Chapter 13: CXXI-CXXX 1/2

Author's Note : You know, in hindsight I may have started way too many projects. There's this, Pawprints, AYBABTU, a project with Pawprints and another author here, an original novel I'm trying to write, an RPG game I've got a hand in developing, and I've got another idea for a LOTR fic.

Edited (4/25/2017) - Minor edits and story corrections/additions.

Edit (3/20/2018) - Final formatting and minor corrections.

Edited (9/7/2018) - Minor corrections

Russian Roulette : Reloaded

CXXI – CXXX

CXXI (Thursday the 15th of September, 1966 continued. Salzburg, Republic of Austria.)

Sonya looked between the hitman and the mechanic, mildly interested in how they would get along. She did expect, and indeed it looked to be leaning that way from how distastefully the two men eyed one another, that they wouldn't care much for the other.

Renato Sinclair was a bit of a snob when it came to the people he interacted with, truth be known.

He couldn't keep all of that out of his interactions with the various waitresses and other people she had seen him talk to. He was even that way to her from time to time, as she wasn't a hitwoman or Italian and occasionally he was a charmingly bastard of an asshole.

Over the half a decade the Russian thief had known him, and she knew that just as much as the fact that he favored handheld pistols for his work.

The hitman also had an air of leashed violence to him he wore just as easily as his silk shirts, which would turn off anyone not immune to the mere thought of murder and homicide.

Cherep, her lovable dork of a foster brother, wasn't at all keen on mafia affiliated people.

He could deal with it when it arose, but he didn't favor those kinds of people or places at all. He knew just as well she was more inclined to mafia flavored relations, but he could also deal with that fact rather cleanly for someone only slightly affiliated himself.

They both, rather quickly, decided to merely tolerate the other just so they could talk to her without wasting time to scare the other off and possibly annoy her.

At least Renato did, Cherep just gained a rather stubborn edge to his normally cheerful mien as he took what was probably a pointed draw from the beer she had passed on to him.

The girl caught between them herself sighed and gave up on the wiener schnitzel. "Renato?"

At the prompting, the Mafioso turned his attention to her possibly a little more sharply than warranted.

Vaguely, the thief realized the supposed tolerance was probably more like something to hide some passive-aggressive posturing they didn't want her to catch on to for whatever reason. Why was beyond her, but it wasn't very likely either man would get along with the other for anything less than an emergency.

Oh well, it wasn't like they had to or anything.

Renato seated himself at their table, which gave Sonya the opportunity to notice exactly how tired the hitman seemed to be under that veneer of arrogant confidence he always wore like a mask. He was also a little... travel-stained, now that she gave him another look over.

Not even after that first meeting, when he had been assaulted and punched in the face then used his Flames to heal the damage in seconds, had she seen him even remotely stressed.

She passed the food she had been eating to him, because in such an unknown social setting he probably wouldn't order anything himself.

"How bad was it?"

"Bad enough." The Sun user informed her flatly, suspiciously peering at the food she had been eating before his arrival. "You're one of a few to escape without a scrape, feel special."

The Russian nibbled on her lower lip at the news. Someone had really hated Renato to hunt after anyone remotely connected to him, then. That was a lot of manpower, a lot of money, and a shit-ton of effort to burn through just to hate on one man.

She did kind of wonder who, and exactly how long they lived before the hitman caught on.

Cherep set the beer stein down firmly with a thump, attracting their attention. "This have anything to do with last month, and whatever upset Sonya?"

Oh dear, the thief thought.

She had yet to explain that situation to him, actually. Would probably never really admit to what happened even if he asked.

"It was not the situation, Cherep, it was how that situation reached me." Sonya clarified before Renato could comment, digging through the messenger bag that was working as her purse for the time being for her pack of cigarettes. Skirts had a sad lack of pockets, which meant she had to compensate with an easily stolen purse of all things, or she'd wear them more often. "That part wasn't Renato's fault."

He gave her a repressive look in return, both for her bad habit and the attempt to clear the hitman of any responsibility. "And you wonder why I don't like it."

"I do not need to wonder, I know. Really." She mustered a sheepish if weak smile for him, one hand paused in the air between them with a cupped palm full of Storm Flames just tiny enough not to cast much light beyond the three of them. Renato was eyeing the backwash of colored light cast on her blouse with a touch of confusion even after she lit her cigarette. "Just... sometimes it does not work out all that well. And when shit goes sour for us..."

