Moan, whinge, cry, woe is me, something, something, excuse. You heard them all before, this is not my blog.

Here's a chapter and I better shut up before I can't live up to my next month's homework.

Her head pounded like cannons mid-siege, throbbing pain travelled down her spine, she felt grime and cold sweat on her brow. She opened her sticky eyes with effort but it was pitch black anyway. Her body was heavy, stiff. A callback, one she was none too pleased with. She forced herself to sit upright, throwing back hair away from her face. Her mouth was dry as sandpaper as it moved numbly without a word of command, hunger plagued her too. She scrunched her face as an empty stomach gave its growl. With some luck, she would get a bite to eat soon. V hadn't remembered falling asleep at all, or why the dusty embrace of a stolen school desk was inviting in the first place.

V regained enough strength to stand up, walking shakily over towards the doors, she clumsily searched for a manual release on the doors. And with a rusty wheeze, she pulled the latch. Finally, light streamed through the corridor that she stepped into, carefully closing the door behind her. Anatoly was sitting in the middle of the room hung over a pile of woodchips, bobbing his head up and down whilst brandishing a knife with which he used to carve into a small wooden log. He hadn't heard her, likely listening to his music again. V walked lazily forward hanging to the wall just in case. The room was warmed up, so she slipped out of her jacket and winter trousers, depositing them onto the nearby bed. She still had that damn grey jumpsuit on underneath, lacking any real clothing choice.

"Mornin'." V called out with an odd tone, looking over his shoulder.

He looked up from his work with disinterest. "Hmmm?"

V smiled at him, observing a carved-out U shape in the log.

Anatoly looked her up and down curiously, smirking.

"What?" V asked, annoyed by his look, crossing her arms. Suddenly she was very much body conscious. V pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Slept well?" Anatoly questioned as he began to carve away the rest of the log.

V shrugged. "Well enough, I guess..." she trailed off.

"Kha, you overslept! All you do is sleep!"

"It's the only part of the day I don't contemplate."

"Contemplate what?"

"Just about everything." She said flatly. "Never mind me, what're you up to?"

"Peeling potatoes, what does it look like?" He jokingly gestured to the pile in front of him.

Anatoly sliced a piece of bark at one of the edges. "I'm trying to kill some time, so I took the opportunity to practice woodworking."

"Oh. Any reason?"

"No, no. Happened near a village once, saw this old grandad with a collection of handmade wooden toys... well, let's say I had a shower thought." He paused in his work for a moment. "Had fun?"

"Not my idea of fun. But I did find some detes here and there."

"Huh, right- detes..."

"Details. Streetslang."

Anatoly smacked his lips, scoffing. "Why is it Americans have a need to butcher their own language?" Anatoly then cut into another section of the log. "Depressing."

V was slightly amused, at the quirks of this man, running along with wanted partisans didn't align at all in her eyes. She wondered, wiping her brow once more, it was incredibly greasy and no wonder, she hadn't had a shower since forever.

"Speaking off, do you have a shower around here?" She asked offhandedly whilst he continued cutting away on the log.

"There's one back there," He replied without looking up from what he was doing, he waved an arm vaguely towards the back room. "Middle door, right side, unlocked. Won't be warm though."

"Not an issue." V got up out of her seat. "Oh, and uh, d'you also have some spare threads? Clothes, I meant."

Anatoly glanced at her, "We have threads, rags, all sorts of... toggery." He placed his log down and walked past her to the corner, where a few stacked cardboard boxes lay. "Think some of these might be your size, I'll leave them by the door." He began unpacking the one at the top.

"Okay, thanks."

He rummaged around, throwing out old and ripped-up clothes on the floor, humming all the while. "Don't mention it, come upstairs when you finish."

