Chapter 18: CLXXI-CLXXX 1/2

Author's Note : So… totally forgot to go back and edit things, I'm doing that next I swear. demonianism, thank you for the spot checking on tenses.

Fong will eventually pop back up, I swear. A little sooner than you all are probably expecting, but with my inability to judge chapter events correctly I can't really say when.

Edited (4/26/2017) - Minor grammar and name corrections.

Edit (3/21/2018) - Final formatting and minor corrections.

Edited (9/7/2018) - Minor corrections.

Russian Roulette : Reloaded

CLXXI-CLXXX

CLXXI (Thursday the 13th of July, 1967. Qena, Arab Republic of Egypt.)

Faris was happy to be mostly 'home'.

Nearly everyone else?

Not so much 'happy' as 'disgruntled and overheated'.

Being a traveling circus based mainly out of Soviet Russia meant they did avoid some of the strident anti-western discrimination abounding around these lands, but the communist aspect of the operation earned them a very stern look over on their way into the region anyways.

The southern portion of the United Arab Republic, which she knew better as just Egypt, was another mostly-religiously mandated male dominated country. Since the major religion in the region was still Islam, it meant that half of the circus' troupe still needed the black over-robes that 'protected' or 'shielded' their femininity.

In the middle of a desert.

Sonya knew respecting the major religions in different parts of the world was something they had to do, but her tolerance for doing so was rapidly drying up. At least in Egypt it wasn't so uncommon for women to work, so the circus was still performing unlike the Saudi Arabian leg of their journey.

The trapeze artist were shouldering the bulk of the issues, especially since they couldn't wear Abaya while performing in mid-air. Instead, they had to wear wrist-to-ankle clothing and head wraps that didn't flatter their figures unlike how they normally dressed for such acts.

Again, dark or layered clothing in a north Sahara Desert region meant the circus was still shelling out a phenomenal amount of money for water alone.

Once they hit the Nile region, since they would be traveling up it downstream to Cairo, that dress code relaxed a small bit. One of the rare few things she would thank insensitive tourists for.

Crina got them both pass the worst issues by breaking out the bulk of her cotton or silk patterned scarves, which they could drape around themselves in a similar fashion of the Abaya cloaks. Her light-fingered apprentice greatly appreciated it, because the old bat's predominantly brightly colored swaths of cloth shed heat instead of retained it.

For herself, despite the issues she had needing someone male with her in most of any social situation, Sonya was more interested in yet another culture that had a more 'dominant' underworld just under the surface.

Unlike India, where at most she caught a glimpse or two but had to leave them alone, she could spot the occasional thief or... someone that reminded her of her native country's vor in most crowds. She was also pretty sure the port of Marsa Alam, where the Groβes Volksfest entered the country, had at least three black markets the circus passed by getting out of the city.

The apparent 'hot' items of them?

Ancient Egyptian artifacts. From sandstone tablets inscribed with hieroglyphs to small jade-inlayed scarab beetle charms, elaborate canopic jars to papyrus scrolls.

Of which, Sonya was at least somewhat sure at least half or more were fakes. She dealt with them once and had a very interesting time waiting for the artifacts she stole to be confirmed as the real deal instead of cheap reproductions. How long it took to be verified as genuine also suggested that either the field was too unknown or swamped for many experts to be 'corrupted' and trusted with hot items.

That raised an interesting detail to muse on. How much did the underworld of Egypt appreciate, or not as the case might be, the fact their history was becoming such a major 'trade'?

They had to know, seeing as in the forty years since the Pharaoh Tutankhamun's tomb had been found there had been a score or more different 'archeological digs' that peppered their sandy countryside. The Soviet Storm-Cloud had dealt with some ancient Egyptian items in her sporadic thieving, meaning they were likely still sought after.

As for right now, most archaeologists were little more than tomb raiders. Very little respect was being paid to the dead, most if not all 'treasure' found went to either paying their bills or sent back to various museums, and they all had wildly different methods to document their digs.

There was a change being trumpeted, but it was still something 'in-progress' with a fair few detractors to such a thing.

Unfortunately, Sonya didn't have the freedom to figure it out now since while the circus had been in Bombay the Six Day, Third Arab-Israeli War, had been going on.

Which... she hadn't really recalled if it happened in Rachel's life.

It might have, but Sonya hadn't known it was coming. She did recall that before America got into the Middle East there was large amount of 'conflict', and if this was that then conflict was a rather unassuming term for the difficulty.

Given the already beleaguered Jewish persecution happening while the Großes Volksfest made its way farther and farther into the country, it wasn't so much conflict as it was on-going open hostility.

