Chapter 9: "Up Close"

Stechkin talks to Rotenberg. Meanwhile, Arthur experiences a deadly encounter.

[01:51.]

…

The quiet shuffling of Arthur's boots could be heard as he stumbled through the blizzardy Arbat, exiting the scene of a high-profile demonstration. Fortunately, it seemed that the police's hold was beginning to falter; even in his absence, the distant cries of protest could still be heard at the Kremlin's gates. The push for change was nice and all, but hopefully he'd at least be able to get some sleep…

Vodka bottle in hand, he looked to the left and right of him. The dull lights painted the dark streets a soft orange, but the rough scenery was made apparent: the gentrified image of the desolate Arbat was long ripped away, having been ransacked up and down entirely.

He sighed, and took a drink. A regrettable sacrifice, but a necessary one. Maybe if— when the government was overturned, they could fix all this. But for that to happen, Griffin and all the other thorns had to disappear. Otherwise, it might be…

Arthur shook his head, casting away his doubts. With so much of the public already on board, how could they go anywhere but up from here? Maybe, there truly was hope for this country.

In the time Arthur took to contemplate all of this, he nearly failed to realize one detail.

An extra pair of footsteps trailed behind his own, gradually closing the distance… Or at least, that's what it sounded like. He looked to his rear, and found nothing.

After surveying the area more carefully, he about-faced; only to be met with a gun aimed right at him.

"What the—!?"

Bang.

"...Rise and shine~!"

"No, really… Wake up."

An energetic voice caused Rotenberg to stir— though incredibly slowly. His blurred vision didn't divulge much pertaining to his whereabouts, other than the room being nearly stark white (save for a few pieces of furniture). He knew that he was sitting on the cold, hard floor, and that his hands were tied up. He also knew that his head hurt… Like hell. As his vision finally stabilized, he noticed a certain raven-haired figure in his immediate foreground. Oh, this wasn't going to be fun.

"I hear your name's Theodore. Cool name, man! Can I call you Theo?" She said. Rotenberg didn't particularly appreciate her shrill voice, but to not cooperate would potentially prove much worse for him.

"...No, ma'am. Where am I?" He grumbled. Surveying his environment once more, another, more familiar doll occupied the room; featuring straight, pastel blue hair. More importantly, this blank room was a total deadend— containing a single metal door, and nothing else.

"You're a few thousand kilometers away from where you used to be, that's for sure. Now… I'm gonna ask a couple of questions. You down for that?"

He nodded slowly.

"Good! I mean, it didn't really matter what you said… But I'm glad we're getting along." Stechkin replied, flashing him an odd smirk. She kneeled down in front of him. "Let's start off simple. You're UACT-affiliated, yeah? Where's Yuri Berezovsky at? What's he usually up to?"

Rotenberg chuckled at Stechkin's straightforwardness. "Hah! You think I'm that easy, do you..?"

Stechkin sighed. "I do. I know you're that easy, because you don't have any other options right now!" She snickered, withdrawing her pistol. She didn't point it at him, nor take the safety off. Solely, it was a gesture to let him know of her intentions. "Now, what do you know?"

Still, he wouldn't budge under her subtle threat. "No more than you. Now, stop gawking at me with those huge eyes."

His interrogator gazed blankly at him, for longer than he felt comfortable. Stechkin glanced back at Thunder, then turned to him once more. "Y'know what? I'm in a sparing mood right now. Water under the bridge." She went to pull a chair, and sat down. The doll's posture became much more relaxed, now sitting with her legs crossed. "Welp. What's life like, Theo? Why'd you join?" She uttered.

Rotenberg squinted, and so did Thunder. He replied, "...Why do you want to know?" To which Stechkin hummed an 'I don't know.'

"...Well actually, You do know you're not leaving here any time soon right? Might as well get to know each other. Go on, then!" She added.

He complied hesitantly. "...Needed to."

Stechkin wagged a hand, signaling him to go further. He continued on. "My wife… Passed of lung cancer. We were both working people, but I alone couldn't foot the expenses... I suppose I was never a man of much affection, but she loved me anyway."

In spite of his troubling circumstances, Rotenberg found a peculiar solace in having someone to talk to… Nevermind who that person was. It spurred him to divulge more than Stechkin expected, but she listened anyway.

"I got evicted from my apartment. The streets were an awful place for someone like me, and I had an 'intimate' relationship with them regardless, but… Yuri's given me a paying job, now. I was always for the idea of Rossartrism, yes... But to me, those I met within the organization seemed to replace all the family I lost. It was… Somewhere to belong." He grumbled. He no longer looked Stechkin in the eye, but now down in reflection. "For that, how could I betray? Yuri, Arthur, and even those I don't know very well… They're to be protected. I know what you are after." He scowled back at the two dolls. Having preemptively detached from the situation, Thunder's attention was now drawn back by his words.

