The Ballad of General Shepherd: Disc One
Act 1, Scene 2
Overture: "Mystline" By Jun Seba AKA: Nujables
"in a far off land, shores far from home."
"The patriot continued, silent and alone."
"His mind set on his mission. His soul running its course."
"His honesty and integrity tested, from an unlikely source."
General Shepherd vigorously rubbed his hands together as he walked down the dark alley, trying to find the smallest warmth even if was only for a moment. The icy rain continued to fall without pause as he pasted dumpster after dumpster, slum after slum.
Moscow was a city with two faces. One with the political elite, the others, poor lower class citizens. Over the past years, such sights of black and white had become just normal in the patterns of life.
But he wasn't here as a tourist. There was no time for it. He was here on other matters.
His thoughts were on who he would be talking to, what he's reaction would be, and what his final verdict was. If he said yes, which he knew he would, then things would be finally set.
As Shepherd slid around a dumpster, he listened to the rain hitting the metal trash cans and lids, sending a percussion of metal tings all around him. The rain was illuminated by blue neon signs scattered throughout the alley. It was actually a beautiful and peaceful sight, and no one probably knew about it at all...
Shepherd just smiled to himself and continued down the alley, passing more slums and apartment doors. As he pasted one, he noticed a person lying against the side of the brick building, huddled in a small sack blanket.
The person was shivering, no doubt from the continuous downpour of rain. He looked around, trying to see if there was anyone who knew who this unknown individual person was.
The only people he could see were three young men, huddled out of the ran in a near by doorway and in conversation. Shepherd briefly caught eye with the trio, and they gave him a suspicious look. Shepherd turned away and the men went back to their conversation, now taking glancing behind his back.
He ignored them and gingerly pulled the sack blanket away only to reveal the face of the person.
It was a woman, her face sprinkled in mud, and her brown hair covered in dirt. She opened her eyes and looked up at Shepherd weakly, her body still shivering.
"What do you want..." The woman asked, staring up at him.
"Are you okay?" Shepherd asked, knelling down beside her. "You hurt or sick?"
"I'm homeless." The woman said, turning her head away from him. "There. Now go away."
"I saw a shelter a few blocks down." Shepherd started, looking back down the alley. "If you want, I can-
"They're full." She replied, cutting him off. "They're always full. Why do you even care anyway."
"Well it's cold." Shepherd started, glancing up at the sky. "And this isn't the neighbor hood to be alone in."
He glanced over his shoulder back at the three men. They were now all staring at him, now watching him carefully.
Shepherd turned his attention back to the young woman. "Look, I can take you there, your going to catch a cold out here."
"no thanks." She replied, pulling the sack cover over her head. "Just leave me alone."
Shepherd sighed and stood up. "No point in pushing it...She doesn't want to talk to anyone..."
"Well, take care of yourself." Shepherd said before placing some change in the woman's cup. He grabbed his suitcase and continued down the alley, now heading towards gang of three men.
Shepherd glanced up at the three, catching there eye once again. As he pasted them, one of the men got up from the step.
"Da fuck you looking at, 'old man?'" The kid asked, glaring at him.
Shepherd stopped and turned to face him. He didn't say anything. He knew theses types of people. Amateurs, not even young enough to drink. They didn't even deserve his time.
"You need something, 'senior'?" Another kid asked, now beginning to approach him. The other were now beginning to near him, trying to intimidate him. Unnerve him.
If that's the way they wanted to play, then he might as well join in their game. He felt the grip of his .44, but he wouldn't have to use it. He knew more then enough tactics without the help of a firearm.
"You better back up and get out of my face." The leader said, glaring at him. "I don't know where your from 'gramps', but I guarantee you its along way from home.
Shepherd continued to remain silent, not saying a word, not giving any type of reaction. He just let the rain fall on him, and continued to stare down the three kids.
After a brief silence, the leader of the trio turned to his friends and laughed.
"Are you deaf or something bitch?" He asked in a sneer, now only inches away from him.
Shepherd pulled out his hand, forming it into a gun. The kid was taken back by his sudden action, but slightly relaxed when he realized his hand was empty.
"The hell?" The kid asked, staring at his 'gun' in confusion. Shepherd casually pointed his finger as if he were aiming his gun, pointing at the trio.
"Bang." Shepherd said, pretending to shoot. The kids looked at him in complete confusion, now beginning to sneer and take shots at him.
"Your fucking crazy man." One said, looking at Shepherd as if he was a joke.
"Alright, get the hell out of here before you end up in a body bag old man!" The leader asked, pointing down the alley. Shepherd ignored him and pointed his finger at him instead.
"Bang." Shepherd said again, now causing the kid to become frustrated and angry.
