WARNING: If mention of rape bothers you, stop reading now.
Welcome to Nozh – Trenirovka
Panting heavily, Sousuke's vision blurred from exhaustion and all the blood rushing to his head, and he could only sort of make out the detail of sweat dripping onto the dirt below him. Concentrating on the darkening pools of grit, he tried to clear his vision from the haze that had overcome him to no avail. He was getting used to it though, and if he couldn't see things sharply, then he could at least learn to make sense of the blurs.
Grunting as a foot stepped heavily onto his back, he braced his arms, continuing the push-ups as was expected of him. If he stopped then he could expect some real pain, in whatever form the instructors felt like at the moment. Sometimes it was a beating, taking blow after blow, usually to the shoulders and ribs. Other times they stripped off the offending child's shirt and then cane or whip him. Sometimes they'd leave the shirt on and let the fabric irritate the welts. And sometimes…
He wheezed, the pressure getting to be a bit much for his exhausted body. The foot moved from his back to toe at his chin, and he made a face at the stench of the boot and the feel of muck on his skin. Not like he wasn't already covered in blood and dust, but he could do without the added discomfort. His head was pulled roughly up and a gruff voice ordered him to stare ahead, the man stepping on his fingers when walking away to move onto the next boy. He hated when they made them stare ahead. The added strain to the neck and shoulders was miserable, especially after a long day of running through rainy mud-fields and trading blows with staves. Though, he had to admit, it gave him a lot more scenery to sort through his blurry vision, and he distracted his mind from the aches of his body to categorize the shapes.
Finally came the long-awaited call to get up, and everyone scrambled to their feet. He glanced down the line while catching his breath and standing tall, despite the protests of his screaming muscles. He was the smallest one there, though not quite the youngest. Still though, looking at everyone as his vision cleared, he could tell he wasn't the worst off. In fact, he was one of few who were managing to keep their back straight and their breathing mostly normalized. Mentally scoffing at the idiots gulping for air, he resisted the urge to shake his head. Didn't those fools realize that their scant lunch would make a reappearance if they heaved like that?
Well, if they didn't, then they did now, as he could hear the sound of retching from the other side of the line. No one flinched as the cracking sound of the butt of a rifle being struck against the boy's back reverberated in the still air. All the sound did for the others was to give them good reason to straighten up and calm their breathing. Random acts of violence were the norm. If someone had gone over to the sick one with a bottle of water and kind words then they might find reason to be concerned. As it was, he got dragged away with fingers digging roughly into the flesh of his shoulders, presumably to be beaten further for his foolishness.
Sousuke barely kept his face neutral as the boy beside him was dropped to the ground with a sickening crack of a staff to his clavicle. Lightning fast, that staff was about to be jammed into his own kidneys, but in spite of his exhaustion he managed to spin to the side and catch the staff in his hands, pulling down to throw the wielder off-balance and then roughly angling it up and jamming it back towards his attacker's sternum. He missed, but the staff was now in his possession, and he leveled it towards the man without a hint of emotion on his face.
And thus was the way things were on the Nozh training grounds. He was not allowed to really hurt the guy so he stopped where he was. The fact that he could was what they cared about. If it had been another one of the boys then he would have followed through and made them regret attacking him. But not one of the trainers. Never them. It meant a rather severe beating, which was rather unfair considering what they were there to learn. These men were hardly fair though.
Staves were handed out to everyone else and they were set into groups to practice more. In the mornings it was pairs. Afternoons they learned how to fend off multiple attackers. It was his day to be the defender, and he stood in the center of a circle of five boys, all older than him by at least three years, and all taller than him by at least a foot. They grinned wickedly, chuckling and joking amongst themselves. Well, fine, if they were going to be like that then he'd just have to show them. He might be small and young, but he was determined. The call to start hadn't been issued yet, but they rather advocated unfairness there and so he attacked. He slammed the butt of the staff up into one boy's jaw and then spun the length to slam into another's cheek with a satisfying snap.