Her fellow Cloud rolled his eyes at her, draining the beer to the dregs in the next moment and letting the heavy glass mug clatter to the tabletop. "If you insist. I'm going to head back, Sonya."

"If I do not see you before you turn in, goodnight Cherep."

She got a short nod, Renato got a shifty eye, but the mechanic did leave them alone.

"So... your lover boy?" The Mafioso asked dryly, stabbing the breaded veal he apparently decided wasn't poisoned or too suspicious to eat.

Sonya snorted, turning to give a baring of teeth masquerading as a smile at the hitman. "Cherep is my foster brother."

He blinked at her, fork still in his mouth.

"Yeah, this better have a good reason behind it. Not that it is all that annoying to see you again, Renato."

Swallowing, the hitman let his utensils rest on the plate and leaned forward slightly. "What do you know of baby Mists?"

A faint frown tugged her lips down, and she considered the man seated next to her closely for a long second. "The wispy but lingering Mists that rises from a fresh battlefield or the fog-like Mists that arise now and again on their own?"

"The former."

The Russian thief took a long drag from her cancer stick, deciding what to tell him. He did have a very good reason, then. "I have... some experience in that. Ideally, you'd want a Rain-Storm to help calm a new baby Mist. The water bearing weather phenomenon seems to boost them a little and wash some of the blood out while they gain more substance from what I've seen."

"I'm calling in one of the favors you owe me." The Italian informed her bluntly, stabbing another piece of meat. "Get me in touch with someone who can do either or both."

"Renato, you're looking at a Storm-Cloud."

He froze, flicking a glance to her hands, and she smirked lightly even if the topic of the conversation was a little concerning. Apparently, he hadn't gotten to the point of being even slightly sure of what her secondary Flame was.

"I'm supposed to be traveling a bit farther north for the rest of the fall, but I will have time this winter. Not a lot, but some."

"Is that...?"

"I will consider it included, as long as I get the story behind that little... scuffle this winter too."

Renato regarded her from out of a corner of his dark eyes for a long moment. "Thank you, Sonya."

She shrugged that off, but it wasn't as much of an inconsequential thing as she was pretending.

She didn't like killing. Why not get him into her favor just in case some killing was required in the future?

He was the hitman between the two of them, after all.

CXXII (Friday the 16th of September, 1966. Salzburg, Republic of Austria.)

Renato finished off what he suspected had been Sonya's dinner, the thief herself didn't seem too bothered by his lingering. Instead, she sweet-talked a couple bottles of mead for the price of one out of the bartender for them to share.

The Russian seemed rather more interested in eavesdropping on the conversations around them, which allowed the hitman to consider what he had learned that night.

This was not turning out to be his year.

The unlamented Don of the De Campo Famiglia had gutted his contacts, an attempt to isolate and then corner him. Which was only foiled by one of his once-fellow hitmen getting him word before he died. An old childhood... acquaintance, of a sort.

One of the few he might have been able to call a friend once upon a time.

Working his way around between hits, checking up on the people that either owed him favors or were inclined to assist him every now and again, hadn't been a pleasant occupation. Only a rare few, like the young blonde teen herself, managed to evade or avoid anything too lethal happening to them.

Most of the others had ended up dead in short order. Either not combat inclined or unable to just run for it when it became obvious the men sent after them intended to kill them.

Nearly half of whom were left didn't want anything else to do with him.

Renato had initially sought out Sonya just to get good news. He had already known she didn't intent to distance herself from him or simply stop regarding him as an associate, but after the last couple weeks he had?

Catching up with someone at least moderately friendly had been an attractive proposition.

That baby Mist, Shamal, seriously needed help the Mafioso wasn't sure how to give. It was the hitman's fault the kid was now both orphaned and homeless, fixing that and figuring out how to train the brat so he'd survive on his own as an adult was his responsibility now. Shelter and food weren't that hard, the kid was surprisingly self-sufficient for something as tetchy and tiny as he was.

He knew the basics of Mist users, but that was all. They were too flighty for the Sun, he didn't tend to associate with them on average. Asking a Cloud user about them was just him covering his bases.

To be honest, he hadn't expected any kind of help from this quarter.

The Russian was just one of a handful of competent Dying Will Flame users he knew of and still had good ties with, who was just as good to catch what his attribute was in their first meeting. Asking her what she knew of Mists had been just common sense even contrasted with her own nature, which did pay off well.

Although, given his luck, almost tripping right into what little Cloud territorial nature she had to her was probably just his due. Very flexible for her primary Flame type she might be, but he had known she did have Cloud Flames and might have things she would guard zealously like any other user of the element.

