Bulletproof

Chapter 1: Lights on the Water

*waves* Hi everyone, look, Ahro and I have yet another thing to share with you! But this one is *gasp* Rusame. :) This one will be much shorter than our intent for Of Song and Claw and Survival 101, so yeah! Modern day mercenary story. Hope you all enjoy!

Stepping from the Boeing 787 onto the enclosed boarding ramp had the American hissing through his teeth at the distinct drop in temperature. A gloved hand quickly went up to rub at his arm as he bounced from foot to foot as the other passengers made their way - at what felt like a snail's pace - into the airport terminal. If the ramp, having been sheltered from the blistering winds outside was cold, he could only imagine how it'd be being unprotected amidst the elements later. Of course he had had to accept a mission here, what would probably be his last mission for the American Government, trapped in the blisteringly cold weather of Russia.

Finally escaping the cold ramp, he breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth of the Pulkovo Airport greeted him. This was much better, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. His mind began to ponder the quickest way to get into a waiting vehicle before his body even managed to humor the thought of the cold again, when his thoughts were interrupted by the garbled Russian filtering out from the PA system. It was then his eyes alighted on a few signs around him. Aside from pictures to explain to non-native speakers, everything was in Cyrillic.

"Shit," was all he could say as people moved around his form. He suddenly remembered his phone and the recent app he had downloaded for just this occasion. Pulling it out in triumph, he stuck one of his earphones in and began to replay certain useful Russian words; he even attempted to say them under his breath. He was to meet with a man - his new partner - in the upcoming job his government had sent him off for, just as the Russian Federation had hired the latter to do as well. It was going to be a team effort. He only hoped this team would be able to communicate.

While he waited, his new partner finally arrived at the airport. The traffic had been a bit unexpected, and the terminals crowded and a bit difficult to shove through, but the Russian had managed.

Ivan left his SUV in the waiting area. He'd been pondering exactly what kind of partner their Russian-American company could have requested from the US government partner wise as wandered down the levels of the parking garage.

Walking into the crowded airport, he easily wove his way through the throngs of people. His heavy black pea coat neatly pressed with the silver buttons, and dark denims gave him a bit of a classy, but casual air. The violet scarf around his neck matched the tone of his rare violet eyes, but it was the attitude about him that parted the crowd. At a towering height of well above six feet, shoulders wide, chest thick and hardened jawline, Ivan was a man that commanded respect the instant people saw him. Collected confidence laced every smooth stride as he searched for any signs of his partner.

He'd refused to read the file provided for him, preferring to make his own judgements and gauge his perception skills rather than go on words printed in black ink. The only thing he'd bothered to glance at was the man's picture.

One man caught his attention though. He was the only one not moving, and seemed to be squinting at the boldly lettered signs as if they were alien gospel.

Clearly doesn't speak Russian, Ivan thought, groaning internally. He hadn't needed to speak any other language in nearly a year. His last assignment had been in Guatemala, but learning - or rather, trying to learn - Spanish had been a nightmare for such a short mission.

Silently coming up beside him, Ivan didn't bother to look at the shorter as he naturally spoke his native tongue. If he was right, the man would have no idea what he was saying, and very likely be the man assigned to him.

"Pardon, stranger. You wouldn't happen to be lost, would you?" he rumbled in his thick, suave voice. Glancing to him, he noted he had a few inches on the man, and a few pounds of muscle as well. But the foreigner certainly had a sturdy build about him, and a posture that suggested military training at its finest.

The American had since given up on deciphering the written language to what matched on his phone. It wasn't like he'd be suddenly graced with an understanding just by staring uselessly at the letters. He only wished he'd had more time to learn a bit of the language prior to being shipped out.

His personal space suddenly being encroached upon didn't get past the trained mercenary and ex-US soldier, but he felt a groan well up in his chest hearing the foreign words. He had no idea what the man had said, but nonetheless, tried the best he could to respond.

"Ya ne gavaryu pa rooskee," he attempted, trying to pronounce the phonetics from his phone, but knowing the obvious failure with his accent would allude that he obviously didn't speak Russian. Announcing that he didn't just seemed redundant. "Sorry, 'bout all I know."

