Out of Chars and Ashes Part Three
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// AFTER ACTION REPORT //
OPERATION PLATEBREAKER
TO: ALPHONSE. FROM: I-CELL
// BEGIN MESSAGE //
Two vehicles leave D.C. and head towards New York City. I-Cell drives a white panel van, in the back are the Black Icons in their wooden crate. In the car behind them, three of the Ukrainian hitmen sent by the Propavsheye. It's a tense few hours on the road, I-Cell suspects the Skoptsi might play dirty and try to ambush them on the road. Their fears are never realized, before long they're crossing the Holland Tunnel into Manhattan. They pulled into the employee carpark under the Teese Building and backed up their van to the loading bay, where two Club Apocalypse security guards awaited them. The Icons were loaded onto a dolley and wheeled to the Green Bar, empty save for a few the Agents assumed to be Lords, a man in a suit hunched over a spreadsheet manning a calculator, another sitting at the bar reading a newspaper; a bartender polishes glass while a small radio quietly places alternative rock. Belial entered from below and crossed to the bar and asked for water. Before long, a man in a security t-shirt poked his head into the room. "They're here". Belial stood and spoke, very softly. "I need the room", and without a second thought, the two lords finished their drinks and packed up their things and were gone. "Bring them in", he then commanded.
Entering in through the door were two men, both familiar, flanked by two others the Agents couldn't recognize, likely Mafia muscle. One was Fedor Berezhkov, the Ex-SMERSH Agent turned Skoptsi Troubleshooter. The second, to the Agents' shock, was Kostya Bekhterev, a fixer of the Tadjbegskaya Bratva I-Cell had long since figured was dead (after INDIGO cut his head off and his body was dumped in the Hudson River). I-Cell would worry about Bekhterev later, for now they had a deal to complete.
"Again at last" Berezhkov spoke. His voice was high and raspy, choked by a lifelong smoking habit. At Belial's beckoning, the Berezhkov and his delegation sit opposite I-Cell, Belial sitting comfortably between them, stony as ever.
"Brass tacks then, shall we?", asks Berezhkov.
"Yes" IMOGEN replied "Let's begin with our terms".
"Terms, yes." Berezhkov then produced a hankerchief and coughed hard into it.
"We forfeit the Icons: We never hear or see from you again. Not us, not our families". "Naturally; there will be no need for that any longer". "That includes going through Chermeninko or the Tadjbegskaya Bratva or the Network". At the mention of the Bratva, Bekhterev chortled quietly. Berezhkov tilted his head only slightly and the gangster was quiet. "Yes then. What else?" "Second, the public outreach stops" Berezhkov narrows his eyes in apparent confusion "Public outreach?" "Don't act dumb. The advertising, the commercials, the guided tours through the Basilica, taking school kids through there. We know that's where you're developing your "Manchurian Candidates", we give you the Icons, you cut that out". "Manchurian Candidate?" Berezhkov asks lowly to one of his henchmen. "Like the movie" one of them says. "Ah, yes." Berezhkov says, turning back to face I-Cell. "It won't be necessary for us to continue using that technique. That being said, I will not tell the community to shut its doors, the locals come to Moscow-on-the-Chesapeake on their own accord to see our town, our way of life, our basilica. We won't have need of... influencing them anymore, but I see no cause to bar ourselves in." I-Cell turned to each other, it was part of the act to push for extra terms. They wouldn't want to tip their hand by approaching this negotiation like they had something planned. They conferred before turning back. With a scowl, IMOGEN speaks. "Fine".
"If that is all I would like to dictate our terms." says Berezhkov, "You and your cohort will no longer interfere in our affairs in Moscow-on-the-Chesapeake unless you are bidden. We know what you are, we know what you do. If we catch your people in our community, they will be questioned, and if they resist-" Air hissed out from between Berezhkov's lips and he clapped his kerchief to his mouth and let out a violent smoker's hack, and drawing in labored breath, he continued: " then they will die. It is that simple".
"You think I can make that promise?" IRENA asks. "For your sake, you will have to", Berezhkov says.