The fact the thief had a foster brother probably could've been discovered well before this.

Renato had no other excuse for his ignorance other than wanting to get her to tell him instead of being forced to investigate it on his own. It was the same game over her Dying Will Flame types, he guessed the first one correctly and so he wanted to figure out the rest himself without asking.

By some kind of grace, he had managed not to trip off Sonya's protective territorial aggression.

Even when he cornered her and her brother like an unwary moron. The fact they were somewhere public had probably helped, the kid's disinclination to be overly bothered by it salvaged the rest of the situation.

Though... the brother of a Cloud. Foster brother, even.

That 'Cherep' character probably had a Flame type to him too, Flame users tended to stick to their own, even if it was unknowingly. Guessing what that was might be a very dangerous game in and of itself.

The hitman hadn't missed the flash of purple tinted power in Sonya's normally grey eyes when he made a, in hindsight, stupidly dismissive comment on the teenager.

What little territory she had included something about her foster brother. Probably not the teen in and of himself, because Cherep wasn't a Sky by any measure the hitman had gotten, but something. Par for the course for Clouds, actually.

They were very, very defensive when it came to family. Proactive and aggressively defensive.

That brother of hers probably didn't know how lucky he was to be considered family to her.

Sonya might not be a hitwoman, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous herself. Given she cracked open some grunt's head the day they met, with just a pebble and her own strength, that should've gone without saying.

A Cloud, with Storm Flames.

Renato rolled that around in his head. Hard Clouds like her tended to have territory they refused to give up, Storms were intense creatures that didn't give up their motivation or thoughts too well.

A Storm-Cloud?

Possibly explained how Sonya could go without a physical territory yet not be a Soft Cloud. Although that would mean she was probably more stubborn than him, if possible.

Not exactly a bad night, in all respects. The Mafioso had learned a few interesting things, solved a major problem out of sheer luck, nearly got his fool head bashed in by an ally, and actually managed to eat something.

Given how his year had turned out, it was actually a very good night's work for him.

The very thought drew an unwilling snort, attracting the attention of his tablemate.

Sonya gave him a look over one tattooed shoulder, but Renato shook his head, so she turned her attention back to whatever her attention had been on before him.

He had eaten, and she hadn't killed him, so the hitman figured he should stop pressing his faulty luck. "I'll see you in a few months, Sonya."

"Try not to kill yourself, or me, if you please."

CXXIII (Thursday the 15th of September, 1966 continued. Salzburg, Republic of Austria.)

"You are a brat sometimes, Cherep."

"You didn't really expect me to leave you with some man I don't know alone, do you?" He informed her snottily, elevating his nose in the air to round off a rather ostentatious declaration with a similarly pompous expression.

As if that explained why he nearly gave her a heart-attack, lurking around the stout wooden door of the mafia friendly tavern while she let Renato eat something before the damn obstinate Sun Flame user collapsed from exhaustion.

Sonya leveled a narrow look at him as they slowly made their way to the fairgrounds their circus was set to leave from the next day. "I expect you to trust me to know not to get in over my head. Renato's a rather long-term associate of mine, I known him only a few years less than I have known you for."

"I do trust you!" Cherep squawked at first, visibly offended in nearly every line of his form. That changed to silly and campy in the next breath. "But you're also a pretty young woman, sister dear. And I, your dashing older brother, have certain responsibilities to your virtue."

"This entire conversation had become too ridiculous for me to continue." She dug out yet another cigarette, even if she had exceeded the limit she had been trying to keep to for any given day. "Leave my virtue alone, please."

He gave her profile a searching look. "You're not really mad at me, are you?"

She kept her expression as neutral as she could, refusing to look at him. Lighting a cigarette took concentration, didn't you know?

"You're not! Come on, give me a smile."

"I will punch you in your smile if you do not-"

Her fellow Cloud suddenly lunged, sweeping her off her feet in a bear hug before she could raise her arms. "Come on."

"Cherep, I swear I will-"

"You know you want to."

The thief stopped struggling, because he did have a bit more Cloud Propagated strength than she did herself when he wanted it, and bared her teeth at him. "I will bite your nose off if you do not let. Me. GO."

He gently placed her back on her feet lightly. "You know you love me."

"I am blaming genetics." Sonya didn't exactly regret the fact she had dropped her cancer stick but wondered if she should light another one.

"Excuses, excuses." He rather tactfully didn't bring up the fact they were foster siblings, and genetics didn't bear any weight in that argument.