Meanwhile, Stechkin's relaxed grin had long faded. However, she didn't dare spill her thoughts, nor think too hard about them in the first place. Instead, she pushed further. "Well… You can kiss 'em goodbye, now." She uncrossed her legs, and leaned back in. "You might care about them, sure, but what about them? Could you confidently say you as an individual matter to your boss? Or even to your peers?"

Rotenberg shook his head, as if to reject her reasoning. Surely, that couldn't be the case...

"Hmph. You're stubborn." Stechkin leaned back, and crossed her arms. "Alright, look at it this way, pal. Let's see how long they take to come and find you. That'll spell it out for you?" She chuckled.

Rotenberg no longer responded, and only hung his head.

"Maybe not. But, why can't you just tell us? We're fighting for the greater good, here!"

"...I just told you."

"You know what I mean. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well. If they were to ever find out… I'd surely be exiled, or worse… My life could be taken."

"Huh, doesn't sound very buddy-buddy to me. Why ya so worried?"

"I'd do the same unto another, if I could. You think you're doing this country some sort of favor..? Not in the slightest." He spat.

Stechkin's expression hardened at Rotenberg's adamance. "Not in the slightest, huh…" She stood up, her voice deepening. "Are all you Rossartrists this close-minded? Don't know about you, but I'd like to not have the goddamn union fall apart in the middle of Cold War Two. So yeah, we kind of would be doing this country a favor by silencing you all."

As Stechkin spoke, Thunder gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "That's… Probably enough for now." She murmured.

"Enough? But why?" Stechkin echoed, as her voice re-inflated.

"We ought to rethink how to approach this. I could try talking to him alone."

"What we ought to do is get a bit more physical. It could work… Just saying." Stechkin replied, though in a much quieter pitch.

Thunder shook her head eagerly, eliciting a sigh from her teammate. Stechkin was clearly dissatisfied with their progress, but obeyed anyway. "Fine…Take your time. I'm gonna go find 20."

Thunder nodded, and followed her out.

Left to himself, Rotenberg couldn't help but echo the doll's words in his head. It wasn't fair to leave it up to when they'd find him, since it was likely the case nobody even knew where he was.

Hopefully, he was in their thoughts...

Arthur crashed to the ground. The wind was literally knocked out of him— both from the impact and the gunshot.

The snow beneath dyed with his blood. He could feel the wound in his abdomen. Had a vital organ been hit..? He wasn't yet sure. He watched as his cloaked assaulter looked down upon him, and retrained their weapon; this time, between his eyes. Shit..! He had to do something!

Without thinking, he went for a kick to the shin. Their legs buckled, making them drop to the ground.

The shot let off, but missed him barely.

He stumbled back up, and took the fleeting opportunity to sprint into an alleyway. Its passages twisted and turned— ideal for making an escape.

Arthur's boots pounded the ground, as fast as they could carry him through the snow. His breathing became awfully labored as he tried his best to ignore the screaming pain. However, he didn't get far at all before realizing that, whoever his attacker was… They were fast. Faster than him, though he was by no means a sluggish man. Judging from the pace of their footsteps, they were going to catch up.

Confrontation was inevitable. It was either shoot the target, or kill them outright. He withdrew a CZ-52, and checked his ammo: 6 shots. Nonetheless, he floundered toward an alley opening, and hid behind a corner. There, he trained his aim on the path back ahead. As soon as the cloaked entity turned, however, he missed every one he took. They flipped and leapt across the passage, utilizing every foothold to their advantage; seeming to dodge every bullet by pure instinct— as if they predicted each and every one.

In the time his retaliation took, the gap between them was closed almost instantly. In a brief exchange, Arthur managed to discard the enemy's firearm, but keep his own. Failing to hold his grip on them, he was kicked with such force that he flew back into a separate street; right into the snow.

"Fuckk…" he groaned. The adrenaline from the encounter was starting to subside, rendering him hardly able to stand. Arthur's vision began to blur as his soon-to-be murderer strutted toward him arrogantly.

This couldn't be it… It couldn't be over, he thought to himself. A feminine cackling came from the figure as she removed her hood. From it, her bright green hair flowed freely in the wind. Eventually, the world around him began to fade into nothingness, along with every other sound.

Whether it was unconsciousness or death itself, this was no way to go out... Despite his fear, there were some things— some people— he needed to be there for; and he wouldn't die now. Not yet.

Using what little vision was afforded to him, he discharged his weapon once more.

…

Bang!

The bullet ripped through her left kneecap, rendering her practically immobile. The sound of her synthetic flesh tearing proved ample in returning him to an alert state. He had to kill her; it was either now or never. He stumbled to his feet, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. However, his blood ran cold when he noticed the pistol's slide had already gone back, signaling empty. "Are you fuckin' kidding me—!?" He swore loudly.