Reacting to him now, the other three had brought theirs into a mid-guard and pulled back a step to get away from his next sweep. If they thought their reach would save them though then they were sorely mistaken. Feinting a downward swing, Sousuke swiftly yanked back to lunge forward and take out the kneecap of one, who fell with a shout of agony. He only barely managed to swing the staff into a block, catching part of the blow on his shoulder, his reaction time getting cut from the strike and he suffered a full force swing to his ribs, feeling some bones crack at the impact. Only all the drills kept the staff in his hands and he grimaced against the protests of his broken ribs, barely mustering a downward arc onto the skull of the boy in front of him.
It was blocked though, and his legs were swept out from under him. All he could do was bring his weapon up to guard his chest as he gasped for air, blinding pain shooting through him with every breath. He had expected more blows, and if they came he didn't know it. A particularly shuddering exhale had sent a shock through his system great enough to shut it down, and the black-red haze of suffering was the last thing he knew that day.
When he woke up it was to the now-familiar blinding white light of a lamp and the haze of pain medications. He took stock of his situation, his ribs heavily padded to the point that he was forced to take in shallow breaths. Hearing rustling to his right, his head fell heavily and limply to the side, his neck simply not having the strength to turn it at a normal pace. "Afanasiy?" he hated how parched he always was when waking up from these injuries. He knew it was the pain killers, and those he appreciated, especially since he had managed to train the doctor to only use enough to dull the edge so that he could keep his wits about him. But he still hated this feeling.
A cup of water was held beside him and the man helped him sit up, the movement awkward with all the bandages wrapped around his middle. As he gulped down the blessedly cool liquid he was given the list of the extent of his damages. It was the next morning as well, and while breathing and moving was going to be painful, it wasn't impossible for him. None of the bones had truly snapped, only a crack and some painful bruises, so he wasn't at risk for splintering bone into his lungs or another some such miserable ending he might suffer. He nodded to the man and sat back again. These days he enjoyed the little bit of rest he got when at the infirmary. Not that he ever really wanted to wind up there, given the throbbing in his side for that instance, but it was like a little vacation.
Hearing movement from his other side now, Sousuke turned curiously, wondering how he had not noticed another person in the room. There was another cot beside him, and on it laid a girl, probably about a year younger than him. She was under the blankets, but given her stiff movement, whimper of pain, and the thick bandage on her cheek, he felt it safe to assume she was in far worse shape than he was. Just where had she come from though? There were no girls on the training grounds and this place was used solely for Nozh. If there had been another group of trainees, one of girls, surely he would have noticed by now.
He stared at her curiously as he tried to puzzle out just who she was and where she'd come from. When she opened bright green eyes shimmering with tears and looked over at him he could feel something inside of him twist in pain at the completely hopeless expression. That was unusual, to say the least. When was the last time he'd felt any emotion besides grim determination? He blinked, meeting her gaze, and the two stared at each other for several long minutes while Afanasiy busied himself, unaware of the silent exchange.
Sharply looking down at movement, he stiffened up when her arm dug itself out of the cover of blankets to reach out towards him entreatingly. He forced himself to settle down, recognizing she was no threat to him, and he glanced back to her face to see tears now streaming down her face, then back to the hand that was reached out to him. For some odd reason he could feel his ears heating up as he freed his own arm, reaching it out to her as some strange force he could not describe beckoned him to. Grasping her hand, his lips tugged in a frown, though not at her. It was directed at himself, confusion as to his actions. The girl smiled though, her lips quivering as the expression threatened to disappear at any moment, and he stared into her eyes, blinking slowly.
"Dimah," she whispered hoarsely. He could hear Afanasiy turn to them sharply, but he could not bring himself to break eye contact with the girl.
