Romanov

((This article appears in the independent music/lifestyle magazine Stigma. Thanks to @Rhino for creating the CD cover))

Click here for the These Are My Demons CD cover

THE DEVIL RIDES OUT (OF THE LAST WORD)?
By Spud Butane

AN UNANNOUCED solo release from Paragon punk queen Dee Dee Diablo has added fuel to the rumours of an imminent The Last Word split.
The Last Word, tipped as the breakthrough band of 2008 by Stigma Magazine, released their debut album Greetings From The Gutter to both fan and critical acclaim at the end of last year.
And, despite single releases of Slip of the Tongue, Mother’s Ruin and Chemical Burn, the much anticipated Next Stop Hell tour has failed to materialise.
And with the first new material from the Word’s frontwoman Diablo in eight months being a solo project, will The Last Word end in a cloud unfulfilled potential?
That said, Diablo’s new track These Are My Demons is harder than Michael Jackson at a boy scout jamboree. Gone are the harmonies and occasional musical excess that polarise opinion on The Last Word, as Diablo nails her colors firmly to the tree of punk.
With Diablo’s five-string base replacing traditional lead guitar, These Are My Demons thunders along with a sound akin to a monster truck being sucked into a jet engine. Simply awesome.
Diablo’s vocals are as harsh and dirty as her bass line as she spits out a trademark diatribe of hate-filled lyrical hand grenades.
But the lyrics suddenly change direction as the track blasts to its conclusion. This reviewer speculates that the demons in this section of the song refer to the residents at the Angel Foundation’s Hope Island Nephilim Sanctuary. Ok, it does kind of imply that on the CD artwork, as all proceeds from this song will be donated to the sanctuary.
But don’t let this being a charity single put you off, it is one of the best tracks you’ll hear this year.
Diablo has again staked her claim for having the biggest set of balls on the Paragon rock scene. It only remains to be seen whether we enjoy those big hairy swingers as part of The Last Word or Dee Dee Diablo solo artist.

Romanov ordered a brandy with the minimum number of words before joining the vampress.

“I trust you are looking forward to our hosts theatrics as much as I, Countess. Although I prefer to concentrate of business I do welcome Dr Oswald’s predilection to play the clown at our gatherings.”

Romanov didn’t acknowledge the members of the TLF. They would be at the bottom of the ladder of his organisation with an almost infinite number of rungs between them. Some of the more exotic specimens may have found a space in one of League Associated Industries’ research labs.

He was wearing a black shirt open at the neck and black trousers. Every fibre a testimony to his being a man of wealth and taste. He slipped an expensive pair of pewter shades on as he stepped on to the deck of the yacht.

Passing the blue-skinned creature in the boat’s lounge, Romanov nodded to Bathory. “I applaud your decision to dress down for the occasion, Countess. You are as beautiful as ever.”

Two Sides to Every Story:

Differing reports from the Skyway City Spartan and New Inquirer on the incident involving the abduction of Jessica Chang, the death of Danny-Ray Brown and the arrest of David Chang.

Spartan

Inquirer

Words: @Romanov
Design: @Rhino
Based on a plot by @Lotus X

Nadja Romanov

Prison Yard, The Zig – Ten minutes to The Cadre Breakout

Ten minutes until freedom. The grip of the machine gun was cold in her hand as Nadja Romanov looked back over the chaos in the prison yard. Inmates were running riot, driven crazy by the possibility of escape. But perhaps more by the stench of blood and violence in their air.

She watched the rest of Mr Mason’s Cadre divide and melt into the running battles between inmates, guards, Arachnos and Longbow. This was the last chance to make her own play, but it would mean placing all her chips with Arachnos and Krieger. And her father didn’t raise any fools.

Something whistled past her head and split one of the links in the fence behind her with a metallic twang. She cursed herself for losing concentration, made herself as small a moving target as possible and raised the gun to return fire.

A muscular Longbow agent with a red beard was walking towards her. His handgun aimed at her head. She recognised him as Sergeant Massey who had interrogated her after her arrest.

“I told you I’d bring Commander Stonefang’s killer to justice, Romanov,” he called. “I just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to give me the opportunity so soon.”

