Chapter CV: Eventos Recurrentes

November 12, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/three months later

Esztergom (Ezhtergom), Viery Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridany System

"We fight for the lost."- Anonymous

"Stop tensing your arm," the tattooed chick told me. Her Hungarian accent was strong, but it gave her voice a sexy huskiness that I found very…well…sexy.

Yeah.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly before relaxing my left hand.

The tattoo artist went back to doing her thing and started jamming her needle gun into the bottom part of my forearm, about two inches above my wrist. She let her tongue out of her lips and bit it as she frowned in concentration. The stereotypical cute look didn't seem to go with the girl tattooing my arm. She had one arm entirely covered in an artistic design featuring roses and thorns while the other arm had an entire deck of cards flying from her wrist to her shoulder. If I looked to the side I could see that her chest was covered with a blood red winged heart.

Below the heart there was a scroll that proclaimed that she would fuck me up. I had stifled a laugh when I saw that the first time I walked into the tattoo parlor, but I had stopped laughing when I saw her pull out that huge needle gun.

When I told her what I wanted she suggested that I get a design that covered my whole right arm and part of my chest, but I had immediately declined, that's not what I had in mind. Next she proposed a crow on top of a skull on my back, but tattooing over my scars would've been tough, and the design was still way too big for my tastes.

"So what the hell do you want then?" she had asked in annoyance after I vetoed six different designs.

"That," I had said finally, pointing at a silhouette of a crow with its wings wide and its talons open, ready to grab on to something. It reminded me of one of those pictures taken of eagles about to snatch a lamb. Except with a crow. "That's what I had in mind when I came here."

She had given me a weird look before commanding me to sit in a special chair and to place my hand with the palm facing up so that she could work comfortably. She grabbed a stool and pulled it close to me. At first I had felt uncomfortable with the attractive woman sitting so close to me where I could get a decent look at her tattooed cleavage. Eventually I relaxed a little, allowing her to start jabbing a needle into my arm.

"You're tensing your arm again," she repeated in frustration.

"Sorry," I apologized again. "Not a big fan of needles."

"Then why you getting a tattoo for?" she asked me as she started inking me again.

"It's for a friend," I explained simply.

"You had a friend named Raven?"

"No, I had a friend named George."

"All right, I don't judge."

I chuckled at that. "No, no, it's not like that." I pulled back her hand gently and stretched my neck before reaching across my chest with my left hand and pulling up my sleeve, exposing my Helljumper tattoo. She looked at the HEV with a flaming skull right in the middle. Covering the bottom half of the pod was a thin scroll much like the one on her chest with the letters ODST inscribed on it, the entire tattoo was done in black ink.

She looked at it and I smiled a little at the sight of her eyes widening as she reassessed her opinion on me. After a couple of moments of examining the tattoo she looked at me. "You from the 105th?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"What battalion?"

"The nineteenth."

Her eyes widened further. "Do you know a Kristóf?" she asked me, her eyes hopeful.

"Kristóf?" I asked myself, thinking back to my days in boot camp. "Kristóf Tarkov?"

"Yes! That's the one!" she exclaimed, flailing her needle gun around and forcing me to push myself deeper into the chair to avoid getting a slashed face. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized profusely after calming herself down.

"How do you know him?" I asked her, curious.

"He's my cousin," she explained. "On my mother's side."

"Well then, nice to meet you," I told her, offering her my hand.

"Same, my name is Stefánia Fransizka Stark."

"Franziska?" I asked. "Huh. I'm Francisco. Castillo."

She shook my hand and smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. I cocked my head sideways while looking at her, she seemed to be about my age, perhaps a little younger. I didn't really see the resemblance to Tarkov, but that could be explained easily. I hadn't seen Kristóf Tarkov for almost ten whole years. The only thing that she seemed to have in common with him was the brown hair and the blue eyes.

There was a brief silence as we looked at one another before she grabbed my hand and started jabbing the needle into my forearm.

"What happened to him? Your friend?"

I sighed, I didn't want to talk about it, I still got nightmares occasionally. "It was a tough mission, he got hit. There was nothing we could do for him."

Stefánia nodded. "I understand." She looked back down at my arm and blotted out the last space of skin with black ink. "There, we're done. És kész."

"Whatever happened to Tarkov anyways? He was deployed on another ship with a squad full of Hungarian-speaking recruits."

She sighed sadly. "I don't know."

