There is some mention of violence and blood, but only in an AU retelling of the rain scene at the factory. Not spelled out explicitly but in case you get squicked out. there is some mention of hunting/trapping for animal furs, but that is the kind of thing that would have happened back in Soviet Russia. it's not in gritty detail so hopefully, it won't bother you too much.
Chapter 2: At The Crossroads
Hours before.
Thunder rolled overhead as Hoffstetler, no, Dimitri Mosenkov, packed the last of the evidence of his stay in this safehouse. Like the storm, regret tossed and turned, rumbling within him as he thought of The Amphibian Man. He wondered how he was doing, if… If he was even doing still.
He looked up from his briefcase and watched the rain through the blinds of the window. This would have been the perfect night for Esposito and Fuller to fulfill their promise. "When the rain fills the canal that flows to the sea." Zelda had interpreted.
"You are a good man." Elisa had signed to him that night and he wished he could believe her.
He wished for a lot of things in that moment in the now empty living room.
He wished he had more time to study the creature. He wished he wasn't such a coward as to let that муда́к Richard Strickland walk all over him. He wished his spymaster did not given him reason to suddenly doubt his position, his safety, his government, his homeland. He wished now more than ever that he could have seen the Asset one more time. To study it's physiological being, its relationship to humankind.
To be able to answer the one question that most buzzed through his mind; could it be possible that It is the next link in human evolution, or could it be a relic of mankind crawling out of the sea? Oh, the very secrets He holds.
Hoffstetler closed his eyes and sighed. What happens now?
After his last meeting with his spymaster, Mihalkov and that bodyguard… he was now uncertain of his place with his brethren, with Mother Russia.
He chewed the inside of his lip, watching the rain once more. Was he certain that he could withstand the ramifications of desertion? Treason was never forgiven. His throat tightened at the thought of the outcome. No. it would be better in the long run if he were to forget the Asset. The study was finished. He must move on.
Resigned, Dimitri yanked suitcase with more force than needed, swinging it with him as he trudged to towards the door of his temporary home.
Yet, just after he locked the door and turned towards the exit, he heard it. The phone within the empty room ringing. He instantly remembered giving Zelda his card when he gave Elisa the box of salt.
Hoffstetler stood there, staring at the round doorknob; here stands a doctor at the crossroads.
Although the phone was muffled by the door, it sounded as thunderous as the storm overheard. The scientist glanced down the hall of the apartment building. It seemed to stretch for miles, cold and empty, with bright florescent lights somehow adding to the uncertainty of what waited for him should he return to his comrades. He remembered the fear when they met him last. The very memory left him uneasy, his stomach turning some more.
Would that be his future? To always and forever be looking over his shoulder, to never knowing who was and who wasn't safe to confide to?
The phone, like the siren's song called out to him from within.
What was the other alternative? If this was Fuller, if she were to seek his help with the release of the Amphibious Man, to miss his extraction window… where would that leave him? To live a life as a traitor? To be hunted down like an animal, destroyed like one if captured? But this could mean the possibility of seeing the creature one more time, to question its existence, no matter how brief the meeting.
Unbidden, he was suddenly struck with a memory from his childhood. His father had been a trapper for the government; capturing animals for their furs to sell. One winter, he went along with his father, to check the outcome of the traps they had set previously. His father had become distracted with one that a bear had destroyed, and so he sent young Dimitri to check on the next one, just a few meters further along the trail.
He remembered how cold the snow was as he trudged through it, each step a loud crunch. the numbness in his feet and the tingling in his hands; the mittens were decent, but they could not keep the bite of winter out. He had been thinking about his schoolmates and what his mother would be cooking for supper when he heard a muffled scuffle. Dimitri froze instantly, suddenly reminded of a protentional bear. He wished he had his father's gun.
After a moment's silence he took a cautious step, trying to keep the sound of his steps as silent as possible.
Crunch.
