I realized I'd made several mistakes in dialogue thanks to a very helpful comment. This is chapter 2 with changes. I didn't want the case to seem to take up the whole story so I just went ahead and shortened it up. I know it doesn't seem to tie in with the rest of the story, but I'm trying to make it work. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 2
"Okay Artie, we're here. Now are you going to tell us what we're here for, or do I have to make Pete go around asking for weird objects that make people do stupid stuff or die?" Myka huffed.
The plane ride to Moscow, Russia had been longer than either agent cared for. Usually the team would spend the hours talking away about the case or random issues in their lives all the while Myka clutched desperately to the arm of her chair. This time had been spent in complete silence with Pete's eyes set on satisfying his stomach and Myka's eyes kept staring into the clouds, her hand still clutching the arm rest. On several other missions, she realized, it had been Helena's hand that she sought comfort in. The brilliant British inventor had never spoken against it, simply taken up her hand and kept it close while rubbing calming strokes against her knee. Helena's absence was becoming more and more real.
Upon their arrival, as expected, Pete had managed to get himself lost. Myka had simply turned to pick up her bag, and by the time she could look back Pete was gone. Fortunately for the two of them the smell of food flooded the airport's air. After careful sniffing and searching, Myka had snatched her partner up by the ear and dragged him straight through security and out the door. Moscow's air had been quite stale flowing through the agents' noses, reflecting history's reign over Russia. The buildings stood bulky and intimidating with their ancient architecture and worn red, orange, pink, and yellow paint. All the windows showcased that same cramped oxygen depriving design, the ones with the sills you could just barely fit on comfortably. At least privacy would most definitely not seem to be an issue.
"Yes of course. There have been several new reports of death in the last few days…"
"Isn't there always?" Pete's mumbling had just barely reached Artie over the Farnsworth. Neither Artie nor Myka cared to respond to his rather depressing admittance.
"Anyway, it seems that there have been three victims. The witnesses report that the victims had suddenly started screaming in some type of fear or pain. After several minutes of attempting to subdue the victims, they'd died. The cause of death seemed to be a stabbing of some sort." Artie informed.
"So we're looking for a knife? Hell, I could've gone to my mother's kitchen for that." Pete commented dryly. Myka chuckled half-heartedly.
"As long as she doesn't toss one at your fingers, then I could see that happening. You have a bad habit of stealing food from her cabinets I hear." Pete tossed a glare in Myka's direction.
"Did she tell you that? Ugh, that's just like her too!" Pete cried out, arms swinging wildly in front of him imaging what he'd do to his mother if she wasn't his mother.
"Guys!" Artie's voice sounded over the Farnsworth. Bering and Lattimer silenced themselves. Artie was slightly terrifying when he was serious.
"No it's not a knife. The puncture wound in the victims' chests was approximately 3.5 inches in diameter." Artie continued.
"Who the hell has a knife that big!" Pete barked.
"It's not a knife Peter!" Pete jumped as Myka and Artie shouted in unison. Rolling her eyes, the brunette agent turned and stepped away from Pete.
"Okay but that still doesn't tell us why we're currently standing in Russia, the country with the bloodiest, most evil history according to the things I've read." Myka stated.
"Exactly. We have to go back in Russia's history to the Rurik Dynasty."
"The one with all the crazy people!" Pete had moved his head over Myka's shoulder in an attempt to remain part of the briefing.
"He really doesn't know much when it comes to history, does he?" Myka simply shook her head in response to her clearly annoyed boss.
"If I am correct, we are looking for a staff of sorts last belonging to Tsar Ivan IV."
"Ivan the Terrible?" Myka questioned.
"Yes. It belonged to the first Rurik ruler and was passed down all the way to Ivan, but seeing as to how his only 'fit' heir died, it ended its days with Ivan's death. It was supposed to be held in the vault units of one of the museums; however, when I called to check my suspicions, they realized it's missing." Artie added.
"So what does this one do? Make people scream at its ugliness then leave gaping holes in their chests?"
"Pete if you don't have anything intellectual to say then shut up." Both agents gulped. Apparently it was not a day to test Artie's patience by trying to 'lighten the mood.'
"Sorry…boss." Pete mumbled.
"Ivan was known for his rage and tortured and killed several thousands of people during his reign. Some reports were that he'd resort to drowning, beating, burning, cutting into their bodies, killing their families, and even driving a stake through their chest and standing it upright in his yard so they could bleed to death." Russia's air suddenly turned hostile and unwelcoming under Artie's words, causing the agents' skin to crawl with goose bumps.
"Supposedly the staff causes someone's most unbearable nightmares and fears to become a true reality that only they see. They're sent into shock, and when they fall they're suddenly left with a gaping hole in their chest." As Artie filled her in, Pete had flagged down a taxi and guided Myka and their bags to the backseat and trunk.
"Ah, well do we know how to stop it?" She asked.
"Not really, it was said that only the strong-minded could overcome its power."
"Basically facing and overcoming your fears is what can save you. Why am I suddenly getting flashbacks?"