"Huh. Special assignments probably. If that's the case you won't be able to hear much from him. My friend," I pointed at my newly acquired tattoo, " had a pretty hard time contacting his family back on Earth, and we aren't even in Black Ops." I smiled. "At least not that often." After I said that I looked around suspiciously, as if to spot anyone that might be following me.

"You sure that's the case?" Stefánia asked after laughing softly. "You mean that he's not-" her voice cracked and she had to take two deep breaths.

"I'm sure," I said reassuringly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Still, if you want me to, I could dig around some, see where he's deployed."

"You'd do that for me?" she asked.

"Yes, you're my friend's cousin." And very pretty too.

"Thank you."

I stood up. "I take it you were close?"

"Yeah," she replied, smiling, her mind no doubt returning to those good times she certainly had in her childhood. "My mom had only one sister, she married his father. Both of us were only children, we had no choice but to get along with one another."

"Huh," I snorted. "Never had cousins myself. And I wish I didn't have a brother."

"Why?"

"That." I said. "That I don't want to talk about."

She shrugged.

"Anyways," I went on, changing topics. "When was the last you heard from Tarkov?"

"Two years ago," she replied. "He sent me this picture of himself and his squad." Stefánia produced a datapad from under the parlor's counter and showed me a high-res 3D photo. It showed Tarkov, barely recognizable along with five other ODSTs standing next to one another, smiling at the camera and looking happy. If the state of their armors was any indication, they were happy to have survived.

"What happened to him?" I asked her. "On his face."

"He said something about a spiker, wasn't very clear."

"Ahh," I said, evasive. If he didn't want to tell her, then I wasn't about to. "What's your cousin's story Stef? Can I call you Stef?"

"Sure. And it's a long, sad story."

I glanced at an imaginary watch. "I've got time, as long as you want to talk about it."

She smiled. "Very well. You see, my uncle, his father was in the military as well. An officer, I don't remember the rank. One day he was sent to fight the Eridanus rebels in some backwater system. His entire unit was ambushed and killed."

"I see," I nodded.

"That was before Kristóf was even born, so he never got to know his father, but having his dad be a war hero affected him somehow, he wanted to go out and kill baddies, he always said that when we played Innies versus Marines."

I chuckled, I had played that game with my friends back at school countless times. I wondered where my friends were nowadays.

"My dad, he was also a marine. A Helljumper to be precise. 19th battalion."

I started seeing where this was going.

"He was killed in action in Harvest back in thirty-one. One of the first engagements against the covvies."

I nodded, I had heard that Harvest had been five long years of hell.

"Kristóf tried joining the Helljumpers several times, he was denied entrance a couple of times before he finally managed to get into the 19th. From there… from there I don't know."

"That wasn't such a long story."

"It was the abridged version."

I gave her my best smile.

"The ink is still gonna cost you," she reminded me.

My smiled turned into laughter. "Of course, of course. No discounts?"

"Nope, you still have to pay what we agreed upon."

"Fine," I conceded. I pulled out my card and transferred the credit amount into her terminal. "So, how can I contact you?"

"Whoa, that's straightforward," Stef expressed, her arms open.

"I was talking about your cousin."

"Oh, right," she said. I was half-expecting her to blush after spending so much time with Cam and Hanna, both of whom had a surprising capability to turn purple at a moment's notice. She scribbled down some numbers and an address down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "Leave a message if I don't answer."

I nodded. "Very well, I guess that-"

My phone started ringing.

I reached into my left pocket, grazing my raw and sore skin against my shirt as I did so. I yelped in pain and pulled my hand back. I tried again with my right hand, pulling it across my stomach and trying to get it into my pocket. Unfortunately, I was wearing those stupid jeans that I had bought with Marina, and the pocket's position didn't allow me to grab my phone.

"Some help please?" I pleaded to Stef.

She rolled her eyes and walked around the counter before getting my phone from my pocket. She raised an eyebrow when she saw it. "A MacPhone? Really?"

I smiled as I grabbed the phone. I had bought it recently after seeing the recent wave of commercials featuring it. Some computer company had decided to launch a phone. They opted to use the design of some phone that their corporation had launched back in the early twenty-first century. The only difference was, of course, that this phone came equipped with all the latest technologies up to and including tactile full-color HD holograms, multi-planetary GPS, a high-end disease scanner, it would automatically call emergency if anything happened to its owner, it could play music in crystal clear surround, and of course, it had the quintessential web browsing.

They had launched it with several slogans, my favorite was: 'The elegance of the past, the power of the future.'

