01-02-2019, 05:15 PM
Detective Lih of the domovoi wandered slowly away from the assembly zone, where the grass was bent over by truck tires, and stood by a hedge, overlooking the belt of woods. He sort of liked this place already. There were trees. There was greenery.
Lih, first name Viktor, was twenty-six years old. He was pale, but well-made, with protective lenses on his blue watery eyes. He had been born and bred on Sevastopol, a forest city that no longer existed. Lih was a CCD police officer— a highly effective one, according to his formal record.
He wore the standard issue field kit of a Russian cop: cross-laced black boots, black fatigue trousers and combat jacket over the standard issue vest and pants, with webbing—which supported his field pouches and a plump leather bag—and lightweight, matte-black armor. A tight, black buckle-under helmet made of nano polymer swung from his waist belt beside his gun. On his collars he wore the silver crest of the Moscow police and around his shoulders draped a camo cloak, the signature item of a domovoi, the so-called “monster” regiment.
A heavy pack was slung form his back. His standard long-nosed Vaia Plus railgun, its stock and furniture made of a blend of proprietary metals, as were all Vaia Plus stamped guns, hung on a sling over his shoulder.
Lih could smell rain and cedar on the air, the wet odors of a woodland floor. Just for a second, the smell was unbearably evocative. His heart struggled to accommodate his feelings.
He glanced back to see if he was missed, but already seemed some delay in loading the replenishment onto the supply trucks. Engines idled and grumbled, and an occasional wheel spun in the muddy grass that the convoy was quickly chewing up. Officers in long, black greatcoats hurried about, shouting instruction, directing trucks and trying to gather people together as if they were escaped cats.
At the end of the hedge, Lih found a paved path that ran away under an avenue of red-barked trees. This was clearly a park once, he realized, turned into a makeshift assembly zone for the military forces. There were benches facing the path, and he sat down on one in the damp shade of the trees. It was nice, he thought. Sure, the trees had none of the grandeur of the Sevastopol trees, but still.
He wondered how Costa was doing. He was Lih’s partner, though he was a fellow domovoi too. Costa had been assigned to a different mission because they were in different teams now. Detective Costa. It still made Lih chuckle. Another win for the team.
Between every other tree in the park, there was a large, smooth cube of gray stone. Each had a faded rectangular patch on the side facing the brick paved path. Lih wondered what they were. Markers of some sort, perhaps.
He heard someone coming up behind him, and turned.
Lih, first name Viktor, was twenty-six years old. He was pale, but well-made, with protective lenses on his blue watery eyes. He had been born and bred on Sevastopol, a forest city that no longer existed. Lih was a CCD police officer— a highly effective one, according to his formal record.
He wore the standard issue field kit of a Russian cop: cross-laced black boots, black fatigue trousers and combat jacket over the standard issue vest and pants, with webbing—which supported his field pouches and a plump leather bag—and lightweight, matte-black armor. A tight, black buckle-under helmet made of nano polymer swung from his waist belt beside his gun. On his collars he wore the silver crest of the Moscow police and around his shoulders draped a camo cloak, the signature item of a domovoi, the so-called “monster” regiment.
A heavy pack was slung form his back. His standard long-nosed Vaia Plus railgun, its stock and furniture made of a blend of proprietary metals, as were all Vaia Plus stamped guns, hung on a sling over his shoulder.
Lih could smell rain and cedar on the air, the wet odors of a woodland floor. Just for a second, the smell was unbearably evocative. His heart struggled to accommodate his feelings.
He glanced back to see if he was missed, but already seemed some delay in loading the replenishment onto the supply trucks. Engines idled and grumbled, and an occasional wheel spun in the muddy grass that the convoy was quickly chewing up. Officers in long, black greatcoats hurried about, shouting instruction, directing trucks and trying to gather people together as if they were escaped cats.
At the end of the hedge, Lih found a paved path that ran away under an avenue of red-barked trees. This was clearly a park once, he realized, turned into a makeshift assembly zone for the military forces. There were benches facing the path, and he sat down on one in the damp shade of the trees. It was nice, he thought. Sure, the trees had none of the grandeur of the Sevastopol trees, but still.
He wondered how Costa was doing. He was Lih’s partner, though he was a fellow domovoi too. Costa had been assigned to a different mission because they were in different teams now. Detective Costa. It still made Lih chuckle. Another win for the team.
Between every other tree in the park, there was a large, smooth cube of gray stone. Each had a faded rectangular patch on the side facing the brick paved path. Lih wondered what they were. Markers of some sort, perhaps.
He heard someone coming up behind him, and turned.