Losing Masks

by Nicholas Metelsky

  After two hours of working on my tactics and skills, I stood in the middle of the grotty room, full of technical trash, and couldn't understand where my “Spit” had gone. I looked again under my feet and scratched my head.

  I was standing right here when I fired into the target painted on the wall. Then I opened my hand and went into Sliding. Right there is where I came out of it. But the blaster had to be here. This is where it had to land. Where is it? Maybe it got knocked over to the side? No way. I'm saying it because I’m hopeless. Sliding doesn't cause any gusts of wind, and if it did...

  Looking around for the tenth time, I shook my head. There were no windows there. The exit to the hallway couldn’t have been it. I didn’t get it at all. There weren’t any windows in the hallway, either. The only window was out by the exit, which would have been impossible. I’d need to get out into the hallway, take a left turn, then another slight turn to get to the window. And the speed of flight would have to be... I walked down the hallway, feeling like an idiot, looking in the rooms.

  This is bullshit. It's impossible. Then where is it? Where is my favorite, proven in many battles Spit?! Also, there’s the matter of the remaining ammo that is worth seventy thousand rubles. What the hell is going on here? Damn it. So much for waking myself up.

  After wandering for another fifteen minutes, I decided to quit that and went to the base, thinking about what had happened. In the end, it turns out that “Spit” just disappeared. It had nowhere to go though. There was no impact. So it disappeared—where? And how? The only thing that occurred to me was that I took it with me into Sliding, and since I had already actually let it go, it must have stayed there. Theoretically, this is possible. Sliding is not a Jerk, which, in fact, is acceleration, Sliding is moving on... I don't know how to say it... the other side of the world. I could feel it at any moment, I just couldn’t influence it. Something like this had never happened to me before, and that's why I didn't know what to think.

  If I lost it, it's just unfair! For once, I decided to splurge and shoot from my “Spit,” and here we are. D-d-damn! To hell with it! Life is not fair. Most importantly, I can't take advantage of the technique. It happens almost instantly, and catching the right moment, when you are already THERE, but have not yet come out, is not possible. Even if I could do it, what's the point? Although, I could push the enemy back there... hmm. Nah. This technique has many limitations, and the weight that is carried is one of them. My brain boils when I try to imagine how much training and research is needed here. More precisely, research first, and then... Or not? Ah-ah-ah to hell. Not now, not ever. First, I need to understand what happened. It's just so mind-blowing. Yes, and I feel bad for losing Spit. I'll go and wake up my guys if they're still asleep. It's not the best time to dream sweet dreams when your commander has problems.

  Even Antipov came to my authoritative call, although technically, he didn't have to. It's all about how you call them. In this case, I just told him that we had a meeting scheduled, and if he wanted... Well, of course, he wanted to.

  “Okay, gentlemen, report. Well, except for you, Kirill Romanovich—you can just tell me as it is.”

  “Or not tell you anything at all?” he replied.

  “Yes, you can. But then I don't know what you're doing here.”

  “Heh.”

  “So,” leaning back in my chair, I folded my arms across my chest. “Let's start with you, Kirill Romanovich.”

  “I came, I saw, I conquered.”

  “Oh, wow,” I remarked.

  “I did not leave any witnesses,” he continued. “Liquidated the Veteran. I took care of the video surveillance system. Everything went one hundred percent according to plan.”

  “Goody. Okay, we’ll talk about the details later. What about you, Kuroda?”

  “Same—everything went according to plan. There were no excesses. In general, everything went well.”

  “I'd be surprised if it were otherwise with you. By the way, are you watching our people? I mean, can someone handle the sergeant's post? Do you have any candidates?”

  “I'll find them if you need them. For now, it's pretty dull out there.”

  “Hmmm. All right. Alexei?” I left the best for last.

  “Heh.”

  “You and Kirill Romanovich are just like brothers.”

