Here's to Forgetting

[Ivan Sarkozy]

<small>[[continued from In handcuffs]]</small>


“ONE....TWO...THREE!!!!!”
A lick of salt. And then tequila burning the back of his throat. Ivan didn't have time to wait. Stephania had the lime held between her teeth and he took a bite, sour bitterness chasing the flavors. Laughter and cheers echoed around him, but it was only the high pitched screams of Stephania and her friends that pierced the thump and thrum of the bass at Kafe MIO, near the Gorky Center and Fallen Monument Park. Ivan laughed and then started coughing when Alexei slapped him hard on the back of the chest. Vasily and Liliya were up next.

Vanya was glad it was the weekend. He'd enjoyed his week for the most part. Busted up a few fights, answered a few calls, reassured a few folks on his rounds, did a mountain of paperwork. It was his life, but he was glad for it. The good folks in his neighborhood seemed to appreciate their presence. Most of them did. That was enough for him, for now anyway. He enjoyed being able to watch over the people in his area, even if it was just as a lowly beat cop for now. He had aspirations for more, of course. Most cops did. And that was aside from his....experiences with the Power and Ascendancy. But more would come, he was sure, and he would be patient until then.

In meantime, there was nothing like blowing off steam with some friends to good music, great food and of course, drinks. The place wasn't dark, exactly, but the lights were low, except for the glowing red and yellows that illuminated only portions of the room. Plates filled with the remnants of sushi and sashimi and other bar foods littered the table, along with empty shot glasses. Yeah, it was a good night to be young and out, just his kind of place.

That was his first shot, though he'd had a few beers already. He always laughed at the saying, “Beer before strong, you're all wrong. Strong before beer, you're all clear.” That never worked on him. Worst hangovers he had were the other way around. Following up the lighter beers with the good stuff was the way he did it. And it was time for another follow up.

“All right,”
he said, as he got himself out of the booth and stood up. “I'll get the next round. Who's wants what?”
They called out drink orders. Iced vodka, of course. Duh. Godzilla. Brichmula. Stephania looked at him and said she wanted Ascendancy's Blood. He laughed out loud, though inside he was curious what the man actually thought of a drink named after- in honor of? For? Mockingly? He wasn't sure- in any case, he wondered what he thought about it. That order set off a flurry of laughs and drink changes. But he had a limit. Laughing, he said, “I am NOT ordering the Amulet of Man.”
The looks they would have given him at the bar?....no. No thank you.

Vasily barked a laugh and said, “Nika! I have the Amulet of Man right here!”
And then they all just started laughing. Vanya shook his head, chuckling. Morons, he thought, but good-naturedly. Vasily was always like that, always ready with a good one. It was a good night.

Vanya went to the bar and after waiting around for what seemed forever- the bartender was at the other end, seemingly engrossed in a group of women. Vanya looked them over. He didn't blame the man, not really. But he wanted his drinks. “Hey man! Hey!”
The bartender couldn't hear him, but the hand-gesture got his attention and he came over, seeming not to mind the interruption. Good guy. Vanya put in his order, and then waited. He pulled out his wallet and saw that there was a message from Roman, the desk officer at the precinct. It had come in maybe an hour ago. Curious as to why he didn't get it until just now, he wondered what that was about. Course, he'd been drinking so he couldn't go back out if they needed help. But he couldn't just sit there either and ignore it. He wouldn't enjoy the night thinking that he might be avoiding his responsibilities. “Hey,”
to the bartender. “Be right back.”
The man nodded and Ivan made his way to the quieter outside.

Once outside he dialed in and asked for Roman. “Roman, this is Ivan. Got a message that you called. Everything ok?”


From the other end he heard laughter. “Oh, no worries Ivan. Just thought you'd like to know. The little chickadee you brought in the other day? You remember? Well, she called for you. Sounded important. Made sure that I got her number to give you. Twice,”
he added laughing.

Ivan smiled. “Heh....thanks Roman.”
He took the number down and said goodbye. Wow. Zoya had called him. He really hadn't expected her to. Of course, that didn't mean anything. She might just want to yell at him or something. Maybe rope her into a speech or even one of her causes. He wouldn't put it past her to break into yet another building or other too. He smiled at the thought. She was cute though. Wonder what she wanted?

He dialed the number.


Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Sep 7 2014, 09:42 AM.

[Zoya Bocharov]

She blinked at him and shook her head with an incredulous chuckle. It appeared as if the man liked to swear, but she wasn’t about to reprimand him. She had let loose a few expletives of her own, and in any case, it wasn’t as if she actually cared. The women he motioned towards seemed anything but feminine and able to hold their own in a way Zoya hadn’t been able to.

