[ P ] down where the danger dwells

The Tainted Victory

In a singular unit, after some time of seeing so many phase in and out of existence, you begin to gain a sense of intuition in detecting the good and bad apples out of the bunch. There are those tiny, seemingly miniscule details that foreshadow a man or woman for the future to come. The corrupters, the corruptible, the inspirers, the inspired, and the meek. Most importantly, there was a certain subset that always remained: the deserters.

Now, of course, soldiers went AWOL for several different reasons, ranging from unsatisfactory station orders to simply having their fill of the Army. Some would be caught and suffer the consequences of insubordination, while others lived in hiding from their imperial past. But as Colonel Bartosz looked over sprawled-out sheets of paper, all detailing monthly reports, she couldn't resist the deepening pit in her stomach for much longer. In their roster, two of their enlisted had gone radio silent shortly during the final war against Jacob's forces; Beatrix, a promising Army medic, and Badari Tiamat, a lieutenant with a good track record. Though it pained her to admit, the first thought that had come to mind was a kill during combat—they'd lost many soldiers during the battle, and those two would not be the last. Yet as the bodies began to pile in for their designated funerals, there were no mentions of either of them.

Sylvain had entertained the notion of their silent disappearance being a ploy to flee Imperial responsibilities, but it had not stayed long. The sinking feeling never fully subsided within the Colonel, growing more and more acute to any news of the two women. Her extraction patrols turned up empty every week, and it left the Colonel bitter with suspicion and wariness.

Something was wrong.

The quaint bar in Edinburgh smelled of wet, beer-stained wood and musk from many sweaty palmed patrons who'd bustled about. Rain poured from outside the threshold, dripping from her ashen fur as she pushed past the crowded space. Despite the years that had passed, Sylvain could still remember when Major Sov had taken her to this very bar when she'd enlisted. He'd sat her at a booth and ordered her three fingers of a vodka. "It'll burn for a bit." he cackled while nursing a rye whiskey, "but you'll get used to it, Sylvie."

Muscled forearms propped themselves onto the main counter, nonchalantly knocking her talon onto the old wood to signal toward the bartender. "Three fingers of vodka and a glass of rye whiskey, " she graveled out and huffed through her nose quietly. Someone knew something, that was always how things worked in places like these, and the old soldier would've carried their lifeless bodies back home rather than to leave them rotting somewhere with no one the wiser...

Notes

"God doesn't hear deadmen." But, I do...

M

ore time had passed and Badari had not returned to the barracks and now to the Tiamat mansion. Worry was a better feeling than guilt, so Obsidian allowed himself to obsess over her disappearance. He himself went looking, all the while knowing another was also seeking her out. Any information was good, even if it ended up to be a bad lead. They had a few, lies and stories here and there. Nothing concrete had really come back to them. It made things worse, in a way. He wasn't thinking about the lives he took anymore, but he was thinking about a possible revenge plot taken out on poor Badari. The thought of this made him wish to puke. She had been innocent, only fighting the war for the crown. She did not have an evil or personal vendetta against those who did not follow Adahm. It was her job. And she was damn good at it.

She wanted to meet here, to be here together. Maybe she found out some news? Maybe she knew something he did not. He didn't much care for bars. They often called to rather ill-intentioned individuals, and criminals. Though you couldn't get them for anything unless you distinctly caught them in the act. They were smarter than to just commit a crime before a clearly defined soldier. Obsidian turned his head to scan the room, from one side to the other until he found her. Sauntering to her table, he sat beside her, his voice low. "Any news?"

@Sylvain

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