She fired. He was fast; the bullets meant for his head just grazed his shoulder.

Nadja ran for cover, hiding behind a wall of rubble. “Forgive me if I let my gun do the talking, Massey. Come closer so she can whisper in your ear.”

A cloud of dust exploded from the wall behind her as a bullet struck.

“The first shot was just to get your attention, Romanov. I’ve been handling guns since I was six-years-old, I’m the best shot in my class. The next one is going between your eyes.”

Nadja hunched down. She couldn’t get a shooting position or even move to see where Massey was without exposing herself. In front of her was a small gap in the rubble. She peered through; it was dark but she could see a ***** of light. She threw the gun into the gap and squeezed herself in after it.

The concrete shifted and groaned and she crawled through. The ***** of light was coming through a hole not much bigger than her fist. Through it she could see Massey’s red and white boots. She mapped out his position in her mind before putting the barrel to the hole and pulled the trigger.

She dusted herself off as she walked across the yard to Massey. He was writhing on the ground; his ankles were chewed up and bloody as if a wild dog had attacked him.

Massey’s arm shook as he tried to aim his gun. It fell from his hand when Nadja’s shot destroyed his elbow. Three more shots ruined his other elbow and both his knees.

His screams merged with the cacophony of violence all around them.

Nadja aimed her gun at his head. “You’re supposed to be one of the good guys, Massey. The moment you broke your own rules this became…inevitable."

Click. Nadja pulled the empty clip from the gun and tossed it to the ground. She stood over Massey and sat on his stomach, her legs straddling him. “I’m out of bullets,” she said. “I guess this should’ve been your lucky day.”

She cracked the butt of the gun hard into Massey’s face. The second blow broke bone. And the next. When she’d finished his face was an unrecognisable mess of pulp and gore. As red as the bone peppered blood splattered over her white vest.

Nadja dropped the machine gun.

“Massey!”

Nadja turned. Massey’s partner Sachs was hovering overhead with the aid of a flight pack. Shock turned to anger behind her red and white Longbow mask.

Romanov watched Hatesman leave and then looked at the others. “I’m not sure how much faith I have in a man who forgets he’s left his panther under the dinner table.”

He paused. “I will speak to you all soon.”

Nadja Romanov and Tarana
Female Cellblock, The Zig - Now

Nadja gripped the bars on the side of the corridor as her legs closed like scissors around the girl’s neck. There was a snap. The knife fell to the floor. Then the girl.

Nadja dropped to the ground; a perfect gymnast’s landing. She looked at the knife and then at Tarana. “You owe me.”

She wasn’t sure why she had stepped in above the self-preservation of making sure one of Mason’s cadre didn’t bleed to death on the prison floor before the break out. Perhaps she should have remained where the guards had cuffed her when they were called to deal with the riot on the men's wing; but the almost bestial noises getting closer made the decision for her.

She stepped closer to Tarana, assessing the broken bodies in the giantess’ wake. “This should get you your ticket to D Block. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do get mine.”

Tarana looked at her and nodded... "Thanks! That was what I was hoping for..."

A cruel smile passed over Nadja's lips. She leaned close and she whispered an account of the events in Warden Trent’s office to her cellmate.

"You really did... Oh my..." Tarana replied astonished with a big smile on her face. "I can never look at him again without laughing my head off!"

Nadja smiled. "If things go to plan, you won't see him again." She looked down the corridor, still conscious that the riot in the men's block could spillover and cause her problems. "Now, unless there's anyone else you want to kill, Tarana, what say we wait in our cell for things to quiet down?"

"Sounds like a plan... and I can use a clean shirt!" said Tarana while looking at her heavily blood-stained clothes. Some part of her acknowledging the fact that Nadja obviously knew off the planned breakout from D Block too, but she didn't really care at the moment.

Romanov looked at Hatesman. “While your plan intrigues me, Dr Oswald, and I do share an interest to see how it unfolds we must keep in mind the bigger picture. This conflict between Buku and Vanguard is simply a means to an end. A way of ensuring the rest of the world accepts our new regime when Buku becomes a threat to world peace. We must always err on the side of caution if our actions could bring unwanted attention from the United Nations or other quarters.