Not the best marketing, I know, but it had been so widespread that I had been brainwashed into buying one, replacing my older phone.

I swiped the answer bar. "Hola. ¿Quién habla?"

"Frank, it's me."

"¿Quién?"

"Enough man," Pavel insisted.

"Good to finally hear from you Pavs," I told him. "Been almost six months now. How's the legs?"

"I can walk and run just as well as before," he told me proudly. "I can't feel a couple of toes, but the doc says that I shouldn't worry about it too much."

"Who is that?" Stef interrupted. "Another war buddy?"

"Shh," I told her. "What? No, I'm just talking to-"

"Don't shush me!"

"Please, Stef," I said, putting my hand on the phone's speakers. "And yes, he's a war buddy."

"Did I call at a bad time?" Pavel asked.

"No, no," I said quickly, perhaps a little bit too quickly.

"Uh-huh." My friend obviously didn't believe me. "I take it you got promoted too?"

"Yes," I said proudly. "Gunnery Sergeant now."

"Staff for me," he replied just as proudly. My friend immediately changed his tone. "I heard about Scarecrow…"

"Yeah," I said, my tone equally serious. "He was a good man, and a good friend."

"I guess I was lucky not to know him as much as you did."

"Yeah."

There were a couple of seconds of silence. "Is there going to be a funeral?"

I shook my head. "There was a small ceremony aboard the Inconvenience, but they're transporting an empty casket back to Earth so he can get a proper military burial with his family present."

"Shouldn't we be there too?"

"Normally we would, but inter-stellar travel is being reduced as much as possible, and we would need to be sent in a freighter designed to carry human passengers."

"Damn, such a shame. He was a damn fine soldier. Saved our lives a couple of times."

"That he did," I agreed. But that doesn't seem to matter in this world.

Pavel took a deep breath. "Hey, I've got news, can we meet."

"Sure."

"You still in New Alexandria?"

"Nah, I'm here in Esztergom," I told him, proud at myself for being able to say the name of this city without messing it up. "Where do you want to meet?"

"I know this great little place, here, I'm sending you the location right now. And there it is. I'll see you there in half an hour."

"Deal, buh-bye."

"Au revoir," he said. "That was French."

Before I could reply he hung up.

"Damn asshole used my joke," I mumbled at the phone.

"So, who's Pavel?"

"A friend," I told Stef as I put my phone in my right pocket. "You have a bandage or something?" I asked her, pointing to my swollen tattoo.

She nodded before heading back behind the counter and digging through a couple of drawers before finding what she was looking for. Stefánia emerged with adhesive tape and soft bandages. She quickly folded a bandage into a little square and placed it above my tattoo. "Hold your hand there."

I did as I was told while she secured the soft cotton fabric to my arm with white tape. She did it with extreme tenderness, it felt weird right after having been stabbed by a needle half a million times at her hands.

"Ok, you might feel sick and nauseous tomorrow and maybe the day after that, but that's normal, that's just your body reacting."

"M-hm."

"And two things."

"Yeah?"

"One: why the hell didn't you go to a regular parlor where you could've gotten that teeny tattoo done with a mold for half the price and half the pain. Two: why the hell did you make the tattoo so small."

I smiled a little. Molds were used for tattooing pretty much anything in any extremity, but there were skilled tattoo artists that still used the ages-old needle techniques. They were just that, artists. "I didn't want it to be half-assed. I wanted the best and someone told me that was you."

She nodded and smiled at the compliment before urging me to go on.

I looked down at the white bandage on my hand, it was about four inches long on each side, a little bit bigger than the tattooed crow itself. "I'm not afraid of needles."

"Why didn't you get a bigger tattoo then?"

I sighed. "Because by the time this war ends, I think that I'm going to need to use up the remaining space on my arm."

Stef nodded grimly. "If that were to happen, feel free come here. Next one's on the house."

"Thanks," I told her. "I appreciate it."

"It's no problem."

I walked towards the door and stopped as I opened it. "I'll let you know what I find out. Thanks. For everything."

My Hog skidded to a halt before I double-parked. That earned me several glares from the onlookers. I had forgotten that this wasn't a battlefield and parked like I would've in one. I then realized that I had also driven like I would've in the battlefield.

That explains the surprising amount of car horns.

"Francisco, you are a true genius," Schitzo said, unbuckling and jumping out of the civilian Hog as I hit reverse and parked in a single parking space. "You can hit a coin at six hundred yards but can't figure out that people are insulting you, true genius."

"War hero," I snapped at him under my breath.