V skipped over to the shower door and entered the dank room, she felt up the light switch. A single loose lightbulb was plugged into the outlet above, filling most of the room with a dim glow. There was a fairly clean towel on a wooden drying rack next to a pile of blue-white striped shirts. The walls were mostly made of concrete peeking out from behind now loose wooden planks, and a nice, comfortable bathmat protected her feet from the cold. On the side wall, a cracked mirror propped by bathroom tiles finally allowed her to see herself. Whilst it definitely was not her flesh, whoever it was could've made a convincing body double. V approached the mirror, to inspect her face closer. The differences were immediately obvious, her skin was obviously paler for one and she now had pale blue eyes to match. Her nose was thinner, freckles sorely lacking, her chin a tad bit more pronounced. She ran a hand through her hair, combing it to one side, the way she used to. She didn't know if it was appropriate to cry or laugh, perhaps both, maybe neither, all V did know. She had a second chance to make it right. But first things, baby steps.

The shower was obviously 'military grade', open space and a single shower head, well a single one that hadn't fallen off from its rusty water pipe. It had a simple knob, warm and cold, but as said the former would be a miracle. V looked around for a shampoo, and it was too much of an ask. All she found was a bar of chemically smelling soap, the lack of even basic amenities in this lousy excuse of a 'headquarters' got on her nerves. No matter, beggars can't be choosers.

Anatoly knew not how Lev took to his job, standing behind a counter all day, all night, all month, all year long. Living out a burnt-out dream like some PTSD-ridden war hero. Here he was though, serving up refreshing drinks (alcohol) to poor downtrodden citizens of the inglorious Soviet Union. Propagating what Anatoly hated. Servile, utterly rampant alcoholism, your daily dose of crippling depression poured neatly into a shot glass. Drink up and forget the last day that you did something productive. No, it's no use getting into arguments over this again, Lev had his barman fantasies and wouldn't take any 'puritan bullshit' Anatoly spew. Oblivious to the bigger picture and the reality they found themselves in. The whole bloody country, drinking itself to death.

"Up and early?" He asked innocently, sitting on the stool, playing around with his black-steel knife, considering giving it to V as a keepsake.

Lev didn't even so much as flinch when he walked in, he was in the corner of his little bar set-up, head just about popping over the counter nose-deep in a book. 'We' some 1920s dystopia novel, a work of samizdat, now and back when. Funny how that worked. Why he took interest in a genre he was presently living was beyond Anatoly. Maybe he liked to compare notes? Looking for a way out?

"You're... late. It's half past eight."

Anatoly wrinkled his nose before retorting. "Yes, well yesterday was a misconception exception, not the rule... reading any good?"

"No better than the last one."

"And that's supposed to mean?" Anatoly lifted an eyebrow at him.

Lev folded the book, slowly looking into his eyes, a proud smirk on his face. "How's our guest?"

"Over-rested. Steamy. Grimy. Most importantly I think she's reasonable, we can make a deal. Perhaps even turn over a loss, into a win?"

Lev got up, stored his book away and took it to the sink with unwashed drinking glasses. He turned the tap, scoffing loudly. "About our loss - I want the full picture."

"There really isn't much to say. I was going through with my routine, as with anyone. Suddenly, she pops up in my flat, without warning. Right there and then it should've rankled me something fierce, but I calmed myself down and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Never would've thought someone would be so irresponsible as to lead hitmen to my front door. But, there you go. Shows what I know."

Lev turned to Anatoly with weary eyes, "Tolya, Tolya. No need to remind me. Vera was a risk worth taking either way. We still have the memory machine thing, right?"

"Last I checked it's in its safe spot, blazed the building, don't bother asking about those supplies," Anatoly answered with a dry tone.

"I won't."

Lev turned the tap off, taking back his seat and reopening where he left off.

"Fun fact, we ran into those... shields... argh the name escaped me!"

"Kinetic barriers."

Anatoly snapped his fingers, "Yes, those! Um, any new intel on where the hell Altercourse got them? Last I checked only the bigshots can field those in any useful capacity."

Lev shook his head and sighed. "Beats me, all I know is we don't have them, and are two steps behind each time I inquire. And our lineup is just about every other oblast before us."

"Oh, come on now," Anatoly said with a sarcastic laugh. "We steal what we don't have, get what we don't need!"

"Hah! Funny that. Vasiliy had a point! But we all mocked him for it."