"Sousuke," he replied, and she nodded to him, closing her eyes and returning to sleep, her fingers holding onto his tightly. He continued to stare at her, watching her as she slept with a now-peaceful expression on her face. It was a bizarre encounter, and he found himself at once wishing it had not happened and shaken his understanding of the world, and feeling somehow an odd calmness in his soul from the pure emotions her eyes held.
Days like this were the worst. The rain beat down on their tired bodies that were heavy with exhaustion and mud. They were partnered up, though occasionally someone would fall into another and then a group fight would begin until they naturally worked their way separate again, sometimes trading partners in the exchange. As it was, Sousuke stood in front of his fourth opponent of the day. He was panting, wishing he could take the time to spit the muck from his mouth, and he just wanted to collapse.
It was not his day. Three times he had been the one to stumble against someone else. Three times he had been grabbed from behind. Three times he'd been choked to the point of nausea. Only once had he been the one to push someone over, and even then it was just sheer luck that a rock happened to be there, causing the boy to twist his ankle and trip into someone's fist. His shirt was fisted and he thought 'here we go again' as he swung his arm around the offending limbs, pulling his attacker sharply and tearing the boy's shirt while bringing the other arm to slam against his opponent's throat and hooked his heel around an ankle, tugging and dropping them both to the mud.
Creating a new puddle with the force of their landing, Sousuke spun his body around to pull on an arm and wrap his leg around the enemy's throat, snapping the arm over his leg and rolling away. He sprung up and looked for the next person to face. He didn't want to, but it was pretty much a requirement. It was a risk, too. The opponent of whoever he attacked next could either help or turn on him. Quickly calculating the dynamics of the two pairs by him, he opted for the two to his left. The others had too perfect of a rhythm down, definitely having a chemistry to work well as teammates and would turn against him. Just as his newly chosen opponent went to lunge at the other boy, Sousuke came up behind him, yanking him by the shoulder and shoving his leg to the front, balancing the older boy's weight over his hip and tossing him to the ground.
Unfortunately for that boy there had been a rock hiding in the mud, and his skull made a sickening crack on impact. Circling away from the fallen, Sousuke warily eyed the new boy while some of the instructors muscled through the mess to get a hold of the injured. They had a choice now due to the way Sousuke had come to face him. They could join together and team up on other pairs, or they could face each other and go on as usual. Sizing each other up, they came to a silent agreement, both darting to take care of that other pair Sousuke had been looking at.
Thanks to the mud, Sousuke's new partner was much slower at getting to them, and he found himself facing down the two boys alone. Falling to the ground in a ball of flailing limbs, the three tangled together in a mess. It worked to Sousuke's advantage though, as a misplaced elbow caught a friend in the eye, and he managed to squirm out of the mess, about to jump right back in with a clearer view when the halt was called. Sore and tired, no one could really help the fact that they trudged into a line rather than snapped to it. This was the most grueling day they'd experienced so far, and even all the training they had over the past eight months hadn't prepared them quite enough.
And the day wasn't over yet.
They were forced to run over to another of the training yards, this one set up with various targets. Some were clipped and left to hang in the wind and flutter about, all of them at varying distances and angles. Over torn and soiled clothing they were made to put on their tactical vests, loaded down with so much that the things couldn't have weighed less than fifteen pounds, perhaps even upwards of twenty. No one complained, though they all wanted to. This was the first time they were going to be made to run that particular course in such terrible weather. New things were bad. New things meant screwing up. Screwing up meant punishment.
They stood in their line, grimly staring down the course, running over what they knew of the terrain in their minds. Expression set in determination, Sousuke narrowed his gaze, examining the turf. It stood to reason that if the packed ground of their melee grounds had suffered as badly as it did in the rain, then the less-pounded ground of the ranged course must be a mire. One by one the boys were called to make their way as quick as possible over the course, and they were all made to turn the other way so that they could not view the mistakes one might make. When it was his turn, Sousuke stiffly rose to his feet and drew his pistol from its holster. Some of the boys preferred rifles or sub-machine guns. He preferred his pistol. He had a hard time finding a comfortable grip on a rifle, and SMGs tended to get away from him, though he had not tried since gaining a considerable amount of muscle mass.
