Death of the Deathless - 1

Nothingness. The entire space was devoid of light, sound or sight of any kind. It was here that Krovin resided, inside himself, to face his demon – the legendary Al’Iblis. But this time, it was the demon that was weary of him. An eerie whisper broke the silence,
“Eight hundred years have I resided in your body of flesh and bone? Eight hundred years have you been foiled time and again by your otherworldly foes. Eight hundred years I have rejuvenated you and brought you back from the dead. But I am disappointed, Arkadius Krovin. It seems to me that one such as yourself, with centuries and centuries of experience in the rigors of war cannot gain at least a minor victory against this precious group of warriors. If I want this world to fall into anarchy, then I must act. I must leave your pathetic shell of a body and find a new host – a warrior that is of youth that can yet be corrupted. I will leave you now – and I hope you die a quick and painless death.”
Krovin wanted to scream an objection, but alas he could not. Al’Iblis left quickly, and the vast abyss of nothingness was swept away to reveal the inside of the Black Army’s underground bunker.
At first, Krovin felt nothing – but then pain suddenly started to crawl into his body – the pain of every wound he had received since his possession was now leaking into his unprotected body. His horrible screams of pain shot out from the blast doors of the bunker, and Black Guards ran to his aid. But what they saw disturbed them – Krovin lay on the floor of his bunker, curled up in a fetal position, shouting and crying. The Black Guards first looked at him, then at each other, and slowly walked away, shutting the door as they went out.

Several months later, in Vladivostok proper, events of another nature were unfolding. Major Alexei Mikhailovich Kazansky was just about to be promoted to the rank of Podopolkovnik, or Lieutenant Colonel.
“Lieutenant Colonel Kazansky. I like the sound of that.” he said to his aid, Lieutenant Natasha Kalashnikova, as he straightened out his tie in the unisex dressing room of the Red Army’s Fort Yermak Timofeyev. Natasha was also changing, separated from the soon-to-be Lieutenant Colonel by a thick cement wall. However, if one was tall enough, one could just take a peek over to where she was dressing through a gap in the wall.
“I don’t.” she said through the sounds of ruffling clothing, “It’s not fair – how come you get a promotion and I stay like this?”
“Because I defeated the Black Army.”
“What? No you didn’t!”
“Yes I did – three squads of my best chem troopers stormed into the heart of Arkady Krovin’s secret lair and assassinated that anarchistic SOB.”
“I received no such report.”
“Of course you didn’t. Since the sudden halt of Black Army activity, I had to say something believable.”
“You lying son of a bitch.”
“Well, yeah. But hey – I’ll see that you get a nice salary raise.”
“You rich, lying son of a bitch.”
“Thank you, thank you – you’re too kind.” Kazansky said as he straightened his new hat. Natasha stepped out of her dressing room in her own khaki dress uniform.
“I haven’t worn this thing since my own promotion to lieutenant!” she said. “It’s two sizes too small!”
“Gained a little weight, I see.”
“No, comrade, that’s just muscle.” she said finally, walking out of the room together with Kazansky.
Soon, the two were heading up to a large stage. Kazansky was to stand next to the other junior officers to be promoted, and his commanding officer, Colonel Yuri Korbachenko, would give him a medal which signified his new rank.
A sizeable detachment of the Krasnorussian Armed Forces was present at the ceremony, which included the RKKA Ground Forces in their green uniforms, the Red Air Force in their grey dress uniforms, the Red Navy in black, sections of SpetsNaz troops, the Red Electronic Warfare units in red, and the Red Army’s Chemical Warfare unit in khaki – together with their officers. It was a vast audience, easily numbering a thousand or more.
Finally, it was Kazansky’s turn to step up to the podium. He smiled as he heard the Krasnorussian national anthem played just for him – as the only senior officer being promoted at the ceremony. He narrowed his eyes at Korbachenko and smiled some more, thinking, Just one more rank, Yuri – and I’ll be your equal.
Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by a large explosion – a bomb had blown up in one of the towers of the open-air ceremony. Shouts of “Anarkhiya! Anarkhiya!” could be heard amidst the confusion of soldiers rushing for their rifles and officers shouting orders. It seemed as if the dragon that Alexei had supposedly slain had come back to life. Korbachenko glared at Kazansky, who could only respond with a dumbfounded shrug.
Bullets whizzed by, causing them to hide behind the podium together.
“Comrade Kazansky,” said Col. Korbachenko, “I was led to believe that your unit single-handedly defeated the remnants of the Black Army terrorist movement?”
“Um…” was all Kazansky could say.
“Explain to me, then, who those men in black uniforms with red eyes and grimacing teeth stitched onto their masks are!”
“It must be a new movement, comrade Korbachenko, I swear!”
“That’ll be comrade colonel from now on, major. You’re not getting your promotion!”
“This blows!”
“Say that again!”
“This blows, comrade colonel!”
“Yes it does – for you!”
A bullet nipped at the wood of the podium that they were hiding behind. The two flinched for a moment and put their hands on their heads.
“All right, Major Kazansky – your new orders are to get your chemical warfare boys out there to stop these damn terrorists from ruining the promotion ceremony for the rest of these officers!”
“Yes, comrade colonel!”
“Move it before I have you shot!”
“I like my head, comrade colonel – I’m moving!”
Kazansky ran through the hail of bullet fire, picked up the AK-47 of a dead Red Army guard, and ran for cover behind a wall.
Natasha, meanwhile, was doing just fine by herself. She had retreated back to the dressing room and was armed with an RPK – a Kalashnikov-based light machine gun. She waited by the door of the dressing room and shot whoever entered. If it was a Red Army soldier, she simply mumbled “oops” and reloaded.
Kazansky continued to move up towards the enemy, issuing orders to any chem trooper that he found along the way. Since this was supposed to be a ceremony, nobody had bothered to bring their gas grenades. This was good and bad at the same time. Good because their officers wouldn’t be dying from gas, and bad because the enemy wasn’t.
Suddenly, a Black Army APC broke into the courtyard with a mounted speaker on top of it. As it entered, the Black Guards withdrew and gathered near the vehicle. The loudspeaker boomed,
“Major Alexei Kazansky – approach the vehicle.” it was Krovin. “I swear by my honor that my men will not fire at you.”
“He actually thinks I trust him? What a dolt!” He muttered to himself. Taking off his dress trench coat so he could move better, he signaled to one of his men hiding in a corner to attack the APC with a grenade. The chem trooper waved his hands in a signal indicating that he didn’t bring any.
Kazansky sighed, and then looked towards the sky, as if waiting for an answer from above.
“Well… this is it, I guess. I’m going to die today. Great… where’s Natasha? Ah, never mind that.”
The major closed his eyes and stood up. Expecting to be greeted by a rain of bullet fire, he grimaced. Five seconds later, nothing happened. The Black Guards simply stared at him, weapons lowered.
Cautiously, Kazansky stepped into full view and very slowly approached the APC.
Nothing happened.
He now stood close enough to poke one of the Black Guards in the nose. He would do no such thing though – it was much too dangerous. Then the speaker boomed again,
“Inside the vehicle, major.”
Kazansky’s eyes narrowed, his face had an expression of confusion as he climbed into the hatch of the APC. As soon as he got inside, he could see that an old enemy was waiting for him.
“Arkady Krovin? Well… this is a surprise.”
“Indeed.” replied Krovin.
“You haven’t shot me yet. Is there something I should know? Do you wish to defect?”
“No.”
“Then what? Spill it, man!”
“Patience.”
There was a brief silence as Krovin drank from a canteen of water.
“Well?” asked Kazansky, a bit impatient.
Another brief pause.
“Help me.”
“What was that?”
“Help me.” repeated Krovin.
“I’m not sure I heard that correctly.”
“Help me or I will use your skin as a garment.”
“That’s not how we ask people for favors around here.”
“This isn’t a favor. This is an order.”
“What makes you think you can order me around?”
“Midori.”
“What?” Kazansky asked, a little surprised now.
“Hitteru Midori.”
“What about her?”
“My demon wants Hitteru Midori.”
“WHAT?!?”