The little place that Pavel had mentioned was a bar. A military bar by the look of it. It was built with good old-fashioned red bricks, polycrete holding them together. It had one wooden door and a couple of windows. I crossed the street from the parking lot and walked towards it. It was in between a strip club called the Minted Rhino and a five story-tall building built with brown bricks. I stepped over the sidewalk. The bar was called The Grenadier. A good name. I took a step back and looked over at the Rhino.

I grabbed my phone and looked at the hour. I took two steps towards the strip club before stopping myself. I was just one minute early, and Pavel had a thing for being on time. Most people in the military did, you wanted to be on time for several things, like extraction for starters. You don't want to be late for that one. You might want to be late for when the ship leaves but that means you're AWOL and potentially a criminal, so you don't want to be late either.

I sighed and opened the door for The Grenadier quickly, it looked like it was about to rain.

The inside of the bar was old-fashioned, with wooden floors, tables, chairs, and counter. The walls were covered with plaques, old medals, unit pictures and insignias. I stood at the door for around half a minute, taking the scenery in. There were two older-looking M90s hanging behind the bar itself as well as several different weapons in glass cases or just hanging on the wall. The crown jewel of the weapons collection was a combo of AK-47s crossing one another with an extremely old rocket launcher sitting behind.

"Nice collection," I said aloud. None of the six patrons paid any attention to me, the bartender looked up before glancing back down again.

"What weapon is that?" I asked the bartender.

The man looked up from the bar and shoved the rag he was using to polish it in his well-worn apron. "Who wants to know?" he asked dryly.

"I do," I replied with the same tone as I clenched my fists.

"Listen kid," the bartender said. "It's still early, so why don't you head back home before you end up hurting yourself."

"I hardly think that I'm the one that could end up hurt," I told him. "You've got whiskey?"

He chuckled. "I think you're don't understand what I'm saying."

At that comment, three of the fourth men in the bar stood up. They were all large and well-muscled and had a military look to them. One of them was even wearing fatigues. They all looked to be about ten years older than I was, two of them had nasty gashes on their faces. One I could tell had been made by a spiker bayonet, the other one perhaps by shrapnel or barbed wire.

"Beat it kid," the biggest one of them said.

I laughed loudly and placed my coat on the coat hanger by the door. "Johnny Walker," I told the bartender.

One of the three men closed in on me and grabbed my shoulder. I reacted instantly. I grabbed his hand and twisted it around quickly, meeting no resistance as I did that. Once I had the man with his back facing me I pushed his hand against his wrist and kicked him in the ass, sending him face-first to the floor.

"Don't touch me again."

To his credit, he immediately got up and swung at me.

The man was not drunk, but he had had something to drink and wasn't in his best condition. Not that it would've mattered anyways, I was one of the best hand-to-hand experts in pretty much the entire military. And that's not counting my special augmentations.

I blocked the hook with my left hand. The shock made my tattoo hurt a little, but nothing that I couldn't handle. Before he could react to my block I hit him in the stomach once with an uppercut and then in the solar plexus softly with another uppercut. The man collapsed forward before I held him up. I threw him backwards, this time having him land on his ass and not on his face.

"To be fair, you didn't touch me," I taunted.

Then I heard a familiar click.

I looked up to see one of the other two men pointing an M6H pistol at me. The weapon was one that I was familiar with, but it was a heavy model, meaning that it was upsized and packed a bigger punch.

I raised my hands and smiled in surrender. "I'm expecting someone," I explained.

"I don't care," the man holding the gun told me. "Shaw, get him his coat, will ya?"

The other man gave his friend a quick look before shrugging and walking towards the door and grabbing my coat. I stretched out my hands behind me and grinned as he put it on. "Careful, that's expensive," I warned him.

He dusted my shoulders and arms theatrically before giving me a light shove.

"Now, how about you get out of here?" the gun-toting man said just as his the one called Shaw helped his friend up.

"We still going on about that?" I asked, my tone full of mocking. "Really."

"I'm the one with the gun here."

I raised on eyebrow and cocked my head slightly sideways as I fixed my coat.

By the way, it was new, black, and awesome. It made me feel special.

"Or what? You gonna shoot me?"

"For starters," he growled.

"Ten credits you won't," I wagered.

"What?"

"Ten credits says that you won't shoot me."

"Are you fucking stupid?"

"No, I'm just about to win credits."

"All right, I'll take that bet," Shaw said from behind. "Shoot him Murphy."

