Provided by the Swedish Government, former Russian commander Chadwick Aldemir is breed, and housed to live in the 1900's designed facilities, along with three hundred others in the hopes creating a new type of soldier.
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A large man let a long draw of smoke fall from his thin lips. In between his chin, and his other chin, beads of sweat trickled down “I don’t doubt you,” Beckett sat further back in to the couch, clasping his hands around his crossed knee. “Eh, I’ve even seen you do it before. But my benefits only last so long. That pretty girl knows more than she bargained for.”
“Fucking, Albert,” Beckett pulled his own lighter from his suit jacket, then a cigarette from a hidden breast pocket. “You’re a fucking bastard. You know that, yeah?” he sparked the blunt, pressing it tightly to his lips. “The woman lives. She kept the money safe for the time being.” smoke curled for his lips. “You send your men out after her, I’m going to have to send mine,” “Listen, I don’t care that she’s kept money safe. She knows too much.” a short woman made her way over to the table with two glasses of whisky. “Our enemy could grab her, threaten her, and easily get what they want. She’s not equip, Beckett.” “So, killing her off is the answer? Not providing protection. “Albert eyed the women’s backside, as she bent down further than necessary, reaching for the other empty glasses. “What’s your name again young lady?” she balanced the tray expertly, pressing her core to the table. She smiled softly, before saying, “Anfisa,” Albert pressed both his chubby hands together. “ Anfisa.” he repeated, but not at all as graceful. “This is Beckett,” Beckett picked up his whiskey and began taking long gulps. “Beckett here needs a little pick me up, eh?” Anfisa smiled slowly, “Again?” Beckett’s coughing was so hysterical to the point of spitting his drink out of his mouth, and onto the table. Anfisa snagged a few napkins and began dabbing at him slowly. Her lips curling. “Fuck,” Beckett’s voice was full of sarcasm. “I’m sorry. Did I get you? That’s a nice suit,” Anfisa carried the stacked tray and wet napkins away. Her black bob cupping her cheeks. Like nothing had happened, Beckett leaned back, and drew in another smoke. Albert sat with his arms crossed. “So, do we come to an agreement or...” Albert cleared his throat, “She gets one chance. I don’t wanna hear nothin. If something happens to her so be it. I don’t give a fuck if I find her hangin on 20th street.” Beckett nodded, finishing the last of his whiskey. “Alright we’re done here. Thanks, Uncle Albert,” Beckett made a short kissing face before getting up and pressing a firm pat on his shoulder. He eyed his entourage, a band of young, freshly shaven men, leaning over the bar and calling for drinks. “Beck,” his uncle tossed. Obeying, he stopped in his tracks, flicking the butt of his cigarette impatiently. “We hired that young lady only a week ago. When the fuck did you come here without my knowledge?” Beckett grinned. “Uncle, mind your business,” he stated, before exiting the club. HAPPY LATE VALENTINES!!!!!!!!! V: Stop fucking around. B: (removes glasses) I wish I was. CHEERS TO THE ONLY COUPLE THAT DON'T FIGHT LIKE CAT AND DOG !!!
“How’s Honor?” she puckered her lips, drawing in a long breath of smoke. The childish blue-eyed women briefly watched him light his own cigarette, before pressing the half empty box back into his breast pocket.
Beckett could see droplets of water still falling from her elbows and on to the concrete. She was barefoot. Holding herself like flamingo in the summer time, with one leg propped on the other. “He just got back in town,” a small girl settled on a beach chair in front of them, smugly soaking in the rare, rays of sun and mimicking her mother’s hand movements. “You should go back home. It’s unsanitary here,” he gestured to the rooms. “You can’t make me go back there” she shook her head. “Nicole loves it here. Look at her.” She squealed like she hadn’t seen her daughter in months and waved. Beckett turned away, uncomfortable almost, drawing in another long breath. “We’re being called in Susan. Again,” he lowered his voice, eye watching the empty motel parking lot. “They want us to deal in India.” Before answering, she smiled that wry smile Beckett hated and stared in to the pool, like she wanted to push him in. “That’s both of your problems, you don’t know when to stop,” killing the ember of the cigarette on his suit, Susan looked him stone in the face. “I have a child now. I won’t ever do that shit again.” The Actions We Commit 2/2
The van began to reduce to a trivial crawl, after passing the gated checkpoint. He heard their Swedish accents but understood nothing. Motvilja, was what they called it in the northern regions of Sweden, exclusively spoken by the upper class. He pressed his head against the hard interior of the vehicle. His restraints slick from blood. Wet warmth on his cheeks traveled at an alarming rate, then disappeared beneath his chin. “Allaahu Akbar,” He squeezed his eyelids shut repeatedly, in hopes of hiding any signs of morning. “Allaahu Akbar.” he prayed again. Emotion was dangerous here. The back doors swung open casting the bitterly cold air to fill up the tight space. Three figures stood ahead with solid batons, dressed in black from head to toe. “Out,” the one on the right said in Turkish. Chadwick obeyed, leading with battered wrist. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the outline of the wired encampment. Barbed wire reached as far as the eye could see. Barbed wire above, barbed wire horizontal. There was not a single way to see the world without divide. “Mr. Aldermir you are permitted a three-minute call for your entire stay. You will be taken to point one, where you will stay in conditioning for six months,” “Conditioning?” Chadwick choked. “Where-“ “Then you will be moved to point two for affirmation. If you fail the affirmation trials, you will be given six months to live.” Another van pulled in; his attention swayed to three other guards yanking the door open. Chadwick could vaguely make out the humped over figure, but he knew exactly who it was. “Out,” Chadwick took a step in that direction. “Kellan,” he cried, but fell from a strong blow to the back. Chadwick pushed his upper body off the ground, to be forced back down, nose deep in dirt. “Stay down,” Chadwick fought to get a look at Kellan. Just one look. A small strain to the neck was nothing to what Kellan would endure. He got what he wanted. A peek of the end. He saw everything. He saw the way Kellan dropped to his knees. He saw the way he couldn’t be restrained from the wrist up, because everything below had been sheared off. Only god knew how long he sat in that van losing blood. There was no cry for help. No longingly gaze. Chadwick doubted Kellan knew he was there watching. He was half conscious, neck rolling side to side. His skin paler than death. “I see you, “Chadwick murmured. A gunshot rang through the perimeter. Chunks of flesh imploded near. The Actions We Commit 1/2 Chadwick’s hands shake in anticipation of meeting with Kellan’s. “I won’t be able to see her again,” he breathes. Kellan eyes Chadwick’s hesitation. “Listen to yourself,” “I can’t hear anything, “ Kellan stops advancing. He lets out a breath, then begins signing, “I was content with my decision. You want to know why?” Chadwick’s shoulders move up. “I didn’t care if it we didn’t speak. I didn’t give a fuck if we couldn’t be together. I felt that I couldn’t exist in a time where she didn’t. If our souls,” he uses both his pointer fingers as an example, “if they were somewhere near each other, somehow I could cope.” Chadwick keeps his hands in position. “We all have our ways of describing how we feel about someone.” “So, be honest with yourself.” Kellan’s words enforces him to drop his hold. “You’ll be saddened only by the actions you commit. Not Malina’s.” |
Author Some stories, gifs, and rambles about what goes on in the game. Archives
March 2019
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