Turning her green eyes away from the women and back to him, toyed with the empty shot glass before answering him. “Heh… I guess you could say today I’ve gone from the frying pan to the fire… but I did it all backwards.”
With a sigh, she leaned back against the booth and shuddered. “It’s been a right shit night.”


“But, no, I’m not a hooker… or an escort,”
she clarified that last a tad bit quickly so as to completely snuff out any doubts, “I’m an Environmentalist. I don't even know how I got here. I just drove. Have you heard of the old soviet factory the city is messing around with now a days?”
The words spilled out of her mouth unbidden. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea for her to share so much, but the alcohol in her system was working its magic, it had even been a tad bit tricky to say her profession. “There was something there. I… I don’t know what, or how it is that I’m still alive… but fuck… it sure feels good… and now, I owe you a drink!”


Just then, her wallet gave off the familiar vibration signaling a call. She didn’t recognize the number, but she had a feeling it may have been Ivan. Tad bit late there Hero.

To White, she looked up apologetically. “Do you mind if I answer this really fast?”

[Hood]

He scoffed at the statement of her lot in life; an Environmentalist. Why did he have such terrible luck as to keep running into these sorts? First that blasted preacher-fellow. Who, as it turned out after a little bit of research, had actually been a preacher. Sometimes Hood could really hit the nail on the head. Well, for one of those Evangelist pukes, that Jensen fellow would probably amount to something useful to society. If he didn't get himself killed first with his damn pacifistic ways of course.

He chuckled and flashed her an almost teasing grin before sipping his beer. "Too bad. Looks like yours, you'd make a killing at it. Hob-knob with the fuckin' best of the best, rake in six digits a year easy. Hell, some guys just pay for a gal like you on their arm in public and don't want a god damn thing for it other then the braggin' rights."


"Heard of it."
Actually, he had heard a few rumours on the grape-vine from his Atharim buddies...if they could be called that. He liked them well enough, but even the ones he worked with regularly weren't friends. Not the type he was going to call up to go for beers and watch a game. But they were good at their job, functioned as a team, did good work, and led him to things he could really let himself loose on. Far better way to blow some steam then dealing with a few drug pumping punks at some dive bar.

"Don't be getting my intervening wrong kid. You just provided a fine excuse to knock a few of these little shits around a bit. Now I'm hoping they come back lookin' for ya and are itching for a real fight. But, I'm probably not that fucking lucky. Think they may have been smarter then they looked."
She didn't owe him a damn thing; besides, if she were some fool Environmentalist, she probably wasn't exactly rolling in cash. She could keep her few bucks if it meant she was likely to buy another tight pair of jeans.

He waved a hand dismissively as she looked at her phone and sipped his terrible beer, eyeing the room. So she'd run into something had she? Well, could have been anything really. She was normal folk, and they saw monsters where none were to be found. Usually if they did see a monster, their brain worked over-time to rationalize it into something more mundane, something explainable.

[Zoya Bocharov]

That sure was an interesting way of paying someone a compliment. It was, Zoya was certain, the only time anyone has ever told her she was good looking enough to be an expensive call girl. “I’m not misinterpreting anything, Pop. Besides, it looks like I got some of my drink on your shirt. Not to mention that I found the way you handled them to be quite satisfying.”
She offered him a quick smile then answered the call.

“Hello?”


“Hi. Zoya? This is ivan Sarkozy. I took you for a ride in my police car last week?”


"Yes, yes. I remember. I called you first, Supercop.”
She frowned at the phone for a moment, as if she was going to forget about that particular car ride, but the continued on in a rush. “Listen, I can't talk long now but there is something I wanted to show you. Except, I can’t now... I kind of drank too much. But, I went to the old radio factory... and almost got killed... and then there was this fight..."


"Hold on hold on. You’re talking too fast. A fight? Are you injured? Do you need me to get some help out to you? Tell me exactly where you are."


"What? No, I'm not injured. Someone did grab my ass though. Pops beat them up for me. Um... what was the name of this place... um... Dinksy? Dikintzy?”
She looked over at White, hoping that perhaps he could refresh her foggy memory, but then the name popped into her head. “Dzhanki! I'm not sure how I got here."


"Dzhanki? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m on my way. Jeez Zoya that’s the worst place on my route! Do not go outside. If someone bothers you yell at the top of your- Wait! You’re not alone? Ok. Stay with the old man. I can be there in ten."


“Ok. See you later Supercop.”
She ended the call and pocketed the Wallet back into her jacket.