He sat back and surveyed the room. “But controlling both sides in said conflict can only make our task easier. I just hope that you and the Countess don’t get carried away with your toy soldiers; a full-blown war would cause a major…rethink.”

He stood. “If we are done here I have matters to attend to with Ms Nasri. We should meet again soon. I would be interested in taking a look at your submarine, Dr Oswald, perhaps you could host the next council onboard?”

Feature on Buzz.com this week:

Island of Hope

Words: @Romanov
Design: @Rhino

Nadja Romanov
Warden Trent’s Office, The Zig - Now

The guard ushered Nadja into Warden Trent’s office. He left and closed the door behind him.

Trent was half sitting, half leaning, on his large, expensive desk. His arms were folded as he looked Nadja up and down. Nadja was wearing the top half of her prison oranges tied around her waist. A white vest hugged her Penthouse Pet lines. She had used a little of Officer Gillian’s make up to improve on near perfection.

The corner of her mouth curled. “I requested to talk to you almost a week ago, Warden.”

Trent sniffed. “Request?” he said. “I see you when I want to see you. You still haven’t learnt your place have you, Romanov? You think that name of yours gives you privileges. You don’t have squat.”

She smiled. “You seemed to like what I have last time you had me in your office, Warden. Or maybe your view of me changes when I have your [censored] in my mouth. And if you remember, as part of our arrangement, you promised me a cell of my own. Quid pro quo. But things must have got confused as I’ve found myself sharing my cell with a retarded giantess.”

She held Trent in her eyes like a cobra. “That girl is barely human. She should be locked up with the freaks in D Block.” She let the last sentence hang for a second, planting it in the man’s unconscious.

“Come here,” said Trent. He watched as she walked nearer, until her leg was brushing against her knee. “You leave running my cellblocks to me, Romanov. You concentrate on what you’re good at.”

He motioned down with his head and Nadja began to unfasten his belt.

* Deleted Segment *

“You deranged [censored], [censored]!” hissed Trent as he frantically grabbed tissues from his desk and pressed them to stem the bleeding from his crotch.

Nadja smiled. Spat a mouthful of blood on to Trent’s pristine carpet. He should consider himself lucky. She’d left him needing a few stitches rather than surgical reattachment.

He slammed his hand down hard on the intercom. “Get some guards in here now!”

Seconds later two guards burst into the room with batons in their hand. They looked at each other, suppressing smirks, at the site of their bleeding leader.

“Take her to solitary,” barked Trent.

“Solitary?” said Nadja with a grin as the guards gripped her upper arms. “You’re finally delivering me my own cell. Thank you, Warden.”

Trent stood up and staggered towards Nadja. “You should learn to shut your mouth, Romanov.”

“You seemed to get quite angry when I did,” she replied.

“By the end of today you’ll be praying to be in solitary. Lock her up with the freaks in D Block.”

Nadja smiled to herself. Mission accomplished.

Nuts, thought Romanov to himself as he watched Hatesman shovel a handful of cashews into his mouth. The doctor’s instability was threatening to become a liability but he would give the situation more thought before removing him.

“The one unwanted consequence of your plague, Erebus, will be that the world beyond these shores will want to help. With the stalemate between Buku’s forces and Vanguard, the United Nations will not need much of an excuse to poke their nose where it is not wanted.”

He placed his hands together. “But I do see the benefit in testing your plague. There may be a time when we need to use it in Paragon, for example, and it would be prudent to know how it behaves when outside the test tube.

“We just have to make sure we remain in control of it. All aspects of it.”

He refreshed Bathory’s glass before pouring himself some more wine. “And our next step should be to organise an election. It will appease the West that the islands are sorting out their own problems through their beloved democracy. Countess, you should start planting the idea in Buku’s mind that he will only truly have power when the people give it to him.”

Romanov watched the events unfold in front of him. He gave a brief look to the Countess to indicate how he felt about the show of pantomime villainy. He preferred to see how Erebus and Hatesman would respond rather than step in and take control again.

Romanov sat back in his chair and waited.