After some false conference, I-Cell agreed. "Very well, then" speaks Belial. "Not yet." Says Berezhkov, "Let us see our Icons". The Cell turns to Belial, who nods. They then lay the wooden crate flat on its dolly and opened it, then lift it slowly for the Skoptsi to inspect it. Berezhkov rose and stood before it. "Marvelous. Truly, a work of art". He then crouches down and begins running his hands along its surface, then knocking on it with his knuckles. It's obvious what he's doing - searching for signs of tampering. Quietly, I-Cell thanks Dr. Wu for helping them ensure their job was seamless. "The Icons are of our prophet, Semyon. Russian monk. Tortured by the Mongols before a traveller came and debated him. After three days, he took to the light". He then stood and retrieved a small box from his pocket, out of which he pulled an antenna. A transponder, they knew. Fuck. They knew. The C4. They're gonna find the transponder connected to the detonators for the C4. Berezhkov brings the machine close to the Icons then flicks the switch. It beeps in response. It's found a signal. He gives I-Cell a look that could kill, then a heartbeat later he turns to the bar. Belial turns to see what he's looking at, then stands. He crosses the bar and turns off the radio the bartender had been listening to on low volume. He returns to the table and nods to Berezhkov, who brings the transponder near to the icons again. No signal. The panic clears and the Agents think. They remember OMAR's precaution: He anticipated Berezhkov would inspect the icon. The avoid detection, the transponder was set to a timer that would activate the transponder. By their estimation, it was still another four hours before the transponder would "activate" and the bomb was thereby "armed". "Very well". Berezhkov says, pocketing the transponder. "I have to give you the creidt. Even now, this has been quite the game of cat-and-mouse." "It has, hasn't it." "There were a few times in the last two years it felt like I was back in the old days, in the old country. Oh well." Berezhkov says, rising from his seat and slowly donning his coat. "Farewell." With a snap, the two mobsters with Berezhkov took the dolly and the Icons and left for the car park. I-Cell remained in the Green Bar until they were gone, and once they were sure they were out of earshot, they finally let out a sigh of relief. It was done. IMOGEN went to the bar and got a martini, IRENA joined in. As ISAAC rose to join them, someone entered the room that gave him pause. A white woman, pale, with blood-red dreadlocks, her face decked with chrome piercings. She dressed in layers, a shirt under a zip-up hoodie under a jacket (even in the August heat). A bottle of Maker's Mark in her grip. I-Cell turned to face her, and although they had never laid eyes on her before, they knew immediately who she was. They knew her from the description Leonid Ubysh gave of his attacker in the tunnels under Brooklyn.
 |
| GINETTE WIRTZ, LADY OF THE FATE |
The woman entered drunk and gave only a passing look at I-Cell. IMOGEN is first to speak, and confronts the woman, accompanied by an Adept, about assaulting Leonid Ubysh. "Oh, him? He was a good one. Real cute. Innocent." she says with a chuckle and a snort. She explains I-Cell had "seriously torpedo'd our business interests" when they eliminated the cultists of The Leviathan. The "Thralls" were a prize commmodity, and so she had gone to "go and get one for herself", claiming she knew how they were made. The woman, who Belial refers to as Ginette Wirtz, "The Lady of the Land", then went on to explain that she had compelled Ubysh to open the plug and hurl the corpses of the Priest-cult into the black pit below. She then went on to explain casually that she found him "cute" and decided to "have some fun while she was there" and "use him". I-Cell understood the implication. ISAAC's skin crawls. "Why did you maim him?" IRENA asks. "I always leave my number, just in case they want some more. Plus its good incase I want to check in them later."
"You had to force him? What, couldn't get any on your own?" IMOGEN says.
The Lady of the Land takes a swig of Maker's Mark and spits. "Fuck off, bitch". "You're fucking disgusting" IMOGEN says, rising to her feet. The Lady gives her a unimpressed stare. "Your kids are gonna be so fuckin' happy when they hear that gunshot from your bedroom" she replies.
"Fuck" IRENA thinks. IMOGEN's blood rises to a boil. "You are excused" says Belial. Wirtz snorts and begins to walk away.
"Yeah, and I bet your mother's real fucking happy where you are now, you fucking slug". Wirtz freezes. Then she turns, very slowly.
"What did you say about my fucking mother?" she says. IRENA sees the look in her eyes. Murder.
"I said you were excused, Wirtz" Belial repeats. His voice never lifts beyond its icy monotone, but the insistence is clear. Wirtz, trembling, storms out of the bar. Belial turns to the Cell "I believe your business here is finished". I-Cell agrees and promptly leaves, heading to their van in the loading bay. As they approach, they hear a scream, and the sound of glass breaking. They rush to see what's happening, and see several staff members of Club Apocalypse cowering. Ginette Wirtz stands at the threshold of a box truck, pallets of beer and liquor lay about. The Lady locks eyes with I-Cell and hurls a bottle of beer at the concrete wall. "MY FUCKING MOTHER? YOU WANT TO JOKE ABOUT MY FUCKING MOTHER? YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Wirtz is screaming so loud you can almost hear her chords straining as she does it.
"That's right, bitch" replies IMOGEN. IRENA looks to her cellmate, astounded that she'd choose to aggravate the situation further. By her appraisal, her and ISAAC are jammed between a woman with severe anger management problems, and a wizard having some kind of serious episode. She tries to herd IMOGEN into the van but they're too busy hurling insults at each other. "You want to fucking settle this? Let's go, woman to woman, no tricks, no toys, just you and me" yells IMOGEN. "You gotta be fucking kidding me" IRENA thinks to herself. "YOU WANNA THROW DOWN, CUNT? LET'S FUCKING THROW DOWN" Wirtz's hands tense and suddenly, the broken glass surrounding her begins to rattle. The smallest shards begin to hover. "Ginette". Belial's voice is calm and icy and cuts through the loading bay like an arrow. "Enough". The word carries something in it. It echoes against the walls in a way it shouldn't, I-Cell feel their brains tickle. Ginette is suddenly slack, relaxed, almost demure. "They need you upstairs", Belial calmly states. "Okay". The Lady of the Land suddenly has the all the energy of a sulking child. I-Cell barely needs to hear Belial's order to leave before they're in the van and hauling it out. The drive to Maryland is tense and quiet. As she calms down, IMOGEN realizes the absurd danger they were in, and can only imagine what would have happened if things escalated and those pieces of glass really started to fly. They tune their radio to receive updates from OMAR and the Propavsheye kill-teams, who by now are in position in the forests around Moscow-on-the-Chesapeake. They cross the border into Maryland when they receive word that Berezhkov has entered the Basilica. They pull their car down a gravel trail to a patch of disused land a quarter-mile South of Moscow-on-the-Chesapeake which OMAR has designated the "field hospital" and mustering point. They've barely thrown on their equipment when they hear the message come through. "OMAR to all. Detonation confirmed under Basilica of our Holy Virgin Mother. Prepare for contacts."
