasn't sure what they were after, but she was certain she'd find out. Light weight fatigues covered her body as she moved stealthily from tree to tree, her free hand tightly clutching the handle of a black machette. She hadn't had to kill many men. Such was the nature of an observation mission.

Her pursuit would lead her to an old ruin. A clever disguise for a base of operations. She scanned the area patiently, moving from pillar to pillar. A pair of military grade trucks could be plainly seen, covered in some kind of tarp canapy over the bed. Whatever they were after, it had to have been in those trucks.
 
Her big break came in the form of outsiders coming in to restock. Having helped with the rebuilding, she’d been able to closely observe some of the coming and going people. Repeat visitors were her clue. They were rough, rude, asking to take, not to give. It was rare to want to trade them for thing that they needed more than whatever town they came from. PJ tracked the truck out, noting it’s heading before it got too far away from her. It wasn't too hard, the roads were crap, so they drove slow enough that she could track them for at least a little while.

Later, she’d perched up on a hill, kept concealed by a makeshift covering of the local foliage. Her binoculars would be her weapon now, allowing her to see what was going on. She figured she could last a few days of straight observation. No sleep. Then she’d find a place to rest and begin the mission proper. Until then, she was simply keeping watch, looking for her target, should they ever take her out of her cell.
 
Maria quickly moved to approach the trucks. She kept low to the ground, though still moved with silent, cat-like grace. She brought the machette closer to her as she began approaching one of the patrolling guards. She drove her fist into the back of his knee, stiffling his shout with her hand as he fell to his knees. She brought the machette to his throat and began slowly moving him away from the area.

Forcing the soldier up against one of the ruined walls, she brought the blade to his throat. She began spouting demands and questions in russian but the man offered no response. As a matter of fact, his degree of shock and fear seemed lessened by the fact that his captor was a woman.

Noticing the wound the woman had suffered in Bagrationovsk, the soldier slammed his knee hard against the poorly treated injury. The sudden pain to her leg was enough to by the guard time enough to reverse their roles. Before she had time to react it was her against the wall with a knife at her throat. Her gaze narrowed as the guard began calling out to the other guards. She was lucky she hadn't been caught getting Naomi out of town, but noone gets lucky twice. She dropped the machette and raised her hands to surrender. Her hands were bound by the soldiers and she was then moved towards where their other P.O.W.s were being kept. So much for avenging her home.
 
From up in the scout’s nest, PJ saw it all. A lone woman trying to question a soldier at blade’s edge. It had not gone well for her. But there was still some hope, since the one she’d managed to see was none other than her target. The wound on her leg was still improperly treated. It could cause complications unless her captors were so gracious and lucky to have a medical officer who would treat it. She even got to see where the rest of the P.O.W.’s were being kept. Lucky day. But now the mission required haste to avoid any exemplary executions. And now that she attacked, the guard would be on alert.

A short time later, one of the guards were missing. Just suddenly gone from his location. With a snapped neck, he wasn’t going to be useful to them anyway. Sadly, he wasn’t of much use to PJ either. Due to the weapons locks, she was unable to use the gun, or even take the knife. She could only get a pack of rations, some ammo for their AK-47’s, and some 9mm ammo. Plus a key to a storage shack she’d seen the guy come out of earlier. That shack just happened to have her in it at this time, pillaging an unclaimed sidearm. Not that she wanted to use it, but if worse came to worse…
 
Maria didn't bother struggling as she was led back to where the P.O.W.s were being penned. She knew that the second she made a wrong move she'd be executed. When the gate was opened she was forced inside. She turned around to face the guard who led her in. She cussed at him in Russian before spitting at his shoes. The guard responded with a swift backhand across the woman's face.

Maria sprawled backwards onto the ground from the force of the impact. She rolled over onto her side, and struggled to sit up with her hands tied behind her back. It was apparant that these men, at least the one she encountered didn't speak Russian. Had he understood what she said, she'd have likely been shot.

She looked around at the other hostages, realizing she was the only one without a gag or a blindfold. "Don't worry..." She said quietly to the people there. "I'm going to get us out of here... Somehow..." She struggled with her ropes. She clamped her eyes shut as a sickening pop could be heard. Luckly, once you'd popped your shoulder out of socket it never properly healed. She brought her arms over her head. She pushed herself up to her feet and moved to stand against the wall beside the door. She'd plan to take out the first guard to enter the cell before he realized she was there.
 