His hands were a tad on the small side, but bracing with his left hand and firing with his right he had found a rhythm that worked for him. Taking note of the shades of the mud and where footprints had managed to leave marks that did not get washed away, he dashed through the course. His aim was not particularly great, but he hit the marks almost every time at least, and with a speed to ensure that he would not be the one to get shot first. Finishing up, he grimaced at his time when it was called. Although he had the rain to thank for it, he had not gotten such a terrible time since his first month.
Despite the poor time, he was awarded with a good score and was allowed to go inside to clean up before reporting to the mess for his meal. He took off at a run, despite his exhaustion, feeling cheered by the idea that he would not be covered in muck when eating for once that month. Passing by the other boys that had finished, he noticed they gave him rather dirty scowls and made a note to be extra cautious. He always was, to an extent, but a little extra paranoia would be warranted given their expressions.
Sousuke kept running until he got to the showers, peeling off the clothes that were practically a second skin at that point, twisting the knob to get a blast of hot water. It burned his skin but felt so wonderful, almost touching the bone-deep chill that had seeped into his body over the course of the miserable day. He scrubbed himself down, but it would take far more than just one shower to fully remove the grime and grit from his skin. Still though, he was several shades lighter after cleaning off, and the darkening of his skin from near two years ago wasn't solely from the layers of dust he had accumulated. Spending almost all of his time in the sun, the only reprieve he ever got really was days like today and his nights.
Turning the water off, he toweled down and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the stacks of pre-sized clothing set up for them. He had switched to the next size up that week, and while all the other boys had some measured growth since they were there as well, at least he now was not in the smallest available uniforms. Stepping out of the showers, he stopped short, dodging back through the door when he caught the flash of movement that should not have been there. Reaching for the knife that never left his side, he held his breath so he could hear everything. The scratch of movement on the opposite side of the wall he was pressed against was all the impetus he needed.
Snaking through the door, low to the ground, he reached out for the person he knew was there and yanked them to set the blade against their throat. When the person he pulled squeaked he took the time to take closer notice. Long blonde hair clear of the damage of poor hygiene and sun, smelling oddly of flowers, and the skin his hand pressed against was soft, not tight and rough. Sighing, he released her, "Dimah."
She shivered, watching him carefully as he sheathed the knife, holding her hands under her chin in uncertainty, her eyes wide with tears threatening to spill. He shook his head, trying not to let it affect him like it always did. She was always crying. Since they had met in the infirmary four months prior they had seen each other several times. Anytime he wound up there she always seemed to show up. He assumed it had something to do with Afanasiy, but he really had no idea why the man bothered. The girl always seemed to be miserable, and he couldn't possibly understand why he had to be made to sit through her tears.
"Sousuke," her voice was tiny, and he looked at her sharply. She hardly ever spoke, really, whenever they saw each other they might say each other's names, but otherwise they were quiet. For some reason though the girl liked to be close to him and would sometimes crawl into his cot in the infirmary. Usually she reached out to him. Right now though, she was recoiling, and it looked to be from more than just the fact he'd held a knife to her moments earlier. No, he could see from her expression that she was over that. She had surprised him before and knew that he meant her no harm. Something else was keeping her away from him.
Looking at the bruises on her cheeks and the blood seeping through her shirt, he shook his head slightly and reached his hand out to her. "Let's go see Afanasiy."
"No!" it was an exclamation, but even so it wasn't loud. There was a fierce tone of objection in her voice, but it seemed she couldn't put much strength behind the word. Taking a closer look, he noticed her neck was bruised and realized that must be why.