Nadja Romanov
Female Block, The Zig - Now

Nadja lay back on her bunk running Krieger’s escape plan in her mind again. It would be chaotic. But the reward of freedom, even freedom as a recruit to Arachnos, was worth the risk. She could here her cellmate breathing in the bed beneath her. Her few efforts to initiate conversation with her had resulted in nothing more than a few words. She’d requested to see the governor several times to remind him that she was supposed to be in a single cell. Admittedly she hadn’t put her heart and soul into the blow job she’d given him, but she was almost insulted that he’d gone back on their arrangement so soon.

Officer Brenda Gillian knocked her keys on the bars politely before entering the cell. “You’re lawyer’s here, Ms Romanov.”

Nadja showed no emotion but her mind was racing. Her first thought was that it was her sister Xenia. Sure, she would do everything in her power to help but Nadja didn’t want to be obligated to her. She felt a phantom twinge from the missing finger tip on her left hand. A reminder of the first and only time her little sister had scored a victory over her.

“Tell her I’ll be representing myself, Brenda.”

“Oh…ok…but it’s not a her. It’s a him,” replied the officer.

Nadja sat up. It could be a message from Krieger. Even her father. And in prison a simple distraction from the monotony was welcome in itself. “Wait, I’ll see him.”

The officer beamed. “Oh good. I can tell you all about my date with Dave on the way. It was amazing. We had cotton candy and…”

“Don’t tell me all at once, Brenda,” said Nadja being as pleasant as she could. “ It’s a long walk.”

“Oh…yes,” said the officer. “That reminds me, I left the make up and hair products in your cell after you gussied me up. And I was thinking, why did you need a steel comb? It was so much more expensive than the plastic…”

Nadja deliberately didn’t look at the brick behind which the sharpened steel hairdresser’s comb was hidden. “You shouldn’t ask an artist to reveal all her secrets, Brenda. Did you have any complaints about how you looked? And more importantly did the handsome Dave? I bet he couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

“Oh you!” said Officer Gillian with a girlish giggle as Nadja took her arm and allowed herself to be led to the visiting rooms.

Seven minutes later Nadja entered the visiting room. It was a small room not much bigger than her cell. The brick walls were painted lime green and in the centre was a black table secured to the floor with a chair either side. Sitting in one of the chairs was a man of average build, average height in a mid-priced suit.

“Please, take a seat, Ms Romanov,” he said after dismissing Officer Gillian. “Rest assured that this conversation is private.” His accent was hard to place. Most people would have described it as “local” but Nadja could detect a Mid West lilt on some of the vowels.

She sat down and took a look at the lawyer. A scar ran from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. She couldn’t tell if it was real. She guessed not. It was a common practice for someone who didn’t want to be remembered to acquire a distinguishing feature. Then when people tried to describe him they wouldn’t get much further than “he had a scar” or “the dude had a sick tattoo”.

He opened his brief case. Inside were several matchbooks from clubs in Paragon. She was certain he’d left at least one at reception. Equally as certain that he’d never visited any of those clubs in his life. So far, this guy had all the trappings of a low to mid level hustler.

“Let’s get introductions out of the way. I know who you are obviously. And my name is Paul Brown.”

Nadja smiled. “Let’s cut the [censored], Mr Brown. You’re no more a lawyer than I am. If I had to make a guess I‘d say you‘re one of the League‘s ground level field agents and you think helping me is going to change that.”

Brown shook his head. “I’m not in the employ of the League. I work for a businessman called Mr Mason. You won’t have heard of him. But I am here to help you, that much is true.”

“Why is this Mr Mason interested in me?”

“Because you have…many skills. Most of them applicable to the position Mr Mason would like to offer you”

Nadja breathed in and out slowly. “I don’t need job, Mr Brown.”

Mr Brown looked at the table then back at Nadja. “No, you already have an offer from Arachnos. But is that really a career befitting a Romanov? You were born to lead not serve, is that not how it goes?”

Nadja’s eyes were cold. She may not have been born to lead but since her father had found her she had been raised for it. Conditioned to survive. “I think we’re done here.”

