Alina Daecher (Adjutant 2nd Class of the strategic section of the Schutzstaffel Command) closed the door of her apartment behind her, giving out a sigh of relief for the end of another long and tense day at work. Alina was entrusted with a high volume of sensitive and confidential information, which by itself would cause stress on anyone.
The level of trust Miss Daecher enjoyed was totally misplaced.
Said relief lasted at most three seconds, until the cold metal of a gun rested to the back of her head. "Now, you have a quick choice to make:" Tanya's voice was cold and unfeeling. "You can tell where your contact is, and we will take you back to headquarters for your new residence in a 10'x6' cell... or we can aggressively convince you to cooperate, then you can enjoy healing up enough to be able to be executed for high treason."
Across the room a match is struck, Logan's face visible for a moment while he lights his cigar. "Before you start bullshittin' us, ya gotta know we can play a mean hard game of bad cop, good cop." The mutant
( ... )
The chase through the snow should be quick, but Logan lets his prey run.
Stalinov wheezes and breathes heavily, breath foggy in the cold as he ducks and dodges trees and flees for his life. His legs turn furrows through the thick snow as he struggles to keep going, each glance over his shoulder giving him another spurt of energy but every one goes quicker and quicker.
Finally it's a strand of bobwire that takes him down. Breaking from the trees Stalinov runs across an open field that was once a plain of battle and tangles himself in a leftover from that engagement.
Falling face first into the loose powder he scrambles to turn himself over, eyes wide with fright when the figure with the gleaming metal claws stalks closer.
"No! No!" Stalinov pleads, waving his arms and shaking his head.
Logan stands over him, unaffected by the cold or the man's cries. His fists are clenched and all six claws are out, catching the light and reflecting the man's terror.
The mutant regards the Russian spy a long moment and then SNAKT! the claws
( ... )
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The level of trust Miss Daecher enjoyed was totally misplaced.
Said relief lasted at most three seconds, until the cold metal of a gun rested to the back of her head. "Now, you have a quick choice to make:" Tanya's voice was cold and unfeeling. "You can tell where your contact is, and we will take you back to headquarters for your new residence in a 10'x6' cell... or we can aggressively convince you to cooperate, then you can enjoy healing up enough to be able to be executed for high treason."
Across the room a match is struck, Logan's face visible for a moment while he lights his cigar. "Before you start bullshittin' us, ya gotta know we can play a mean hard game of bad cop, good cop." The mutant ( ... )
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Stalinov wheezes and breathes heavily, breath foggy in the cold as he ducks and dodges trees and flees for his life. His legs turn furrows through the thick snow as he struggles to keep going, each glance over his shoulder giving him another spurt of energy but every one goes quicker and quicker.
Finally it's a strand of bobwire that takes him down. Breaking from the trees Stalinov runs across an open field that was once a plain of battle and tangles himself in a leftover from that engagement.
Falling face first into the loose powder he scrambles to turn himself over, eyes wide with fright when the figure with the gleaming metal claws stalks closer.
"No! No!" Stalinov pleads, waving his arms and shaking his head.
Logan stands over him, unaffected by the cold or the man's cries. His fists are clenched and all six claws are out, catching the light and reflecting the man's terror.
The mutant regards the Russian spy a long moment and then SNAKT! the claws ( ... )
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