I-Cell decides to enter the community and raid Berezhkov's house, and then move on to the tunnels under the Basilica to confirm Berezhkov and Bogdashkavich's death. Covered by one of the Propavsheye kill-teams. They enter his house through a back door. As they creep in, guns at the ready. They hear voices coming from the kitchen, a man and a woman's, obviously panicked. "No witnesses" IMOGEN tells herself. They round the corner and see Fedor Berezhkov, badly burned and barely conscious, missing a leg past the thigh, and an arm at the elbow joint. Two Skoptsi cultists appear to be in the midstd of trying to apply first aid. The throw their hands up. The man's fight-or-flight instincts take over and he makes a dash for the door, with one shot, IRENA stops him dead. IMOGEN forces the other Skopsti into handcuffs as they shriek. IMOGEN swallows. She realizes she doesn't have the heart to put any more bullets into these people. These broken people. She leaves the Skoptsi medic in horror and returns to the dying man on the kitchen island. She levels her rifle and takes a shot, and puts a bullet clean through Fedor Berezhkov's head.
ISAAC hears footsteps from the basement and catches the shape of one of the Organyzatzia spetsnaz mounting the stairs. A firefight ensues. Neither group makes any gains at first, then in a desperate gambit to flank their target, IRENA breaks from cover and dashes across Berezhkov's living room. Machine gun fire chatters out and Agent IRENA collapses, crashing through the coffee table, blood spurting from gunshot wounds in her thigh. ISAAC immediately recognizes that her femoral artery's been punctured. She's bleeding to death on the carpet. A desperate hail of gunfire wipes out the Spetsnaz and I-Cell makes a break for it.
They take IRENA and stuff her into the backseat of their car and drive her back to the field hospital, going as fast as they can. Beside them, smoke billows from the windows of the Basilica of our Holy Virgin Mother. Above them, the sky is orange and purple. Two twilights. Maybe three. ISAAC looks at the wound and his heart sinks. There's no way they can save IRENA. She's lost an enourmous amount of blood, it's likely she'll lose the rest before they can do anything about it. It would take a miracle to save her.
A miracle.
"What? What are you doing" IMOGEN asks, panicked as she speeds down the Maryland turnpike. Behind her, in the backseat, ISAAC recites a prayer, half in Russian, half in a dead tongue. It's the first time he's ever said it out loud, but he slows his breathing and focuses on the words. He has to. He knows its the enemy's tools. He knows he could be killed for it. But he doesn't have another choice. He lays hands on IRENA and concentrates. "Live. Live." IRENA writhes, beads of sweat form across her skin. ISAAC watches her leg spasm. Odd, misshapen pellets of lead are pushed onto the seat of the car as her leg stitches itself back together. She opens her eyes. She's awake. Alive. She's alive. IMOGEN is first to rain on the miracle, telling ISAAC he's going to have to explain why I-Cell is at the field hospital with a healthy agent after they specifically called to report she was in critical condition. He swallows his fear and accepts.
OMAR is... not unreceptive. The circumstances were dire, and action had to be taken. He explains that it will be reported to A-Cell, who will make note of it. But for right now, nothing.
A further radio transmission from the "Coopers" reports that Jermija Bogdashkavich is dead. The news cuts through the air. The Skoptsi have been defeated. The Propavsheye kill-team is recalled and musters at the field hospital before they quickly regroup at the car wash-bunker in Delaware for debriefings, and for celebrations. The local liquor store's supply of vodka and beer is levied, and the men-at-arms celebrate their victory by getting wasted in a car wash.
Elsewhere, the Skoptsi mourn. A small community of the broken. Coherent only in their shared trauma and their shared devotion. A devotion to a god they each saw and gave themselves to. A god they realize will never speak to them again. Smoke rises above the Chesapeake bay. The Basilica crumbles into a sinkhole created by the explosion. Firetrucks from nearby communities fight to control the blaze, but there's only so much they can do. Those that are alive, those that remain, begin to huddle together and wail. They have lost.
IMOGEN, IRENA, and ISAAC sit outside the car wash and share a bottle. Above them twilight turns to night, as the Skoptsi begin to slowly die.
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