At this he finally glanced up from the corner of his eye to quickly take note of the man's silver hair and striking violet eyes that had mesmerized him in the man's file. Though, reading stats of the man's height and weight were nothing like being in the direct presence of it. The man was a wall of muscle. It then only forced his awareness of his own posture and presence. He had traveled in casual business attire, now snug under a heavy navy overcoat. He assumed his hair was probably mussed from the long plane ride - as he knew he had slept most of the way - but he made a quick attempt to comb it to its usual part with his fingers. With a final adjustment to his glasses, he made to address the man again, taking heed to not draw suspicion.

"You... speak English?" He asked casually to the air in front of him. Even though he was ex-military, bringing any attention to himself in Russian territory wasn't the smartest move. He was to be undercover through this, as only the highest level of the Russian government knew of his true existence in their country.

"Not bad for an American, though your accent will be an issue. I suggest you let me do the talking if need be." Ivan smirked, having spoken in thickly accented English. "And I believe I have answered your question. I apologize though. I haven't had to speak it in many years."

The big Russian moved forward, assuming Alfred would know to follow him. The airport could get confusing, especially considering the American couldn't read the signs.

Alfred followed along, a sigh of relief blowing past his chapped lips at hearing the man's English. The accent added quite the interesting sound to the familiar words. It was rather pleasing to the American's ear. Foreign accents had always stirred his interest, but the thought only brought him back to another accent he had lost hearing a long time ago.

The sobering thoughts brought him to refocus on the taller man's back and the comment he'd made.

"Well, your English is excellent. Sorry you have to compensate for my shortcomings, though."

"It's not a problem. My last mission I was forced to learn Spanish, or at least, try." Ivan grimaced. "It didn't proceed well. Ah, my manners - my name is Ivan Braginsky. What would you prefer I call you?" Ivan asked, glancing over his shoulder to the blond."

"Ugh, Spanish. Another one I should have learned," he grumbled as he ran a hand back through his hair, his gaze drifting to look out a window to the swirling snowflakes in the air. "Alfred F. Jones. Can call me, Alfred, that's fine. Pleasure to meet you, Ivan."

The Russian nodded his acknowledgement and guided them out of the airport into the cold, brisk air. A swirl of dancing frost breezed through the open air, clinging to his black coat. Ivan dusted it from his shoulders before motioning out to the lights of the many buildings sparkling in the dusk.

"Care to see the city?"

Alfred followed a bit reluctantly due to the cold as the Russian moved outside of the warmth of the airport. The cold was biting as he shrugged deeper into his coat. He knew their mission wasn't easy, but the weather made Hell sound like a vacation.

At Ivan's question, Alfred was surprised. How much time did they have before their debriefing? He loved to sightsee, but was surprised by the man's hospitality. He hadn't expected anything else but pure business.

"Ahh, that sounds really awesome, but is there time?" He wanted to make a strong impression with his new partner, and as tempting as St. Petersburg was - the glow of the lights already weakening his resolve - he wasn't sure agreeing to downtime would give him much credit.

"The briefing is not until tomorrow morning at a cafe outside St. Isaac's cathedral. Besides that, I would feel rude not showing a guest around my city." Ivan paused just before the tall parking garage. While he wasn't a terrible host, Ivan had other motives as well. Gauging his new partner would be easiest when the man was hindered by the new cold and culture.

"The city is best enjoyed walking on foot, but if you're cold," Ivan cocked a brow obviously, "we can take my Renault."

Alfred had nodded at the information about the briefing, but quickly shook his head at the mention of driving. He didn't want it to look like he was weak because of a little cold.

"Ahh, no, let's walk. I'd rather experience your city the way it's best meant to be seen." He smiled, trying to force his teeth to stop chattering. Going into the city did sound like a good idea. He wouldn't mind finding some warmer clothing at a local shop.

"Do you need a better coat? Yours seems inadequate." Ivan tipped his head towards the city lights. "While it's late, there should be shops open, especially this far into the winter season. It's only going to get colder, or so the weather report says."

Alfred's eyes widened at the suggestion, as if the man had read his thoughts. Though trying to humor the notion that it could possible get any colder was not on Alfred's mental to-do-list.

"Ye-yeah, definitely! That'd be great, thanks!"

Ivan nodded, heading towards the bright golden domes of St. Isaac's Cathedral looming in the distance.

He led them along the Spilled Blood Canal, walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Cars drove by, and few people walked by the railing. The cold night deterred most people from taking such a stroll, but the biting frost didn't seem to bother Ivan in the least. He watched the dark waters below, but spoke to Alfred.

"What training do you have, Alfred?"

