(no subject)
So he's back on the job. Wierdness? Whatever; he's home now.
Now he knows where the intruder isn’t (thank you, random parapsychologist wandering the dimensions!) Krauser’s got to pick up the trail. He starts out climbing up to the roof. He cuts across the facility quickly, going to the other avenue he’d have chosen back when he was still human.
He takes it and starts backtracking. It’s the smell that tells him he’s found him; not fear, but alertness too sharp and wary to be someone who’s supposed to be present. He watches him go, dodging a small team on their way to the outside. Then Krauser has to wonder where he thinks he’s going. He was moving like someone who knew the way right until that last left. And now he’s suddenly uncertain. Krauser frowns. So someone leaked an early blueprint? Who has it?
He shakes his head. He’s going to have to detain him for questioning. He calls in a two-man team just to see what he can learn from his reaction, sits back, and watches. It’s a brief, but telling interval. The man detects them and deals with them. Krauser doesn’t interfere. He’s too busy watching. American gear, highly trained, a match for both soldiers. When it comes down to a close-quarters scuffle with the survivor, he fights with the knife in what is occasionally definite South African style. No insignia or symbols whatsoever. Probably a mercenary, but. . .
He strikes when the man’s searching the bodies, probably looking for key cards. It’s a successful ambush. He drops the man unconscious, searches him quickly for weapons, and finds most of his carrying space taken up by a small metal case.
Hunh. Right. He flips it open and looks in; files. The odd thing is, the symbol on the top of them is familiar. All right, this guy got to the vaults to pick up the information on Las Plagas. So why did he veer suddenly and go in deeper? And who’s he caught, anyway? He pulls the wrappings free from the man’s face.
Oh, hell. There’s a unique sting to seeing someone he knew. . . before, like having a splinter dragged from under a nail. It takes about ten seconds to place him. In that time, the man’s come awake. He smells a rich jolt of fear, but not much shock at all. So this man’s been promoted since he left; too much of Kennedy’s mission was classified for his status to have gotten out to the rank and file.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here, Krauser?”
Jack pauses for a half-second as he considers both the betrayal and the anger he hears. Uh, no. He’s not going to have this conversation; he’s turning him in for questioning, then finishing his search to be sure the man came in alone. Jack moves back. “Get up.”
“So you’re not going to kill me?” It’s rage talking now. “Come on, traitor, you’ve got a record at stake here.”
The hell? Krauser freezes for a moment, but he’s got to be talking about Kennedy. “Move.”
He starts to comply, and Krauser decides this is hate, an almost-anger smell sick and strong and unshakeable. "You--you were--"
“Quiet,”Krauser says, drawing the knife. It gets him silence; survival instinct keeps the man from doing anything stupid like trying to get the knife from him. They’re at the elevators when the man decides he’s going to say it. “You had me fooled. I didn’t believe it when I heard you murdered the team. Not until Ken-”
If you’re going to die anyway, there is one plus to provoking a bioweapon into killing you. It’s fast. Messy-Krauser turns his face away as he jerks his hand free and the body starts to pitch forward-but fast. He shakes his hand twice, then draws the spikes he formed over his fingers back into his body. He finishes looking for anyone else, then files his report and goes to clean up. He gets the obvious blood off, but he’s in too much of a hurry to do more than throw out the old shirt, grab the bow, and start out for a run.
He finds himself in Milliways instead.
Now he knows where the intruder isn’t (thank you, random parapsychologist wandering the dimensions!) Krauser’s got to pick up the trail. He starts out climbing up to the roof. He cuts across the facility quickly, going to the other avenue he’d have chosen back when he was still human.
He takes it and starts backtracking. It’s the smell that tells him he’s found him; not fear, but alertness too sharp and wary to be someone who’s supposed to be present. He watches him go, dodging a small team on their way to the outside. Then Krauser has to wonder where he thinks he’s going. He was moving like someone who knew the way right until that last left. And now he’s suddenly uncertain. Krauser frowns. So someone leaked an early blueprint? Who has it?
He shakes his head. He’s going to have to detain him for questioning. He calls in a two-man team just to see what he can learn from his reaction, sits back, and watches. It’s a brief, but telling interval. The man detects them and deals with them. Krauser doesn’t interfere. He’s too busy watching. American gear, highly trained, a match for both soldiers. When it comes down to a close-quarters scuffle with the survivor, he fights with the knife in what is occasionally definite South African style. No insignia or symbols whatsoever. Probably a mercenary, but. . .
He strikes when the man’s searching the bodies, probably looking for key cards. It’s a successful ambush. He drops the man unconscious, searches him quickly for weapons, and finds most of his carrying space taken up by a small metal case.
Hunh. Right. He flips it open and looks in; files. The odd thing is, the symbol on the top of them is familiar. All right, this guy got to the vaults to pick up the information on Las Plagas. So why did he veer suddenly and go in deeper? And who’s he caught, anyway? He pulls the wrappings free from the man’s face.
Oh, hell. There’s a unique sting to seeing someone he knew. . . before, like having a splinter dragged from under a nail. It takes about ten seconds to place him. In that time, the man’s come awake. He smells a rich jolt of fear, but not much shock at all. So this man’s been promoted since he left; too much of Kennedy’s mission was classified for his status to have gotten out to the rank and file.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here, Krauser?”
Jack pauses for a half-second as he considers both the betrayal and the anger he hears. Uh, no. He’s not going to have this conversation; he’s turning him in for questioning, then finishing his search to be sure the man came in alone. Jack moves back. “Get up.”
“So you’re not going to kill me?” It’s rage talking now. “Come on, traitor, you’ve got a record at stake here.”
The hell? Krauser freezes for a moment, but he’s got to be talking about Kennedy. “Move.”
He starts to comply, and Krauser decides this is hate, an almost-anger smell sick and strong and unshakeable. "You--you were--"
“Quiet,”Krauser says, drawing the knife. It gets him silence; survival instinct keeps the man from doing anything stupid like trying to get the knife from him. They’re at the elevators when the man decides he’s going to say it. “You had me fooled. I didn’t believe it when I heard you murdered the team. Not until Ken-”
If you’re going to die anyway, there is one plus to provoking a bioweapon into killing you. It’s fast. Messy-Krauser turns his face away as he jerks his hand free and the body starts to pitch forward-but fast. He shakes his hand twice, then draws the spikes he formed over his fingers back into his body. He finishes looking for anyone else, then files his report and goes to clean up. He gets the obvious blood off, but he’s in too much of a hurry to do more than throw out the old shirt, grab the bow, and start out for a run.
He finds himself in Milliways instead.