Astridia, Beriso Division
Bochanan
Camran Household
6:52 A.M. Local Time
The sun peeked cautiously over the mountain tops, casting long shadows over the deep valley as it struggled to illuminate the scene below. Ancient pines that had stood for eons and would stand millennia from now dotted their peaks, blotting the sun here and there like longs fingers reaching up to grasp the warming rays and steal them away from the hollow below. Nestled between their stoic columns, white smoke wafted up from a collection of mish-mashed wooden and aluminum structures. The homestead perched precariously over a rocky outcropping that gave way to a sheer drop some fifty feet away, and had a single winding path led up the side of the mountain to them, rough, unsafe, and unpaved.
In the furthest building from the edge, a low aluminum-sided structure that appeared more shed than house; a single light flickered for a moment, and then was extinguished just as quickly. The building’s single low window flickered with light again, which then disappeared just as quickly as before. There was stillness then, until a pair of pale, feminine hands appeared at the bottom of the window, struggling to lift it just barely open and releasing a torrent of haze from the house in the process.
“Shut the fukin window, your Da’s gon see the smoke.” The speaker could not be seen through the haze, but the voice sounded young and masculine, even as it cracked and sputtered in exertion. “You try’n get me killed?”
“Shut up Kristijan, he ain’t seein’ nothing, he’s probably still passed out from the bottle.” A second voice, equally concealed but far more feminine and lacking the same coarseness of the first responded. “Besides, I can’t see a damn thing and it’s startin’ to smell like a fucking whorehouse in here.”
The tiny hands appeared again, pushing the window higher and then waving frantically as they forced the smoke from the small, single room outhouse. “You don’t wanna get caught, don’t smoke in the damn house.”
The haze subsided quickly as the hands twittered back and forth, leaving a scene of youthful decadence and defiance in its wake. Sprawled out and half naked, the form of a twenty something man with boyish features and cropped brown hair lay on the large, yellowed bed that dominated the room’s interior. His crooked maw clenched tightly to a pipe of some sort, while his long lanky arms extended out to hold high a lighter that he was intermittently flicking now and again.
“Was your grass, not mine, you brought it.” The man, or boy really, let the pipe roll down to his lips as he spoke, muddling his heavily accented speech even further.
“Well you asked for it smartass,” The second figure came into view now, a playfully snide tone in her voice. She was young as well, perhaps even a bit younger than the boy. Pale and thin, but lithe and attractive in a way that was natural and unforced. “Sides, makes things more fun this way.”
The boy let the pipe fall from his mouth as it contorted into a broad grin, “You bet your pretty little ass it does.” He sat up quickly, letting his lanky legs hang over the bed as he gestured towards her, “Cmere.”
The girl giggled, starting towards the boy and then stopping just out his reach. “I think that’s enough fun for one night, you probably wanna be getting’ out of here for Da wakes up.”
“Maybe I won take you with me, what would you say about that?” The boy’s grin broadened again as he leaned in and reached out to brush his fingertips against the girl. “Just come on back with me, whacha say?”
The girl’s lips shot up like a rocket, twisting into a glowing smile, “I think that’d be ju-“
A loud bang cut off the quiet whispering, followed by a second, and then a loud bellowing scream that reverberated throughout the hollow and seemed to echo for miles. “Markovitch you goddamn son of a bitch, I told you to stay the hell away from here, now you gon get yours!”
“Shit!” The boy, Markovitch, rolled off the bed in a panic, grasping for his pants that lay off to the side. “Don’t let him, that crazy old man of yours is gonna fukin kill me!”
As if in response, a thunderous crash struck the door to the shed, nearly knocking it off its hinges as it flew back in its frame. “Knew you was in there you fucking snake, I’m gonna skin your ass and hang it on a wall!”
Markovitch, still in a scrambled panic, managed to at last pull on his pants as the crashes against the door continued, prompting a terrified scream to erupt from his lips. “We was just talking Horas! Wasn’t no harm or foul in it!”