The one with the gun, Murphy, looked back at his friend and then to me. He looked at me quizzically before shrugging. "Fine then."

"Hey, you're going to be the ones cleaning that up," the bartender warned. The other patrons didn't even seem to care.

"Yeah, yeah, Captain," Murphy dismissed. He aimed at my leg and took one step towards me.

That was the first mistake he made.

He had already been standing pretty close to me, the extra step put him within easy reach of my arms. I promptly moved to the side and kicked at his gun hand, a flashy maneuver, but it worked. Murphy didn't fire a shot, but instead tried to aim back at me even as his two friends rushed to help him. I let out another kick, this one directed at Murphy's stomach. I don't normally kick above the waist as a rule, but from where I was standing I didn't have any other targets.

Man, why does this always happen to me?

As Murphy doubled over I dodged below a wide hook from Shaw. The other man jabbed at me twice, hitting me in the chest and then in the shoulder as I turned to block the punch. From there I kicked Shaw right above his knee, forcing him to fall down to the floor. I got a fist to the brow from the other marine just as I turned around. I was dazed for a second but then let out a wild right hook. It connected with the man's arm, but the strength of the punch was enough to make him stagger.

As soon as he did that I swiped his feet from underneath him.

Then I felt a pair of strong arms getting my neck from behind. I took half a second to calm myself down. I was in a vice grip and I wasn't going to get out of it unless Murphy let me go. I elbowed him twice with my right arm before he called for help. I saw Shaw lunging at me and jumped up and kicked with both feet. He stopped just out of range as I kicked and missed. I cursed as he stepped closer but then kicked him twice in the thighs, using my shins to make the kicks as painful as possible.

Once Shaw fell to the floor again I realized I was running out of air.

Sorry bro.

I elbowed with my left hand, using all my strength, human and enhanced. One hit was all it took, I heard the sound of ribs cracking and felt him letting me go. I turned around and grabbed him by the arm, throwing him against the bar, where the bartender just looked annoyed and slightly disappointed. I moved towards him, kicking Shaw in the ribs slightly as I went.

The other marine (or soldier) made to stop me, but I punched him hard in the arms before he dropped them, allowing me to hit him in the stomach and knock the wind out of him. Just because I was pissed I grabbed his head and banged it against a table, breaking off the corner as I did so. The impact was enough to knock him out and would probably give him a terrible concussion.

I'm going to have to apologize for that…

"Shit," Murphy said as he saw me coming at him.

He threw a weak punch, which I ducked. I grabbed his hand and slammed it against the table. I put up my feet in one of the stools' footrests and drew my knife. The multi-colored blade flashed as I twisted it before slamming it down, the sound of metal and wood thinking.

Murphy let out a guttural scream at that action.

"Christ Frank!" I heard. "You didn't have to stab him!"

I looked down at my knife. It had gone right in between Murphy's index and ring fingers, cutting him slightly in the index finger in the process.

I'm getting sloppy.

"I didn't stab him," I said without turning around. I looked at the bartender, he was cleaning a mug with a look of amusement in his face. "You know," I told him. "I half expected you to be aiming at me with a shotgun right now."

"That would've been the case," he said, "but I spotted Klaus further out back and realized you were with him."

"Really?" I asked. "Quick thinking."

"They don't call me Captain for nuthin'"

"They call you Captain because you retired as one," Pavel shot at him as he walked towards me, stepping over the unconscious body of the man I had knocked out. "Good to see that you still haven't lost it," he complimented me before patting me in the back. "But slamming Driscoll's head against the table was a little bit overkill."

"I didn't slam it that hard," I defended myself.

"You broke my table," the Captain reminded me.

"It's not like it's made of metal," I put out.

Pavel laughed. "Good to see you Frank."

"Your. Knife. Is. Still. In. My. Hand!"

"Oh," I said dully. "Right." I yanked my knife out of the wood a little bit more aggressively than I should've, but to be fair, Murphy had just aimed a heavy pistol at me with all the intention to shoot me in the kneecap. I leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear. "You owe me ten credits."

To that, he just groaned.

The Captain took lead. "Shaw, take Driscoll to the clinic, see if he's fine."

"Yes, sir," Shaw said weakly, grabbing his ribs and breathing heavily. He shot me a look before shaking his head. I had probably earned his respect, not exactly how I would've done it, but it was better to be respected and feared. Perhaps in time I could cultivate a friendship out of that.

"You, over ther," the Captain pointed out to another patron. "Grab some rubbing alcohol and a bandage from the emergency kit."

