Third Person - Complete

Worst Laid Plans

The day was blustery for August, the clouds low and threatening rain on the West German mountains. The wind was blowing from the east, through the Fulda Gap, and carried a chill with it. Stepan kept his hands in his long coat as he followed the Major and Sergeants Kuznetsov and Egorkin across the grass.

Opposite of them four Americans were moving forward. Two moved oddly, one with an obvious bad leg, the other just... off... in some way that Stepan couldn't put his finger on. The third was short, and the last was taller than the others. They looked bulky in their gear and Stepan wondered how much of their bulk was the body armor he'd been told about.

As the group grew closer Stepan could see the man with the limp had an eye patch.

Chernobog.

"The one who moves oddly, he is known as Foster. He is Chernobog's radioman. I do not recognize the other two," The Major said quietly.

"Keep your hand away from your weapon, do not make any aggressive moves, this is a peaceful meeting that Chernobog has requested," The Major said.

The two groups stopped a few paces from each other and Stepan got his first good look at Americans, up close and personal.

The smaller one was a woman, with a split lip and a black eye. She looked slightly hostile as she just stared at everyone, her hands wrapped around her weapon in such a way as to make it obvious she was ready and willing to use it. Her right hand at where the butt-stock met the upper receiver, her left hand wrapped around the forward grips. The other one was a man with dark bags under his eyes who was holding an American light machinegun with ammunition hanging from it. The one called Foster was dark eyed, the deadest eyes that Stepan had ever seen a living person possess. Chernobog himself was a hard faced man, with a single bright green eye and a black eyepatch covering his left eye socket. The entire left side of the man's face was scarred up and the left corner of his mouth was twisted.

All of them were wearing uncomfortable looking body armor, helmets, and gear that carried different pouches. Stepan was curious for a moment what they were carrying when the Major and Chernobog started speaking to one other. Chernobog dug out a pack of cigarettes, lighting himself and Foster one, then tossing the pack to the Major. After the Major lit one he went to hand it back and Chernobog waved it off.

As Major and Chernobog were speaking English to one another, Stepan realized he needed to learn it so he could keep track of conversations.

After a few minutes Chernobog turned and walked away, his left leg held stiffly in a heavy duty plastic and metal brace. As Stepan watched they undid ties holding a cut in the fence and went through, then turned and stared.

"Let us go back, comrades," The Major said softly.

"Chernobog's going to be twitchy," Sergeant Kuznetsov said softly.

"Indeed he will. We will take his warning at face value. I do not believe he wants a war," The Major said.

"What was said?" Stepan asked.

"You're kidding me. The rat doesn't speak English?" Sergeant Kuznetsov asked.

"I know Pashto, Urdu, and Farsi as well as Russian," Stepan answered, feeling offended.

"Great. If we have to deal with any sand eating Arab monkeys you'll be the first one I call, rat," Sergeant Kuznetsov snarled.

"He did not choose to come here," The Major said. He glanced at Stepan. "He said that he might have a lot of trucks come through. He reminded me that the rules are still in force, but advised that we might want to have Yuri come back soon."