006: Bound
There is only one way to truly disarm a mage, it is said - you must control the hands. Some take this rule literally, chopping off limbs when faced with a powerful opponent, but sometimes that just doesn't work.
Like when the rite you're hoping to accomplish requires the sacrifice of a whole Light Other. Or, rather, two.
Ironically, they hadn't invited trouble this time. She and Bear, partnered once more, had completed their rounds, and sat in on a meeting with the boss as the sun rose. The heat in Moscow was blistering in the summer - even with all of the windows open and the fans working as hard as they could, the meeting room was stifling, and the full heat of the day hadn't yet come. You could tell who was patrolling and who was currently not on active duty, who was a young Other and who had been at this for quite some time - she nearly fell asleep on Bear's shoulder, and Anton was clearly snoozing in the corner, while Seymon was fresh as a daisy and the newly re-instated Olya talked tactics with the boss. The meeting had just ended, everyone was packing up (she surreptitiously kicked Anton under the table to wake him up) when the boss did the unthinkable:
He gave them all the long weekend off.
He then withdrew into the Twilight, far beyond where she could easily see him, and left them to blink at each other in stunned disbelief. This... doesn't happen. It never happens.
It just happened.
"Party at my house!" She crowed without thinking about it - it would be cooler there, and she had ample supplies and room for all those in the Watch she knew (and more than a few others, come to think of it). Seymon had taken that torch and ran with it, organizing food, travel arrangements, with a brutal efficiency that was somewhat frightening. Bear had laughed at her expression and took her off to get some coffee before they went on ahead to get the house ready (and pen up her dogs). It was a long road from Moscow to her house in the country, a trip she didn't get to make too often. They took turns along the road - each driving for a few hours before shifting, alternately talking or singing along with the radio or catching a catnap as the world slipped by outside.
By mutual consent, they stopped at one of the roadside stands, looking for a bite to eat and something cool to drink. She had been right, it was cooler outside the city, but the summer heat hadn't abated that much. They hadn't been looking for trouble. They hadn't even realized they were in trouble until, as they headed back to the car, he stumbled as if blind drunk, a movement akin to a mountain slide starting. She had darted forward to catch him... or at least, she had meant to. The world tilted alarmingly, and she felt the sharp bite of rocks digging into her knees before she realized she had fallen. Gulping unhappily as the world reeled like the deck of a ship in a storm, she crawled to Bear's side. Poison, drugs, something in the food... whatever the reason, one of them needed to be awake and functioning, and while he seemed the worst off, flat on the ground and worryingly motionless, she was strong enough to still try to clear him of the toxin.
"Bear... Bear? Bear, look at me... look..." She shook him, or tried too, but his eyes were rolled back in his head, and he didn't listen to his partner's call. Her head was swimming away, far far away, maybe if she just laid down for a second, got her wits back around her, she could get them out of this...
________________________________________________________________________
She woke after he did - she came back to her senses hearing his muttered curses, and feeling the bite of the rope in her skin.
And to someone she didn't know standing over her, a flashlight in his hand, grinning nastily.
"Looks like you didn't kill this one after all! I thought you were supposed to be powerful, eh?" He was a short, whip-thin figure of a man, and his fingers were cold as he traced them along her cheekbone. She snarled at him, and her head snapped back when he backhanded her sharply.
"Easy, Viktor." A second male voice, but he stood out of her range of vision, and as tightly bound as she was, she couldn't shift to see him. "If she lives, it would hardly due to change that before the proper time." She heard footsteps, soft - patent leather shoes, costly and somewhat ridiculous, in her opinion. His shoes came into view first, and she was right, sumptuous leather that must have cost a pretty penny. Then he crouched, and she could see the rest - a middle-aged man, slightly gone to pot, in a fancy suit and tie, looking startlingly normal in this bizarre situation.