Brown nodded. “I understand. You are wise not to give away your plans to a stranger. But I believe that Mr Mason has a more agreeable offer. There is no harm in hearing it, is there?”

“It’s your dime.”

“Good,” replied Brown. “Mr Mason is assembling a team, a cadre if you will, of skilled people to represent his interests on the Etoile Islands.” He reached into his briefcase and spread several files and photographs on the table in front of Nadja.

Nadja glanced at the files. “Zealots and monsters?” she said. “And what would my role be, babysitter?”

“You’re role would be what you make it, Ms Romanov. As long as Mr Mason’s interests are paramount there would be many profitable opportunities for someone like yourself. And Mr Mason is prepared to give you’re a financial sweetener upfront.”

Nadja raised her right eyebrow. “Upfront? That suggests I have something Mr Mason wants. And whatever my skills, I think there’s something more.”

Brown nodded. “Very astute. The breakout that your Arbiter Krieger is planning is how we plan to get this cadre of ours out of prison.”

“Of ours?” said Nadja with a smile. “It seems you can’t do this without me so perhaps we should discuss this financial sweetener?”

“Oh we can do this without you, Ms Romanov, be under no illusions. But it is easier with you. $500,000 easier.”

Nadja enjoyed this part of the game. “Interesting starting offer.”

Brown took another file from his case. “It’s the only offer, Ms Romanov. Please take a look.”

Nadja opened the file. An icy chill washed over her and she digested it’s contents. Before she spoke she already knew she was going to accept the offer as even Arachnos couldn’t protect her from that mistake.

Nadja sighed. “That…that was then. This is now.”

Nadja Romanov
Prison Laundry, Female Block, The Zig - Now

Prison was a difficult place to be alone. It had been two days since the librarian had passed Nadja the copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince, but finally she had stolen a few moments during lunch between two giant industrial dryers in the prison laundry. It would be five minutes tops before it was noticed she was missing.

A couple of missing words and errors in the text had revealed a code easy enough for Nadja to decipher. She removed the dust jacket and opened the book on the instructed page. After 30 seconds a red light glowed in the centre of the book’s spine. A cone of light. In the centre an image of Arbiter Krieger’s ruined face.

“Hello, Arbiter,” said Nadja. “This is…unexpected.” That wasn’t strictly true, the librarians comments and the clue’s in the book had already confirmed who the book was from. The only question was why.

“Ms Romanov, I will keep this short and simple. This transmission will not remain undetected long.”

“I’m listening,” said Nadja.

“I was impressed with your work for us, Ms Romanov.”

“Impressed? You neglected to tell me the mission was an assassination. And then your people left me to face the music.”

“I don’t believe that is quite true. You chose to make a play for the Eye, is that not correct?”

Nadja sighed. The loss of the Eye still gnawed at her like hunger. “Let’s not play games, Krieger. We both know the smart course of action for you was to leave me behind. Dead or alive. I’m guessing dead if your pet crab spider had anything to do with it.”

“That’s the past,” said Krieger bluntly. “We can spend the remaining seconds we have discussing it or I can put a new offer on the table for you. One you would be foolish to spurn.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Nadja, raising her defences. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’ve spoken to Lord Recluse about you. He agrees with me that you are an excellent candidate for his latest recruitment drive.”

“You want me to join Arachnos?” said Nadja in surprise. “I’m sorry, Krieger, but I prefer my prospects in here.”

“I don’t believe you have any prospects in there. Stonefang’s cubs are deadly serious about bringing his killer to justice. If you do manage to escape, they will hunt you down like the proverbial dog. Then you prospects will be death or giving them my name. And we both know the latter is just a death that will be a little longer in coming.”

“I didn’t give you up, Krieger. That’s not my style.”

Krieger smiled. Or at least it seemed like a smile obscured by scar tissue and ruined flesh. “I know your style, that’s why we want you. And I know you like to do things your way and signing up as a Night Widow may not seem compatible with that. But believe me, the right person can do very well for themselves within our ranks. Imagine what someone like you could achieve with Arachnos training and resources. Maybe you could finally make daddy proud.”

