Hrstrovokia
14-10-2003, 22:29
Mika Var waited contemptibly on the bench in front of the lake. The water shun exceedingly bright for night, and all the glorious stars above shimmered in the dark translucent surface.
He had come here, like many a time before, to wait for his information officer, a quiet man named Hans, who was often tardy. Had Var been reminded of this, he would have arrived later, to avoid the boring wait.
Time past on as the night wind rushed between the limbs of the oak trees growing around the lake. A multitude of beautiful luscious vegetation had sprung up beside its shore, and Mika knew nothing of them. Not their names, what benefit they possessed to man, nothing.
It saddened Mika. He knew nothing of trees. It wasn’t his task to know anything of trees. He was a low ranking officer in the Vokian Liberation Army. Knowing wasn’t part of his game.
He heard the grinding of pebbles underfoot as the information officer walked briskly across the path by the lake. Mika looked nonchalantly in the direction to confirm it was the man he had been meeting all these many months.
Hans sat down without a word. Silently he removed an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Mika. Puzzled, Mika open his mouth to speak, but was stopped by the hand of Hans. He shook his head and tapped the envelope, and then winked.
Mika looked curiously over the envelope. It was brown, weak paper and he almost tore it as he examined it. It said on one side simply “Var”. “It was meant for me” Mika realised and intuitively placed it away in his bomber jacket.
An envelope with your name on it meant one thing: a mission. Mika swiftly rose from the bench and returned a gaze to Hans, who had also risen. Then nodded politely, and went their separate ways.
Mika had been walking for only a minute or so when he heard the shots. It was the unmistakeable sound of a 9mm handgun, a glock perhaps, the very same carried by the Hrstrovokian Special Section of the Armed forces.
Without looking back, Mika broke from his stride into a run, tearing down the gravel path and then darting into the wood. His heart began to beat like crazy, pumping more and more adrenalin around his body. As he brushed past bushes, he pulled his own gun, a tokagypt supplied by the People’s Republic of KommelianBerg export department.
More shots rang out, and as Mika moved on, he could only think of Hans, and what fate his colleague might have met.
He had come here, like many a time before, to wait for his information officer, a quiet man named Hans, who was often tardy. Had Var been reminded of this, he would have arrived later, to avoid the boring wait.
Time past on as the night wind rushed between the limbs of the oak trees growing around the lake. A multitude of beautiful luscious vegetation had sprung up beside its shore, and Mika knew nothing of them. Not their names, what benefit they possessed to man, nothing.
It saddened Mika. He knew nothing of trees. It wasn’t his task to know anything of trees. He was a low ranking officer in the Vokian Liberation Army. Knowing wasn’t part of his game.
He heard the grinding of pebbles underfoot as the information officer walked briskly across the path by the lake. Mika looked nonchalantly in the direction to confirm it was the man he had been meeting all these many months.
Hans sat down without a word. Silently he removed an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Mika. Puzzled, Mika open his mouth to speak, but was stopped by the hand of Hans. He shook his head and tapped the envelope, and then winked.
Mika looked curiously over the envelope. It was brown, weak paper and he almost tore it as he examined it. It said on one side simply “Var”. “It was meant for me” Mika realised and intuitively placed it away in his bomber jacket.
An envelope with your name on it meant one thing: a mission. Mika swiftly rose from the bench and returned a gaze to Hans, who had also risen. Then nodded politely, and went their separate ways.
Mika had been walking for only a minute or so when he heard the shots. It was the unmistakeable sound of a 9mm handgun, a glock perhaps, the very same carried by the Hrstrovokian Special Section of the Armed forces.
Without looking back, Mika broke from his stride into a run, tearing down the gravel path and then darting into the wood. His heart began to beat like crazy, pumping more and more adrenalin around his body. As he brushed past bushes, he pulled his own gun, a tokagypt supplied by the People’s Republic of KommelianBerg export department.
More shots rang out, and as Mika moved on, he could only think of Hans, and what fate his colleague might have met.