  “Well, in general, I also could say that everything went as planned. The only thing was that two of the guys weren’t there, so I had to look for them. But I eventually found them, of course. These morons,” he shook his head, “were having a good time with call girls. As for the opponents: there turned out to be five more people than we expected. We dealt with them too. As planned, we put the bodies in a truck, which went to the bottom of the sea.”

  “What about the rest of the trucks?”

  “I'll get rid of them today. But I still think that this is an unnecessary precaution. There are plenty of trucks like ours in Tokyo. There will be more problems trying to get rid of them.”

  “You don't get it. We don’t have these trucks on paper, so we don’t need to have them in fact. Actually, we really need to get some official ones. Hey! I just remembered something! I ordered a Maybach. We should pick it up.”

  “What does it have to do with the trucks?” Antipov asked cautiously.

  “Nothing. Just remembered that. What about the trophies?”

  “It's all good. They're in the third warehouse now. Only I didn't understand what it is and why we need it?”

  “Hey! This, my friend, is SRS, which stands for security robotic system. In other words, a robot-guard. The things that you have snitched... I mean, uh... took as trophies, are made by the American company McDee Technology.”

  “Robots, huh? I was thinking, some new MIA. That's why they were so heavy,” Svyatov shook his head, then got up, looked out of the office and yelled, “Hamster! I know for sure that you have a pack of beer stashed somewhere. Be here in five minutes. Quick!” Returning to his place, he said, shrugging his shoulders, as if that explained everything, “He's such a hamster.”

  “What's the catch?” Kuroda asked me, looking sideways at Svyatov. “Wouldn't it be easier and more reliable to put MIAs on a person?”

  “So you've never heard anything about this?” I was surprised.

  “Well, I heard about the robots, but I don't know why they are so expensive. For some reason, I doubt that they are that good.”

  “Oh, you can rest assured,” Svyatov said for me. “I saw with my own eyes what they are capable of. Although, one was Russian, but I don't think that they are very different.”

  “And?” Kuroda urged him on when Svyatov fell silent.

  “Two robot-guards managed to take down eleven ‘Scatterbrains’, before they were finally pacified. If it were not for those two, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

  “What are these 'Scatterbrains'?” Asked the Japanese.

  “TPD-17,” Antipov replied. “Heavy MIA. It's designed to defend and hold key points. It's a pretty nifty thing for city combat. Eleven of them, you say? How many robots did you bring?”

  “Four.”

  “Cripes.”

  Everyone fell silent, thinking their own thoughts. I don't know what the men were thinking about, but I thought that four security robots were definitely great to have, but that I should give two of them to my neighbors. At no cost to them. For all the good they've done for me, now and in the past. Besides being a great security measure, these robots were a status thing. You might wonder why? The answer is simple. The fact is that the filling of robots, or rather their brains, is created according to the technology of the Ancients. These brains are basically a grown crystal—an expensive and rare thing. I was sure the Koyama clan had its own Guardians, as they are called, but I doubted that there were too many. It was a painfully long and difficult process to grow these crystals. No, these robots couldn’t replace infantry, of course. There were two reasons: the first was price and rarity. The second was the crystal itself.
People could replicate it, but changing the settings was impossible. So these robots were and are just what they are: Guardians. The matrix of the infantryman has not been found by humanity. Well, there is also the price and all that.

  “Kirill Romanovich, I have a request,” I interrupted our silence. “It's kind of out of the blue. In connection with the recent attack of my guys by a third party, could you send a couple of people to be on duty at one place?”

  “Where is it going to be?” He asked.

  “At my mansion, on the ancestral lands.”

  “Why do you need two Veterans there?”

  “Just in case. The enemy also has two of them. I doubt that they will come together to hurt me, but still. I need them just in case.”

  “Oh, you're hiding something,” said the Russian suspiciously.

  “I'm pretty sure there will be an attack. And I don't want you to blame me for something after the fact. So go ahead and send two guys, just in case. Your team can easily accomplish the mission with thirteen Veterans. If anything, this couple can be sent back.”

  “Hm. All right. You can have two of them,” said Antipov with some uncertainty. “But you will give them two MIAs.”