Nadja’s jaw tightened at the mention of her father. She’d seen him leaving her to do her own thing while her sister, Xenia, was kept close to him as an opportunity to prove herself. But so far, all she had achieved was incarceration and all the wrong kinds of attention. Maybe this was her chance.

“Even if I was interested, Krieger, there is the small matter of me being in a maximum security prison“, she said. “Even if I beat the murder charge, I…”

“That’s just a technicality. Just say yes and you’ll be in the Etoile Islands before you can spit.”

Nadja weighed up the options. Perhaps if she waited it out her father would intervene but that would be freedom at a price of admitting she was a failure. She was a long way from ready for that.

She looked at the image of Krieger. “Yes.”

“Good. Very good. Now listen carefully; there is little time and much to tell you.”

Romanov poured wine for Hatesman and Bathory, before filling glasses for himself and the host.

“Humble does not begin to describe this place, Lord Erebus. You have excelled yourself.”

He sat down. “Now, I am sure that we all have matters we wish to discuss. Let me begin by informing you that I have dealt with the Priest. He is dead.” He paused. “There are still a few loose ends to tie up and hopefully I will able to soon bring you news that there is nothing to worry about as a consequence of his unexpected visit. I am sure I can count of your discretion in regard to our part in his demise.”

He took a drink and motioned with his hand that the floor was there for anyone who wished to take it.

Romanov entered the dining room. He was wearing black designer suit and shirt, but had dispensed with the tie in a concession to the different perception of what was formal on the islands. He glanced at Hatesman and the bottle he had all but drained.

“An excellent vintage, Dr Oswald. You know your wines.”

He turned to ORACLE. There was something artificial and obvious about her beauty. And with the absence of the dark fire that attracted him she might as well have been a piece of office furniture.

He read the label of another bottle of wine before opening it. “If you enjoy the Château Margaux, you will appreciate this Romanée-Conti. I prefer the ’96 but the ’99 is also a fine vintage. Shall I pour you and your companion a glass?”

[ QUOTE ]
At the moment I'm at a bit of loss for what to do with my next play. Romanov hasn't got back to me about the things we discussed. The Primogen is in a somewhat subordinate position and needs some direction. Plus Liz, could we arrange the reprimand for Primo's actions? Perhaps either a full RP or at least sort out details which I can refer to in my next play.

[/ QUOTE ]

You're right, I do need to get back to you. And Wolfram too. It's not forgotten, I'm just waiting for time and inspiration to coincide. One think I'll add is that traditionally the progress of the LoRDs is not swift...but it does happen. I'll aim to get something to you and Wolfram tomorrow.

As for Pious' idea, I'm in favour of it in theory. We should discuss it with a view of taking it forward after the Liberty Islands plot concludes.

In hindsight, which is a wonderful thing, perhaps we should have linked the LoRDs with The Cadre, as in a few weeks it's going to become the main source of redside rp for a number of regular rpers, including most of the LoRDs players. Perhaps Mr Mason should become the eighth LoRD...?

Romanov bowed his head slightly. “Goodnight.”

He turned to the Countess. “I will send transport for you in two hours if that is acceptable.”

He left the room. The air outside was cooler now as the afternoon sun gave way to the evening.

He took his cellphone from the inside pocket of his immaculately tailored suit and dialled “Xenia, be ready to present all the intelligence we have on the Priest in 45 minutes. Assemble the department heads. I want an immediate and permanent solution before the end of the night.”

Maybe I should have said missing. It's not really a spoiler as I only know what's on the Militia forum :P

Romanov smiled. Hatesman seemed to be insane, but there was a grain of genius that could perhaps be nurtured. Or perhaps he should provoke the oaf into violence so he could be done with him once and for all.

“Believe me, Dr Oswald, were I under your command death would be as welcome as it was inevitable.”

He observed Hatesman; a wolf assessing a bellowing stag. “Better judgement? The same judgement that has left you a monstrous parody of a man and a wanted criminal?” He shook his head, convincing himself that losing two LoRDs in a matter of days would be foolhardy. “I tire of battles of wits with unarmed opponents. I suggest we retire for the night and reconvene when we have more to bring to the table.”

