* * *
The dawn broke over the city, bright and clear. The sun chased the darkness away, changing the sky from the navy satin of night to the bright blue of morning, spotted with happy puffy clouds.
I strolled through this city of the dead in the middle of the city of the living. There were monuments and temples dedicated to those who went before—the idea of being left to rot above ground, no matter how pretty the container, was terrifying. I didn’t know who this Jesus Christ was, but he was pretty popular with the dead's family and friends.
A black marble façade caught my eye, and I wandered toward it, stopping and checking out several of the other tombs as I went.
Finding and breaking into the Russian camp had been too easy. It was lit up like day with massive lights, and certainly, no one had ever taught them the value of stealth. Even so close to a city, they were not safe, and I didn’t see how they couldn’t know that. With all those soldiers and advanced weapons, they must have exhibited stealth at some point.
I hid in shadows until the sun went down, and even then, I waited until the darkness had settled in, and the camp went quiet.
Quieter.
The general at this camp was… well, gross. His hair and body smelled as though he hadn’t washed in days. It was all overlaid with the stink of the thick, rolled stick of some kind of leaf. Cigars, maybe. He chewed on the end of the one in his mouth. His uniform was ill-fitting, and the buttons were undone to reveal pasty pale skin and a rounded belly from too much drink.
He belched and farted and chuckled at both.
Somewhere after midnight, a young, lithe woman appeared out of the shadows. She was wearing her own uniform, much lower ranking than his. And she looked utterly uncomfortable and unwilling to be there.
They disappeared into the house he was staying in.
How arrogant. A house.
But I wasn’t going to let him coerce her into anything. I followed, quiet as death.
Because I was death.
The house was clean, but I suspected that was only because someone cleaned for him.
By the time I reached the shadows by the bedroom, she had removed her shirt and was unzipping her skirt to let it fall to the floor.
“No.” I stepped into the light. “Get your jacket back on. Leave. Go home to your family.” I glanced over at the shocked filth on the bed and looked back to her. “And go to a doctor. I’m sure this one doesn’t care much about his health, and I’m sure his genitals are riddled with foul diseases.”
“How dare you!” He tried to scramble to sit up on the bed. But he was struggling against himself, and I pulled out the sword that I hadn’t cleaned since my last killing spree. The sight of it held him in place.
“The Bloody Sword…” the woman hissed, holding the jacket over herself.
“Go. Say nothing.”
She nodded and ran, pulling her clothes on.
“You can’t do this!”
“I could pop your gut like a balloon,” I snapped. One step at a time, I advanced. “Your general rank. You are higher than Lebedev?”
“Da, Colonel General Mikail—”
“I don’t care what your name is. Did you give the order to attack the stronghold?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? We found the hive, and you all need to die.”
“Why do we need to die?”
“You will take over the world.”
“Not our intentions.”
“We will not be displaced!”