Since he hadn't, she didn't bring up the point that the arm he had tossed over her shoulders was in violation of that demand to stop touching her.

"Seriously, though. What was that all about?"

The Russian sighed, not particularly looking forward to this conversation. "Renato made a... very influential enemy, who had a much greater reach than he probably planned on when doing some pissing off. As far as I know of it, just from my own end mind you, a fair number of people got killed because of it."

Cherep came to a sudden halt, tugging her to follow suit because he did still have his arm around her. "And you got caught up in that?"

"I did not have to be, actually. I spotted the situation before they spotted me. I could have just left and done nothing."

"So why didn't you?"

She gave him a long, sideways look. "A very nice man pointed me in that direction, who I later found out was a father."

"Oh... no."

"And while poking around to ensure I knew the situation, I finally spotted the mother. There were three kids caught up in that. Had it just been the man and the grunts waiting for me, I would not have involved myself."

He knew the price mafia life extracted from the unwary or innocents caught up in it, he had to even remotely utilize his connections to his benefit if it ever came to that. Cherep's expression showed he understood exactly why she hadn't avoided it. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence, Sonya."

"Renato might have messed up once, but that will just mean he will be more careful from this point on. Careless members of our lifestyle do not tend to become survivors of it, through either getting caught or other more final means of stopping our activities."

He gave her a dubious scowl.

"I do not bitch over the fact that you are likely to end up almost killing yourself chasing this dream of yours." She patted his chest before shrugging off his hold on her. "You are not allowed to bitch over the fact my connections might end up killing me."

The mechanic had the audacity to roll his eyes at her.

Darkly, Sonya vowed to get him smashed once they were back in Moscow. She'd take pictures, too, just to embarrass him more. She might even dress him up as a girl, she was pretty sure Tatiana would gleefully help if their elder foster sister managed to make it back for Christmas.

With a snort, the thief dug out her pack of smokes yet again.

"...at least I'm not killing myself slowly, one stick at a time."

"Instead you are going to kill yourself slowly, one trick at a time. Leave my smoking alone, I need it to deal with the stress you cause me."

A bark of laughter greeted her snippy words.

CXXIV (Thursday the 6th of October, 1966. Masaryk Circuit, Brno, Czechoslovak Socialist Republic.)

Czechoslovakia was... very different than anywhere else Sonya had seen so far.

Unlike the post-war rebuilding efforts lending an air of cooperation and friendly aid in France, West Germany, and the more western parts of Europe, Czechoslovakia was suppressed and subdued in feel.

More than likely, that had to do with how hard the Soviet Union tried to directly control the subordinate state.

Of course, that repressed feel to the population made a circus, even a Russian traveling Circus, rather popular as an attraction. The only drawback was the sheer mass of unhappy population trying to get happy shifting uneasily under their strict government oversight. It all made a very combustible mix to be dealing with.

There was a glacier slow creep into a more capitalist mindset, despite the fact it was part of the Soviet Union. Only just recently, from the less weathered look of the broadsides and flyers Sonya could catch sight of, had there actually been progress in that respect. Which lessened the risk somewhat, but not by enough to let her metaphorical hackles relax.

It also made her rather sure the Soviet Union probably wouldn't outlast what Rachel had known of it.

Trebon, the rather smallish city they had stopped in first, had some cheerful facades and a lot of tourist hotspots to it. There was the expected petty crime on the streets, pickpockets were as common as they were in the USSR and small-time burglary seemed to be a semi-popular pastime for the underworld residents. What kept the Russian thief from actually fully appreciating the small tourist town was the emergence of the human trafficking trade this close to her home country.

Even by the time they reached Brno, she wasn't enjoying this part of the circus' traveling plans any more than Cherep was.

They both had near-misses when it came to the underworld slave trade, him more closely than her own situation. However, while her brother was more distracted by trying to put his childhood kidnapping well behind him his fellow Cloud was more concerned with slinking her way around the outer edges of that. Keeping tabs on the people she had spent almost a full year working with and taking note of who watched the circus' ponderous way through the country.

It wasn't entirely unheard of for children or young adults to go missing in a circus' wake, and not all of those were runaways.

That thought also made her finally keep a wary eye on Bjǫrn's progress in following her into the Iron Curtain. Even an annoying tagalong didn't deserve that kind of fate.

The young teen seemed rather capable on his own, even with the higher risk he was running stubbornly following in her wake. Yeah, that was kind of impressive and it did speak rather well of his competence if she really did take the kid on as a kind of personal assistant.