No such luck. Another scuffle sounded, this time behind the bush in front of him. Between two trees, he could see the dark fur of a mature sable darting back and forth in circles, the obvious source of the sounds. He let out the breath he had been holding in relief. I hope Papa didn't see… After a brief investigation, the child quickly identified the reason; a snare that had been improperly set, the weasel like animal was still alive but the one of its paws was captured, pinned down to the snow, it could just barely move, emitting a strain squeak from the struggle.
Dimitri disliked the sound. He felt his heart sinking from the scene. The beady black eyes of the marten wide with terror and suffering, it's gasps shallow and rapid. He was not a squeamish child and would often help with the more unsavory aspects of rural farm life; slaughtering animals never sat well with him, much to his family's annoyance. The young boy clenched his fists and unclenched them, worried.
He looked back at the way he had come, his father was out of hearing range, but the boy knew that he will be following up shortly. Should he find the animal, he would make quick work to humanely kill it to preserve its fur. The child understood the reasoning behind the practice but could not accept it.
What should he do? Release the creature and face the consequences should his father find out or should he allow the animal to perish for the continued comfort that the Soviet Union provides for this enterprise. Here stands the boy at the crossroads.
"A man is no man, if he stands by and allows others to suffer," His father once told him during a hunt, after quickly putting his prey out of its misery, "best to step in and be quick with it, my son."
In the distance behind him, he could hear his father humming an old Russian melody, slowly growing louder.
The boy made his decision then. He stumbled forward quickly. The sable panicked and began to squeal even louder, but Dimitri was quick and efficient. He helped his father release snares plenty of times. Within a few hurried breaths, the faulty snare trap was released, the squirming sable now free and writhing in his hand!
Without a moment's hesitation, he released it into a bush nearby, "Go! Go now! Shoo!" he hissed to the creature, waving his arms to scare it off.
A moment later, his father arrived, frozen pelts slung on his shoulder, "Anything, my son?"
The boy shook his head with a gesture at the loose snare. "Nyeat, Papa... It looks like the bear got into this one as well..."
The ringing of the phone brought him out of his reverie and the now Soviet spy quickly considered his options. Strickland was out there searching for the creature. If that custodian is the caller… It could be possible that they need his help and expertise with it… or perhaps the crazed lunatic has found it and is on the verge of destroying such an… intricate and beautiful thing… perhaps even in the most inhumane way possible…
Here stands a man at the crossroads…
He answered the phone mid-ring, "Y-yes?"
Mrs. Fuller on the other end was frantic, "Doctor Hoffst- Dimitri! Oh Jesus, he-he's sick - I think? I think he's dying!"
Not even a minute later, he dropped the phone back in its cradle, Hoffstetler took off down the hall. Running down the stairs, all thoughts culminating into one; the creature still lives - at least for now! He may have one more chance to help still.
Quickly, the doctor jumped into his car, shoving his suitcase haphazardly in the passenger seat.
Gripping the steering wheel, he peeled off through the rain, exhilaration flooding through him at a renewed sense of worth. He knew where he was needed!
Rain pelted his windshield and he did his best to remain calm and drive carefully through the city streets. However, wasn't until he was halfway across the city when he noticed it; someone was following him.
Stopping at a red light, Dimitri studied the reflection in his rearview mirror. It was difficult to make out, sure, but it was Flemings car… however Fleming wasn't the one driving it. Headlights illuminated the white wrappings on the left hand; Richard Strickland.
Dimitri swore in his mother tongue and almost missed the green light before slowly stepping on the gas.
What do I do? He thought, chewing on the inside of his lip once more. Judging by Zelda's directions, he was nearing to the Orpheum theater.
Need to shake him… but how? I could use him as an excuse to avoid the pickup… Now there's a thought… Instead of making the turn towards the Movie theater, he made the opposite and head towards the familiar destination on the outskirts of town... The cement plant where he was supposed to rendezvous with his comrades; perhaps they will be able to take care of the American for him? That could work.
With every twist and turn he made, Strickland kept pace, swerving every so often while doing so. The doctor briefly reflected on the man's decreasing health. At their last meeting, the colonel was sweating profusely, paranoia etched in every labored breath and sideways glance. Hoffstetler had noticed the blackness in those damaged fingers, the stench of decaying flesh hung thickly around him like a aura of menace.