"You see, my dear, you are special, you and your friend. I'm sure you knew that. You have what I want, and with the rite tonight, I will be like you, powerful, with long life and no limits to what I can do. You won't be there to see it, of course, but rest assured, I won't waste it." His voice, so urbane, so human, showed no trace of the madman bent on killing two strangers. She didn't answer, because this was lunacy - no rite, no amount of killing (whether the victims be Other or no) could turn a normal human into an Other. Not when there was no hope of it happening without intervention.
Their captors had left, leaving them in the dark of what was either a very large closet or a very small, windowless room. There was nothing to be done, though - neither of them could move more than a fraction of an inch in any direction, and both were still feeling the effects of whatever had taken them down - too much movement, and the world felt as if it were lurching unnaturally. Time dragged on, and they alternately encouraged and snapped at each other as they tried everything they could think of to get free. It was unnatural, being unable to access the power they usually had, but with their hands immobilized (she couldn't even feel hers anymore) and the both of them pinioned in place like sheep ready for slaughter, there ws precious little they could do, other than wait.
She was trying to get the world to stop moving again when she noticed it - the thick, sweet and smoky smell of turkish cigarettes. She had switched to a pipe with the latest fad, many of them had, but a few Others stuck with the cigarettes.
"You know, when you said party, this is not what I thought." She had the nerve to sound amused, and when the cigarette flared, Katya glared in Olga's direction fiercely. Katya would never mistake that voice, not in a million years. Warm hands, small and firm, framed her face. Olga muttered something under her breath, and it was as if a plug at the back of her head had been yanked out, and all of the swilling toxins had drained out, leaving her suddenly, almost uncomfortably suddenly, clearheaded once again. Another soft mutter around the cigarette and the ropes holding Katya fell away, and she felt Olga rise and head over to her partner. She had a bit of a rough time, working circulation back into her fingers, but once done, she grinned sharply in the dark.
There's always a problem in caging a tiger. The tiger doesn't take too kindly to it, and carries a grudge, if it gets out.
Later that day, three Others returned to the road and hurried off to get the house in order. Back in an abandoned hut, two men awaited for the local constabulary... and an ambulance. It would be better, Katya had decided, if men like this were denied the option of reproducing. Ever. Let them get out of that bind, if they can.
Like when the rite you're hoping to accomplish requires the sacrifice of a whole Light Other. Or, rather, two.
Ironically, they hadn't invited trouble this time. She and Bear, partnered once more, had completed their rounds, and sat in on a meeting with the boss as the sun rose. The heat in Moscow was blistering in the summer - even with all of the windows open and the fans working as hard as they could, the meeting room was stifling, and the full heat of the day hadn't yet come. You could tell who was patrolling and who was currently not on active duty, who was a young Other and who had been at this for quite some time - she nearly fell asleep on Bear's shoulder, and Anton was clearly snoozing in the corner, while Seymon was fresh as a daisy and the newly re-instated Olya talked tactics with the boss. The meeting had just ended, everyone was packing up (she surreptitiously kicked Anton under the table to wake him up) when the boss did the unthinkable:
He gave them all the long weekend off.
He then withdrew into the Twilight, far beyond where she could easily see him, and left them to blink at each other in stunned disbelief. This... doesn't happen. It never happens.
It just happened.
"Party at my house!" She crowed without thinking about it - it would be cooler there, and she had ample supplies and room for all those in the Watch she knew (and more than a few others, come to think of it). Seymon had taken that torch and ran with it, organizing food, travel arrangements, with a brutal efficiency that was somewhat frightening. Bear had laughed at her expression and took her off to get some coffee before they went on ahead to get the house ready (and pen up her dogs). It was a long road from Moscow to her house in the country, a trip she didn't get to make too often. They took turns along the road - each driving for a few hours before shifting, alternately talking or singing along with the radio or catching a catnap as the world slipped by outside.