She hadn't really had an opinion of the Jewish people and what they were doing ever since the Second World War, she had winced over the greater European death toll that happened due to Hitler's assassination but didn't follow that thought through to a very hostile or aggravated Jewish community.

Which was, apparently, turning on themselves somewhat.

The mess of reports on the Egyptian side of the conflict was mostly biased and slanted on the topic of the 'surprise and unwarranted attack', which was par for the course. Given that United Arab Republic had lost territory to that surprise attack, the Syrian Arab Republic and Jordan losing just as much, it meant there was a fair amount of backlash against the native Jewish groups.

Rather, the native Jewish locals that hadn't for whatever reason pulled up their roots and fled to Israel to begin with.

There was still a very large number of them, in fact the rash of counter-conflict arrests were starting to creep up to half a thousand in number. It would probably get worse before it got better, but for the time being it was still in the 'worst' end of that.

It did mean that a circus troupe going through the region was a semi-favorable distraction, if rather heavily scrutinized for any positive Jewish sentiments or communist propaganda.

Which the thief did wonder about, now that she knew the people she was working with rather well for mere acquaintances.

Sonya had thought Master Liam was German but given exactly how good of an actor she had recently found him to be... that could be entirely incorrect.

Given her coworkers rant the gamut of Romanian gypsies to African strongmen, Egyptian sword jugglers, Czechoslovakian stuntmen, and Chinese acrobats… it was entirely possible 'Liam' wasn't what he appeared to be.

CLXXII (Wednesday the 19th of July, 1967. Minya, Arab Republic of Egypt.)

Cherep had a habit of tasting the local cuisine as much as he could.

A habit which Sonya didn't entirely appreciate, to be honest. Especially when he dragged her into it.

The less 'exotic' dishes he wanted to at least taste she didn't mind trying, different meats were okay and sometimes strange combinations of foods turned out interesting, but she drew the line at truly strange food items.

Even as Rachel, she had never tried pickled pig's feet. Which was a southern United State delicacy she once had the option to taste. If she wasn't going there, she wasn't trying the rest of the stranger bits of cooked or not animals or delicacies available around the world.

There was the sheep's head in Norway, which she could've gone her whole life quite happily without knowing how that tasted, to the recent crocodile meat back in Edfu she didn't really mind all that much. Crina had happily informed her that the thief had missed out on the monkey brains and scorpion soup, which her brother had apparently tried just before the circus left China, and the dung beetles from when they got into India.

Sonya would try the maḥshi ḥamām, pigeon stuffed with wheat and spices, but he could keep the fried locust.

She was damn sure dying of food poisoning would be a fairly uncomfortable experience for her fellow Cloud, especially since she wasn't even sure if that would be nixed by his Cloud Flame fueled immunity to death.

Given Cherep's rather bitter, twisted smirk when she mentioned the possibility?

He probably knew he was at least mostly safe from ingesting anything unusual... or at least would survive it.

How he knew that was another thing she didn't dwell on. Renato still had to get back to her about if or if not that once-partial controlling Mafia Land group had operations in Czechoslovakia or not.

That didn't mean Sonya was at all sure of her ability to mimic his immunity at all, especially since she hadn't had the time to suffer a major break and then try Propagating an internal fix.

The stuntman had a comparable difficulty in learning her ability, while he could use her 'super strength' with enough concentration it left him with odd bruises on his hands she never got. Of course, with his immunity to physical damage, he never really kept said 'bruises' for very long, but it was something they both noted.

She had never bruised herself with her ability. She'd sprained an uncountable number of wrists and suffered cuts when whatever she was doing shattered on her but hadn't noticed any bruising.

Since her being able to use his ability was rather iffy, she wouldn't be trying fried dormouse meat patty-thing either.

She wasn't even sure where he got that.

"Street vendor, about two turns down that-a-way," Cherep even helpfully pointed out where with his skewer of bugs, "he said it was something the old Romans ate once."

"Yeah... you got food from a back-alley vendor and did not even question why he was being 'frank' about what his food was made from?" Sonya picked another bit of shredded pigeon and a forkful of stuffing to eat, eyeing his meal of mouse and bugs before trying to maneuver it under her face veil. "Still not touching it."

"It's not bad. Kind of crunchy."

"I wasn't talking about the bugs."

Her brother inspected his shish kebab of insects thoughtfully. "What's the difference between this and sea-bugs like crab?"