With a thunderous bang the door at last broke off its hinges, crashing to the ground with a ringing thud. In the frame of the door, a massive man towered above Markovitch. Bearded, with thick, cannon-like arms, his knuckles burned white as they crushed the double barreled shotgun he was leveling towards the boy.
“Da no!” The girl lunged forward as the man came through the door, crashing ineffectually against him as she tried to shield the Markovitch who was still scrambling on the floor.
“Outta the way girl, boys got this comin’!” The man shoved her aside roughly, throwing her sprawling onto the floor but flailing the gun wildly as he did so.
Markovitch, never one to misuse an opportunity, sprung to his feet in a flash and darted for the window. He heard a bang behind him, and then one more. He could feel the pellets brush by him, shooting past his flesh and missing by mere centimeters as he dove out the low window and crashed into the bush outside.
“Bring your ass back here boy!” The thunderous voice boomed from inside the house again as the girl’s father boomed towards the door.
“Piss on y-yo-you crazy fucking bastard!” Markovitch clambered to his feet, stuttering as he scrambled away from the bushes at a dead run. Behind him, the shadow cast by the girl’s gargantuan father came crashing after him. Markovitch ran, dodging past the other outlying buildings, snaking in, out and around corners as he led Horas on a chase.
He made it to the road that led down the mountain, still sprinting as he cast a glance back over his shoulder. The girl’s father, Horas, was gone. He had broken off, and though Markovitch still sprinted he allowed himself a mental sigh of relief as screeched to a halt and broke from the road about halfway down.
Before him, a poorly concealed and thoroughly rusted pickup truck lay tucked into a clearing. He ran to it, brushing off the tree branches and leaves from the windshield and the top of the cab before swinging himself into the driver’s seat and twisting the keys. He breathed another sigh of relief as the engine sputtered to life, spraying black smoke from the tailpipe, before another sound made his heart drop. From the homestead above him, a loud roar, loader than any before it, shook the trees. Horas wasn’t done just yet.
Markovitch gunned the pedal, shifting rapidly and grinding the gears as dread filled his heart. He screamed forth from the clearing, still bellowing black smoke as he wretched the wheel and sent the truck careening onto the road, throwing all manner of dirt and gravel behind him as the tires spun briefly for a moment before gaining traction. Still gunning the pedal, he dared a look back, seeing the source of his infernal dread bearing down on him from above.
Bright red, nearly wider than the road, and sporting a pair of recently polished chrome pipes that extended from the cabin, it was most certainly Horas’ truck. It accelerated rapidly, the massive driver slamming and jerking the stick shifter as it rolled down after him.
Markovitch of course, kept his foot firmly planted on the gas pedal, even as the ridiculous, red, monstrosity behind him started to gain ground. They darted through the mountains, even as the road leveled out the curves stayed present, throwing them around hairpin corners at speeds that would have been unsafe even on a straight road. Still Horas was gaining, rapidly in fact. The behemoth leaned out of his truck, a shiny metal object glinting in his hands before a flash and a loud bang caught Markovitch’s attention. The crazy bastard was shooting at him.
The bullet went wide, but it was enough to force Markovitch to duck below the wheel, lucky for him as a stream of rounds crashed into the back of the cab and shattered the windshield. Just barely peeking over the wheel at intervals to avoid the hail of gunfire, Markovitch kept his foot on the pedal, even as he fumbled with the glovebox. His hands slipping and losing their grip, he at last managed to pry the damn thing open, sending a cascade of receipts, wrappers, and a single black revolver cascading onto the seat next to him.
He snatched the gun up quickly, pulling back the hammer as he sent a prayer up to whomever it was that was watching in the heavens. He dared to sit upright for just a moment, gazing frantically at his driver side mirror while simultaneously extending his gun out and back towards Horas. He caught sight of the man in his mirror, chanced another prayer, and then slammed his finger down on the trigger of the revolver.