"What?" Murphy exclaimed. "No biofoam or disinfectants?"

"The way you just got your assed kick?" Pavel asked. "I hardly think you deserve it."

"You're an asshole," Murphy said as he stood up.

"Hey, we agree on something," I said cheerfully as I wiped blood from my knife with a napkin.

"And you broke my ribs."

"You'll be fine by tomorrow," Pavel dismissed. "Just get one of those bone re-growth shots."

Murphy glared at him. "I know what to do."

"Fine, fine, I was just offering my help."

Two glasses slammed in front of me. "Johnny Walker, was it?" the Captain asked me. "First one's on the house in account to your impressive display of kung-fu. The second one is twice as expensive in account to you being friends with this wanker."

"How much is it?" I asked, smiling.

"Ten credits."

I nodded. "You can put it on his tab," I pointed at Murphy and downed the first shot of the liquor. "Ahhh, been a while since I had some of this." I grabbed the other glass and eyed it before setting it back down. Murphy was already bandaging his finger, it wasn't a deep gash, but it probably hurt like a bitch.

"What can I get you?" the Captain asked Pavel.

"The usual," he asked.

"So," Murphy said from the side. "You're the famous Frank Castillo?"

I scoffed. "I hardly think I'm famous."

It was his time to laugh. At least he laughed until the pain in his ribs forced him to stop. "In this bar? I don't think there's anybody that hasn't heard at least one story where you were in it."

"Huh."

"We would've thought Klaus had the hots for you if not for Amber."

I smiled and turned to Pavel. "Who's Amber?"

"I'll tell you later."

"All right," I agreed as I took a sip from my second glass. I could already feel the first shot going to my head.

"Curious knife," the Captain said. "Where'd you get it?"

"This?" I asked. "A cook gave it to me."

"A good cook?"

I shook my head. "A military cook. He couldn't even get cereal right, but he was rather impressive with knives. I'm sure that he would be disappointed if he saw that I had cut your friend."

"You don't say," Murphy grumbled.

"Suck it up Sergeant," the Captain ordered.

"So, The Captain, what's your name?"

"Captain Gavin Montgomery, but you can call me Captain."

"All right Captain, can you tell me what gun is that?" I pointed at the rocket launcher that I had admired when I first entered the bar.

"Those are AK-47's-" he started.

"No, I meant the rocket launcher."

"Oh, that's an RPG-7, Russian-made. They were used up until the Argyre Planitia Campaign by Koslovics and Frieden."

"A good weapon?" I asked.

"Yes, nothing impressive, but it's rugged, reliable, and packs some punch. That one can still fire."

I nodded. "I take it the AKs work as well."

"Yeah, those things only need to be oiled up every now and then and they'll be in fine working order until the end of the universe."

I nodded yet again. "So, you've got anything to eat? I'm hungry."

"Yessir," Captain said mockingly. "I'll bring you the special, you too Klaus?"

"Sure, why not?"

I took another sip of my drink. "How have you been? Six months without firing a gun, that must've been tough."

"I went to the firing range a couple of times," he said dismissively. "I had to replace the barrel of that ACS that you gave me."

"You were on leave six months, what'd you do?"

"Lots of things, since I was technically on medical leave I got paid, but I was fully healed within the first couple of months, so I got four months paid vacation."

"Lucky bastard."

"I agree, got a little apartment nearby, nice place."

"Huh, never took you one to settle down in one place. Besides, you're going to have to sell it, how can you maintain it when you're going to be away more often than not?"

"Nah, I don't think I'm going to sell it," he said.

"Why not? You'd probably get a nice little profit out of it, you know, with the way mortgage prices are rising and all that."

"I don't think that has anything to do with housing prices," Pavel said. "Like anything at all."

"I think you're wrong."

He shrugged. It had been a long time since I saw that exaggerated and theatrical shrug of his. It actually managed to cheer me up.

"Whatever," he dismissed me. "Most of the time I hang around here, listening to Captain and the rest. "You have no idea how many stories you can hear."

"I've lived half those stories," I informed him. "You too."

"But every story is different, everyone's worth listening to."

I wasn't entirely sure I believed him. "Fine, I believe you."