Seeing the green-haired doll drag herself toward her firearm, he knew his final option was to simply escape. His intestines threatened to come undone at any moment, but it didn't stop him. He held himself tightly, and ran off into the night with every bit of strength he had.

…

M950A could only look on in utter despair as her target escaped her grasp. "Fuck… Fuck!" She clenched her fists.

Her one task was ruined… By her own recklessness. Worse, she couldn't hope to find him with her leg nearly in two. Great. Ana likely wouldn't say much, but she knew her disappointment would manifest regardless.

Before her rage could set in too quickly, however, she took notice of a small glint on the ground.

She crawled over, and inspected it. When she saw what it was, her fury was cast away with a smirk. With this? It no longer mattered. To hell if he lived to see another day or so— this win would prove timeless. She opened comms:

[M950A] Commander.

[Malevich] I hear you. Have you eliminated your target?

[M950A] ...No.

[Malevich] Have you found him?

[M950A] Yes. I injured him gravely, but he escaped.

...A long pause.

[Malevich] What? He escaped you? What happened?

[M950A] He, uh, bested me in combat. But I haven't been left totally empty handed.

[Malevich] Combat? What happened to just—

[Malevich] ...Nevermind. What do you have?

[M950A] His phone. I imagine it could be useful for a number of things.

[Malevich] Oh! Why didn't you say it sooner? A shame he isn't dead though… You need to stay on his tail. In the meantime, figure out what you can do with it. We might have to wait for the right time to utilize it, though.

[M950A] I… was also shot by him.

[Malevich] …

[Malevich] 950… What happened? You told me you could handle this... Are you still able to function?

Hearing those words, M950A's face scrunched up again. She clenched her fists so hard that blood might draw. Truly, they made her want to scream into the night sky. Whether it be Ana's tone, or her own blunder, it infuriated her all the same.

[M950A] Just—! I need to go home for repairs. When I'm there, I'll hand it over to you all. I'm sorry, commander.

[Malevich] It's alright… There'll be more chances. I've marked the coordinates for your extraction point. Getting there won't be an issue, right?

[M950A] ...No… It won't...

[Malevich] That's good. I'll see you in the morning.

The transmission was cut off.

...No way…

There was just no way. This wasn't it. It might've been normal for someone like Thunder to fail, but not possibly her… Yes, this was all meaningless. She'd never make another mistake; otherwise, what was the point..?

She shot up to her feet, completely ignoring her dangling leg. It came undone completely, forcing her to pick it up off of the ground. M950A tore the cape off of her person, and tied it around the wound. This way, she wouldn't lose fluid so quickly.

Her newfound bitterness made her want to crawl every inch of this city, just to end his life. Not for Ana's sake, but rather her own!

But… Even she knew it was too late. She picked up her gun.

Accepting loss for the moment, she headed toward her coordinates— one limp at a time.

[6 hours later.]

A loud ringing jolted Ana from her deep sleep, causing her glasses to fly off. White beams of light bled through her window blinds, softly brightening her otherwise dark office. She had since fallen asleep on her desk, evident from the drool that collected on it. She sat up and frantically searched for her phone, before retrieving it from her jacket. "Who the hell…" She grumbled, and retrieved her glasses to see more clearly.

Though the number was nameless, she immediately recognized it nonetheless. How the hell did Zielinski get her number? Her mind flooded with possibilities, before settling upon one.

Ah… That damned Kovac guy...

He likely gave her information up, but she couldn't quite fault him for it; such matters never involved him in the first place. She answered the call. Hopefully, her voice wouldn't be too slurred.

[Malevich] ...What.

[Zielinski] Good morning, Ms. Malevich. How are you?

[Malevich] No need to be so formal. What do you want?

[Zielinski] I know we didn't separate on the best of terms, but I'm willing to work with you further, if you'll listen to what I have to say.

[Malevich] No kidding… Why?

[Zielinski] We still share a common goal— and that's to stop the UACT's dissent. What have you gained since you went independent?

[Malevich] Well, listen closely... A peer of mine has been monitoring the activity of a man named Arthur Lee Conrad, which we believe to be a high-ranking official in the organization. One of my dolls has recently extracted a cellular phone from him, which we may be able to use to our advantage.

[Zielinski] ...Ah, to trace the whereabouts of Berezovsky, among other things. I see. However, I have a rather urgent matter to discuss with you.

Ana cocked an eyebrow, noticing the change in his tone, she replied:

[Malevich] ...What is it?

[Zielinski] First, I'd like to know. Have you ever been to Kiev, Ms. Malevich..?

TO BE CONTINUED