[Hey Mozha]
[Hmm?]
[Why do you think we're here? Standing outside these walls? We don't even have any more ammo to launch another salvo.]
[Dunno, the boss says we stay, we stay.]
[Boss says a lot of things, last time he said if we attacked full force we'll kill their leaders and the place'll be ours. Been a week now, still waiting on their doorstep.]
[Shush man, don't y'know the boss'll kill you if he heard you talk like that.]
[I know, just tired is all. Haven't had a decent bed to sleep on and even when we do sleep it's interrupted by the night watch shifts.]
[Don't worry about it, I don't mind.] A hand suddenly shot out from the dark of the night, it was silent and quick but landed firmly on the man's shoulders. [Man's gotta answer for all he's done to God at the end of the day anyway, and if he's gotta be honest to God, why not to fellow man who came from God eh?]
[B,Boss!] The Mozhayev panicked as he saw the man. [Please forgive im' boss! Pashkin's quite young and don't know how to hold his liquor.]
[No no it's fine, I was in the army once, had days when I'd talk shit bout my captain too.]
[Pash! Apologize to the boss! right now!] Mozhayev shouted at his drinking buddy.
[Sorry boss, didn't mean nothing when I said those things bout you boss.] Pashkin held his head down trying to avert his gaze from those predatory eyes of his leader.
[Like I said it's fine.] He replied as he pried a bottle that was nestled in Mozhayev's armpit under his coat, tilting it to check the label. [Please call me Bartram, just for now, titles ruin the taste of vodka under the watch of moonlight. And it would be a sin to drink 'Legende les Kreml' under such circumstances, how did you get such a thing after the change? it was hard enough to find any alcohol at all.]
[My father had bought a bottle to open one day and kept it in his private safe stuffed with all his old books. When the earth shook, those old tearing books cushioned and protected the bottle.]
[Gotta give it to the old, we may not understand what they're thinking sometimes, but they always have the future in mind.] Bartram said as he popped the cap open, lifting the bottle to his nose he lightly shook it and sniffed from the bottle's opening like a gourmet inhaling the aroma of new cuisine. His eyes closed soothingly as his nose in the strong bitter sting that nearly turned his face red. As he opened his eyes he looked less like their stern boss and more like a nice village uncle. [Where's your father now?] He continued as he poured out 3 shots.
[He uh... was lost in the change.] Mozhayev replied as he took the two shots offered to him and passed it to Pashkin.
[But this whole village was intact during the change, was it not?] Bartram asked.
[My family owned a house outside the village, about two miles west across the river.]
[Oh that white one with a thatched roof?]
[Yes that one.]
[You weren't with them?]
[I was with Pashkin at das Wirtshaus.] Mozhayev replied ashamedly.
[HAHAHAHA!] Bartrams thunderous laughter shook the air as the two subordinates watched aghast by the display of emotion that few were ever able to see of him. [A man after my own heart, let's drink to your family, may they be safe wherever they are.] Bartram raised his glass up and downed the liquid contents in a go.
With renewed boldness both Pashkin and Mozhayev brought their own shot glass up and downed it as well. [You know I am actually quite angry...] Bartrams voice suddenly rang out in their ears, not the warm friendly one he used just a second a ago but that which he used to command the men. [If you had vodka like this, why'd you keep it from me for so long!] Like that they continued drinking and letting their heating bodies fight against the nights chill.
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[Uh... Bartram, sir.] After sometime Pashkin had gathered his courage to ask.
[Yes Pashikin.]
[You said a man must answer to God, so he has to answer to fellow man right?]
[Pash!]
[No it's fine, it was indeed something I said.] Bartram waved his hands at Mozhayev.
[So why are we here?] Pashkin asked naively. [We have no ammo to start a fight after our last big attack failed, all the men have to sleep only four hours a night and we're not doing anything besides waiting for someone on the other side of that wall to pop their heads so we can play target practice.]
[Pash!] Mozhayev glared, feeling like his friend's words were putting his life in danger.
[Well you see Pashkin, we are waiting reinforcements.] Bartram answered, disregarding Mozhayev.
[Reinforcements?] Both of them stared, dumbfounded. In all honesty, neither of them expected an answer, for one because as the leader it wouldn't be weird if he answered with 'none of your f$%king business' and they'd have to take it. And secondly because they thought the higher ups didn't actually have an answer.