Five, no six bangs, and the sound of ricochets filled the air. There was a horrible screeching, like tires sliding and then loosing traction, and then at last one final loud thud. Markovitch dared to look back again, not believing his eyes even as he took in the spectacle. Horas, was very much so still alive, fuming, shouting and slamming his fists on the dashboard of his truck. The location of the truck however, had changed considerably, with the vehicle now smashed firmly into the side of one of the massive pines that dotted the mountain.
“That’ll teach you, you stupid son of a bitch!” Markovitch laughed crazily, leaning fully out the truck as he screamed back at Horas.
He didn’t dare to do so again though, still guiding the speeding truck around the tight corners and uneven road, leaving the crash site behind him rapidly. He drove on, even as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, until at last he caught sight of safety. By some miracle, he managed to squeeze more speed out of the truck, forcing it to surge forward as it approached the bridge before him. With a bounce and a jolt, the truck made contact, throwing Markovitch up as he struggled to maintain control of the truck. To his left, a green sign with white Cyrillic letters read “Gratislavia,” safety, at least for the moment.
In the furthest building from the edge, a low aluminum-sided structure that appeared more shed than house; a single light flickered for a moment, and then was extinguished just as quickly. The building’s single low window flickered with light again, which then disappeared just as quickly as before. There was stillness then, until a pair of pale, feminine hands appeared at the bottom of the window, struggling to lift it just barely open and releasing a torrent of haze from the house in the process.
“Shut the fukin window, your Da’s gon see the smoke.” The speaker could not be seen through the haze, but the voice sounded young and masculine, even as it cracked and sputtered in exertion. “You try’n get me killed?”
“Shut up Kristijan, he ain’t seein’ nothing, he’s probably still passed out from the bottle.” A second voice, equally concealed but far more feminine and lacking the same coarseness of the first responded. “Besides, I can’t see a damn thing and it’s startin’ to smell like a fucking whorehouse in here.”
The tiny hands appeared again, pushing the window higher and then waving frantically as they forced the smoke from the small, single room outhouse. “You don’t wanna get caught, don’t smoke in the damn house.”
The haze subsided quickly as the hands twittered back and forth, leaving a scene of youthful decadence and defiance in its wake. Sprawled out and half naked, the form of a twenty something man with boyish features and cropped brown hair lay on the large, yellowed bed that dominated the room’s interior. His crooked maw clenched tightly to a pipe of some sort, while his long lanky arms extended out to hold high a lighter that he was intermittently flicking now and again.
“Was your grass, not mine, you brought it.” The man, or boy really, let the pipe roll down to his lips as he spoke, muddling his heavily accented speech even further.
“Well you asked for it smartass,” The second figure came into view now, a playfully snide tone in her voice. She was young as well, perhaps even a bit younger than the boy. Pale and thin, but lithe and attractive in a way that was natural and unforced. “Sides, makes things more fun this way.”
The boy let the pipe fall from his mouth as it contorted into a broad grin, “You bet your pretty little ass it does.” He sat up quickly, letting his lanky legs hang over the bed as he gestured towards her, “Cmere.”
The girl giggled, starting towards the boy and then stopping just out his reach. “I think that’s enough fun for one night, you probably wanna be getting’ out of here for Da wakes up.”
“Maybe I won take you with me, what would you say about that?” The boy’s grin broadened again as he leaned in and reached out to brush his fingertips against the girl. “Just come on back with me, whacha say?”
The girl’s lips shot up like a rocket, twisting into a glowing smile, “I think that’d be ju-“
A loud bang cut off the quiet whispering, followed by a second, and then a loud bellowing scream that reverberated throughout the hollow and seemed to echo for miles. “Markovitch you goddamn son of a bitch, I told you to stay the hell away from here, now you gon get yours!”
“Shit!” The boy, Markovitch, rolled off the bed in a panic, grasping for his pants that lay off to the side. “Don’t let him, that crazy old man of yours is gonna fukin kill me!”
