A/n: mention of sexual themes.
For once, since this nightmare began, since she plummeted down the rabbit hole into a horror story, Irina woke to feel content and well-rested. Her cheek laid pressed against a feather stuffed pillow on Heisenberg's bed, damp with drool as her eyes came into focus.
She was aware that she had drunk quite a bit the previous day and was surprised that she did not wake up hungover; her brain felt like it was sloshing in her head like a bowl of warm soup, but there was no pain or nausea.
Irina felt incredible.
She was also aware, as she turned onto her back, that she went to bed with Heisenberg. He laid beside her, on his side facing the opposite wall, snoring quietly.
Irina was in awe. She questioned her decision to have sex with him, having little experience in the matter. Still, she chalked it up to the alcohol; a part of her welcomed the companionship. None of this; the monsters and the super-powered Lords of the village made her circumstance ordinary.
Irina was human, after all, and despite this being a mistake, she felt invigorated.
Stretching her arms above her head, she yawned and turned onto her side, staring at Heisenberg.
The inventor was human too, wasn't he? His sins were horrendous, of course, but humanity, to him, was a small price to pay for freedom.
Irina concurred.
Perhaps she was a monster as well.
No matter, she thought.
She would cross that bridge when she got there.
Easing closer to Heisenberg, she pressed her forehead against his back. His skin radiated heat like a miniature oven; she moaned in satisfaction.
As much as Irina wanted to stay in bed, she had an errand to run; she needed to retrieve Petre from the Fieraru household. She leaned up on her elbow and shook Heisenberg's arm, calling out his name as she did so.
Heisenberg grunted, tensing his shoulders as he woke after she shook him for the third time.
"I'm about to leave," Irina announced.
He shooed her with his hand.
"Go on then," he grunted.
Irina rolled up her eyes. "Petre Fieraru will be returning with me. Where do you want me to leave him?"
"Come with him down to B4," he ordered in a husky voice. "And bring him to the furnace room."
Humming in agreement, she got out of bed and slid on her clothes from the previous day, annoyed that she'd have to go without panties since Heisenberg tore them. Her mask and gun case were upstairs where she left them, sitting on the desk most likely.
Once she got dressed, she retrieved it, covering her head with the hood of her cloak as she slid the mask in place over her face.
The near-empty bottle of Tuica sat near her gun case beneath the abundance of photographs on the wall. Irina stared at them in disregard and swallowed down the remaining ounce of Tuica before leaving the factory.
She did not sympathize with them; Heisenberg would favor them by ending their lives.
Death was mercy.
"Have you been waiting long?"
Irina met with twenty-four-year-old Petre on the street in front of the Fieraru homestead. He was a man of tall stature with fair-colored hair and sunken eyes – over his back, he carried a worn travel bag.
She offered her hand as she inquired about how long she had made him wait.
"Not long," he answered back.
Petre had a weak handshake, she noticed.
"It's an honor. I want to thank you for this opportunity," he mentioned.
Irina shook her head.
"There is no need to thank me," she mentioned with a fake smile.
She was only following orders.
"Have you said your goodbyes?"
Petre shook his head. A look of sadness crossed his pale face. "My father cares little for what I do as long as I find work."
She understood.
"Then we should go," Irina mentioned.
She motioned for him to follow and led him from the village to the area with the altar and the enormous stone statues.
He stared in awe at them but followed her when she commanded for him too, asking nothing about them, despite being curious. As he passed through Heisenberg's gate, Petre dared to speak.
"The elders often talk about you," he mentioned.
Do they?
Irina hummed. "I imagine they speak ill of me."
She was a stranger to their land, despite being a native of the village. No one knew much about her, only that she worked for the Duke and sometimes scouted laborers for Heisenberg.
Her name was unknown.
"Some of them refer to you as Capră (the goat) due to your mask, or Cornută."
Irina snorted; how ironic.
Cornută (the horned one) or Ciumăfaie in traditional stories was a plant that grew on roadsides or along fences. It was used during plague epidemics, hence the common name Ciumă, meaning plague.
But the reason the name stuck with her, she assumed, was because the Duke had her sale ointments containing Ciumăfaie to a few of the elders; the creams had psychotropic properties.
Irina sighed; it could've been worse.
"It matters not," she admitted.
She moved a lot, so the alias was irrelevant.
Walking across the stone bridge, Irina spotted the factory in the distance; the gate stood open for them.
"We're here," she mentioned.
Petre cracked a grin. "It's incredible."
He followed Irina up to the factory doors and walked inside.
"I heard that Lord Heisenberg runs this facility on his own," he stated.
Irina nodded in agreement. "He does, as far as I know.
"Have you known him long? What kind of person––"
Petre broke into a horrid cough, covering his mouth.
Irina watched him in concern.
Was he sick?
Once he stopped, Petre panted in exhaustion. He noticed her expression and frowned.
"It's only a cold," he mentioned.
Irina knew better.
"How many weeks has it lasted?"
Petre reached forward and touched her arm. "Please don't send me home. I need this."
She understood now. Petre was ill; the sunken eyes, pale skin, and severe cough.
Removing his hand, she hummed.
"As long as you can work, it doesn't matter to Lord Heisenberg," she stated as she led him to the elevator. "So don't disappoint him."
He nodded in relief. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
Petre got in and stood beside her as she pressed the button on the control panel, bringing the lift down to materials. On the fourth floor, Irina led him through the winding corridors until she brought him to the furnace room.
Inside, Heisenberg was waiting, leaning against the desk near the film board as he smoked a cigar.
"About damn time," he grunted.
Irina shot him a glare.
"This is Petre Fieraru," she announced.
Petre stood beside her and bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Heisenberg."
"Welcome aboard," he said with a grin.
Not sure when he planned to start, Irina cleared her throat.
"Do you need me here? I want a drink."
Heisenberg snorted. "There's an extra bottle in my quarters."
Irina nodded and turned to leave, but he called out to her.
"Say thank you," he ordered.
She turned and shot him a look. Her face heated up.
"T-thank you."
Petre stared at her in surprise.
How awkward.
She departed in a rush.
Too bad she'd never see him again. Though if she does, Irina most likely won't recognize him.