He took a sip from his drink, whatever that was. "You see that picture?" He pointed at a photo of an entire platoon, all of them standing with their hands clasped behind their backs and in their standard BDUs. "Well, they were wiped out when the lieutenant called in an airstrike right on their position to delay a Covenant invasion force just long enough to evacuate the civilian population from a nearby village. The only survivor was one kid. That one, second one from left to right in the first row. It was his first engagement ever, he came out of it missing one arm and with burns covering most of his body." He took a moment to breathe."But you know what's the most incredible thing? That they could've evacuated, command had a pair of Pelicans ready to extract them, but they opted to stay behind and risk their lives to save a bunch of people they didn't know that lived on a planet that they had never stepped on before."

I sighed. The war was full of stories like that.

"That's what keeps these men going," he said, lowering his voice so that only I could hear him. "Knowing that there are other people out there that have suffered the same thing."

"War is hell," I said in agreement.

"A Soldier's Tale?" he asked.

"William Sherman," I replied.

"Who?"

"Forget it," I dismissed him. Like he would have any knowledge at all regarding any of the two American Civil Wars. "You wouldn't know him."

Pavel shrugged and thanked Captain as he slammed to dishes with two unhealthy-looking hot dogs each. I thanked him as well and watched as he walked to the other end of the bar to talk to another costumer. Murphy had gone back to his table and was drinking from a mug, watching a jumpball game on the only screen in this establishment. The local Ezstergom team wasn't doing too well. It was actually getting pounded pretty badly by Manassas.

While we ate we talked about Lambari and Ninive, I told him what had gone down while he had been out. He listened while I described our missions to him. He asked one or two questions, but for the most part he remained quiet and listened to what I had to say. It was a long time before I noticed that the entire Grenadier had gone silent. Several of the costumers were inching in my direction, trying to listen to what I was saying.

I turned around and shot them a look and they all quickly returned to minding their own business.

"No one here will pressure you to tell them your story," Captain said. "Except me of course."

Captain looked serious as he said that, but I could see him holding back a smile. I nodded solemnly and gave him a weak salute before he refilled my drink. I didn't ask for it, but no doubt that I would get charged for it regardless.

"Why'd you want to kick me out of the bar?" I asked suddenly.

Captain sighed. "The Grenadier is a military bar, you walk in with an expensive coat and denim, no one expects you to be military."

"Isn't that bad for business?"

"Believe it or not, there aren't that many military bars around, and with Reach being full of soldiers, jarheads, and sailors, we get full house pretty often."

"Huh, might open one of these when I retire then."

Captain shrugged.

"How's Nezarian doing?" Pavel asked. "Losing his whole platoon, that must've been tough."

"I can't say, really. The man looks sane, but from the little I saw him after that he was quieter than usual and had a shorter fuse. I wish I knew more about it, but I didn't really have the time to talk to the man."

"Damn," Pavel mused. "Poor guy." He tentatively asked, "Scarecrow, how'd he die?"

I sighed, not wanting to remember. "It was messy," I told him. "Very. Only Konstantinov and me saw it."

"What happened."

"Needle rifle blew off half his body, I told the rest of the squad that two rounds slammed into the back of his neck. Grigori didn't say anything."

"Good, I guess. How are they taking it?"

"Well enough, Snark worries me a bit, he was good friends with him."

Pavel finished his second hot dog. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see before you recommend a psych eval."

"Agreed."

Pavel was quiet for a few seconds. "After meeting that Spartan team, I guess the job got worse."

I shrugged. "I guess so, what were their names? I remember Carlos and…"

"Catherine was the girl, liked to be called Kat," Pavel added absent-mindedly.

"Kat? You mean Cat."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Pavel confirmed, looking up from his empty drink.

"No, you said Kat. I said Cat."

"Frank, you're not making any sense."

I took a deep breath. "I mean, you said Kat with K as opposed to Cat with C."

"Yeah. Wait, how the hell would you know how I spell out things that I say?"

"Huh?" I deflected. "Anyways, is it Cat? Or Kat?"

"Kat," Pavel said decisively. "With a K."

"Huh, that changes a few things."

Pavel looked at me carefully. He looked like he was about to say something before deciding against it and shaking his head.

After I finished eating my two tasty hot dogs and was halfway through my third glass of Johnny Walker Pavel spoke up again. "Hey, y'know, I actually wanted to meet here with you because I wanted to tell you something."

"Right, I almost forgot, what was it?" I asked as I wiped my greasy fingers on a napkin.

"Well you see-"

"There you are!" a female voice said.

I craned m neck to see who it was and spotted a vaguely familiar-looking woman near the entrance. I ignore her and went back to listening to Pavel. "I see what?" I asked before I realized that he too was looking at the woman. "I see," I said in a different tone.