[Yes, Mr. Mototsune promised to come with more ammo and weapons. But until then I don't want those dogs from the other side coming out to hunt for more food and replenish their stocks. And if we just stay here, they have to continue to evacuate the inhabitants of the houses on the outer circle into the inner area, forcing them to stay in more cramped spaces with more of their countryman. We'll starve them and tire them until the weapons come so that they won't have much energy left once we breach those walls.]
[I know it's asking a lot, but I hope you guys can hold on here a little longer until we take over this place.] Bartram said, revealing a toothy smile.
[And Pashkin...] Bartram called warmly.
[Yes Bartram sir?] He replied, an easy going smile plastered onto his face.
[Since I've answered your questions then it's your turn to answer mine.] Bartram said, still revealing an amicable smile.]
[Anything sir.]
[That's great.] Suddenly in the dark of the night, something flashed by in front of the duo and Pashkin found a knife had suddenly appeared, stabbed right through his hand. It had embedded itself between the knuckles of his index and ring finger, pinning it to the ground. [What right do you have to question my commands?] Bartrams voice maintained it's friendly and cheerful vibe, but it send chills down both their spines. Especially Pashkin who couldn't get himself away without tearing meat from his hands.
[Do you think you're smarter than me?] Bartram asked Pashkin, their faces growing dangerously close to each other, each word flying with spittle at his face
[No sir! We just didn't know and were curious is all!] Mozhayev answered.
[And what about this one? Your orders are to stand guard and watch the night, and yet you brazenly drink in front of me? What is that but blatant disrespect for my authority!?] As he said so he twisted the knife ninety degrees, spreading the knuckles apart with the width of the blade, it's sharp edge facing his ring and pinky finger.
[Aiiieeeh!] Pashkin screamed, tears and snot running down his face.
[Please boss! We're sorry!] Mozhayev kneeled.
[Whuuuu Wuuuu wu!] Pashkin wanted to scream his apology as well, but it was choked by his tears and snot.
[I told you didn't I? titles ruin the taste of this vodka.] Bartram said as he slowly pushed his knife forward, the sound of the crunching of bones, the popping of cartillages and snapping of muscle fibres resound in the air as the blade slowly severed Pashkin's ring finger.
[Rrrrrrrggggghhhh!] Not able to even beg from this position, Pashkin started smashing his forehead against the ground to show his remorse.
[I'm sorry Bartram sir!] Mozhayev siad his head low on the ground.
[There you go again, disrespecting my authority.] Bartram said lazily as the knife in his hand moved forward and severed the pinky.
Mozhayev's mind was going crazy, frantically trying to appease the demon in front of him, either way there was something to blame.
[Mozhayev!]
[Yes sir!] Mozhayev responded instantly, cold sweat dripping down from his back, sliding down to his neck, nose and onto the ground.
[Do you like drinking so much that you have to drink on duty?] Bartram asked as he stood up bringing the bottle close to Mozhayev's face.
[Sir no sir!] He replied.
[And yet, you are drinking so nicely in front of your boss! Do you think I'm stupid!?] As he said those words another bone-chilling scream escaped Pashkin's mouth as Bartram ground it under his heel.
[No sir!]
[Hey Pashkin.] Pashkin raised his tear and snot covered face to look at Bartram who was bending down to see him eye to eye, his hand still under Bartram's boot. [Do you like vodka?]
Pashkin nodded, not wanting to repeat Mozhayev's answer. [Good, good... have some.] He brought the bottles opening to Pashkin's face and planted it against his mouth, to which Pashkin responded by drinking a sip.
[How is it? good?] Bartram asked, to which Pashkin nodded some more. [Good, good... have some more.] At those words, Bartram released Pashkin's hand from under his heel but caught it at the wrist as Pashkin tried to pull it back. Pashkin looked up confused as Bartram tilted the bottle, pouring the alcohol directly onto his wounds.
He squirmed trying to pull his hand away to no avail against the superhuman strength in that grip that was not only holding his hand in place but was also slowly adding more strength to crush his wrist. [Not too much though, I'd like to keep the rest of the bottle if that's okay with you Mozhayev?] Mozhayev simply stayed silent.
[Good... that's how a soldier should be.] Bartram said as he walked away.