He stood and walked around the table to Adam and his robot. The inventor‘s pride and pleasure in his creation was refreshing. It also revealed a weakness. “I’m impressed, Adam, I can see now why Pistol thought you worthy of joining us. I already have an application in mind for your creation. If it is as efficient and deadly as it appears, it will be quite suitable. I will send coordinates to you tomorrow. We will meet and discuss things. One creator to another, yes?”

Finally he walked over to the Countess. Took her hand in his and kissed it. “And you, Countess, there are matters begun in the Etoile Islands that we have yet to resolve. I would be honoured if you would join me for dinner tonight. I assure you, not all of us generals are as uncouth and abhorrent as Buku.”

I think as there are things to deal with (Priest's death, possible hero investigation, and taking forward some of the ideas in LoRDs Assemble), we should look to wrap up the meeting asap.

...and start another one.

Romanov listened to Erebus and nodded. “I think you are right, Lord Erebus. I think we all would have preferred to be less vulgar in our methods, but with the Priest’s intervention we must accept that the genie is out of the bottle. Do what you will and I will take care of how it is presented to the world.”

He looked at Bathory. “If that is acceptable to you, Countess? I’m sure Erebus will stop short of poisoning your entourage’s watering hole.”

He placed his hands face down on the table. “And there is perhaps a way we can use the Priest to our advantage. Some might say that he committed an act of murder in taking care of poor Alicia. If the media found out that Barzini was a mercenary in Buku’s employ then some may jump to the conclusion that an American hero committed an atrocity in what is already a volatile situation. Perhaps it will make other heroes doubt themselves and buy us more time.

“Any thoughts?”

Nadja Romanov
Female Block, The Zig – Now

Nadia reclined on the top bunk in her cell reading a copy of Italian Vogue. Her eyes scanned the images and articles but the rest of her senses, honed in hell dimensions that didn’t even have names, were alert to any hint of danger.

Officer Brenda Gillian, a plump-faced woman who would look more at home on a farm than a maximum-security cellblock, entered the cell. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and something wrapped in tissue paper in the other.

“Good morning, Na…Ms Romanov,” she said with a smile and a nervous energy that made Nadja want to punch her in the throat. “Officer Babcock brought in pastries today so I brought you an apple Danish and a coffee. Black, no sugar.”

The officer smiled, looking for approval like a puppy dog. Finally, Nadja looked up from her magazine. “I’ve lost six pounds since I arrived her, Brenda, do you really think I want to eat that carb-packed creation?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I could get you…”

Nadja motioned with her magazine for the prison guard to put the pastry on the cell’s table. Although it served her to make her visitor feel awkward she wasn’t going to turn down a tradable commodity.

She sat up on the bed and took the coffee. “Anything else?”

Officer Gillian flushed slightly. “Dave asked me out…on a real date. We’re going to see a movie and then get pizza at the bowling alley.”

“You have my sympathy,” said Nadja.

“No, no, it’s great. I mean I’ve been hoping for months and now…I was wondering if you’d help me with my hair and make up this evening? You always look so pretty and…”

“I don’t know I was thinking of going out myself tonight,” said Nadja.

The officer turned slightly pinker. “Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I…hey, wait, you’re joking with me, aren’t you?”

Nadja nodded slightly. She took the officer’s chin in her hand and tilted her head slightly. “I’ll help you, Brenda. I’ll warn you though, I’m good but I can’t perform miracles.”

“Thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Nadja smiled. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Come back in an hour, I’ll give you a list of things you’ll need to get on your lunchbreak.”

“Oh, I almost forgot why I came in in the first place,” said Gillian. “I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t screwed on.” She opened the door of the cell fully. “The library cart’s here.”

A tall, thin man with a shock of green hair pushed the small cart laden with books into the cell. His orange jumpsuit looked several sizes to big for him. He seemed blessed with vacant euphoria that belied his incarceration.

“Not today,” said Nadja.

Undeterred he picked up a book and placed it on her bunk. “Try this one, it’s my recommendation of the week.”

Nadja looked at the book. “Machiavelli’s The Prince. This was the first book my father ever gave me. I’ve read it many times. Take it away.”

