Irina had of course recognized that the World War Two fighter plane, and by extention that included its pilot, was Finnish and not German, but she hadn't seen the point of mentioning that her teammates. In retrospect, it probably would've been a good idea to do so, but in the end it had all worked out, and further misunderstandings had been avoided. However, Irina continued to hide in the shuttle, and peek curiously at the scene when the air was temporary less lead-filled. She was after all unarmed, and figured it would just be stupid do to anything else. So with all other options ruled out, she contnued where she had left off.
"Malyška plačet v avtobuse va va va! Va va va! Malyška plačet va va va! I tak ves’ den’! V avtobuse dveri otkryvajutsja! Zakryvajutsja otkryvajutsja! V avtobuse dveri zakryvajutsja! I tak ves’ den’! Avtobus edet ne speša! Kolesiki krutjatsja! Avtobus edet ne speša! I tak ves’ den’!"
Somehow, Kapteeni Waltz managed to hear Sullivan's warning over Irina's loud and annoying singing. He quickly spun around and neutralised the threat. Probably. His aim was a bit off because of miss Borisova's performance, which required its fair share of attention, weather Hans wanted to or not. It likely also didn't help that he shot from the hip, like a Hollywood cowboy (or maybe like Auger?). Sure, it looked cool, but was it really effective?
What on the other hand was effective, was the thing the tardigrade was up to. Ah yes, the colourful tardigrade with no name. I bet you've all been dying to know what he's been up to. I'll tell you in time, but let's return to the thoughts of the Finn lost in time and space.
"All right, so not all lizards here are evil and out to kill me, at least one seems to be all right... Well that doesn't help much when the Russians are here too!" The words that next went through his head sounded a lot like Tolkienesque Elvish, and unusually poetic such, but it was really the foulest curse words to be found in both the Finnish and the Swedish language.
... aaaand now! We finally return to the Amazing adventures of the tardigrade! Wohoo! Finally! TAR-DI-GRADE! TAR-DI-GRADE! TAR- ... cough! Snort! ... sorry about that. Just pretend I didn't wrote that, and that you didn't read it.
Jimmy Sullivan. The one honest cop. The one good lizard, as Hans Waltz had described him. The one fun climbing point, as the tardigrade would've described him. Maybe he had been too caught up by the battle to notice, or maybe the tardigrade itself was too small to notice, but whatever the reason, it now seemed the reptilian rozzer had a bright neon, kilt-wearing pimple on the back of his head. At this point, the tardigrade enjoyed the view, but he had also gone tired of the kilt, and changed his mind completely about it. It was however hard to remove it with his small leg-hands, and in order to not fall down from officer Sullivan while undressing, he had no other choice but clinging onto his skin by his jaws. It worked! The tardigrade (which I from now on will refer to as "Tom", not because that's his actual name, but because it's a lot shorter and easier to write than "tardigrade". It's also possible that with a name, the audience might start to actually care for him, right?), I mean Tom, threw the kilt down on the ground, and it fell like a candy wrapper in the wind. Tom enjoyed the fresh air on his body, but something irked him slightly.
"Oh. Right. Hope that didn't hurt, funny climbing tower. Sorry I had to bite you, or whatever..."