"With sea-bugs, they are large enough we can at least clean them before eating." She eyed the same thing he was examining. "With those? You are not only eating them, but what they have eaten recently, whatever else is included in their biology, and what waste it did not manage to rid itself of before getting skewered."

"...thank you so much for that lovely thought."

"You are welcome."

The purple stuntman kept eyeing his food, but eventually shrugged and popped a few more of the bugs into his mouth. Then he eyed the fried mystery-meat in pita bread while he chewed.

Crunched, actually. Lisa would be appalled to be able to hear him eat.

"What are you going to do about your motorcycle, Cherep?"

The question distracted him from his 'fried dormouse', which she really didn't want to see him try.

"Master Liam said that even if I could replace it right away, I wasn't doing any stunts for another month or so." He shrugged that off, only a slight frown suggesting he wasn't happy with that. "For the 'illusion' of recovering from any possible injuries I might have gotten. Going straight back to trick driving after even a 'nasty spill' would've been... not so smart."

That was surprisingly conservative of Liam, given the fact he knew full well the stuntman didn't need any such thing. Cherep had defaulted back to a mechanic for this 'recovery' period, but Sonya had only assumed it was because he had yet to replace the bike he used.

"So, in Greece or Italy I'll have to start looking to replace my poor motorbike."

"Do you have enough for that?" She was honestly curious, because as members of a communist circus they weren't paid a whole lot.

Most of the money generated was put into the circus itself, which was home for a lot of the members and took care of the living costs for most if not all the performers. There was an allowance given out, especially when passing through capitalist dominated countries, but it wasn't all that much.

"Eh... so long as I buy something second-hand, sure. There's also the scrap metal they got out of my bike before they junked it, which was a neat and tidy sum for the steel and iron that went into it." Her fellow Cloud suddenly blinked at his hands, which now clutched her half-finished pita sandwich of pigeon with stuffing and not his mouse meat patty.

Sonya discreetly tipped the mystery meat into the gutter she was sitting next to, put away her fork for the times she didn't want to mess around with local methods when trying to eat something, and blinked innocently at her foster brother when the silence stretched on long enough. "What?"

He looked at her, skeptically inspected the food now in his hands, and shrugged then took a bite. "You sure you don't want some bugs?"

"I... will be fine, thank you."

CLXXIII (Friday the 28th of July, 1967. Cairo, Arab Republic of Egypt.)

Cairo was a lot different than most of the Middle East the Groβes Volksfest had gone through so far.

Part of it was the fact that most of the cities on the Nile were mostly textile manufactory orientated or food shipping ports, another was the fact that most casual travelers didn't explore much of the Nile River past Cairo.

Another part of it might have been the fact that until recently it had been under British rule, which meant they still had a few British laws on the books.

The Nile River Delta also held a vastly different ecology than just the river's banks had proven to hold, because the desert didn't start a mile or two away and made everything still scorching hot and dry.

Mostly, it was because the women of the circus were no longer required to wear the hot, full body concealing Abaya cloaks. There was a cheer that went up when Master Liam announced they could finally do without them.

They couldn't strip down to the bare basics, as a lot of the girls were itching to do, but they didn't need to conceal everything anymore. Cairo was more tolerant, or more immune, to women not following the Muslim requirements of concealing themselves than most of the country.

It wasn't exactly a wise thing to do, but an allowed one. When leaving the fairgrounds that the circus set up on it was still recommended to be fully covered but wasn't required.

More than the dress restrictions being lifted, Sonya was concerned by the reports of what the United Arab Republic was claiming was the reason for the previous month's' small-scaled warfare.

Namely, that they had received faulty intelligence from the Soviet Union that Israel was mustering up for an attack on their country. Which seemed to be correct from their standpoint, but it was starting to become apparent it was the Egyptian movement to militarize Sinai in response to that information that started the conflict.

That meant those that had a nationality like Sonya's or even a traveling Russian circus like the Groβes Volksfest were not very popular now in Egypt's capital city. It was going to take a bite out of the running costs of the circus, and she was rather sure Master Liam would have to dip into emergency funds to get them out of the country in as little as half a month from now.

It was also the point the Russian finally got into contact with the local underground. She found the underworld pretty much matched the civilian side, if only different in the shades of legal it had to it. There was massive black-market trading, not so much smuggling going on unless whatever was destined for the more interior African countries, the expected but rampant petty crime, and a whole lot of fraud and counterfeiting going on.

Tax evasion and money laundering was apparently another popular side-job for the local underground, she got several offers to help her do it before her first night of bar hopping was done with.

