03-16-2017, 07:10 PM
In the days after the Atharim's bloody retarded attempt to kill Nikolai in his own damn fortress, Hood's stockpile of safehouses and evacuation plans had been seriously depleted. It seemed in the absence of their oh-so-charismatic leader, the Atharim of Russia were a fractious lot. In-fighting, the settling of grudges, and the formation of splintered camps had led to dozens of Atharim had sought him out. The Old World Atharim just didn't seem cut out to operate without a set leader.
Luckily, the Atharim had saw fit to ensure he had been well funded in setting up those safe houses and escape routes.
That said, all such resources were finite, and he had no where to forward his current 'guest' to in the city. Unless, of course, he were to tap into his own safe houses and escape routes. And as such, he didn't have anywhere to pawn his most recent guest off to. Not immediately, at least.
So she was drinking his beer.
"Sparked a gang war, then killed off the worst of them before the first C-Can was dropped off here. The rest backed off after."
He pulled the pair of steaks he had been dry-aging for the past few weeks, which had then spent the last few hours marinating, and slapped the pair on a plate already loaded in thick slices of onion, peppers, and mushrooms.
It had been a bloody little turf war, that had gotten the usual investigation by the police. But in the after math, it had been fairly simple to 'encourage' most such groups from acting in the area. There was still petty crime of course, but the bigger groups had wisely opted to stay out.
Next was the butter; horseradish and chive. He was a stickler for quality; he spent more on fresh food then on ammo, most months. The cow had been butchered and the steak aging for three weeks. The butter was fresh churned, the horseradish and chives, much like the rest of the ingredients, came from a local farmers market. No radiation baths or pesticides. Not that he actually had anything against such things, but he was well paid, well invested, and had nothing else to spend money on.
A plate next to the sink, opposite the steaks, held trimmings of fat and grit which would end up tossed under his deck where those damn flea-bag dogs had taken up residence. He tolerated their presence as a deterrent and warning, and as a trash compactor. Metro dogs, they left to board the morning metro cars into busier parts of the city, where scraps of food were easy to find, then back out on the evening trains to find safe places to sleep.
So when they started barking and snarling under the steps, he wiped his hands off on a towel thrust through his belt and slipped his Landwarriors onto his face.
A distant apartment block, hidden on the balcony of an old retired couple, was the internet router and laser-transmitter that provided the signal for the safehouse. Anyone trying to track him through cyber space would have been led to that old folks place.
Also hidden on that balcony was a thermal camera on a gyro, overlooking the back of the house and its neighbors. Others were hidden elsewhere in the area. At that hour, there weren't many folks in such a run down area out and about, and the two clearly stalking his house stood out easily enough.
The fact that there were only two of them meant either they had no idea who they were dealing with, or they were very arrogant.
He glanced over at Jacinda, flashing a predatory smile. "Company."
Luckily, the Atharim had saw fit to ensure he had been well funded in setting up those safe houses and escape routes.
That said, all such resources were finite, and he had no where to forward his current 'guest' to in the city. Unless, of course, he were to tap into his own safe houses and escape routes. And as such, he didn't have anywhere to pawn his most recent guest off to. Not immediately, at least.
So she was drinking his beer.
"Sparked a gang war, then killed off the worst of them before the first C-Can was dropped off here. The rest backed off after."
He pulled the pair of steaks he had been dry-aging for the past few weeks, which had then spent the last few hours marinating, and slapped the pair on a plate already loaded in thick slices of onion, peppers, and mushrooms.
It had been a bloody little turf war, that had gotten the usual investigation by the police. But in the after math, it had been fairly simple to 'encourage' most such groups from acting in the area. There was still petty crime of course, but the bigger groups had wisely opted to stay out.
Next was the butter; horseradish and chive. He was a stickler for quality; he spent more on fresh food then on ammo, most months. The cow had been butchered and the steak aging for three weeks. The butter was fresh churned, the horseradish and chives, much like the rest of the ingredients, came from a local farmers market. No radiation baths or pesticides. Not that he actually had anything against such things, but he was well paid, well invested, and had nothing else to spend money on.
A plate next to the sink, opposite the steaks, held trimmings of fat and grit which would end up tossed under his deck where those damn flea-bag dogs had taken up residence. He tolerated their presence as a deterrent and warning, and as a trash compactor. Metro dogs, they left to board the morning metro cars into busier parts of the city, where scraps of food were easy to find, then back out on the evening trains to find safe places to sleep.
So when they started barking and snarling under the steps, he wiped his hands off on a towel thrust through his belt and slipped his Landwarriors onto his face.
A distant apartment block, hidden on the balcony of an old retired couple, was the internet router and laser-transmitter that provided the signal for the safehouse. Anyone trying to track him through cyber space would have been led to that old folks place.
Also hidden on that balcony was a thermal camera on a gyro, overlooking the back of the house and its neighbors. Others were hidden elsewhere in the area. At that hour, there weren't many folks in such a run down area out and about, and the two clearly stalking his house stood out easily enough.
The fact that there were only two of them meant either they had no idea who they were dealing with, or they were very arrogant.
He glanced over at Jacinda, flashing a predatory smile. "Company."