Struggle: Grip of steel
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And the timing was perfect. They really were the cursed ones who stayed. Who didn't want to leave. Who didn't want to give themselves a chance to be free. And take responsibility for it. This word for Bolotnikov became something like a red rag for a bull. He always took responsibility for himself, as if it were a gift, not a burden to be carried on his back.
It was that word that brought him so close to his entire new squad. And everyone could see that their commander was someone who was just as damned as they were. And who has nowhere to retreat to, who, like them, also has all the bridges burned behind him. Want to even go back, and they'll tear you apart on arrival just for not dying when you were without them. That's the kind of hatred you can't confuse with anything.
When people who have let someone go start wishing hard for the suffering, pain and death of the one they let go. While outwardly saying that this is a pattern – a natural position of the wrong decision that was made about them. And internally realizing that if this person succeeds, it will mean that they themselves are wrong.
And they cannot allow themselves to be wrong, first of all, for themselves. Therefore, any return will be interpreted by them as a victory of their opinion and their way of life, which means that it is necessary to punish those who denied it, resisting it. And this will also mean the complete abolition of any framework of punishment for this, because the punished will be a priori infinitely guilty.
The "Damned" battalion was moving from the "Archa" sector towards Poltava, to then reach Kharkov. There was to be a small base of Detachment-14 there, and Bolotnikov expected to meet some of his own, to at least find out the latest news, and what status he himself was now in: deserter, traitor, or whatever. Frankly speaking, he was not much concerned about what word they could call him, but more about the fate of "Detachment-14" itself, which in his understanding had gone down with Khmelnitsky's overthrow. And now it remained only to find out where this bottom was, and how his former comrades-in-arms would behave on it.
And how Misha and Natasha were doing was also important. Still, there were almost no close friends left. And the fewer of them there were, the more precious became those who still existed. After all, you can't lose friends indefinitely. You can only keep their memory endlessly....
And especially now he was curious to ask if they were having the same dream as he was. After all, no one among the "damned" had ever had such a dream. He had asked several of them, and then somehow he had asked them at the general meeting in the evening. He had nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of being misunderstood or thought he was crazy. He had long ago passed those boundaries, and the only criterion for him was the practicality of something, not how it looked from the outside.
No one laughed or looked askew – it was just that no one had ever dreamed anything like this. He stood at the edge of a grove and saw that in the middle of the grove, where everything was illuminated by light, stood a girl and a boy in smart white clothes. "Only together with Mary can you discover the secret of the Black Stone," he only heard from their side.
Raven
"He has a man in there who will blow himself up along with everyone else if ordered to do so," those words loomed in Raven's mind as he stood in the corridors outside the main hall in the Diza Sector administration building. Of course, Cobra's men had let him and his escort of 120 fighters through, pointed out the right roads, led him past the mine barriers where necessary, and now all he had to do was press the button for the elevator to take him downstairs.
But he remembered those words of Cobra's at the meeting. Where he'd said that the prefect's authority was different from the authority within the Kiwi units. The miners followed the prefect's orders as if the sword of Damocles hung over every one of them and would cut them in half for the slightest offense.
"Will blow himself up if so ordered," Raven heard within himself again. He couldn't believe that anyone around him had been able to control his subordinates to such a degree. He had worked so hard to keep discipline among his own people. He had been executed for almost nothing, and kept in pits for weeks, and socialized the families of the dead. But to get that kind of discipline…
No. It seems impossible. And yet there's a man alive who organized it right here. A hundred meters underground. If he's still alive, as they say.
But if you agreed to take it, you're alive. It can't be otherwise. Especially alive since he's determined that the meeting can be underground. You can't smoke him out now. If he survived an assassination attempt, you can't smoke him out. Actually, it's not the first assassination attempt.
He organized the past. Even though he knew it wasn't gonna work. And the guy was just a waste of time. He never made it past the entrance. I'm surprised he even got there. He was supposed to be shot on the way in and just report to the prefect about the weirdness. And he even went through the elevator… However, it wasn't too hard for such an unnecessary little thing to get through the elevator....
All we had to do was break up the Mountain and Cobra. It was immediately obvious that they were going to work too closely together. An experienced politician like Raven didn't need this strengthening of Cobra, especially from outside. He knows how important it is to make sure that the spikes are not out of the ordinary, but like everyone else. Which is more than can be said for Cobra. He's out of line. And the incident with the failed assassin didn't help matters much. But it worked pretty well for someone else. I don't know if the prefect is dead or alive.
No, I'm alive, of course. Otherwise they wouldn't have agreed to take me in. They would have found any reason and said that it was not the right time, that they couldn't do it now, and all the other things they usually make up when they are not supposed to give the right answer. So the Mountain is alive and waiting downstairs. After that damn elevator, where his man is like a zombie and everything can go off just on command.
Raven exhaled the air to relax a little. It had been a long time since he'd been so hesitant to do something, especially something he'd already decided to do. This demonic component of the Mountain's power was becoming all-consuming, all-encompassing, pervasive....
Who was it that said the days of the Kiwis were numbered since the Mounties got self-rule?
The Jackal? Yes, yes, the sly shifter we didn't have time to execute in front of the entire Hivi
leadership… But just because he's a traitor doesn't mean he's wrong. There is, indeed, good sense in his words. The power of the Mountain is fundamentally different from that of the Hivi, who do not have their own backbone, the structure of the organization that he has. A subterranean organization, where one can only enter and leave by strict permission. Where they don't see the sun every day, but only when they are allowed. Where the Sun for them is a prefect who does what he wants with them with the permission of the plagues. And, as it turned out, also decides to live or not to live for them as he wants … No, these are not the Kiwis, who have been rattling their weapons for a hundred years, but cannot seriously agree with each other....