Anatoly waved his hand, "Pftt, ancient history, now we know better!"

"Now that, I'm not sure about."

Anatoly leaned over the counter, "Ever the downer? It wears thin."

Lev raised his eyes up from his book, "My attitude rubbed off on just about everyone... shows what you know."

And there they were, a passive-aggressive aura that looked like it could never be rubbed off, unlike Lev's admittedly infectious pessimism. Anatoly blamed the damn books. "I still want that report-"

"Yeah, yeah..." Anatoly groaned. "No one reads them anyway." He muttered.

Anatoly perked up, as he heard the back door swing open, rescuing him from more dreary small talk with a clear-cut cynic. He knew this was V by her fragrance of the cheap as-dirt soap Lev used. She had donned Lev's heat-padded leather parka and polymer mesh pants, the size was surprisingly a tight fit. His once beloved biker gear. Lev commended V's wear and scowled at his friend. To which Anatoly responded.

"Well, you weren't using it. Were you?"

Lev seemingly turned apathetic and continued reading his book, pretending to be uninterested.

Anatoly then took V out for a lazy walk around the thick snowy forest. He couldn't point out if she enjoyed the walk or his company but without another word she joined him. They walked in mutual silence with the sound of crunching footsteps beneath their feet echoing in the empty trees. The light wind played along with them, whistling through birch branches. A few chirping birds flew overhead. They passed over a trickling streamlet leading into the wider river flowing below them. Anatoly paused along the river bank, with V next to him.

"So tell me something," V said quietly, her eyes cast downwards into the river.

"Yeah?"

She glanced up at him before looking back down. "Lev. He's the boss right?"

"On paper."

"Meanin'?"

"It was me who used to run things... then I got bored and opted for fieldwork. Lev sat behind the wheel." Anatoly spoke plainly as he stared at the snowflakes melting on his coat. "We all know what needs doing, he just plans and relays any spooky information that we might need to know."

V let her head fall back and sigh, a breath of mist coming from her mouth. "It's just that - I... never mind. What happens now?"

"Normally as said, you'd go into hiding. Just so happens you have a taste for violence and experience, both of which we need. Had a think while in bed, and my proposition is this. You help us with a hitjob, I've wanted to do since coming here. But before that, we'll provide some basic combat implants, only if you want. Afterwards, Kusma is going back to Alaska, and you can hitch a ride. Matter of fact, that could be where our relationship ends. We can let you go. However, the issue is my dear American. Altercourse has specially trained retrieval teams, you met them once already, next time they'll be prepared. Unlike those amateurs. Now, sorry to say, you won't last long under interrogation... Need I say more?"

Anatoly crossed his arms and waited for her response. She turned away from him and stared out at the winter scene and made no attempt to answer.

He sighed, "I'm not trying to take advantage of you, but it'd be best if you joined us. Otherwise, I can't guarantee you that ride."

V snapped around to face Anatoly again. "Can handle myself."

Anatoly chuckled heartily. "No doubt, but do you even want to risk going back into la la land? You don't get second chances, at least not without our help."

"Sorry. Not my fight. What do I care for 'the people', look like a commie to you?"

"Commie? Look - I'm being as cordial as I can be, V. Sborka won't gamble with a stranger, but a member?"

"I ran solo, long before being a merc. Worked for Arasaka and took on Arasaka, more than a dozen of other corpo fuckers."

"Well, nearly eighty years ago, with gear, contacts, familiar environments. Besides, look where picking fights with Arasaka got you. I'm telling you V, it'd be best if you stick around with us a while."

V stood staring off towards the frozen forest ahead of them. The rising sun, hidden by clouds; shone a grey ominous glow through the trees. She had no arguments against the tactical side, Anatoly knew this. There was a different reason for drawing her back to her 'homeland', certainly wasn't patriotic. Aside from the year, people always wanted to know who or what they left behind, persists. The longest documented stay - before V - was 15 years, one of the very first inmates Altercouse had incarcerated. Nowadays most people weren't born or are old enough to remember a time before 2077, yet this is what he had to work with. A literal woman frozen in time. There was too much to explain, so much to cover and ironically, never enough time.