"Yes well you'll want to start at the museum or possibly the Moscow Kremlin where Ivan resided during most of his reign, since all three incidences occurred on the intersection separating the two structures." Artie suggested.
"Okay boss we'll see what we can do."
"Don't call me boss. It makes me sound old." Artie bit back. Myka smiled.
"Sure thing Dad." Before a response could leave his lips, Myka shut the Farnsworth and looked over at Pete.
"Looks like those swords are more plausible than I thought. Let's go check in, and then we'll head over to the museum."
The Assambleya Nikitskaya Hotel had been grand in luxurious. It felt like the only modern piece of architecture in all of Russia. The service and staff had been nice and helpful in directions and translations for the non-Russian speakers. However, wherever there was something grand, there was always something better. The State Historical Museum had captivated Myka's eye. While Pete rushed in to find the nearest gift shop, Myka had to come to a standstill and admire the work. Its vast blood red stone walls grew to the skies almost towering over everything else. Behind her stood the Moscow Kremlin where great rulers and tsars had once resided like the Rurik and Romanov dynasties. It was something she had read about in her books, all the bloodshed and magical chaos that occurred behind its walls.
"Hey Mykes, are you coming or what!" Pete had poked his head out the entrance after realizing his partner had not followed him inside. Of course that had been after about fifth-teen minutes of searching the entire downstairs for anything selling cool toys, even if it were a small booth.
"Huh? Oh yea, yeah I'm coming." She finally found her footing and chased after her mentally prepubescent partner.
'Helena, if you could only see this. It's so amazing!' A small tear scrolled across her cheek only to be brushed away by trembling fingers.
It had been a long three days for agents Myka and Pete. The museum had mentioned the unusual absence of one of their employees who worked restoration in the vaults. They'd managed to find that same employee had visited the Moscow Kremlin several times in the days since the first murder. It'd taken three days to finally track down Joshua Taylors' hide out in the Kremlin's cellars, and that was including the breaks to shut-up Pete's voracious appetite. In that time frame, unfortunately, two more lives had been lost. Now they stood in those cellars gun pointed in every which direction. Joshua's stolen staff was raised above yet another victim ready to activate the artifacts deadly power. Pete's Tesla was pointed at Josh's partner Sam's head, with Sam's gun aimed at Myka, and her own Tesla aimed at Josh. They seemed to have to upper hand when arriving to find the hostage safe and Josh in utter disarray. His conscious was waning from him as it attempted to switch between reality and history, believing he was the descendant of the Rurik line and his victims had belonged to the Romanov line. Pete had moved in to apprehend him while Myka attempted to snatch the staff away, but their plan foiled at the last minute when Sam arrived. Myka had yet to figure out Sam's role in all the chaos.
"Josh, you don't have to do this. She's not who you think she is. The staff is making you hallucinate with dark power." Joshua's fingers twitched as Myka spoke. He was tempted to just bring the staff down upon the hostage and torment her life, Myka could tell, but something was holding him back.
"Shut-up, you don't know what you're talking about. She has to die so we can reclaim our rightful place. I going to kill her, and then they'll all be gone." The young woman sobbed vehemently under her captor's frustrated gaze. She didn't even know what was going on.
"No, she doesn't want your crown. If you let her go then she'll go away and never come back." Myka reasoned.
"Yes she will. She'll go get her army and bring them back to kill me and Sam. I can't let her go!"
"Then why don't we take her? We're the police, so if she's trying to take your place then we can take her into custody. She'll be kept away from everybody that way she can't send any armies." Josh's eyes flew towards her in silent questioning. They searched her own for any type of lie or reason to not believe her.
"You'd lock her up? Forever? And she'd never send an army?"
"That's right. We'll make sure she has no contact with anybody on the outside. If she does then we'll know and be able to stop it before it gets here." Pete stared hard at Myka wondering what kind of trick she had to apprehend him and Sam.
"I don't trust them Josh. They're lying." Sam countered.
"No! No…I'm not Josh. We'll even take you and Sam to a safe house until we get rid of all her spies." The two men shared a decisive glance and ever so slowly lowered their weapons. Myka pointed her Tesla to the ground and took small, quiet steps towards Josh.
"That's good Josh. Now give me the staff so we don't have to hurt anyone else." The staff trembled in the hands of its possessor as it moved through the air towards Myka. As she reached for it, the thumb on the hand holding Tesla moved over just a fraction of an inch to allow her index a little more room for fast reflexes.
"Josh look out! It's a trap!" Sam shouted. Everything occurred in a blur. Myka's hand flew up to fire at Josh as his eyes flashed with panic, and his arm soared upward to deal a deadly blow to the woman below. A gunshot echoed off the small walls behind her as she took a chance leap between Josh and t hostage.
"Myka!" There was another gunshot and suddenly Pete's voice could no longer be heard. She stretched her gun wielded arm out and tap the trigger. A flash of blinding light left the Tesla's tip and struck Joshua's torso. When Josh began falling to his knees the staff fell with. A single strike to the head was all Myka felt.