Uncomfortable, he shifted his stance, looking up at the ceiling. He was no good with people, and he hardly ever traded words with the boys he trained with. Really the most conversation he got was in his language classes. He'd gotten caught up in Russian and, along with the others, spent three hours first thing in the morning eating their breakfast while learning English and Farsi. For him and the others about his age the languages were easy, and they were far ahead of the rest, often able to spend the morning conversing in a jumbled mess of the languages.
Dropping his head, he stared at the floor, frowning, and then shifted his gaze back to her. She was looking at him expectantly, but what it was that she wanted he had no clue. When he spoke his voice was strained with the effort of forcing even a hint of concern into his tone, "What, then? You look badly injured, you should be treated." The words were harsh, but they were all he had. Comfort, soothing, kindness, these were things that were foreign to him, a hazy memory best left forgotten. She made him want to learn them again, but that was dangerous, and he had no use for them outside of the times he spent with her.
She wavered where she stood, listing to the side with an empty expression. Lifting his arms, he stepped forward to catch her but she righted herself as he reached her, looking up at him with a tinge of fear. "No. No doctor. No… touching. It hurts."
"Of course it hurts. You're injured. That's why you nee-."
"No. I can't. Being touched. It hurts. I can't. Not… Not an adult," that was the most he'd ever heard her speak before, and her voice was hoarse from more than just the choking. The words confused him, and he cocked his head to the side curiously.
With a sigh, he pushed for more, since she did not seem to be forthcoming with explanations and he hated confusion, "Why not an adult? And if that's the problem, we can still see Afanasiy, and he can instruct me."
She shuffled her feet, staring straight down, her head bowed so far that she was losing her balance and swaying again. Finally she stopped, anchoring herself to the ground, and nodded softly, "Just… Don't let him hurt me?"
Turning her head up, she looked at him, her usually wide eyes were half-closed and dim with despair. He did not have the appropriate words or any idea what he should do. So he turned away, staring at the wall as his mind raced. He just didn't get it, get her, not one bit. And he hated the fact that she stirred up emotions in him. Things were so much simpler when he didn't feel, when he didn't need to think of anything more complicated than how to break someone's neck or keep his footing on a slippery track. And why was she looking at him like that? She looked… Dead. She looked dead, and she looked at him with a glimmer of hope, and when she asked that so pleadingly… Why did she trust him so? Yet no one else?
"Why would Afanasiy hurt you?"
She flinched, her hands digging into her skirts, fisting them tightly as she shook. "He's a man."
"So am I."
"You're a boy."
He frowned but he wasn't about to dispute it. Whatever difference it was she saw, it made him trustworthy to her where no one else was. Shrugging it off, he turned in the direction of the infirmary, looking over his shoulder, "All right. Let's go."
Trembling, she reached her hand out to him, wrapping her other arm around her waist defensively. Nodding slightly, Sousuke took the hand and started walking, nearly tugging her down the hallways as she stumbled along behind him. He knocked on the door before tugging the door open regardless as the trainers all seemed to do. Stepping in with the girl, he turned to close the door and lead her over to one of the cots while Afanasiy jumped out of his chair with a clatter at the sight of the two coming in unaccompanied.
Sitting her down, Sousuke motioned to the cart of tools before meeting the man's shocked gaze. "She's hurt and she wants me to treat her. I'll need your guidance."
Bringing over the cart while shaking his head, the man protested, "I can't let you do that, you could-."
"Doesn't matter. She won't let you. So either you help me, or I just try to remember all the things you've done when fixing me up and probably make things worse," there was a hard glint to his eyes, and his voice left no room for argument. Afanasiy stared down at him, looking at him for several long moments before his shoulders slumped and he sighed, giving in. "Good. This will go better then," turning back to Dimah he gestured at her shirt, "There's blood soaking through. Take it off."