To White, she grinned and shrugged. “He arrested me once, I guess he’s coming. Now, that beer. I want one too. Think he’d bring it this way or dare I venture out there again?”
Brow arched, she risked a look at the bar and sighed.

[Hood]

Hood muttered something under his breath about not being sure how she ended up there either. Most folks in a panicked daze didn't come running into that part of town, after all. Pops was it? Well, he'd been called worse in his years, so he let that one slide for now and just sipped his beer until she was done her twittering away on her phone. So she was friends with the cop that arrested her was she? Well that was a healthy relationship waiting to happen.

"It's the cuffs, isn't it? Gets you all hot and bothered."
His tone was deadpan, the comment either meant seriously or to tease her. Mostly to bother her, really. "So you're that kind of Environmentalist are you? B&amp;E, trespassing. The sorts of liberal-hippy twits that break into bio labs and release all the rats? One of these days one of your kind is going to cause a whole hell of a lot of trouble for folks when one of those cute little shit-balls turns out to be carrying some right shit disease they're trying to make a vaccine for."


It was a common motif for movies, but in reality that kind of Environmentalist extremists weren't actually equipped to bust into a lab dealing with something that dangerous. He knew full well; he'd had to do something of the sort a time or two in the past, and it'd been a challenge even for a full team of men like Hood to do it without being caught.

He glanced at her, then towards the distant bar, "Much as I'd enjoy to watch you try..."
he raised his stein which was past the halfway mark, then waved it at her and the empty drinks in front of her. The bar did have a waitress or two, and one was sent there way to take her order. And a fresh beer for Hood.

[Zoya Bocharov]

“Every girl has her secrets.”
She figured he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she wasn’t going to take the bait. Instead, she just went on to address the rest of what he’d said. “I’m more of a keep-the-rivers clean sort of hippy. You know, the land, the air… that sort of stuff. You do like clean air, right? That bunny business that got me picked up was not my doing.”


When the waitress made it to their booth, Zoya made sure to order her beer and tell the waitress to add White’s drink to her tab. “I’m Zoya, by the way. In any case, I’m not against properly regulated procedures. It’s just that some of these sleaze balls try to cut corners and cause more harm than good. Like with this soviet factory. It’s been used as a storage space for God knows what toxic waste, and now that they want the building, the stuff is getting moved out. The contractor is cutting corners and taking some of that crap underground. There are people down there. What if that stuff spills?”


She shuddered as she remembered inspecting the stain on the floor and what happened afterwards. “And now there was that… that thing. Pale… unnatural…walking on the ceiling… it made Big Ugly from earlier look like a kitten. I’d call myself crazy if I hadn’t seen it."


Two glasses of beer were placed on the table and she looked up at the waitress before the woman walked away. “Thanks.”
Taking a hold of her glass, she lifted it in her companion’s direction then took a sip. The stuff was terrible…

[Hood]

"Well, should probably talk some sense into those idiots that landed you there."
Clean air and water were all fine and dandy, and of course someone had to make sure it was around for the next generation. But any effort she made was a one step forward, two step back game thanks to the idiots and extremist Eco-Terrorist types. Those ones always confused the hell out of him. Most of what they did was entirely counter-productive.

He shrugged indifferently at her worries of the stuff spilling; it meant nothing to him after all. The people living in those underground tunnels had make terrible choices in life that landed them where they were. It was the mid-21st century. Folks should have realized by now that just because a place was on the cover of every other damn fashion magazine or trash news rag, it wasn't the promised land. And now they lived in tunnels and only existed because the society above was s damn content and arrogant that they just didn't give a shit about the illegals below them. It was all so bloody ridiculous.

He may have made a comment to that topic, but she continued on about what she had seen at the old factory, and he perked up a bit, glancing at her with a brief hint of interest. "Eyes shined like a cats in the light?"
She probably didn't go there without a flashlight, surely. "Used it's claws to climb on the ceiling?"


His tone was amused, interested; maybe he was just toying with her again, teasing her. Of course, in reality, he had a pretty good idea of what it was, and finally had something to look forward to. He hadn't crossed a Rakshasa since he'd been running with the Atharim back in Oman, and that had been an entirely enjoyable night. Damn thing had near killed him before he put it down.

He grabbed his fresh drink, vaguely annoyed that she had payed for it, and tapped it against her glass before tapping it in turn against the table before taking a sip. It was a toast to the fallen, an old habit he hadn't ditched just yet.

[Zoya Bocharov]

The questions he asked made Zoya look at him over her glass. Was he teasing her? “Yes.”
That was really all she said. She didn’t add that the thing was lying awkwardly as a charred pile of whatever the hell it was, on the factory floor. Honestly, she didn’t want to go anywhere near that place again, but unfinished business was unfinished business.