As Alfred followed along beside the Russian, he found the cold wasn't bothering him as much as it had as his eyes drifted up to the stunning architecture, colors and lights, even in the evening. He began to wish he had brought a camera with him, but this wasn't meant to be a visit of leisure.

"Hmm, what?" Alfred had been mesmerized by the sights he almost missed Ivan's question. Though it threw him a bit off guard. He wasn't one to talk about such things in the open.

"Umm, well, you've seen my file I'm sure."

"I haven't," Ivan stated bluntly, his violet gaze never leaving the water. "I'm never inclined to believe anything the government prints." For a brief instant, he glanced to Alfred, gauging for his reaction. "So I know nothing about you, other than what you choose to tell me. I prefer missions without attachments involved.

"But you're looking like a tourist with all your gawking." The big Russian chuckled amusedly. "No one will take you seriously, and most will not understand your English either."

The last thing Alfred had expected was a confession regarding the man's own government. He was in agreeance with him though. Alfred had looked over Ivan's file, but he knew to never take everything at face value.

He kept his expression aloof as he veered to stop a moment along the waterway, peering into the dark waters and admiring the lights as they reflected off the smooth surface.

"True on the English bit. Not used to being somewhere I'm not understood." He shrugged, though he lowered his voice regardless. "And that's a smart and admirable method to follow. I can't say I hold much for my own government as well." Toying with the snow that had collected on the metal railing, Alfred spoke up, "I'm ex-Army and I've worked for a PMC. I specialized in long range and infiltration."

Ivan had paused when Alfred did. He rested his arms on the railing, draping himself leisurely over the broad guard. Violet eyes watched the water below without interest. He'd walked this canal a thousand times, and such simple thing didn't spark his interest anymore.

He couldn't help the grimace when Alfred mentioned he was but a mercenary. Ivan had been trained Spetsnaz before his desertion and return to an off-grid civilian life. While he detested the authority of government, he couldn't deny that his training had been elite and well worth the pain.

"What company did you belong to then? Dyncorp? Aegis?" Ivan asked, his gaze shifting to Alfred. He didn't like the idea of working with a man who had only ever fought for a paycheck.

Alfred shrugged as he pushed a pile of snow he had collected off to sprinkle into the water below.

Who he had worked for didn't really matter anymore. Nothing had mattered over the last two years. This job had come up out of the blue, and after the briefing of the risks involved, Alfred felt he had nothing to lose anyway.

"Use to be Aegis. But none of that much matters anymore." Adjusting his gloves, and shrugging more into his jacket, he turned back to the road, his tone changing to a brighter one to push away his encroaching past.

"How about that jacket? Or is the Astoria Hotel closeby? That flight was brutal."

It was only half the response Ivan was expecting, but when Alfred turned back towards the street, the big Russian shrugged. Maybe there was something to this American after all. Whatever it was, he would need more time to fully develop a proper opinion of the man. He just wished there was actually time to do such a thing.

"The Astoria? Hmph, rather posh for a mercenary, but the hotel is closer than any decent store." He motioned with the a nod of his head towards a rather tall building still quite visible despite the snow and darkness.

"That's it right there. I assume you can walk there on your own," Ivan dismissed, turning his attention back to the water. "It's best you don't wander. I'll find you in the morning and take you to the rendezvous. Just stay in your room and try not to look like so much of a tourist."

Alfred followed Ivan's gaze and about fell back a step at seeing such a grand looking building.

"Woah. Not the place I was expecting, either." His mind pondered exactly why he would be put up in such a grand hotel considering the financial crisis back home, but he shrugged it off. It had been paid for already. Wasn't his place to question the higher ups. Though his previous stays elsewhere had been a far cry from a five star hotel. He was lucky if his room wasn't infested with cockroaches.

"Alright, well, thanks for the directions. I'll try to be a bit more inconspicuous about my gawking at your city. 'Course, a tourist is a rather proper cover, right?" He threw back a wave to the Russian before shoving his hands back into his deep pockets and trudged onwards to the grand hotel he'd be staying at.

As he walked, he found his thoughts wandering to his new temporary partner. The man was professional, but didn't seem as cold as Alfred originally assumed. The man's methods were interesting, though. To not have even glanced at Alfred's file was the strangest by far. In a sense it eased some of Alfred's own worries as some of the information in his file he wasn't extremely proud of. Naturally, his boss thought otherwise, but Alfred would never admit to having any pride in his job. It was just a means of living, one he had been forced into and couldn't exactly escape.