Sepsis. He surmised with a frown. Life threatening if he does not seek medical treatment. But then again. He glanced into his rearview once more, perhaps Richard Strickland won't have to worry about that for much longer.
The storm seemed be at it's furious; the rain pummeled down in waves now, the car hydroplaned every so often leaving Hoffstetler to drive white knuckled. Meanwhile, Strickland tailed him still and the doctor began to feel uneasy again. The further they drove outside of the safety of the city, the more insecure he felt about this haphazard plan.
Doubts swirled around in his restless mind; What if this doesn't work? What if Strickland continues to follow him throughout the night? What if he misses his chance with the Asset, all the while missing his window with Mihalkov? What will become of him then; an enemy of the Soviet Union, an enemy of America? No matter what, he will always be a marked man.
The turn for the road to the plant loomed near and Hoffstetler sucked in a deep breath; it was now or never.
Slamming a foot on the brake and jerking the steering wheel to the right, the man was flung to the left as the tail of his car fishtailed a wide arc across the road. He didn't have time to look back to see if Strickland managed to dodge or not before he stepped on the gas and took off down the gravel road.
The wagon, groaned and struggled on the flooded road, making it very difficult to steer as the doctor rushed towards the rendezvous point. His heart jumped the moment he did chance looking in his mirror to see the colonel gaining behind, worried that he may try to run him right of the very road! The prospect of being left to die in a muddy ditch was a very real outcome by this point.
Another turn was coming up and he remembered a darkly shadowed drive that followed right after in a hidden hook and sped forward, instantly swerved into it. It wasn't even a blink after killing the engine off that he saw Strickland in a flash of white and red fly past him, continuing down toward the cement plant.
Fear choked Dimitri and he gasp for air. The rain roared against the car, and while it there was a noticeable chill in the air, he felt claustrophobic now and so held his fist over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. He was now trembling violently. Hold it together… Hold it together! There was a time and a place to get sick later.
Assuming enough distance had passed he made for a much slower pace down the drive without his head lights, using the red taillights of the predator now in front of him as a guide. The cement plant loomed ahead, the halo of its lights his guide. During the past month, it had represented safety and security to the doctor; now with the fluorescent spot light and the flooded terrain, it somehow struck Dimitri as deadly and forbidding. He watched as the deluded Colonel swerved to a stop behind the familiar black car of his team.
He pulled up a great distance away, looking down from a high vantage point off the road and watched intently.
Strickland was not out of the car and staring at the black car ahead of him as the guard came out to meet him. Dimitri swallowed, hoping that this was the end of the Colonel.
Both men looked to be arguing, with a third, the driver of the black car, also climbing out of the vehicle. Both he and the guard reached for the weapon at their sides, but the American was too quick; the doctor covered his ears and looked away as shots rang out like thunderclaps.
From the relative safety of his car, the doctor swore to himself and allowed the fear to take control and banged his head against the steering wheel. No, n-no, no… He looked back up. Strickland was kneeling over the big guard in the rain and was violently interrogating him against a small sand dune. Tears of guilt welled in his eyes over his fallen comrades, "This can't be happening."
His plan, albeit a short sighted one, backfired dramatically. He chanced a look and his stomach turned at the very savagery of Strickland's questioning of the guard. His window of freedom slamming shut before his very eyes. However, he was thankful that he could not hear the confessions.
Although it only took a few minutes, it felt like hours before Strickland was done with his torments and Hoffstetler held his breath as the Colonel sped off back the way he had come, swerving like a madman. He waited till his pursuer was well gone before driving down to the plant and carefully exited his vehicle.
Rain soaked him instantly as he sloshed through the flooded terrain, he ran to the car and found the driver slumped dead across the front seat. Damn. He then ran to the burly handler, who had been drugged and leaned against a sand dune. He let out a shout of surprised when the bloodied man groaned when he came close
"Ivan!" Dimitri whispered, gently shaking him. Dismay and relief tumulted within him. What did he tell Strickland?