"Saburo..." V growled.

Anatoly waited for a follow-up... instead, silence followed. "What about Saburo? The head of Arasaka, right?"

"That old cunt still alive?!" V asked with sudden vigour.

"Yeah, last I checked... aren't we getting off track?"

V paused briefly as she glanced at him with a blank expression on her face before sighing loudly and leaning back on a tree trunk. She touched her temple and then closed her eyes. "Never mind him."

Anatoly laughed nervously. "Hey, I didn't mention nobody..."

She looked up at the sky through a few bare branches of the birch trees surrounding them. Then slowly opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Anatoly, a bit impatient. started walking back towards Lev's hovel, snow crunching beneath his footsteps. V, still not following. He stopped dead in his tracks, close enough to be in earshot. He couldn't help himself from wondering if V had gone catatonic again. Just another odd tidbit, a tick to add into V's persona. He could understand her cautiousness but not the - stubborn stance towards her future. "Listen, you want freedom? No hand-holding? Cross that river, disappear. I won't come after you, spin some bullshit to Lev too."

V appeared to consider this and let out a slow deep breath gazing ahead.

"Need time to think through your trip to the States? Take the whole day off. Tell me your idea once you're back. Either way I tire of our back and forth."

Anatoly resumed his march, raising his voice. "Or if your mind is set, get over yourself. Though nothing is for free! Not even in our little socialist utopia."

She'll come around. Anatoly assured himself.

He picked up a walking stick along the way. This is how it always is with women; never like being told what to do, be it in their best interest or not. His mind wandered to Vera, another comrade lost too soon, too stupidly. Nevertheless, he was inexperienced once, he really shouldn't hold a grudge against her. The dead don't care anyway, that's why funerals are for the living. The awful pyre Vera had, good enough for philistines! Her soul would not be at peace and deserved so, the brave deserve so.

Sborka didn't keep records of the dead, why would it make monuments?

He rubbed his neck, throwing out some snow that had fallen in. He heaved, getting his leg stuck in a ditch up on the way back. It had snowed heavily during the night, and not only that, proper winter had come along. It was easy tracing back their footprints in the deep snow, nobody else ventured out here, no reason to.

A little shrine, maybe. A cemetery in solitude. Yes, that would do!

It wasn't much further now and despite the occasional glance, V was nowhere to be seen.

It was a guttural laugh, of two mutual acquaintances which had lured him back down below. Kusma was back, he could hear the banter from a mile away. They were reminiscing about that one drunk night they had, after their successful sinking of the Amur patrol cruiser. The last warship of Petropavlovsk. A lot more cheerful, and less jaded than they were back then. It was their naive belief, by that time the government would be soon overthrown, the signs were there. As time passed, cruel reality settled in, and there would be no easy way out. It would not be some sort of romanticized adventure as pictured. Instead, a malaise-inducing campaign of attrition followed. Slowly but surely their numbers dwindled before a different approach was taken.

Anatoly climbed down the stairs, to meet up with his fellow intrepid musketeers. Just before greeting Kusma who sat with his back to him, he eyed the crossed out nameplates on the beds. Thinking that this place made a good enough burial ground already.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our light-footed hillbilly." Anatoly teased when he finally spoke out to the young man.

Kusma snorted back at him. "Don't make me get my rusty axe, old timer." He turned around, and they embraced each other shortly.

"Kha! Oldtimer... unfair, you haven't aged one bit!"

Kusma was shorter than his peers, with a unusually tidy dirt blond hairstyle and an kempt beard he refused to shave since he was 20. His hazel eyes that matched the healed medical scar on his right nape, at one time the reminder of how he narrowly escaped death. He couldn't resist touching and scratching the scar, a habit that betrayed his discomfort with it. Despite it being practically invisible (through great effort). Kusma reached the rank of Corporal in the army at the time of his joining, he had only turned 19. He was groomed for special services, as a 'commando' sniper in one of the GRU programs. During an escape, one such sniper grazed him, chipping a portion of his skull. Surgery was needed. At first, an entire metal plate to replace the bone, just to hold his head together. Took a while before he could replace the metal with synthetic substitutes. Never could hide that scar though, and it bothered him to no end.