The librarian turned and gripped the handles of his cart. “That edition is most enlightening, I’ll bet it’s got some new passages you’re not come across before. But be careful, it’s delicate…I think the spiders have been at it.”

He pushed his cart back on to the landing.

Officer Gillian smiled. “See you in an hour then,”

Nadja picked up the book and looked at the gold lettering on the green dust jacket. “Yes. I’ll be here.”

Nadja Romanov
Agincourt, Nerva Archipelago – Then

Nadja’s First Offer

After the clamour and commotion of her arrival into the Longbow base, the air was suddenly still. She enjoyed the quite time. Focused on a point on the wall to overcome the pain.

Two Longbow agents were sat opposite her, a heavy table inbetween them. Moments early they had sat her down and cuffed her hands. The bruised flesh of her right wrist pressed painfully against the metal.

The first Longbow agent, a short, muscular man with a fiery red Amish beard, stared at her. His partner, an athletic woman with a high, blonde ponytail, was nervous. She kept looking to the man and then to Nadja.

“Who were you working for?” the male Longbow asked.

“Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me,” replied Nadia, the copper taste of blood in her mouth.

The woman looked to her partner then back to Nadja. “We will, I promise. Just answer Sergeant Massey’s questions and we’ll get you out of here.”

Nadja resisted sighing, realising her good cop act was genuine. So was her fear of getting caught breaking the rules.

“Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me,” said Nadja again, no trace of emotion.

Sergeant Massey pulled up his spandex sleeve to reveal a tattoo. “Do you know what that is?”

Nadja looked. “Is it a clown’s face?”

The sergeant’s face reddened. “No it’s a wolf’s paw print. You know what that means?”

“You like wolves?” Nadja volunteered.

He could barely contain it now. “Everyone who trained under Commander Stonefang got one of these. He called us the Wolf Cubs. We knew…we knew we were safe with him. And he knew we’d do anything for him. I’m going to bring everyone involved in what happened down there to justice.”

The female agent put her hand on his to comfort him. “It’s ok, Massey, we will. But we should take the prisoner to…”

“Not until she tells us who else was involved, Sachss. She’s not leaving here till she tells us.” He looked at Nadja. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison unless you start talking. Tell me who was behind this!”

Nadja filed the name Sachss along with Massey for the future. Part of her wanted to talk just to make the pain stop, but she had been raised better than that. She considered her options. With her interests in the Etoile Islands ratting out an Arbiter wasn’t a wise career move. Besides, she was going to keep any bargaining chips until she was playing with someone who could actually cut a deal.

“Three of my ribs are fractured. My wrist is broken. You are required to see that I get medical attention before questioning me.”

“It seems I did underestimate you, Dr Oswald. Your incompetence truly knows no bounds,” said Romanov resisting the urge to show any emotion.

He waited for the last death rattles to quieten from the crypt below. “I am already advising the leaders of the United Freedom Coalition and have several sleeper agents in place. You would be wise to keep your distance. I’m sure that the Countess would respectfully make the same request in regard to Buku and his faction.”

“But you being in position to sink Buku’s fleet is something I must applaud you on. Of course, there is the slight matter of it also being our fleet. Borealis took time and expense to get those weapons here and when Buku falls they will be ours to defend and control the island. So if you could hold off on blowing them up I would appreciate it.”

He paused, sensing the zombie horde leave the villa and take up their positions in the darkness.

“But now for the positives,” he said. “ORACLE will be an asset to us but I suggest she focuses on communications to the Vanguard base on Black Rock and any mention of the Liberty Islands worldwide. And Vanguard should be where you concentrate your infiltration efforts, as they are the one variable in the conquest equation. Independently you have managed to make progress towards goals we have already achieved. But the fact that a small portion of those efforts escaped my notice shows that they were not without merit. I just hope that now you are agreeable to using them for our common good.”

He stood and walked towards Bathory. “Countess, I cannot give you the assurances you ask for. There is certainly no evidence that the Militia are aware of anything worth their notice here but the Priest has been in contact with several of their members since his swift departure, so for now we must assume they know what he knows.”

He looked around the table. “When Erebes and Adam arrive we will discuss how we should prepare to divert or repel their interest.”