As if in response, a thunderous crash struck the door to the shed, nearly knocking it off its hinges as it flew back in its frame. “Knew you was in there you fucking snake, I’m gonna skin your ass and hang it on a wall!”
Markovitch, still in a scrambled panic, managed to at last pull on his pants as the crashes against the door continued, prompting a terrified scream to erupt from his lips. “We was just talking Horas! Wasn’t no harm or foul in it!”
With a thunderous bang the door at last broke off its hinges, crashing to the ground with a ringing thud. In the frame of the door, a massive man towered above Markovitch. Bearded, with thick, cannon-like arms, his knuckles burned white as they crushed the double barreled shotgun he was leveling towards the boy.
“Da no!” The girl lunged forward as the man came through the door, crashing ineffectually against him as she tried to shield the Markovitch who was still scrambling on the floor.
“Outta the way girl, boys got this comin’!” The man shoved her aside roughly, throwing her sprawling onto the floor but flailing the gun wildly as he did so.
Markovitch, never one to misuse an opportunity, sprung to his feet in a flash and darted for the window. He heard a bang behind him, and then one more. He could feel the pellets brush by him, shooting past his flesh and missing by mere centimeters as he dove out the low window and crashed into the bush outside.
“Bring your ass back here boy!” The thunderous voice boomed from inside the house again as the girl’s father boomed towards the door.
“Piss on y-yo-you crazy fucking bastard!” Markovitch clambered to his feet, stuttering as he scrambled away from the bushes at a dead run. Behind him, the shadow cast by the girl’s gargantuan father came crashing after him. Markovitch ran, dodging past the other outlying buildings, snaking in, out and around corners as he led Horas on a chase.
He made it to the road that led down the mountain, still sprinting as he cast a glance back over his shoulder. The girl’s father, Horas, was gone. He had broken off, and though Markovitch still sprinted he allowed himself a mental sigh of relief as screeched to a halt and broke from the road about halfway down.
Before him, a poorly concealed and thoroughly rusted pickup truck lay tucked into a clearing. He ran to it, brushing off the tree branches and leaves from the windshield and the top of the cab before swinging himself into the driver’s seat and twisting the keys. He breathed another sigh of relief as the engine sputtered to life, spraying black smoke from the tailpipe, before another sound made his heart drop. From the homestead above him, a loud roar, loader than any before it, shook the trees. Horas wasn’t done just yet.
Markovitch gunned the pedal, shifting rapidly and grinding the gears as dread filled his heart. He screamed forth from the clearing, still bellowing black smoke as he wretched the wheel and sent the truck careening onto the road, throwing all manner of dirt and gravel behind him as the tires spun briefly for a moment before gaining traction. Still gunning the pedal, he dared a look back, seeing the source of his infernal dread bearing down on him from above.
Bright red, nearly wider than the road, and sporting a pair of recently polished chrome pipes that extended from the cabin, it was most certainly Horas’ truck. It accelerated rapidly, the massive driver slamming and jerking the stick shifter as it rolled down after him.
Markovitch of course, kept his foot firmly planted on the gas pedal, even as the ridiculous, red, monstrosity behind him started to gain ground. They darted through the mountains, even as the road leveled out the curves stayed present, throwing them around hairpin corners at speeds that would have been unsafe even on a straight road. Still Horas was gaining, rapidly in fact. The behemoth leaned out of his truck, a shiny metal object glinting in his hands before a flash and a loud bang caught Markovitch’s attention. The crazy bastard was shooting at him.
The bullet went wide, but it was enough to force Markovitch to duck below the wheel, lucky for him as a stream of rounds crashed into the back of the cab and shattered the windshield. Just barely peeking over the wheel at intervals to avoid the hail of gunfire, Markovitch kept his foot on the pedal, even as he fumbled with the glovebox. His hands slipping and losing their grip, he at last managed to pry the damn thing open, sending a cascade of receipts, wrappers, and a single black revolver cascading onto the seat next to him.