She drank more from her glass, forcing a few gulps the liquid down before setting the glass on the table again. “You tease… but I doubt you’d very much like to be near one of those things with nothing but your wallet and a flashlight. Then again, who knows, you might just brow beat it to death.”


“I wonder what they will think when they find it tomorrow…”

[Hood]

He set the beer down and tapped the left side of his chest, "American, kid. Hell, it's easier to get a firearms permit here in the glorious CCD then it can be in some States back home."
Of course he was armed; he wasn't foolish enough to go anywhere without a firearm, unless it was strictly denied.

"But you're god-damned right I'd brow beat it to death."
He grinned at her briefly then took up the beer again, "And if there's really monsters and shit, I doubt they're around in broad day light kid. Someone would have seen them by now."
He'd let the Atharim boys know about this, and if he was lucky he'd get to tag along.

He wasn't exactly eager to have to take one of those fuckers with a knife again, but he still wouldn't turn down the chance to go after another one. They payed him well for the task, and while they probably thought otherwise, he didn't charge them anything near the going rate, and when things went sideways so hard that he had to kill some kind of Indian ghoul bullshit with anything but a fucking bullet, the rate normally skyrocketed.

[Ivan Sarkozy]

"Stay with the old man. I can be there in ten."


He ran back inside to pull Vasily aside to get him to cover for him as well as his tab. Emergency, was all he told the guy.

Stupid stupid girl. Dzhanki? Seriously? She had no idea how many times he had gotten called into the place to break up an altercation or to take a report. It was the worst. And Zoya-I-like-to-break-into-buildings-and-free-bunnies-and-oh-yeah-I'm-also-all-kinds-of-hot-Bocharov decided to get drunk in that place. Where pimps, hookers and other low-lifes loved to hang out. AND she was drunk, the slurring and confused account clear in his memory.

He didn't remember getting in the car or starting it up and making his way onto Leninsky for a straight shot. He knew he'd had a few and probably shouldn't drive, but it didn't matter. The fear and adrenaline was pumping and he could see the familiar light Ascendancy had taught him was the power. He drew on that power now, felt it flood into him, even as he drove frantically. He'd wished he'd had his cruiser to flash some lights, but he made good enough time. The power coursed through him making everything clear, every movement of every other driver, every turn in the road, every flash in his mirrors. He took in all in and while he might have been impaired according to a breathalyzer, he knew that mentally, he was as sharp as ever.

He only hoped he'd get there on time. Flashes of her words came back to him. "Someone did grab my ass though."
Fucking yeah they grabbed her ass- perversely, the phrase they'd always jokingly used, 'two scoops of fruit', popped into his head. If she wasn't careful they'd grab a lot more than two scoops. It was nighttime, after all, when all the hookers and call-girls made their way in. He could easily see the situation in his mind's eye. But she had mentioned an old man had stopped it. She was lucky. Not many old geezers around the place went out of their way to be gentlemanly. He was seriously gonna have to talk to Igor about the place he ran. Maybe get some better patrols too. He might volunteer himself. He just hoped the old guy stuck around rather than go home to have supper and fall asleep in his easy chair watching that old show She Wrote a Murder or something. Despite himself, he laughed. The adrenaline was funny, the way it came out in all kinds of weird ways.

The car screeched to a stop and Ivan got out and ran to the door. He thought about his gun, but with blood showing alcohol, that would be bad news. Besides, the power surged in him. He'd learned enough from Ascendancy to be deadly without a gun. He slowed himself. He needed to be careful. Only a moron bursts into the room without being careful. He listened for a moment and when he was satisfied, he opened the door slowly and carefully....

...and found nothing out of the ordinary. Course that didn't mean anything. He looked around, heightened sense picking up everything. The Sisters in the corner, clearly looking him over dismissively; one or two rough guys who seemed to be there for more than a drink; Igor at the bar looking up at him and nodding over to the corner; Zoya in the corner with an older guy drinking a beer. She seemed no worse for wear, but he held onto the power and walked in slowly.

The guy wasn't old, though Ivan still thought of him that way. 15 years older, if he'd have to guess. Hard man too. Then again, he'd have to be to protect Zoya from the guys around here. Course, that didn't mean he was a good guy. All kinds of types around here, playing all kinds of roles. Savior, hero, father figure, knight in shining armor. And then they'd get you alone and that was it. So he approached warily, but at least relieved that she was ok.

Slowly- power still flooding him- he asked, "Zoya, are you alright?"



Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jun 23 2014, 09:48 PM.