However, he didn't have to.

Again, the Storm-Cloud really did wonder what the hell was driving him so hard.

Speculating about it would only give her unrealistic expectations, so she merely resigned to asking one day.

As the purple colored want-to-be stuntman had said, better for her to conform on her own terms rather than wait until the Finnish boy had a hold over her to get what he wanted.

In his attempts to mentally distance himself, Cherep dragged her to the Masaryk Circuit on one of the few 'down' days she normally went drinking on. When the circus was being set up or packed up and they weren't needed to keep it running.

Well, it was called a Circuit, but it really was only a handful of streets cordoned off for motorist to race on. Rumors held it that an actual racing circuit was in the planning stages, but she'd believe that when she saw it.

Sonya couldn't even smoke while she waited for her fellow Cloud to get his fascination out of his system, her hands had taken residence over her ears. Mufflers needed major improvement sometime soon or she wasn't sure how she would survive her mechanically inclined foster brother.

Her distaste for the loud vehicles and the sheer monotony of watching them speed around in circles in the hope one crashed made her more inclined to watch the crowd rather than the race. She did have some fun spotting pickpockets working and keeping watch for the reactions as some found out they were robbed.

That allowed her to note that yes, Bjǫrn had followed her at a distance yet again.

Also, that he seemed to have attracted attention. Ironically, from the local branch of law enforcement. Finally, though the boy was usually more than careful about attracting the wrong sorts of attention to himself.

The Russian only watched for a moment, judging if the kid really did want to keep on following her when a more legal option was offered.

From the way Bjǫrn was slowly backing away from the spat of Czech aimed in his direction, she figured he was rather hung up on attaching himself to her. When he bolted instead of accepting whatever aid was offered to him, understood or not, the thief sighed heavily and wandered off to recollect him.

Cherep didn't notice she left his side right away, but he did notice when she planted the Finnish boy right next to him in her previous spot.

Even if the mechanic spoke the local language Sonya didn't, so he switched to French. Which Bjǫrn did understand somewhat, more than he could speak of it. "Finally gave in?"

"Something like that. We now officially have a cousin." The thief gave the preteen a slightly disgruntled sideways look. "A very distant cousin."

The Finnish kid clearly knew she wasn't happy with him, but he grinned in his gap-toothed way at her.

Well... if ignoring the brat hadn't worked, maybe overworking him would scare him off.

Sonya fully knew she wasn't likely to be right in that either but trying wouldn't kill anything.

CXXV (Wednesday the 19th of October, 1966. Minsk, Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic.)

Poland itself was almost a breath of fresh air, even if despite her newer worries involving a Finnish teen and new money troubles she hadn't expected.

The farther north the circus got, the more the vory v zakone principles started re-emerging.

Murder, theft, and the drug trade were popular methods used in Poland's underworld, but the human trafficking that had so bothered her fell off until the worst of it was the occasional kidnapping and extortion rumors.

Sonya was under no illusions that the underworld slave trade wasn't still attempting to emerge in her second birth country, she had almost became one of many unfortunates that got caged by it. However, it was also much less tolerated and had no foothold or aid in the underworld of the USSR unless someone decided to try being suicidal.

The Russian was just greatly appreciative that she no longer felt like she had to watch her fellow circus folks' backs for them. Nothing might have happened had she not, and it was entirely likely it never will, but Cloud instincts weren't so easily brushed off. She seemed to at least be willing to guard those she associated with, even if she really didn't care when she was no longer aligned with them.

Interesting but not really something she wanted to object to. It was useful, sort of, and something she didn't mind as a side-effect of her Dying Will Flame use.

The Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic, or rather the BSSR, was the second-to-last country the Groβes Volksfest would be visiting that year.

Two more weeks after they crossed the second to last border, then Sonya and Cherep would be in range to go visit Arseniy and Lisa in Moscow if they didn't mind a couple extra hours on a train.

Only visit, for although the thief would cheerfully steal the British crown jewels for two or three hours in a bathroom she didn't have to share or conserve water for the next person... neither foster sibling could claim the house they grew up in as home anymore.

As for the country itself, the Storm-Cloud was sensing a pattern.

The BSSR was, again, suppressed. Almost subdued. A direct and rather disturbing contrast to the capitalist countries on the other side of the Iron Curtain or even the USSR itself. The Soviet Union had a heavy hand on the government of SSR Byelorussia, and it showed in ways. Poland had been easier, although probably only due to contrasting that with the lessening worries they had once they left Czechoslovakia.