Durarara!! Vol. 5

Chapter 3.1

Somewhere in Russia

"So, where were we?"

Lingerin banged the jars on his hands repeatedly against each other and inquired nonchalantly.

Despite his light-hearted tone, however, the bloody backdrop against which he said these words was the furthest from light-hearted.

The air was literally heavy with the smell of blood. 

Worse than that, however, was the more pungent smell of explosives floating in the air. The denseness of the smoke made even the river of blood on the floor seem pale.

Legions of bodies lay at Lingerin's feet.

These had probably belonged to the group of illegal immigrants they had been talking about. They were all foreign-looking men bleeding terribly from their heads and torsos and slowly turning into smelly, lifeless lumps of flesh on the ground.

The faces of the men still standing didn't even change.

Next to Lingerin Drakon was carefully rubbing dust off his glasses. Around them the men dressed in special force-like attire remained silent and vigilant.

"We were talking about Vorona and Slon, Comrade Lingerin."

"Ahaha, that's right. These folks came and interrupted us when we were only halfway through that story. How inconsiderate of them. That's why they lost their lives."

Lingerin sighed heavily and muttered.

Raising his hands, which were still stuck in the jars, he said in a grand voice:

"That's right. It's very important that one be considerate. On some level, Denis and Samia are what I would call considerate people - since they escaped to Japan when we were about to enter a a life-and-death situation here."

"When you launched a preemptive attack as a warning on the armed force our rival had hired, you mean."

"I was so sure that I was gonna die. Good lord, I was actually the inconsiderate one back then. I'd never thought there would be so many former special forces soldiers among them. None of our shots were lethal since we only meant them to serve as a warning, but theirs, alas, they really wanted us dead."

Drakon, too, pushed up his glasses in a pretentious way and deadpanned in a cold voice to his cackling employer:

"Many former special force members lost their jobs during democratization and disarmament. When looking for alternative employment, a considerable number began working under private armed forces and mafia so we would have to watch out……I've already told you that 23 times since the collapse of the Soviet Union, but apparently Comrade Lingerin had ears that did not hear."

"Well, you can't blame me, every member I knew simply became mercenaries……speaking of which, it's not exactly the time to call me on this, don't you think? I didn't expect you to be so inconsiderate, Drakon."

"If you were trying to be considerate you would have first done something about your hands, Comrade Lingerin."

There was no contempt, scorn or displeasure on Drakon's face even at the sight of his employer's hands stuck in honey jars like a bear's paws. He simply stated the fact in a monotonous voice.

Lingerin averted his gaze and laughed as if to conceal his embarrassment:

"I didn't mean for them to……"

The next instant - one of the jars exploded with a huge noise.

A polished black pistol appeared from what remained of the jar on Lingerin's right hand.