Human trafficking was still a bit of a problem, but then again Saudi Arabia's civilian government only just this last decade did away with the practice of owning slaves entirely. Sonya wasn't sure if that was the remnants of the previous 'legal' routes still trying to gasp out a last breath or two or not, but she didn't really care to find out either.

Again, drawing that kind of attention to the circus she would be leaving her foster brother in the care of was not a great idea. If she took a hard look at what the hell they were doing, attracting attention might end up as the least of her worries.

Instead of possibly getting herself into a fair bit of hot water, the Soviet Storm-Cloud took up Jaq's offer of barhopping with him. Which turned out to be a semi-hidden request to be taught how to move through underworld hotspots and mafia bars, something she wouldn't have minded teaching the ebony-skinned strongman.

He had been a semi-decent friend to her, in a way. Initial inability to properly communicate or not for most of their time as acquaintances.

Sonya wasn't sure if it was her mafia connections that let her brush the implied 'babysitter' insult of his friendship off or if she really did just appreciate the fact that Master Liam had someone watched who he really should have not trusted in the least. Even if it was herself, that kind of caution was something she could appreciate.

The fact that the 'someone' set to watch her had been Jaq wasn't the strongman's fault... but not the reason she turned down the possibility of teaching the man to gather the information she could.

After all, the thief still had to respect Omertà. As much as the idea appealed to her, and it did if only because this was Cherep's childhood dream she had inadvertently set him upon so Jaq being able to gather up mafia gossip and news would help safeguard that, she couldn't afford to do so.

There might be a few questions she would've liked to ask a Vindice officer, but only if she wasn't the one getting arrested at the time.

The only way that would work was if the African native took up the Vow of Silence himself, and he wouldn't if only because he would likely report everything he heard to Liam. Who was another that Sonya was sure would not be taking a Vow of his own.

She paused as something new occurred to her, a shot glass of vodka halfway to her lips even as Jaq ordered them a new bottle.

...did Cherep ever take that Vow himself?

The thief took hers at nine, Tatiana at twelve... but she couldn't recall if he had.

CLXXIV (Thursday the 3rd of August, 1967. Cargo ship hold, Mediterranean Sea.)

"Was I supposed to?" Cherep scratched at his shaggy purple hair, which was turning a bit on the lavender side in response to the several months spent in the middle of a desert region. "I didn't, Arseniy asked if I wanted to, but I said no at the time."

Well... Sonya really, really hoped that Dying Will Flames and everything about them weren't protected by Omertà.

If it was, then she had violated the fuck out of it already telling her brother the bulk of what she knew.

"Sonya?" He prompted cautiously while she adjusted to that fact. "Is it that much of a deal?"

"I... do not know. Yet." It could be, but it could also be a bit of a loophole. If the thief couldn't teach Jaq how to pick up underworld news, she might just be able to teach her brother how to do it. "I think you might be covered by me... or Lisa and Arseniy's vows, so try not to screw us over for the time being until I can sort that out."

Her fellow Cloud made a face at her as he tapped a random rhythm out on the brick wall he was leaning against. "I'll be sure to try. Not too, that is."

Crossing the Mediterranean Sea had not taken them very long, it was just loading and off-loading that took up the bulk of any transit time.

Master Liam had even hired several locals from Alexandria's dockside to hasten the unloading once they reached Athens, Greece.

That smacked of several shades of suspicious, because that was a first as far as the thief was aware. She was also pretty sure that while the women did make up almost half of the circus' troupe, there hadn't been nearly as many of them when the circus entered Egypt. Even if she could not, for the sake of her own life, put more than a handful of names to certain faces.

Also... Sonya was supposed to be the youngest performer in the Groβes Volksfest. Who's not-entirely-accurate paperwork claimed seventeen as her age when in fact she only 'officially' had sixteen years in this body. The little kids you could glimpse now and again if you looked hard enough weren't there when the thief boarded the boat.

So... Jewish refugees, more than likely.

It was a very neat little operation. While said 'dockworkers' were a bit nervous, that could be anything from leaving the United Arab Republic to being this far out to sea for the first time. The older women of the circus had 'congealed' around the newcomers and were perhaps chatting a bit too casually with each other.

However, it was the younger children that had been the likeliest to blow that cover operation sky high.

Admittedly, they were anywhere from baby to pre-teen in age. Holding still and quiet for the length of the ferry trip between the ports of Alexandria and Athens was probably an unheard of feat of impossibility for them.

Which was why, when Sonya pointed it out to Cherep, he got them a lower deck for the kids to play on for most of the trip with only a bit of sneaking needed.