But that would be changing soon.

Alfred hadn't even registered that he had entered the hotel until he was blasted by a wave of heat. The snow that clung to his glasses almost immediately began to melt, and he was forced to take them off to attempt to wipe them clean. Replacing them, he could finally take in the beauty that only repeated inside the massive lobby.

"Dabro pazhalavat." A voice came from his side causing Alfred to jump. He obviously didn't recognize the words and simply waved briefly. He could only assume it was a greeting from the clerk at the entrance. The man smiled and waved him forward to the receptionist, to which Alfred gladly obeyed. A five star hotel had to have employees that spoke some English, especially in a metropolitan city like St Petersburg.

"Dobrey vecher!" the woman greeted warmly as Alfred stepped forward. Alfred offered her a lopsided grin as he pulled out his wallet.

"Ahh, hello."

The receptionist's eyes widened knowingly, and smiled, "oh, English! Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Astoria."

Alfred blew a relieved sigh. He really didn't want to rely on his phone as a translator, nor did he really want to try and find Ivan to help him check into his room.

"Thank you, umm, I have a reservation." He handed over his fake ID. Government issued to him, but without anything to trace back to himself or his position. It made him wonder why he had easily given his real name to Ivan. He must have really slipped up since last time.

The woman busied herself with a computer, but as she did, her expression turned from cheerful to confused.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it seems we have no reservations for you."

"What? That can't be right? This is the Astoria?"

The woman nodded.

"Yes, sir, but I'm afraid your reservation was cancelled about ten hours ago."

Alfred groaned at this. He'd never run into a problem like this before. Unless something happened and someone was tipped off that he'd be staying here. Surely at the briefing in the morning he would find out any news.

"Well, thank you anyway." Alfred turned, listening to the woman try to pitch a room regardless but what money he had was not worth spending on a five star hotel room.

Stepping back out into the cold, he looked back up and down the street, his arms going up to rub at his arms. Now he needed to find some place to stay, and it was already extremely late.

Shit. He turned and began to walk back the way he had come. He had no service on his cellphone out here, so heading back to the airport would hopefully turn up a map with other hotels he could stay at. Though as he walked along, his eyes caught familiar silver hair, quickly forcing a thank you from under his breath as he jogged back up to the man.

"Ivan!" he called out, beyond thankful the man had stuck around. Then realizing his predicament, he felt his face flush at just how desperate this was going to sound.

"Ahh, well, this is awkward. Seems my reservation was cancelled during my flight here for some reason..." he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck, "you wouldn't happen to know a cheap place I could stay around here?"

Ivan cocked a brow at someone calling his name. Drawn from his thoughts, the Russian looked up from the water, catching the sight of the young American jogging up to him. A smirk graced his thin lips as he leaned back on the railing.

"Seems as if your government saw the price of a room and decided you weren't worth it. Not surprising." Ivan blew a strand of his silver hair from his face nonchalantly. These things happened. There was no such thing as a perfectly smooth mission.

"You shouldn't be staying in a poor hotel if you can't speak Russian. Getting swindled isn't hard if you're clueless." Ivan sighed, knowing Alfred likely wouldn't have a lot of money on him, seeing as how a large amount of cash would only draw attention.

"Your safest option is to stay at my flat, I suppose. It's already late, and I'd rather just go home then try to find a hotel at this hour. You can sleep on the couch. I have a heater as well, so at the very least, you won't freeze to death."

Alfred sighed, though he admitted he'd rather not feel guilty about staying at a high class hotel for a mission on US tax dollars. However, surprise did come at the Russian's offer. It seemed almost too lucky. He felt himself grow a bit cautious. This was the man in the photo he was to partner with, but after losing his place to stay, and having the man wait around as if expecting him to return seemed a bit strange.

"Well, that's really kind of you." He admitted his chances without knowing the language were slim, but he would be sure to not drop his guard either. "I'm sorry I have to intrude on you like this. This hasn't happened to me before."

"Don't get excited, American. I'd rather have my flat to myself, but I doubt our employer would appreciate me letting you wander around Petersburg helplessly." Ivan rubbed at his eyes tiredly, finally realizing how late it actually was.

"So consider yourself lucky. I've had to sleep under parked tanks and in mud huts plenty of times. Even walking into the Astoria is a privilege." Unhitching his cold-stiff body from the railing, Ivan started back towards the airport with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He didn't look back at Alfred when he spoke, but let the cold wind carry it back for him.

