Primal Gambit

Chapter 49: Vikhr Springs the Trap

It would not be expected, and it would be over before anyone knew what had happened. The Siberian immigrant was to take after some of the most potent terrorist attacks ever committed. He was going to do this by attacking in broad daylight, the break of day. Neither the residents nor the people of the city would see it coming. To them, the violence only occurred half the world away. The Dark City, their safe-haven, was untouchable by the waging war.

Vikhr was about to shatter their faith, forcing them to take into question everything they had once believed. The idea that they were safe was only a shade, a lull that had long been cast over the city. An instilled terror rested deep within when the power turned off: the entire city shut down and left exposed for an attack. The Siberian was going to attack with the lights on.

The day was calm thus far. Not moving forward or back, instead just a repeat of the day before and the day to come. Nothing stood out; the air was still. Damaging ultraviolet rays pierced the clouds and filled the winter day with a displaced warmth. Civilians shuffled, gray overcoats running long to their feet, gasmasks working overtime to make the air breathable. Their sense of safety had so long been unchecked that it became an afterthought. No one paid any mind to it, simply expecting it to withhold day in and day out.

The Siberian was just a teenager when he learned how to make his first IED. The improvised explosive devices were, at the time, an effective countermeasure from the True Russian forces that pressed further through the deserts of Siberia with each passing day, eradicating villages and claiming the territories they believed were theirs. As his family had long been executed, his home since razed by the genocidal group, Vikhr was just thirteen when he joined his first rebel faction. The SSR, which stood for the Siberian State Revolutionaries, took in any refugees that were willing to fight back with whatever they had. It was within the mountainous caves and townhouse cellars that he was exposed to the volatile nature of a crudely manufactured IED.

Before he was sent to the frontlines to combat the roving enemy alongside war-torn brothers and sisters – all who had lost something, he spent years underground creating various devices and perfecting the craft. After so long, Vikhr's explosives became the most reliable in terms of functionality, holding the highest rate of casualties. By the time he turned fourteen and had just begun to see the reality of war, he simultaneously witnessed his own IEDs being used against the opposing force for the first time.

Finding the ingredients to make the dirty bomb was simple enough. Even without the contacts necessary to be able to create ample munitions, Vikhr scoured the hidden compartments of the AC560 Myrmidon in which he resided and uncovered both a detonator and uranium charge. The other components had proved more elusive, the hardest of which being chlorine and fertilizer. The Siberian had to visit the manic black market weapons dealer a second time to obtain them. To acquire the two items, he bartered with a second charge he discovered on the plane.

Creating the bomb was easy. It had become such an art to the foreigner that he did not second-guess the process at any point. Using the interior of the wing-ship as a workshop gave him the solitude necessary to keep inquisitive squatters or junkies away. The dark cargo bay was where most of the addicts sought shelter, but Vikhr had seen the great ships soaring the skies before; he knew there were more areas that would still be intact. The entire construction took him less than an hour and when it was finished, resting on the disheveled bedroll before him, he smiled.

As he sat across the street, monocular up to his eye and detonator resting in his lap, he couldn't help but feel remorse. Doerrman was the one man who understood him over the years he had spent conjoined with the military. Carrying out such an aggressive act against him and the one person he loved brought into question everything Vikhr knew. Was he any better than the True Russian? Or had his lust for vengeance come so far that he was willing to main anyone that stood before him? He was now the one committing the heinous terrorist attacks on the civilian population. He wondered if it was a just enough cause.