By mutual consent, they stopped at one of the roadside stands, looking for a bite to eat and something cool to drink. She had been right, it was cooler outside the city, but the summer heat hadn't abated that much. They hadn't been looking for trouble. They hadn't even realized they were in trouble until, as they headed back to the car, he stumbled as if blind drunk, a movement akin to a mountain slide starting. She had darted forward to catch him... or at least, she had meant to. The world tilted alarmingly, and she felt the sharp bite of rocks digging into her knees before she realized she had fallen. Gulping unhappily as the world reeled like the deck of a ship in a storm, she crawled to Bear's side. Poison, drugs, something in the food... whatever the reason, one of them needed to be awake and functioning, and while he seemed the worst off, flat on the ground and worryingly motionless, she was strong enough to still try to clear him of the toxin.
"Bear... Bear? Bear, look at me... look..." She shook him, or tried too, but his eyes were rolled back in his head, and he didn't listen to his partner's call. Her head was swimming away, far far away, maybe if she just laid down for a second, got her wits back around her, she could get them out of this...
________________________________________________________________________
She woke after he did - she came back to her senses hearing his muttered curses, and feeling the bite of the rope in her skin.
And to someone she didn't know standing over her, a flashlight in his hand, grinning nastily.
"Looks like you didn't kill this one after all! I thought you were supposed to be powerful, eh?" He was a short, whip-thin figure of a man, and his fingers were cold as he traced them along her cheekbone. She snarled at him, and her head snapped back when he backhanded her sharply.
"Easy, Viktor." A second male voice, but he stood out of her range of vision, and as tightly bound as she was, she couldn't shift to see him. "If she lives, it would hardly due to change that before the proper time." She heard footsteps, soft - patent leather shoes, costly and somewhat ridiculous, in her opinion. His shoes came into view first, and she was right, sumptuous leather that must have cost a pretty penny. Then he crouched, and she could see the rest - a middle-aged man, slightly gone to pot, in a fancy suit and tie, looking startlingly normal in this bizarre situation.
"You see, my dear, you are special, you and your friend. I'm sure you knew that. You have what I want, and with the rite tonight, I will be like you, powerful, with long life and no limits to what I can do. You won't be there to see it, of course, but rest assured, I won't waste it." His voice, so urbane, so human, showed no trace of the madman bent on killing two strangers. She didn't answer, because this was lunacy - no rite, no amount of killing (whether the victims be Other or no) could turn a normal human into an Other. Not when there was no hope of it happening without intervention.
Their captors had left, leaving them in the dark of what was either a very large closet or a very small, windowless room. There was nothing to be done, though - neither of them could move more than a fraction of an inch in any direction, and both were still feeling the effects of whatever had taken them down - too much movement, and the world felt as if it were lurching unnaturally. Time dragged on, and they alternately encouraged and snapped at each other as they tried everything they could think of to get free. It was unnatural, being unable to access the power they usually had, but with their hands immobilized (she couldn't even feel hers anymore) and the both of them pinioned in place like sheep ready for slaughter, there ws precious little they could do, other than wait.
She was trying to get the world to stop moving again when she noticed it - the thick, sweet and smoky smell of turkish cigarettes. She had switched to a pipe with the latest fad, many of them had, but a few Others stuck with the cigarettes.
"You know, when you said party, this is not what I thought." She had the nerve to sound amused, and when the cigarette flared, Katya glared in Olga's direction fiercely. Katya would never mistake that voice, not in a million years. Warm hands, small and firm, framed her face. Olga muttered something under her breath, and it was as if a plug at the back of her head had been yanked out, and all of the swilling toxins had drained out, leaving her suddenly, almost uncomfortably suddenly, clearheaded once again. Another soft mutter around the cigarette and the ropes holding Katya fell away, and she felt Olga rise and head over to her partner. She had a bit of a rough time, working circulation back into her fingers, but once done, she grinned sharply in the dark.
There's always a problem in caging a tiger. The tiger doesn't take too kindly to it, and carries a grudge, if it gets out.
Later that day, three Others returned to the road and hurried off to get the house in order. Back in an abandoned hut, two men awaited for the local constabulary... and an ambulance. It would be better, Katya had decided, if men like this were denied the option of reproducing. Ever. Let them get out of that bind, if they can.