"I'm going to fuck you up if you don't leave." The kid spat, pulling out a small knife. Shepherd eyed the small weapon and nearly laughed at the sight. These kids were out of their league.
He pointed his pistol at the final person and pulled his imaginary trigger.
"Bang." Shepherd said, again pretending to fire. "Your all dead."
"No, your going to be dead bitch!" The leader said, pointing his knife at him.
"Now go back inside." Shepherd instructed, his finger gun pointed at him. "And stay away from me."
The trio didn't move an inch back. Instead, they inched towards him, confident in themselves that they had him outnumber.
"Last chance before you really regret this." The leader said, smirking. "Get back to your nursing home or bingo hall or whatever you do for fun."
Shepherd sighed. "You don't learn, do you? Okay..."
He put his hand back into his pocket. He quickly pulled out his silver .44, now pointing it at the trio. The three kids instantly back off, now staring in fear at the gun.
"Lets try this again." Shepherd said, putting his finger on the trigger. "Which one did I shoot first again?"
"Get the hell away old man..." The leader said, slowly backing up. "Listen, we don't want any trouble."
"Then I suggest you get back inside." Shepherd instructed coolly, not taking his eyes off them. "Go back inside, and never come out for the rest of the night."
The kid nodded, and slowly went towards the door. He quickly opened it and vanished out of sight, locking the door behind him. Shepherd put the pistol back in his pocket and sighed. Amateurs...
He turned back down the alley and continued towards his destination, the black metal door that held the key to everything. The sooner he got this over, the better.
As he neared his door, his hands began to shake. Not from nervousness, but rather a completely different and unrelated source.
He reached into this pocket and pulled out a small orange container for medication. He quickly opened it with his shaking hands and popped a pill into his mouth.
His hands slowly began to steady and his heart beat and breathing returned to its normal patterns. He took a breath a sighed, putting the small orange vial back into his pocket.
"Goddamn heart medication...Can't do anything without it causing problems..."
He shook it off and continued back down the alley towards the door. He was already slowly getting tired. The sooner this was over, the better it was for his health.
Shepherd finally reached the door and knocked against the medal siding. As he finished knocking, the small slit in the door slid open, and a pair of eyes stared at him from inside.
"Yes?" A man asked in a heavy Russian accent. "What do you want?"
"I have an appointment." Shepherd explained, holding up the suitcase. "I'm here to see the shadow of Zakhaev."
Shepherd listened as he heard numerous locks being undone. When the fifth and final lock was turned, the door opened and Shepherd was greeted by a large man, staring down at him.
"Your late." The man said. "Get in here."
Shepherd calmly walked pasted him and into the building. Into the lair of one of the most violent and ruthless killers on the planet. And he was about to have a meeting with him.
As he walked in, he was stopped by the large man.
"I check you for weapons." The man stated, holding out his hand.
Shepherd reached into his pocket and pulled out his .44, handing it to the man.
"That's not a toy." Shepherd said, handing him the weapon. "Try not to shoot your eye out with that."
The man grunted and set the gun on the table. "Last room down, far end of the hallway."
Shepherd nodded and proceeded down the hallway, towards the final door. The entire place was bare. The walls were cracked and rotting, with paint peeling and the floor littered with dirt and grime. Whoever the previous owner was, definitely did not have good upkeep goals.
As he neared the far door, a man stood guard outside. Shepherd approached him, holding up the suitcase in his hand.
"I have an appointment." Shepherd explained. "He should be aware."
The man briefly studied him before putting his hand on the knob. "One moment."
The guard disappeared behind the door, leaving it slightly opened to hear what was going on inside.
"Makarov sir, he's here." The guard said.
"Send him in." A voice answered.
"Yes sir."
The guard returned and motioned Shepherd in, holding the door open. Shepherd walked into a dimly lit office, books and papers littered on shelves. Compared to the rest of the building he saw, this room seemed to be the only well kept one, as well as the only functioning one.
The room was empty, except for one man sitting at an oak desk, staring at a stack of papers. He had dark black hair and a narrow complexion, with eyes of two different colors. One blue, the other green.
As he walked in, the man looked up at him, a look of disgust on his face. Shepherd wasn't surprised by his reaction. In fact, he had been anticipating it, considering who he was meeting with. It was just another predictable pattern. Just elementary.
The man broke the silence as Shepherd approached him. "I'm surprised to see you, considering who you are..."
Shepherd pulled out his lighter and cigar, lighting it and taking a smoke. As he exhaled, he looked down at the man.
"And who am I?" Shepherd asked. "In your eyes?"
"A killer, a fiend, and a public enemy." The man replied sharply.
Shepherd couldn't help but laugh slightly at the irony of his answer.
"Funny..." Shepherd started, taking another smoke from his cigar. "I have the same thoughts about you..."
"Vladimir Makarov..."
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