Obviously, a mechanic of the circus they were attached to would need to check over said mechanical equipment. If he asked the ferry workers not to bother him unless the boat was sinking it was more so he didn't surprise himself and slam a head into metal or lose his grip on expensive, heavy, and irreplaceable equipment parts when he was already occupied compensating for the ship's rocking movements.

Not for a group of fifteen kids to play or just be without having to worry about getting caught.

For the thief herself, she just wanted to know why she had to be there too. It had been sweltering hot below deck, not that it had been any better on the main deck but at least there had been a breeze up there.

Also... she didn't really like kids. Hadn't even appreciated being one herself, even the first time through.

Shamal was only an exception because he had been a traumatized baby Mist, who was not anywhere near 'alright' or 'okay' after losing his likely only parental figure and getting stuck under Renato's probably intimidating eye.

Usov had been panicky baby Mist, but he didn't bother her nearly as much as this nor did he make her want to be as careful as she had been with Shamal.

Sonya could deal with a lone little tyke with some difficulty over their need for touching, nearly a baker's dozen of brats in a comparable age range all at the same time made her... testy.

The Cloud siblings had also given up their meager shipboard fair for these kids too, which didn't improve her outlook on anything.

Now that the trip was over with, and they were a few hours from not having to deal with it anymore, she was slowly getting back to 'not-pissed-off'.

The only bit she wished to quibble with now was that she got to play 'swooning maiden'.

Since spending several months in what was literally a desert region, and to explain why some members of the circus troupe weren't involved in unloading that certain people had been hired to do, some of the Groβes Volksfest members were playing lame or frail roles. Sonya, as the youngest but more importantly a slim young female performer, was recovering from the 'vapors' brought on by trying to keep up with her older brother's antics.

It was loudly proclaimed she had heat exhaustion and was now 'recovering her breath'. The kids behind her were sheltered by both her and Cherep taking up the obvious reason why an alleyway was partially blocked off.

Crina was at least equally pissed off as her apprentice, for the moment she was 'too frail' to handle transporting her own damn tent or equipment to the waiting trucks. She was getting her revenge for the indignity by loud and caustic corrections of how her things were getting handled.

It had the happy side effect of distracting the port authorities and making them pity the 'workers' hired out to help the old crotchety woman.

CLXXV (Sunday the 6th of August, 1967. Patras, Kingdom of Greece.)

Greece, with a whole lot of islands and the bulk of its landmass farther north than where the Groβes Volksfest had landed to offload their unusual cargo, was another of the countries that would not take them very long to work through due to excessively turbulent political climates. They would be crossing the peninsula of Greece, not island hopping, to reach the shores they could catch a rather cheap fare to Italy from before leaving nearly immediately.

Much to Sonya's dissatisfaction, because she rather liked this country now that she took a look around. Military coup being awkwardly cemented in place or not.

It wasn't just that Greece was a sea away from the desert that made the thief sad they wouldn't be staying long, it was the underworld hangouts. Which was so easy to slip into it was almost jarring.

Better than Norway's little bars, or even France's still recovering cafés, Greece had mafia nightclubs.

Which needed to be said again, mafia owned and ran bars and clubs. Where a Russian thief didn't stick out like a sore thumb, because she was no longer the only Russian there.

Sonya kind of wanted to retire to Greece, maybe. If she lived that long.

It was practically warm all year, there were an unnumbered amount of little private beaches and islands dotting the seas around the country, and the nightlife was almost to die for.

After growing up in Saratov and Moscow, in Soviet Russia's icy near-arctic tundra climate, she really wanted a more temperate place to set down 'roots' when she got around to it.

She could've done without the current uproar in the underworld, but she supposed she should pay it some attention anyways.

Especially since some Turkish and Albanian mafia groups were trying to work out some kind of deal with the major Greek 'Godfathers of the Night' to allow their human trafficking rings to go through their territory. The mere fact they were trying to had the faction of Russian Mafiya in Greece up in arms, but it didn't look as if that would be enough to prevent any kind of arrangement from happening.

Russians and Russian policies weren't popular in this corner of the globe. Business dominated Cold War or not, the trouble in Vietnam was still going on and both the United States and the Soviet Union were not making very many friends funding and supplying troops for that conflict.

Especially since the general outlook of most news agencies Sonya had taken a look at seemed to imply that no one but either superpower was happy to hear of any more conflicts after WWII.

Merely the fact her countrymen were trying to prevent Turkish slavery rings from getting a foothold in Greece likely just made it more palatable to the Greeks' native mafia syndicates.