Eyeing the doctor warily, she hesitated, her body near frozen with fear. Exasperated, Sousuke barely resisted the odd urge to stamp his foot on the ground or bash his fist into something. "You came to me for help. You asked me to protect you. I told you yes to both. Either you trust me or you don't. Pick one!" He was getting angry and it rather showed. The timid girl shrank away from him, gathering up the blankets to hold in front of herself as a shield. Afanasiy rested a hand on Sousuke's shoulder, shaking his head softly. Frowning, he looked at the man, then to Dimah, then back up. "I don't understand."
"She's afraid and you just yelled at her. You need to be kind," he explained gently.
"But I am being kind," what he had done for the girl up to this point was far more than any of the other boys would have done. He really did not see where he was going wrong with things, but he was admittedly way out of his depth. Slipping his hand behind his back, he grasped the hilt of the blade kept there, the feel of his favored tool comforting him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Afanasiy looked upwards for a moment as he thought of how he might explain things before turning back to the young boy. "You can't raise your voice, that's being rough. You need to be soft, gentle."
"I've no use for softness," was the derisive retort.
With a sigh, Afanasiy patted his shoulder once more before turning to the cart, "Maybe not out there. But your life will be pretty miserable and lonely if you abandon it entirely."
Snorting in response, Sousuke shrugged, "My life is out there." He said it so matter-of-factly that the doctor's heart near broke. A six year old boy had resigned himself to a life of blood and death without a single sign of regret or remorse. The idea of a 'normal' life seemed to be far-fetched to him. No, in fact, what Afanasiy considered a normal life was just fantasy to the boy, something tales might be told of but did not truly exist. His day to day of learning to fight, learning to kill, having his bones broken and breaking the bones of others, that was what real life was.
"Maybe now it is. But later you might find something that makes you want more out of your life than this burden of fate you've been handed."
Sousuke mulled over the words quietly, watching as Dimah timidly removed her shirt and then covered up with the sheet. Deciding he could think more on it later, he looked up at the tools, watching Afanasiy prepare everything, sanitizing them and laying them out, "Why don't you go wash your hands, to the elbow, mind."
Bowing to the man's experience, Sousuke made his way to the sink his cups of water always came from when he woke up in a drugged haze, scrubbing his arms down and then returning. Plastic gloves were slipped over his hands and a needle was threaded for providing stitches. Hooking his foot in a chair so he could pull it over to the bedside, he sat down beside Dimah and nodded to the sheet. "Pull it down so I can see your injuries."
The girl shifted uncomfortably until the sheet pooled in her lap, crossing her arms over her chest and keeping a cautious watch on Afanasiy. He was walked through the care of her injuries, grimacing the whole while. This made no sense to him. The violence they committed on each other and that was dealt onto them by the trainers served a purpose. But this girl was no combatant and yet she had suffered at their hands. She was incredibly timid, shy, and soft-spoken, and there was no way that she could have acted out and done something to earn a punishment. For the first time in his life, he felt the cold wash of anger calming him. It did not blind him, instead letting him see things in a sharper light. It was as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice over his head and awakened his senses.
This was cruelty, plain and simple. Inflicting these injuries served no purpose other than to delight the person who had done it. If he ever found out just which of the trainers it was… Well, he would find out just how good their training was by practicing his assassination skills out on them. How fitting, the training he received at their hands being their downfall.
He patched up a bruised and split cheek and lip. He stitched slices that had been carved into her skin with a precise hand and thin knife; frowning at every single inch he sewed shut. From the tips of her collarbones to the curve of her elbow were slashes. Tracing the sharp angles of her shoulder blades were slashes. Across the line that would be the underside of her breasts when she was older were slashes. From the bottom dip of her belly button to…
Afanasiy turned from the gruesome sight of the brutalization that had been done to the girl. Swallowing thickly, Sousuke stared in horror, the only sound in the room that of the doctor's retching. He was far too young to understand it, but understand it he did. The terrible things that had been done to her were the same that were done to the boys of Nozh that particularly offended a trainer.
Those boys often did not live long after.