  “Deal. Then let's continue. What do we have next?”

  We spent another hour and a half debriefing, discussing the situation with Yamashita, and planning the day. When the meeting was finally over, and I let the staff go back to work, only two of them got up. Svyatov remained seated. That was interesting.

  “Hey, people,” I addressed the ones who were leaving, “did you drink beer? You did. So clean up after yourselves.”

  “We need some civilian personnel here,” Antipov grumbled, gathering the bottles. “I'm telling you.”

  Kuroda picked up the bottles without saying anything.

  “Okay, bring it on,” I switched to Russian when the others left. “What is it?”

  “I wanted to talk about my former clan members. We had our hands full yesterday. On Tuesday, my former commander will be here.”

  “I thought it'd take him longer to find the technicians.”

  “He will be here by himself. I mean not by himself, but with my friend and a couple more people. He's just not going to have the technicians with him this time.”

  “What are the reasons? Can we help him with something?”

  “The reason is that he doesn't want to bring people and take a leap in the dark. He wants to see everything with his own eyes, first.”

  “I’m going to have a curious conversation here soon, right?”

  “Yes, but it's worth it. If you can get him on our side, we will have the technicians, and people in general.”

  “Wait a second. Are you telling me now that this former commander can bring many people with him, not just a couple of charges? How many?”

  Good Lord. He hesitated.

  “I don't know for sure. I'm not sure what is happening in my homeland now, or what became of the remnants of my former clan. But about three hundred people survived from the thousand that served with me. At least a hundred were left without work. Of them... Well, I don’t know, but certainly not everyone will risk going to Japan. But knowing Euge-Euge...”

  “Who?” I interrupted.

  “Berkutov Eugene Eugene. Euge-Euge.”

  “Oh. I see,” I said with a smile. “And I've got Vas-Vas.”

  “Well, let's hope that you'll also have Euge-Euge. So, knowing Euge-Euge and his grasp, he can recruit at least three dozen, just fighters alone. And then, no less than a dozen technicians. I didn’t really know these guys, but he had to deal with them under his position. God forbid, anyone in the regimen has a broken MIA or MD manipulator. In general, he spent a lot of time with technicians. But there is more to it. I’m going to warn you in advance,” he paused, “that another thing that will surely be brought up in the conversation is the civilians. I bet he's looking after the families of the deceased. Perhaps, not everyone’s families and not too closely, but he tries to stay in the know. Just so he can recommend them to someone, if necessary.

  “I'm nothing compared to him. A weakling! As soon as everything was over, including the revenge, I gave up my old life, preferring not to think about the past, about those people who have remained in this past. Over the last year, I even tried to avoid hearing any news from back home. He's not like that. He's still floundering around, trying to help anyone who needs help,” he clenched his fists. “The clan is gone, everything is over, and he doesn't seem to care about it.”

  Then he paused, looking at his hands. After a few seconds, he exhaled and grinned, “For some reason, I'm feeling down, heh. Regardless, Boss. Give it a thought. But take into account that Euge-Euge has his own firm at home, nothing that can be compared to yours, of course, but he is his own boss there. That means he will not want to be HIRED. The commander has been a part of something big all his life, and I'm sure he would not mind taking it back. But at home... I don't even know how to say it... There are no vacancies. Even if we were accepted into a clan, we would be strangers to it for the rest of our lives. And ... ah-ah, it does not matter. Okay, I hope I didn't confuse you too much. I think I'm gonna go,” he stood up. “Don’t forget, he'll be here on Tuesday. I'm sure you can convince him to join you.”

  He is sure. Now I have to sort out his rambling. This man, Berkutov, is obviously what I need. It would be nice if I could talk him into joining me.

  ***

  Where is he?

  “Goro!” I shouted again, not really hoping for a result.

  I was in the garage at the base, looking for my grief-driver. Although, it wasn't really a garage—just another hangar that had been assembled in a couple of days.

  “Sakurai-san?”