The burly guard coughed and wheezed. His life washing away into the murk. "Dimitri?"
"Da." The doctor swallowed, trying to keep the sick down. "Ivan… that man… What did you tell that American?"
Rain splattered down Ivan's swollen bearded face and he coughed again and winced, his mouth was red. "He… he was asking for you… Dimitri what have you done?"
The doctor ducked his head in shame. "E-Easy comrade, I-I was on my way to meet you here, when Strickland followed—"
"Bastard…" the man whispered and weakly fisted the doctor's coat, pulling him closer, "You're supposed to be…"
Dimitri nodded, "You saved me. I thank you, comrade. Do you know where I am supposed to meet Mihalkov now? A contingency plan?"
Ivan shook his head feebly, "…No extraction… No con…tingency… You… are to die. Mihalkov ordered it."
The doctor stopped short and stared down at the other, falling rain and mixed with the blood, washing it away as it slowly began to stop flowing. "What do you mean?"
Ivan groaned and hacked up more blood, wheezing again before continuing, "You are… dead man… Mosenkov… Dead… man…"
Hoffstetler shook his head in disbelief. His… His own people… wanted to kill him? "This… can't be! Ivan, tell me, what have I done?"
Raising a shaky finger, Ivan pointed at him. "…Betrayed… Mikalhov… Betrayed Soviet…"
"Nyeat! No! I did no such thing! Ivan you must believe me! Where can I find Mihalkov?" but Dimitri could only watch in frantic desperation as Ivan let out one last breath and fell silent forever.
He couldn't believe it. But… He'd done everything for Mihalkov. For his government… His homeland…
As the weight of the truth sank in the guilt he felt instantly dissolved in his stomach, and righteous indignation took its place. He could no longer feel the cold from the storm as he rose to his feet, staring down at the killer. If he had never picked up that phone call, if he had never noticed the Colonel following him… would he be in Ivan's place, dead in the rain, his life's essence mixing with the muddy water, nothing more than a closed account to his spymasters?
Yes. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked at the getaway car and mulled over these revelations. He knew he was playing with fire, Mihalkov pretty much spelled it out for him at the safehouse when he and Ivan visited just a few days prior. He orchestrated this whole thing. Maybe somehow, he was the one to involve Strickland? That seemed like a stretch but after what Ivan told him, anything could be possible, couldn't it?
Regardless, he was alive, for now, and Strickland is off his scent… for now. The doctor chewed the inside of his lip, thinking. The Colonel would be on his way to look for the Amphibian Man… When the doctor received the call from Fuller, she had told him that they would be releasing him at the docks… Strickland could intersect them!
With that in mind, Hoffstetler charged for the extraction car. After a quick investigation, he found files and other such paraphernalia with his identities and whereabouts on them. His mouth twisted at the sight and he quickly swallowed the thought of Mihalkov sending more killers to check on Ivan and his driver and discovering his own body missing among the body count.
He needed to get away and fast; Checking the trunk, he investigated the luggage and was stunned to find a bag full of stacks of neatly wrapped American bills. He held one up and thumbed the edges. One of US's founding fathers stared back up hundreds of times in order. At first glance, there had to be several thousands of dollars here. He could count later if his luck continues throughout the night. He swallowed and searched in a separate bag, finding several passports and documents for different kinds of identities for his fellow spies.
Mouth dry, he continued searching, hoping, praying that his studies of the creature would be here, above all things. Quickly he dug through luggage after luggage looking for his black journal only to be met with defeat.
Slamming his fist against the money bag he let out a frustrated curse. he realized that out of everything, that was the one piece of information he truly wanted above all else.
This meant that Mihalkov still had it. And the doctor cursed out loud again. He'll have to deal with that later. Right now, he needed to act fast to keep Strickland from hunting down the creature on his own!
His only hope was that he was choosing the right path of this crossroads.
Thank you for the Kudos! How do you like it so far? I know a lot of it is basically retelling but I hope it kind of lays out the foundations of what I plan to happen.
Please leave a comment!