He snatched the gun up quickly, pulling back the hammer as he sent a prayer up to whomever it was that was watching in the heavens. He dared to sit upright for just a moment, gazing frantically at his driver side mirror while simultaneously extending his gun out and back towards Horas. He caught sight of the man in his mirror, chanced another prayer, and then slammed his finger down on the trigger of the revolver.
Five, no six bangs, and the sound of ricochets filled the air. There was a horrible screeching, like tires sliding and then loosing traction, and then at last one final loud thud. Markovitch dared to look back again, not believing his eyes even as he took in the spectacle. Horas, was very much so still alive, fuming, shouting and slamming his fists on the dashboard of his truck. The location of the truck however, had changed considerably, with the vehicle now smashed firmly into the side of one of the massive pines that dotted the mountain.
“That’ll teach you, you stupid son of a bitch!” Markovitch laughed crazily, leaning fully out the truck as he screamed back at Horas.
He didn’t dare to do so again though, still guiding the speeding truck around the tight corners and uneven road, leaving the crash site behind him rapidly. He drove on, even as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, until at last he caught sight of safety. By some miracle, he managed to squeeze more speed out of the truck, forcing it to surge forward as it approached the bridge before him. With a bounce and a jolt, the truck made contact, throwing Markovitch up as he struggled to maintain control of the truck. To his left, a green sign with white Cyrillic letters read “Gratislavia,” safety, at least for the moment.
Republic of Gratislavia
Astridia, Kadajan Province
Novak
Markovitch Homestead
10:13 A.M.
Markovitch reeled as the heavy fist made contact with his face, sending him sprawling into the dirt, before a booted foot made contact with his side. “Goddammit boy, what the hell did I tell you about going over and seeing that girl, you got some kind of fuckin’ death wish!” The voice reminded him somehow of Horas’ as it screamed and bellowed at him, drowning out the sound of his ribs cracking as the foot made contact with his side again. “Fixin to get us all killed you stupid jackass, Horas ain’t gon let this lie you know that? He gon be looking for your blood and our blood to, why in the Gods’ name I did I have such a stupid fucking son!”
“We was just talking Da I swear, there wasn’t no harm in it, just talking!” Markovitch squealed in pain as the foot made contact again, tears streaming down his face as he begged.
“I don’t give a shit if you pulled the girl out of a burning house, I told you to stay away from those fucking Camrans, and what do you do? Run over there and fuck old Horas’ goddamn daughter!” The figure, Markovitch’s father, screamed again, not letting up his assault as he continued to poud on the boy. “Gonna get us all killed, every last goddamn one of us!”
“I didn’t touch her Da, I was just trying to talk to her is all, I swear! Please stop!” Markovitch’s cries fell on death ears as the beating continued, kick after kick crashing into his shattered ribcage before coming to an abrupt stop.
Above him, the looming figure of his father, oddly resembling that of Horas, panted for breath. “Get your brothers, and get down to the river.” He paused, hauling Kristijan to his feet, “And keep a good goddamn watch. That crazy bastard is probably gonna try something stupid, and I don’t want no surprises.
“We was just talking Da I swear, there wasn’t no harm in it, just talking!” Markovitch squealed in pain as the foot made contact again, tears streaming down his face as he begged.
“I don’t give a shit if you pulled the girl out of a burning house, I told you to stay away from those fucking Camrans, and what do you do? Run over there and fuck old Horas’ goddamn daughter!” The figure, Markovitch’s father, screamed again, not letting up his assault as he continued to poud on the boy. “Gonna get us all killed, every last goddamn one of us!”
“I didn’t touch her Da, I was just trying to talk to her is all, I swear! Please stop!” Markovitch’s cries fell on death ears as the beating continued, kick after kick crashing into his shattered ribcage before coming to an abrupt stop.
Above him, the looming figure of his father, oddly resembling that of Horas, panted for breath. “Get your brothers, and get down to the river.” He paused, hauling Kristijan to his feet, “And keep a good goddamn watch. That crazy bastard is probably gonna try something stupid, and I don’t want no surprises.