Trying to reign in his budding temper, Sousuke looked up to Dimah, reading her expression. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a trail of tears burning their way down her cheeks, her face bright red. He curled his fists up on his knees, his entire body rigid, livid with rage. In a voice tight with emotion and an undercurrent of murderous intent, Sousuke asked, "Who did this to you?"
"Lutrova," she murmured weakly. Of course, she had no concept that saying his name might be bad. The man was so sure of his position as top dog that he had no reason to believe that anyone could threaten him. That would change though. Sousuke had already made a promise to that man that he would kill him with the skills he learned. Now he had further reason to follow through with the threat, and to do so in a timelier manner than he had originally intended.
After convincing her that she would be safe if he left her there with Afanasiy, in no small part thanks to the help of some heavy sedatives, Sousuke left the room, his body tense with unreleased rage. He had no idea that he could feel so angry over something, the purely human emotion wreaked havoc on his system. He had been made numb out of necessity so long ago, to his young mind, and having to deal with such a raw sensation was difficult.
He got to the mess hall late, and rather than being allowed to go get his food, he was instead grabbed by the scruff of his neck, tugged away by a hand fisted in the short strands of hair there. There was no fear though, no apprehension. Oddly enough, he felt calm again. Dragged into a room of cold concrete, he was thrust into a wooden chair that had been splintered from rough treatment, the thing toppling him over onto the ground with a snap and a thud. They hoisted the chair back up and bound his hands to it before being ordered out of the room. Even then, even knowing what was coming, he was calm.
Left alone with Lutrova now, the course he'd set himself was clear before him. The man had a sickening glint in his eyes and a wicked grin baring his teeth, a knife held in his hand almost lovingly. Sitting up in the chair, he met the man's gaze defiantly; his anger and hatred for the sick bastard instilled an intent tranquility within him. It was a predator's notion that filled him, and all of his senses sharpened with the thrill of a kill imminent. He would not be the one brought of the room tossed carelessly over someone's shoulder or in a body bag.
The jacket and shirt to his uniform were pulled away, though not off as his bound hands prevented that much, and he could feel the cold bite of the blade digging into his flesh deeply, nearly scraping against his collarbone with its depth as it traced the ridge smoothly. Sousuke did not so much as twitch. He would be feeling it later, that much he knew, but for now he had adrenaline singing in his veins and clouding out the pain. He would bear it, for the moment. This was what Lutrova had put Dimah through, after all. Gaining a better understanding of what that girl had been made to suffer just sent another surge of wrath through him.
The perverse look of pleasure on the man's face was all Sousuke needed to see to know he could make his move. The fools had not bound his feet and he kicked up, slamming his foot into Lutrova's elbow, shoving the arm up and away as well as doing some considerable damage to the joint. The action slammed the chair back as well, and he made the fall as heavy as he could. The wind was knocked out of him, but the chair broke apart and he slipped his bound hands to the front, springing forward at the man in a daze to disarm him, using the knife to cut the ropes binding his wrists and then flipped it to an underhanded style in his off-hand, his main-hand set to stabilize his actions. Now he was grateful for being worked to the breaking point and the time he spent working through exhaustion-blurred vision paid off in that moment, giving him the ability to make sense of the distorted shapes he could barely see after his impact to the ground.
Taking in a deep breath, Sousuke darted at Lutrova who was shouting for people to get into the room. He sliced the man's stomach, spinning low when his hand was knocked away and the blade swatted from his grasp. Hooking his heel under the calf muscle and sharply kicking up and back, he threw his enemy's balance off enough that he could reach up and fist the shoulders of his uniform, twisting around and tossing the man to the ground over his hip. Still holding the clothes, he crossed his fists and pushed down, choking the large man while moving to brace his knee along the soft flesh at the shoulder joint. He knew he could not over-power the man for long and he had to act on the surprise. Reaching behind him, he drew out his own knife and with one clean slash he had Lutrova's throat sliced open, blood spraying up into his face with a hiss.