"But you're welcome. I try not to be too inconsiderate to work partners either."

Alfred followed along quietly, only having nodded in response. He was also extremely tired, and even the thought of a space heater was a welcome against the blistering cold. He'd spent his own fair share of sleeping in the elements, and he hadn't looked forward to doing so again. Especially without any gear. His equipment was to be picked up at a drop site, but that was to be found out after the briefing.

"Umm," they had been walking in silence for quite a while, and Alfred didn't feel right not offering anything to the man in return for his hospitality. He could have easily let Alfred fend for himself. Ex-Spetsnaz didn't exactly work in teams or ever have partners too often as far as he knew.

"Here. For your trouble in all of this." He held out a small envelope with what money he had exchanged into rubles. "Putting up your partner wasn't exactly in the contract agreement."

Ivan grunted, shoving the envelope back to the American.

"I don't want your money," he decreed, perfectly honest as he fished in his pocket for his car keys. The walk had managed to get them to the garage where Ivan had left his SUV. As he pulled them out and unlocked the jet-black vehicle, he spoke, ushering Alfred to get in on the other side.

"There isn't a lot in contract agreements that I give a damn about. But I need you in decent condition if you're going to keep up with me. Sleeping with roaches in a shitty motel isn't going to keep you in top form."

The drive to Ivan's flat wasn't overly long, and the Russian had to admit he didn't mind the heat blowing from his beloved vehicle's air vents all the while. So he was a bit reluctant to get out as they arrived, but made sure his pace was brisk as he walked up to the door. Upon entering, Ivan flicked on the lights and glanced to Alfred. He pointed vaguely towards the kitchen.

"That's the kitchen - don't eat my food. Over there is the bathroom, my room is just past it, and the porch is beyond that door." He gestured rather haphazardly to things, not exactly comfortable showing anyone - let alone a stranger - his tiny home. Books, newspapers and bullets were strewn just about on every open surface. Clippings from articles on bombings, terrorist attacks and other global misconducts were tacked on a corkboard that hung next to the fridge. And a single exploded bullet casing sat on the mantelpiece above the hearth beside a small cross. But other than that, the flat was fairly clean and the couch only had a coat and a small manual on ordinance grenades strewn on the backing. Ivan swept them into his arms and motioned to the couch.

"And that's your bed."

Alfred had walked in and observed the modest apartment. It wasn't much different from his own. He didn't keep much around any more, not really finding a need to. It was interesting to note the lack of family photos or anything really personal. Perhaps this wasn't his main home? It would explain it. In their line of work, having family pictures around only gave potential enemies a link on how to get to you.

Alfred inwardly hissed as his fists clenched at his sides.

Picture frames smashed. Windows broken. Fresh blood pooling from…

"S-shit!" He cursed under his breath as he found himself stumbling a bit. His hand going up to his head as he braced against the door frame.

Ivan looked back, but immediately furrowed his brow in concern upon seeing Alfred slump against the threshold.

"Alfred." Ivan shook his shoulder, having closed the gap between them in a single stride. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

Gritting his teeth, Alfred pushed himself back up using the support of the doorframe. Ivan's voice sounded muffled to him in that moment, but the shaking seemed to help clear his mind.

"Ugh- s-sorry… sorry, it's nothing." He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, brushing his glasses up his face as he did. "Just a sudden headache is all. Probably from flying for so many hours," he lied, stepping away from Ivan to try and regain his composure.

Dropping his duffle bag against the foot of the couch, he kneeled down to rummage through it for something to sleep in.

"Thanks again for lettin' me stay here."

Ivan didn't linger beside Alfred when the man moved away. He blinked curiously, but Alfred seemed steady enough on his feet again. It wasn't his place to question Alfred, even if he didn't honestly believe him.

"As I said it's fine." Ivan walked into the nearby bathroom, grabbed a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet, and returned to Alfred.

"Here," he said, tossing the pain-relievers to Alfred as he passed him to head to his bedroom. "Your best chance is to sleep it off, but those will help. Now sleep, we have too much to do tomorrow for you to be up at these hours."

Alfred nodded as he caught the bottle of pills, eager to put the entire day behind him. He did have a mild headache, which had him tossing back three capsules for good measure. It would certainly help him sleep. He didn't see his dreams being very pleasant ones.

