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War Games
#11
Nikolai was unaccustomed to fury. His temper was always tightly controlled. There was a difference between being irritated and furious. As the car rumbled farther away from Rahim's neighborhood, that irritated festered slowly into anger. The point of this exercise was to incite chaos in a controlled manner in order to study its effects, not see these worthless demigods killing themselves meaninglessly. What was a kid doing with one of the most volatile creatures in all of the dark world? His memory of rakshasa was a distant, faded thing. After all, he hadn't studied that damn book of the Atharim in forty years. There was something about a Hindu folklore, feasting on human flesh, lurking along a dark road... but the images were disjointed. There was nothing to imply the potential to tame such a beast.

The car rolled to a stop and the driver announced their location.

"Say that again."
Nikolai frowned as he looked out the window. They were alongside an old Eastern Orthodox church. Darkness drenched its gothic spires, turning their spikes to gnashing teeth. A pair of doors set atop a wide bank of steps, the sanctuary beyond. "No. Nevermind, I heard you the first time."
A church?! A man on the edge, plucked from his home, stranded in a foreign land went to a church?

Nikolai contained his sigh and curled the mask down his face. Suppose it made sense. The building would be empty and a man with power could easily break in. There was likely to be food and drink somewhere, perhaps an old fireplace by which to warm himself. But unless mid-night mass was underway, there was little spectacle that he could add that would incite the man to madness.

The hinge on the door had been broken, but he felt nothing inside as he shoved open the doors. A long aisle led to the altar centered beneath the main dome. He was never religious, but he had participated in a fair share of ceremonies and masses in Moscow for various PR events. The spectacle was mandatory but endeared him to an otherwise very religious culture. The press loved the sight of a prayerful Ascendancy. It was ironic to no end, as the thought of bending a knee to another living creature abhorred him. Thankfully, the act was only a show. The only true god on the planet was himself.

Thus, the sight of a lone figure stooped beneath an enormous figure of the crucifix left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stood in the back, trying to ascertain whether or not Zlatko was even awake, and then to determine what to actually do to provoke him.

Zlatko was deep in prayer, the sounds of distant weeping echoed in the enormous hall, and Nikolai approached like some thief in the night to stab him in the back. This man was lost to the contemplation of his own mind - his own heart - and for what? For Nik to sneak up and crush his spirit? Something similar happened the day the Atharim found him in Aginskoye. Roused from meditation by the roaring of an outraged Regus. Wilhelm found a peaceful Nikolai when he expected to discover the monster that killed his son. In that instant, a holy house of peace transformed into a shed of slaughter. Wilhelm came up behind him like a coward; Nikolai was above that.

His gaze lifted above Zlatko's head where the gnarled body of the Christ hung on a cross. Zlatko apparently believed that statue was going to save him. How wrong he was.

A flick of Nikolai's power shoved the cross from its altar. Zlatko jumped up when ceramic shattered and wood splintered against the back wall. When he turned, he saw a figure draped in shadow standing at the back of the church. More, he felt that shadow stretch across the sanctuary between them. "You can only save yourself, Zlatko!"
He uttered and left the man shaking in his shoes.

Back in the car, Nikolai rubbed his temple. First Rahim; now Zlatko. It was all a waste. That hourglass. Memento mori. Nikolai had banished himself to the edge of the world to seek an existence with answers and those bastards tried to kill him just like Garret. Their blind ambitions were beyond reason. That day Nikolai put 11 Atharim in their graves. The twelfth body, that of Regus Wilhelm Ravid, he watched burn and then crushed the bones into the dirt.

He pulled the hourglass symbol he'd stolen off Rahim's body, studying its glint in the dim light of the car's dashboard. That was when he realized he had seen the symbol before. That day in Aginskoye. One of the Atharim he put in the ground wore one too.

"Take me out of the city."
He told the driver.

"Sir? You're scheduled to be here another six hours. There are four more men to find."


Nik yanked and discarded his mask. It was time he was himself again. "I am changing the schedule. Now, take me out of the city, and make arrangements for a trip west. I am going to the mountains of Siberia."

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