Calmly standing to his feet, he sheathed the short blade as men finally responded the noise, rushing through the door with rifles at the ready. Seeing the boy there, blood dripping down his face and their commander in death throes on the floor, they were at a loss. Usually in the situation it would be clear, but considering what the boys were there to learn, the fact that this one had taken out one of theirs, and so quickly, they had to assume that the higher-ups that managed the facility would not want such talent wasted. They kept their sights on him though, and he just shrugged, looking at them with eyes devoid of emotion now that his revenge was complete and his anger released.
"He was the one I wanted to kill. But I warn you, if you try to kill me for it, I won't spare any of you." The words were bold, but at that moment he felt like he could follow through with it. Not just because of the pride he had at killing Lutrova. No, this was something different. He had found his rhythm. It had been slowly developing when he was out in the wilderness, but training had thrown him out of it as he had not been in the truly life-or-death situations since. The combination of that training, though, and the throw back to live-or-die, and everything had clicked together. He could see it clearly before him, the path he would take if it came to it. That man had an uneasy stance, that one a loose grip on his rifle, another one looked as though he was happy the bastard was dead and was likely celebrating in his mind, he saw it all. All the weaknesses were spread before him in an instant and he knew how to manipulate them to his advantage.
Finally, one of them lowered the muzzle of his gun and raised his hand to indicate the others do the same. Frowning, he nodded to the boy. "You're quite talented. We'll send this info up the lines and see what they want to do. For now, so long as you mean what you say, you can go on as normal. If you do try to kill any of us though…," and he left the threat hanging with a tap of his AK-74.
Sousuke nodded, walking towards them, feeling satisfied when they shifted uncomfortably, tightening their holds on their weapons. "As I said, he was the one. But just a warning, if any of you touch that girl like he did, I'll kill you too." He walked out of the room with an air of superiority, feeling completely confident in having the upper hand on them. They mulled his words over in confusion while he made his way back to the mess hall again. He was left alone as he grabbed food for himself, and he finished the meal quickly before going to take another shower. There would be only cold water left by now, but that was all right with him. Standing under the freezing spray, he hardly spared any wonder for the change. It was a sudden click, the moment he had seen his opening and seized it, and he felt like he was truly himself now.
He was a fighter. He was a killer. And he was good. Despite the bone-weary exhaustion from the day his body had moved exactly as he wanted it to. Everything had happened as he had imagined it would, playing scenario after scenario over in his head and taking the course best suited for victory. This was the real him. This was how his existence would be. He did not enjoy taking life, but he was comfortable with it. It was a fact of nature. Toweling off and changing once again, he made his way to the barracks, rolling onto his cot with his knife in hand and falling into a relaxed sleep of awareness. It was the best night of sleep he had gotten since his arrival at Nozh. His new-found rhythm allowed him to sleep comfortably while maintaining consciousness of his surroundings. No one could sneak up on him and he could get his rest.
Yes, he was there now. He was where he needed to be. Everything made clear sense now.
He was truly a predator now.
AN: How I got this chapter so fast, I don't know. I expected it to be far more painful than it turned out to be. Now, as to the fighting sequences...
I watched some videos on Sambo to get an idea on what I would be working with, and as someone who has practiced karate, jujitsu, and ukemi rather extensively, I took what I know and blended it with what I saw. Sambo very much resembles the style of fighting I particularly am fond of and excel at, and is really just even more brutal than the style I love, so I do feel rather confident in the moves used here being appropriate. As someone who is on the small side, I wrote Sousuke's fighting the way that I would personally fight in those situations, taking into account the height differences. If for any reason any of the techniques I attempted to describe seem somehow impossible or otherwise wrong, I would be more than happy to discuss with anyone their ideas behind it and where I'm coming from on it. (As you can probably guess from this rather annoyingly long note, it's a bit of a passion of mine, and I welcome all discussion on the matter.)