|
Post by Alejos H. Coy IV on Mar 6, 2005 0:51:07 GMT -5
(I have to go soon. Damn these Cyber Patrol computer limitations!)
|
|
|
Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 6, 2005 0:51:15 GMT -5
"What do you know about Project Heimdall and the Rainbow Bridge?"
|
|
|
Post by capulet on Mar 6, 2005 0:55:05 GMT -5
"My name is Capulet, I do not trust you Ivan's enough to tell you anything beyond that. And who is your emotional comrade there?"
I take my coffee and set it aside, taking a seat at the table.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 6, 2005 0:56:06 GMT -5
"This is Alejos, an American socialist who traveled all the way from Texas to be here."
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandra Odinsova on Mar 6, 2005 0:58:33 GMT -5
"I just looove modeling. It lets me escape my terrible parentsI don't know how you run your own company. Business is so boring!" I say to Tanya as I paint my own nails pink.
|
|
|
Post by capulet on Mar 6, 2005 1:04:15 GMT -5
"Americans are so droll. Where is here to you Valodya? Do you mean Moscow, I came here when I was very young once, it was splendid. You com's have killed the city, like a disease. This is what you'll do to the world unless some one stands in the way."
I drink some of my coffee listlessly.
|
|
|
Post by Rei "Zero" Usagi on Mar 6, 2005 1:07:02 GMT -5
"How do you know about that?" I ask him flatly.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 6, 2005 1:07:39 GMT -5
"I come from Karelia, the Russian state that borders Finland. I have no reference of what Moscow was like under communism. I believe it is much the same. My country has not had elections for decades. It is a capitalist dictatorship. I see little difference between the capitalist dictatorship and the decayed worker's state." Bassarov replies.
|
|
|
Post by kasimir on Mar 6, 2005 1:10:43 GMT -5
They dragged him from his cell and threw him in a small room. There, they sat him up in a cold, steel chair. He heard the distinctive sound of a cigarette lighter flicking open, and then the flint striking steel. A long, drawn out inhaling cast light on the smoker's features. Kasimir could tell by his features he was Russian, but his face appeared ageless. The man appeared forgotten in time, sitting there at the other end of that table. Then, he spoke. Not in Russian, but perfect German. It was an eastern accent, learned during the Cold War undoubtably.
"Kasimir Reingelt." He said, pausing to take another drag off the cigarette. "You killed Herr Galtz, I'm afraid."
Reinhardt looked through the gloom and the smoke, and spoke. His voice was weak through a broken rib.
"I have finished what I came for."
The man stooped forward, and then flipped open a dossier. Kasimir noticed his picture and name on the front of it.
"On record, you have one of this highest death rates attributed to one man." He said, as if Kasimir had been a Boy Scout. "Germany wants to see you returned as a corpse in a body bag."
Kasimir looked on, jaded and impassive.
"What would Russia do with Kasimir Reingelt?"
The man leaned back in his chair, stamping his cigarette out.
"Russia would not go to war over one pissant of a man."
Kasimir still appeared like stone, unflinching and unblinking.
"Russia and Germany will go to war. You deny the inevitable. You would waste effort in the salvation of others when only true salvation can be granted to one person by yourself, yourself."
The Russian man guffawed. His teeth were a disgusting yellow in the dim light.
"You are not in a position to preach philosophy at me."
Kasimir did not respond to the insult, rather he replied to the man's wanton lack of understanding.
"Apathy is the one and true master all." Kasimir said cooly. "Responsibility is a man-made word that crumbles in the face of fate and chance."
The man sighed, settling his hands on the dossier.
"You will be executed." He said, sounding official. "Shot by firing squad at dawn."
"Alle fur nicht." Kasimir muttered.
The soldiers commanded him to stand, but he refused. It rewarded him with a gun into the stomach. Kasimir gasped for breath, attempting to control his conscious state. Kasimir grabbed hold of one of the guard's pant legs. The butt of a rifle smashed down upon it, and it was painfully twisted side to side. Kasimir gritted his teeth, his will unfaltering. They dragged him back to his cell, and threw him on the floor. Kasimir still gasped for breath, both from agony and the fall. He had been tortured in this way before. The fascists had cornered him and trapped him in. They had beaten him to what they thought was to death, but Kasimir lived on. Where others thought themselves blessed by God, Kasimir thought nothing at all. He continued with his work, his missions. If he were to die, it was nothing but the way things were. Why would anyone attempt to stave off death, attempt to cheat the engine of life by praying to a rediculous figure. It was like a modern child that believed in magic, only twice as pathetic.
Kasimir began to cough into his hands. He removed them to see bloodstains. It was better to die than to be taken by the Russians.