"What?" Pavel asked.

"That's the girl… Amber was it?"

"Yeah…" he admitted carefully.

I looked at the woman, Amber, as she walked towards us. She had very dark hair, it looked black in the bar's lighting, but I couldn't really tell for sure. She had a very pretty face, her eyes were gray, that much I was sure of, and she had a kick-ass body. Pavel had done exceedingly well for himself.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized to my friend after kissing him on the cheek. "You must be Frank." She offered me her hand and I shook it lightly as I smiled politely. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And I, have not heard anything about you."

Pavel shifted uncomfortably on his chair. "Uhh, you see, well. Where to start? Umm…"

Amber interrupted him "Pavel and I met when he was doing his rehab, I work in the hospital."

"That's why you looked familiar!" I said with realization. "You're a… receptionist. Right?"

"Exactly," she replied with a small smile. "If you remember me then I must've made an impression."

Hurray for unintentional compliments.

"Well, regardless of how we met…" Pavel went on.

"Very cute, by the way," Amber noted.

"Please let me do this," Pavel told her. "Well, ahem, we met and…"

"Jeez, just spit it out already," Amber urged him.

I was smiling at my friend's predicament, but as I saw the worried look on his face and took in his nervousness and overall awkwardness in the body language the smile slowly faded from my face. "What? Tell me what?"

"Well…"

"Well what? Pavel."

"Oh, for God's sake," amber said, exasperated. "We got married."

I chuckled and then stopped abruptly. "What?"

"We engaged in holy matrimony," Amber furthered. "Made our vows, moved in together, closed the deal, game over."

"What?" I repeated, this time louder.

"Frank, I'm sorry, it's just tha-"

"Six months Pavel. Six fucking months."

I know, I-"

"You couldn't even wait for me to return!"

"I know, I-" he repeated before I interrupted again.

"How do you even get to know someone and fall in love with them like that in less than six months! No offense Amber, but dude, what the fuck?"

"Sorry, it's just that-"

"And who the hell was the best man?"

"We got married in a small civil ceremony," Amber elaborated.

"To which I wasn't invited!"

"Frank, I-"

My eyes widened. "Don't tell me you knocked her up."

"I'm right here, you know," Amber said annoyed.

"No, well I mean yes, but-"

"You knocked her up?" I turned to her. "He knocked you up!"

"It was after we got married."

"I'm already two months pregnant," Amber said happily while patting her belly.

"Christ Pavel, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Hey," he started defensively. "I can do whatever the fuck I want."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you should do it."

"You're saying I shouldn't have married her?"

"No, I'm saying you shouldn't have married her while I was gone. You should be marrying her tomorrow!"

"Are you jealous?" Amber asked.

"No, I'm pissed my best friend didn't invite me to his wedding!"

"I said I was sorry," Pavel repeated. "Just relax man."

"I'm gone for six months and this happens? Next time we come back there'll be a little Pavel running around."

"Yeah," my friend admitted.

"Well, you're naming him after me."

"It's a she, actually," Amber corrected. "We're calling her Lavanya."

"Whoa, when did Pavel become famous?" Schitzo asked. "Naming his kids weird names and all that."

"It's an Indian name," Pavel explained.

"It means beauty," Amber furthered.

I looked at her and then back to my friend. "Fair enough, but what if she takes after Pavel?"

Amber laughed and sat next to my friend, her husband.

"Yeah, very funny," Pavel mumbled. "Hilarious."

Thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

Pavel is back! Rejoice! And he's married! Should we rejoice? Who the hell gives a fuck? He's back!

Ok, I made a couple of references in this chapter. One is to The Expendables, but it's pretty obscure, so I doubt many of you will notice it. If anyone does, you get a free round of applause on my part. I promise. The second reference is to Halo Wars, I doubt that counts as a reference since it's set in the same universe as this fan fiction. As for number three, where else do you know a Captain Montgomery from? Free applause if you guess where I got him from as well. Either that or I write "Clap, clap, clap" in the author's note next chapter. Take your pick. Chapter quote is a blatant Mass Effect reference, you win nothing if you guessed it before reading this.

Also, you know how I mentioned that it had been a while since I had last named a chapter for something random? Well, it has also been a while since I named a chapter in Spanish. More applauseses to whoever tells me why I named it that. Captain Montgomery and the three marines that Frank fought will become recurring characters in the future, just letting you know that so that you remember them.

With that being said, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

-casquis

PS: The button below? You see it? Oh, you do? Great. Just wondering.