"Thanks." Pulling out some sweatpants, an old t-shirt, his toothbrush, and toothpaste, Alfred walked over to the vacant bathroom - needing a moment to gather himself under the pretense of getting ready for bed. He was thankful Ivan didn't pry, but his pride was hurt that he showed such weakness before the man.

Get it together. This is the last one, and it'll be over.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he blew out a sigh, seeing the dark circles under his eyes had only grown more prominent. At this point, he summed it up to them just being permanent, but he hoped his ragged appearance wouldn't upset his new partner. He needed this mission. Needed to see it through to the end, and he needed an out.

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some cold water on his face before seeing to his teeth. After he was finished, he quietly made his way back to the living room - minding his belongings as to not become a nuisance to the Russian. It seemed the man had gone to sleep. The apartment was quiet, and only the light from the streetlamps below broke through the open blinds into the main room.

As he contemplated the couch for a moment, he then thought about his insecurities in regards to the bizarre events that wound himself in his partner's home. Curious to see that the man was sleeping, he crept quietly to the slightly open door that lead to Ivan's bedroom.

Edging as quietly as he could, he peeked into the man's room, all in an attempt to settle his own nerves that nothing was amiss.

The distinct click of Ivan's Kimber pistol being cocked resounded through the near silent apartment. The man lay across his bed, one arm folded behind his head as a casual pillow while the other trained the sidearm at Alfred's heart.

"Nosy American." Ivan scoffed, smirking up at the ceiling, never letting his grip on the Kimber falter. "Any good reason you're in my room?"

That familiar click wasn't all too unexpected - Alfred slept with a gun at all times as well, especially since that day he'd lost it all. Though for the Russian to be on guard, Alfred knew the man wasn't with the enemy. He blew out a sigh of relief, even while knowing a trained Spetsnaz soldier had a gun aimed at his heart.

"Ahh, sorry, was just wonderin' where ya might have some extra blankets stashed?" he asked casually, though a glint from the light hit off the man's pistol and Alfred's eyes widened a moment. "That's a nice piece, by the way. Got good taste there."

Ivan flashed his canines with a knowing smirk before flipping the safety on. He set the pistol down on his stomach, motioning with a flourish of his wrist back towards the hallway.

"Spare linen I keep in the hall closet you passed to spy on me."

"Hey, strange place, strange circumstances, can't blame a guy for being cautious." Alfred shrugged with a bemused smirk.

Ivan shrugged but didn't miss Alfred's comment about his Kimber from before either. The Russian absently tugged at his scarf some, remembering the scar that it concealed on his neck. The gun and the scar had come from the same faulty mission.

"Kimber is a quality company for sidearms," Ivan mused allowed, running his fingers over the feathered grip. "I brought this gun home with me from a mission in Africa a couple years ago."

Leaning on the doorframe, Alfred then nodded his head in the direction of the Kimber.

"They are a fine make. Can't go wrong with good 'ol American firearms." Alfred chuckled some, unable to hold back some boasting for his own country's craftsmanship.

Though, hearing the comment about Africa made him pause, but he forced himself through it with faint interest.

"Oh, you had a stint in Africa? I... had a brief time there myself." He pondered, remembering back to that time as not one of his best moments.

Ivan nodded, rolling his eyes at the American's boosterism. He felt his neck itch uncomfortably though. He resisted the urge to scratch at it, and turned his head to cock a brow at Alfred instead.

"Did you? Hmph, I can't say I much enjoyed it there. It wasn't exactly the most moral of jobs, and the pay certainly wasn't worth the hassle, legality and injuries. I'm not inclined to return any time soon."

"Emm," Alfred agreed, his eyes beginning to wander a bit to the scarf the man still wore around his neck.

A scarf and silver hair...

"Alright, well, I'll get out of your hair. Thanks again. Sorry if I disturbed you." He then moved away from the door to see to grabbing that blanket he had asked about. After having almost lost half the linen on the floor in his attempt at pulling a spare comforter out, he finally made his way back to the couch. Settling in, his mind began to wander to that one time in Africa, where he'd first missed his mark.

Tada! The chapters will be close to this length too, so not nearly the heavy payloads Survival and OSC dish out. :) Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Leave them all in that little review box for us! ;D You can follow either (or both) of us on Tumblr for updates on all our stories plus fanart and teasers! Hellieace. tumblr. com and ahro. tumblr. com