Suddenly, he heard gunfire. Lots of it. Then, an explosion rocked the building he was in. Guards rushed by, armed to the teeth. Another explosion sounded closer, and then he saw them walk through the thick smoke. It was Das Ende. Frigga stepped out from their ranks and flew upon Kasimir's cell, opening the cage with a former guard's keys. She knelt by Kasimir and held him in her arms. Her own blue eyes met his, and then something happened. Her lips found his. Kasimir pushed her away, and then struggled to his feet.
"Galtz is..." Kasimir paused to cough hard. "He is dead."
Frigga seemed distant, uncaring of this fact. She turned to him in the same icey fashion that he did to her.
"Good." She said plainly. "We are finished here."
She turned to the group that lead them in and waved for them to leave. They obeyed instantly and moved out, shooting at everything. Frigga supported Kasimir's weight as they left the dark building behind. Outside, more Das Ende members were randomly robbing people and setting cars ablaze with fire bombs. Yet another member was spraypainting the phrase "Ficken sie Mutterland!" on a statue of peaceful Russian family. Kasimir and Frigga strolled through the revelry, and into a car they had hotwired. Frigga set Kasimir into the passenger seat and lit a cigarette, then settled into the driver seat. She took a heavy drag off of it and put in Kasimir's mouth. Kasimir inhaled the smoke deeply and coughed. Frigga laughed at him like an animal. Kasimir did not doubt that Frigga had ordered all of this to be done because of his capture. Frigga loved Kasimir. Kasimir could not love her. Kasimir did not even care about her. Anarchy and Nihilism were two different entities. They were worlds apart. Nihilists did not have the capacity to love. They lost it the day they became their true selves. Anarchy was the path to Nihilism, however. It was the first step into Kasimir's world. A world where perfection meant living unto yourself. Relying on others was simple weakness, pounded into your head by bad American movies.
They neared the train station, and all was eerily quiet. Frigga got out of the car and went around to Kasimir's side, placing his arm around her slender shoulders for support. They hobbled aboard the train in time to hear a voice come on, this time it was German.
"Zur hölle reiten wir!"
To hell we ride.
Frigga set Kasimir down as Das Ende members scrambled aboard the train, chased by a bottleneck of Russian soldiers. Das Ende had some of the finest guerilla fighters in Europe and Asia combined. The only ones that did not make were already dead, commited to fate. Kasimir thought he saw Frigga shed a tear as they pulled away from the station. It did not suprise him. She often did that when Kasimir rejected her. It filled her with self-loathing. Kasimir explained it to her, but she did not care for his beliefs. She cared that she thought she was in love. He told her that love was a lie, and she slapped him very hard. Then, she kissed him. Kasimir held that memory as an example of the lie of love. One lost the mastery of their feelings to love. Love was made up to make everyone feel better about themselves. Love was another four letter word, a filthy word. Kasimir especially loathed this word. The word almost seemed to make Kasimir physically ill.
The last of the Russian patrons were removed from the train as it left the station. Kasimir drifted away into sleep, Frigga held his head in her lap. Kasimir saw it only as comfortable neck support.
|
|
|
Post by capulet on Mar 6, 2005 1:11:12 GMT -5
"Oportunity. That is the difference. It always has been."
I say with a tone that glows slightly with pride for my system.
|
|
|
Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 6, 2005 1:13:22 GMT -5
"Who do you think built the Bridge? The government contracts those things out. But how I know isn't important."
Peter pauses and exhales a cloud of smoke. "Someone is trying to finish Project Heimdall."
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 6, 2005 1:18:09 GMT -5
"Opportunity for who and for what? I believe in opportunity. I believe in opportunity for everyone. The majority of people are slaves to wage so that some elite few can enjoy 100 car collections or exotic trips. The majority of people in capitalism do not have opportunity. That is an illlusion perpetuated by the ruling class."
|
|
|
Post by Rei "Zero" Usagi on Mar 6, 2005 1:21:35 GMT -5
"Who do you think it is?" I ask as I begin to grow a bit concerned. Though it isn't as potentially dangerous as the Fernbedienanlage project during World War 2 was it still has plenty of potential to go wrong.
(I will be leaving for the night after my next post)
|
|
|
Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 6, 2005 1:23:46 GMT -5
"I don't know. But I know that Trent Steel is involved. He had documents relating to the Project in his possession but as to who is running it... I have no idea."
|
|
|
Post by capulet on Mar 6, 2005 1:24:45 GMT -5
"I understand, it is a wonderful illusion put forth to keep them working with a false hope that they will ever amount to anything. I have heard it before. But you know Mr. Bassarov.... I just can't seem to care."
I push back some of my hair.
"The oportunity I am refering to is for me to make money. That is what I care about, myself and money. I don't see why thats such a problem, to care about ones self.
It's what we are mentally designed to do, when your brain tells you to not jump off the cliff it's not doing that because it's worried about anyone else. Self preservation Mr.Bassarov, thats what it's all about."
|
|