  Turning to the voice, I saw two fighters dressed in overalls. One of them was holding a toolbox, and the other had several wrenches and a screwdriver.

  “Have you seen my driver?” I asked them.

  “There he is,” the one with the toolbox pointed behind his back. “He's following us.”

  Glory, glory, Hallelujah. Fifteen minutes of searching ended where they started.

  “Oh, hello there, boss. Are we ready to leave?” Asked Goro, who had just gotten into the garage.

  He had two canisters in both hands.

  Damn, I can't even get angry at him.

  “What's with your phone?” I asked him.

  “It's broken.”

  “How did it break all of a sudden?”

  “Well, first, I sat on it,” Synchronous smirks of the men, passing us, put a guilty look on his face.

  “Well, we gotta go and buy you a new phone. Finish up here,” I pointed at the cans. “Let's go pick up the Maybach.”

  “Oh, yes! I'm on my way, boss. Give me five minutes, and I'll be ready.”

  “Move it!” I waved at him with one hand, while the other was pulling out my mobile phone. “Hello, Vasya, where are you now? Oh, wait there, we are forty minutes away. We'll pick you up. No, nothing important. The Maybach needs to be picked up, and someone has to drive the Porsche home. Yep, later. Actually, give us an hour, “ I glanced at Goro, “there’s traffic.”

  By the time we got there, took care of the formalities, signed the documents, and examined the car, I realized that if I wanted to get enough sleep, I’d need to go straight home.

  Approaching the Koyama quarter, we came across a procession that made Rymov, who was behind the wheel of the Porsche, suddenly push the breaks.

  “Look at that, boss,” he said, looking at the side window, “a brigade.”

  In this world, the word had a slightly different, a bit more law abiding and international meaning.

  “Stop for a moment,” I clapped Rymov on the shoulder and got out of the car.

  The brigade proceeded in silence. Stepping without a sound, soft paws did not leave traces on the asphalt. Their muzzles were to the ground, then went up and down again, then up and down again. Their tails trembled impatiently. They went to the neigh
boring area and did not intend to retreat. They didn’t think they could lose, because HE was with them. Fur standing on end, menacing whiskers, and tail raised like a flag. The great cat-helmsman led his army to a holy war. Today, the neighboring dogs would feel the flame of sacred revenge. He would make them remember that night. He'd make them remember and regret that time when they didn't give him right of way.

  I counted fourteen large dogs walking in front and seven more, smaller ones, walking behind. And, of course, Idzivaru. The evil cat led this entire canine army, slightly breaking forward, showing that he was the leader, and everyone else was just following him. Not one dog yelped.

  “Do you want to chase them away, boss?” Asked Rymov, following me out of the car.

  “They aren't strangers, Vasya. I'll go help. You can go home now. I’m not that far away.”

  “You want me to miss the battle of the century? Not happening.”

  He just wants to make sure I'll be alright. He doesn't believe that it'll be safe for me.

  “As you wish,” Putting my hands in the pockets of my trousers, I headed toward the departed brigade.

  I approached the scene of action at the exact moment when the opponents met. Lined up, the large representatives of our canines huddled directly opposite the bulk of the enemy. The little ones gathered on the side, preparing to attack from the back. After all, we all know that dogs are related to the cleverest representatives of canines—wolves.

  Without stopping, I passed through the formation of the clan Koyama fighters and stopped next to the cat.

  “It seems to me, whiskers, that they are your bloodline?” I asked the cat, witnessing how he got twice as big, fluffing up his fur. “Yep, they are.”

  I released Yaki on the neighboring dogs right away. Slowly increasing the pressure, I let them leave with at least some dignity. But it didn't help them. They were too late. With a loud meow, the cat attacked the nearest enemy like a missile. That was the signal, after which the dogs followed the cat, like an avalanche covering their opponents, despite the fact that their numbers were somewhat inferior. The dogs that were smaller stood slightly aside. They detained the attack and charged just as the enemy's formation crumbled, destroying individual representatives.