"What's the commotion? Lev grilling you about something again?" Asked Kusma.

Lev sat on one of the bunk beds, flipping through a notepad, scribbling down a few words and every so often looking at his laptop.

"Bah! Not much has changed. Not here anyway." Said, Anatoly. "Except, for one new arrival."

"Really? Lev didn't mention this." Kusma turned to Lev, who shrugged his gaze away. "Who's he then?"

"It's a she. And fierce she at that, American! Maybe Mexican? She's from Night City, a former mercenary and get this... on ice since 2077. The names, V."

"V?"

"V. Wouldn't give me her real name, I've stuck to calling her Varvara in public, mostly."

Kusma gave him an incredulous look. "Now you got my attention. Didn't think Alter kept such artefacts."

"Neither did I, though it gets better. She doesn't recognise herself."

"Meaning?"

Anatoly sat down next to Kusma, avoiding the mess he made earlier. He hunched down over his carving and resumed where he left off.

"Her old body. It must've been disposed of... by Arasaka, they were the only ones with access to the tech were talking about back then. Vera had the neuro decoder we stole a while back."

"I recall." Said Kusma nodding. "Was it of any use?"

"The technical data was beyond me, ghoulas as Petrov used to say. Vera translated only a few segments for me. Most were garbage, but V's consciousness understood pretty quickly what changed. What's more bewildering is what Marta found shortly before severing contact. The host was a blank slate, there was no brain activity prior to V's transfer and any history was either wiped or corrupted. Another issue, V was not on the transport manifest we received. No trace, nothing. Now I'm willing to believe that was an oversight. But the mind wanders and wonders if V was a black passenger of sorts."

"Think somebody else meant for her to break out?"

"It's a similar tactic we use if need be. Risky, unless Altercourse happens to be transporting a big payload. Then again, this could just be a clerical error. Worker contracts are in the millions, this kind of happens more often than you think. Unless you use an AI."

"I was about to say that. Wouldn't an AI easily fix or find the error?"

Anatoly waggled his finger in a positive manner. "Were onto something!"

"Doesn't explain what an American convict from eighty years ago was doing on a contract ship to Kamchatka of all places."

"Not a convict, V must've signed up for the Secure Your Soul program. Tell you later. I plan to look further into this, I have to find the full route of the ship, and so on. I want to know more before I present this to V."

"She doesn't know?!"

"In due time, she will. I want her focused on other issues. Like for example Burak."

"Oh, that asshole?"

"Yes. That asshole."

Kusma fiddled with his sniper rifle now resting across his lap. "Name a place, name a time." He asked with a serious tone. Anatoly scoffed at him and then lit up a cigarette to hide his bemusement. He looked to Kusma. "You're on support role for V."

"That's my normal line of work anyway," Kusma responded nonchalantly. "I'm always game but does beg the question. Why?"

"V will be joining us. In exchange for a ride to the NUSA. Your ride."

"... That's unexpected." The young man turned to Lev who intently listen to them discuss, but he made no effort to participate. "Why is Lev the cell leader again?"

"Heh, listen, V will cooperate. I place her as your squadmate, after Burak is dealt with, you do you. But her alongside, you'll keep watch during her tenure."

"If you trust her..." Kusma mumbled in agreement while nodding his head. "... She sounds like she can take care of herself though. You sure of this?"

"Once she gets her footing, she might be tempted to leave. Until then, Lev will sign her on as a member. We can always use another pair of hands! Oh and, I want to keep Vasiliy here post-Vladivostok."

"Again, why?"

"A little secret of mine. You could both stand to have a little faith in ol' Anatoly." He smiled mischievously at Lev. "Now let's go have some fun!"

Dispensing with the AN's. Have nothing on my mind for now or future.

Tovarishch Astronom - Voprosy / Questions