Task one: Memorize guard pattern. PJ waited, keeping an eye out as she did all she could to figure out who went where and how often. The guard pattern was a little erratic though. She did find herself a route to move through, and hopefully move hostages through. The main thing would be being unseen, which got harder with more people.

Task two: Clear the path. PJ had to sneak in, taking care of a few guards who would intercept along the main route. A few snapped necks and a butter knife to the spine never hurt anyone. Hiding their bodies was harder though, and she had to leave them in some creative places, such as under supply crates.

Task three was coming right up: Getting to the hostages. Making sure she wasn’t being watched, she slowly opened the gate and slipped in, finger on her lips as she moved in through a crouched position. Immediately she saw that some of her hostages weren’t going to have a problem not speaking.
 
Hearing someone approach the gate, Maria prepared herself. She was determined to kill the first person who entered the cell and then reclaim her weapon. She gritted her teeth to ignore the dull throbbing of her leg and face. The leg wound was easily two weeks old, and seeing as it was poorly treated, kept re-opening every time it was struck or she did something outrageous.

Maria was poised and ready to bring her tied fists down on the woman who entered the cell. This woman was not one of the local guards... Who was she... Maria's gaze narrowed in distrust. "Who are you?" She demanded in a low whisper. Her dull pink eyes were unwavering.
 
“Hold it…” PJ spun about, keeping an eye out on the outside before turning her attention back in and starting to undo blindfolds and binds, starting with the albino woman. She figured that even injured, she’d be able to at least help. “I’m here to get you out of here. Naomi sent me.” She finally answered the question in a low whisper, trying to signal the others to keep low and get near the door for a hasty escape. “We should have a path clear to outside the camp. We can make it out to where I was hiding and start making our way from there after a little rest.”
 
The woman definitely did not have a Russian accent. An american? It was possible. "Naomi?" She breathed a sigh of relief. That meant she got out of the country safe and sound. She didn't like the idea of letting an American save her. Especially considering the cold war had ended while she was a small child. She was convinced America were the bad guys.

She looked down at her now unbound hands and set to helping with the other prisoners. A few she knew from town gave her a brief hug, realizing that she was still alive. She returned to the American's side, peering out of the cell gate.
 
“Yeah.” She confirmed, making sure the path was clear. It took a couple of moment for everyone get stop hugging and start paying attention. “Keep sharp everyone, we still need to get out of here. Keep low, move quick, move quiet. Hugs and tears can be saved for later.” PJ didn’t want to seem insensitive, but they were only half done with this mission. “On my mark, follow me.” Quietly, she counted down in her head, making the decision to go. It wouldn’t be too long before missing patrols became a problem, which made it all the more imperative that they head out now. Her hand raised, then fell forward to point at the next spot of cover, immediately starting to move to it. “Go.”
 
Maria moved to take up the rear when they moved. This way if guards did spot them, there was a trained soldier at either end of the line. She kept her eyes pealed for guard movements, staying low to the ground to avoid attention. She did notice that the guard detail seemed lighter than before. Likely the American's doing.

She'd certainly feel safer with a blade in her hand. Luckly her martial arts training amongst other forms of training were potent. She came to a halt at the back of the group when they'd reached cover. She leaned against and peered around the corner to make sure noone would come up from behind. She could see a guard moving in the background. It would only be a matter of time before he realized the pen where the prisoners were being kept was empty.
 
They had to move quickly, and as soon as everyone was in cover, she signaled for the next spot. Then the next. Each area of cover got them closer to the edge, until they just barely had reached the end of the encampment. From there, she had to cover the rear, as she motioned for the prisoners to file out and take cover behind whatever objects they could while they still had time. At any moment, guards could see that they had escaped, and when the ruckus went down, she wanted them all gone and well on their way to safety. “Move, move. Keep low and keep heading east. I’ll cover you all while we clear the camp.” She waved everyone on, holding her pistol out in case things got ugly.
 
Being unarmed was not enough to give Maria reason to follow the other prisoners away from the enemy camp. She returned to the American's side. Her reasons were two-fold. She wasn't about to leave her saviour to fight a battle on her own, and she wasn't about to let an American prove they were the better soldier.

"Most of the guards were silent when we left, I can assume that's your doing?" She said quietly, straining to speak proper english. It was so much easier to speak her native tongue. "If you've got a blade of some kind, I can help should things turn sour."
 
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