“Sacco,” she said his name warmly, as if he was standing right next to her, and she clutched at her own shoulders, “Sacco met me.”
Sergio readjusted himself in his chair, leaning his head onto his arm propped on the adjacent table with the intent to listen to every word she was about to speak as if they were the words of the gods.
“Sokolov is on his way out so I’ll take the next watch—” Nikolai began to report calmly as he stepped into the room. The look of shock on his face subsided quickly into what looked like annoyance or revulsion. Sergio hoped it wasn’t directed towards him. “What’s going on in here?”
“I was just asking Sergio about the situation at Losla. He would know the route to Polis better than us.” Sara sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other; she looked very authoritative with an air of passive aggression, probably putting that mental armor back on for Nikolai.
“Right, and?” Nikolai pressed, walking over to the two and standing almost between their chairs.
“It’s business as usual there, nothing serious going on lately.” Sergio attempted to seem casual and knowledgeable, leaning back in his chair in the same fashion as Sara did. “I passed through there the other day just fine.” He bragged for good measure.
“Good, so we’ll try our luck getting in at Paveletskaya or the transfer tunnel and go from there.” Sara stood up abruptly and took a side-step around Nikolai before turning back to Sergio. “You should get some rest, Hunter. We’ll wake you when we are forming up.”
Sergio nodded and rose to his feet cautiously. Seeing her smile weakly, he felt compelled to smile back. He cautiously followed her subtle cues to be smooth around Nikolai who was staring at him quite sternly. Nodding his head at her suggestion he mumbled a quick ‘Goodnight’ and left the room swiftly. Heading back to his tent for the night he continued to smile to himself. It was comforting to have spoken with Sara at leisure, and not under the pressure of an official interrogation. Knowing that she was just as human and vulnerable as any other person was humbling, and he slept that night with no trepidation.
Chapter 6: Sturmann
“Wake up Hunter. We’re heading out soon.” A deep gravelly voice penetrated Sergio’s dreamless sleep with its halting sentences.
Sergio blinked his sleepy eyes open, squinting at the light of the lantern the speaker was holding. He was an impressively wide man, with a shaved head and long grey stubble. He wore gray fatigues and green body armor that the rest of Roten Spaten was dressed in, but had extra shoulder pauldrons and more pouches than the other members seemed to wear.
“Who—?” Sergio began, but the man seemed to understand what he was about to ask.
“Call me Sokolov. Put these on.” The man brandished a set of grey clothes like his own. “Then come to the office.”
Sergio caught the clothes as they landed at his feet and Sokolov disappeared before he could say another word. Closing the tent flap, Sergio quickly undressed and slipped on the grey uniform. They were well worn, but clean, and smelled like they had been freshly laundered. He wondered if he should put his own vest back on, but running his fingers over the painted Brotherhoodn name, he decided against it. Bundling up his Brotherhoodn uniform and vest under his arm, he pulled his boots on and turned to smooth out the blanket over the cot for the next potential guest. He left the tent and closed the flap, heading for the supply room that Sokolov had called the office. Assuming that Marco would issue him armor if he required it, he stopped himself from worrying about not having his own uniform on.
As he approached the doorway to the supply room he could hear several voices inside, an energetic conversation about preparing themselves for the journey. Sergio considered knocking or speaking, but there was such a commotion that he thought it best to just enter the corner of the room silently and wait to be noticed.
“Because, if anybody sees all of us surrounding a Brotherhoodn they will assume that either we are holding him hostage or—” Marco was ranting, tying up the strings of her armored corset and adjusting her shoulder plates.
“Or that we’re protecting him while he does something worse.” Nikolai finished for her, shooting an annoyed look over to Dmitri who had probably just asked the same question that Sergio had been thinking of.
Now fully understanding why they gave him the grey uniform, he took a step forward to where Sokolov was beckoning him with a green vest in his hands. It had the same red spade symbol painted on the front and back and Sergio thought for a minute how interesting it might be if he had joined this faction instead of the Order.
“Oh good, you’re awake!” Nikolai said with the same enthusiasm he had in his voice at Venice, noticing Sergio for the first time as he had strapped on the armored vest. “Here, put your things in here.”
Nikolai brought Sergio’s own rucksack over to one of the tables and pushed it towards him. Sergio immediately put his Hunter uniform away and heaved the pack onto his shoulders, happy to have his possessions back.
“Good morning, Sergio.” Marco said, showing him a weak smile. “How did you sleep?”
There was no trace of the melancholic memories that she had displayed the previous evening, and Sergio was somewhat glad that she seemed to be feeling better but at the same time knew that it meant she would probably resume her hardened and stoic attitude.
“Fine, thanks.” Sergio replied flatly, confused by her concern.
From a wide metal locker in the far corner of the room, Dmitri removed four automatic rifles and distributed them to his comrades. They apparently all had their own allowances for ammunition, as Marco, Sokolov, and Nikolai began loading their weapons with new magazines. Sergio wondered why Dmitri had slung his rifle over his shoulder without loading it, and also why he wasn’t given his weapons back.
“Is everyone ready?” Marco stood tall in the middle of the room, looking to the four men around her for their replies as she adjusted her rucksack on her back.
“Let’s go.” Dmitri answered first, to Sergio’s surprise.
Sokolov and Nikolai nodded their response and Sergio led the way out of the room and onto the tracks and stopped. Dmitri then headed the group, which Sergio had been expecting of him, and Nikolai followed his brother closely. Marco remained behind with Sokolov at her side and Sergio was beginning to think more about how it would look if he were still wearing his blue camouflage uniform, a prisoner, and he began to feel like one as Sokolov gestured for him to walk ahead of them.
There was no further talk along the way towards Paveletskaya and Sergio began to wonder how Roten Spaten as a group displayed themselves to outsiders. He much preferred Nikolai’s persona of the friendly trader, even if Dmitri didn’t sell his attitude as well as his brother. At the very least, he hoped there would be some kind of conversation soon, or it was going to be a very long trip. He tried to remember how long it felt like to travel through Sicily with Makarov, but then all he could think about was losing track of his partner at the church. Sergio sincerely hoped that Maro had made it back into Oktyabrskaya alive and unharmed and he did his best to turn his worry into drive to keep walking.
As before, they came up to Paveletskaya without stopping, only this time the residents didn’t seem interested in seeing who was coming through. Most of them fled from the platform edge and disappeared into the darkness. Roten Spaten had most likely scared them somehow, at least from moving down into their station, but even if they hadn’t, who wouldn’t be scared by their appearance? He watched Nikolai and Dmitri marching ahead, both brothers wore armor now that they could be themselves, when before all they wore was their grey clothes and large packs. Glancing back at Marco and Sokolov he also noted the improvisions that they had made with their outfits respectively. Sokolov was attempting to be more of a heavy soldier than the others, and Marco had clearly customized her own version of an armored vest, though it was dark brown instead of green like the others. Maybe it helped signify her rank among the company of the other men? She must have made most of her clothing herself, because it fit her body perfectly. One could still tell she had a fine form even beneath layers of fabric and leather. She had even crafted a heavy brown cloak to conceal immediate recognition of her gender, which she was just now pulling over her shoulders.