A Goddamn Moskal

The snow had melted under the suns warming rays and the sky was clear, and even if it was late, the sun still shun a bright red colour upon the horizon. Silence slowly fell over the city.

"So you survived your little trip..."
Markov said with a low voice. The days of ordinary life were still hanging heavy around his neck, longing for the excitement of Artioms new subjects. The face of Artiom was not that appealing, but hopefully he had done some work to shatter the insufferable, dull darkness that had enveloped Markov, much like the sun had done with the snow.
Artiom didn't answer; he sat in apathy, staring deeply into Markov. He proceeded with handing him an envelope containing several photos.
Markov looked through the pictures he received in a rather slow pace, it was something, but not that interesting. He just sighed.

“Really? You are gone for a month or, more?"
Markov said, he had lost track of time when all days were the same, all molded into one solitary lump of depression.
“Whatever, this is all that you managed?"
As he held them up, Markov wasn’t sure if the art was all that impressive, or his mood was simply too bad, but he felt disappointed.

"If you rate my trips on vulgarity alone you fail to see the purpose of this endeavor. Each and every photo contains a carefully selected subject I have deemed worthy of my actions. In any case, I may have saved what little hope they had in them, what little piece of redemption they may have had." Artiom carefully brought a cigarr to his lips, examining it before sniffing it and lighting it.
The politician searched through the photos again, and he saw a connection between them all, but he did not care the slightest about it for lack of interest. But Markov had to blame himself for not doing the killing on his own, it was something he could not handle.

"The other killer, if you remember me mentioning, has disappeared. But if you start again, he would probably tag along. If he is smart, he'll keep killing in your shadow. And about your high priority targets, I consider you take them out now. Security has been forced to decrease in order to search for you and suppress agitators in some of the poorer districts, even if the search seems to weaken... But if you do kill someone in office, the security will tighten up beyond belief. But this is really a chance to put down a target you may have longed for."
Markov said, in order to stop dwelling on the failure Artiom had brought back.
Markov caught Artioms attention. He might actually have a shot at some big game, and if the opportunity had revealed itself, he would not let it pass him by.

"This 'man', our... 'friend', do you know where he usually resides? The one who imitates my work. Where does he spend his time?"

"No I do not. It seems he like he doesn’t hunt in the same district he lives, that is all I know. And since he also went silent following the commotion surrounding Omar... neither the police, nor I have any chance of finding him. The police have declined their search efforts, since they didn’t find anything, and the government did not want to waste any more resources on it. But there is also someone new around. More brutal. Or that’s what they say, but this person hasn’t made a big fuss yet. I believe that will come sooner or later, but not the police. Since this person seems to be trying to follow your tracks too. But I do not see that as such a big problem right now, just so you know."

Artiom acknowledged the fact that someone might be out to get him, it would only be logical, a matter of time.

"Any info on this one?"

"Not really, but the police thought it to be a simple torture scene, but I see it as an interrogation. And the person murdered was a well known killer who had sat out his punishment. He'd been out for a couple of months. This person is clearly looking for someone, to take revenge, and he took an obvious target. This person doesn't have any clues yet either, I think, just like the police. A violent 'detective' if you will, and we should expect him to do more."

Artiom sat silent as he realized that these murders might hinder his approach towards his game changing target, Aspuratov. Whoever this interrogating torturer was, he needed to be stopped before he spread the filth of the police to Artioms playgrounds. Two men eager for different goals, both involving Artiom.

"I will make sure something comes in the way of this 'detective'."

"Ignore him for a while, he will make his approach, then we deal with him. He will definitely follow you, which we will use to our advantage."

"Considering the fact that this man has killed, and in a manner that might reflect that of my own. I propose a framing. A simple kidnapping, planting some evidence in his home leading the police to him. Might offer me and you some breathing room."

Markov laughed a little.

"What little 'breathing'? The only thing that will happen is the killing continues even after they have captured a culprit. There is a risk that 'evidence' leads to yourself. And if you plant evidence in someone’s home, they might see it is as a break-in too. If you want him to be captured and charged for Your crimes. Then you have to finish of your goal first. Til' then, he walks free."

"You propose we leave the police chasing several killers? I am inside the lion cage and it's inhabitant has not been fed for a long time. The one who’s dinner is the one that makes the largest ruckus. I am on the brink."

"Dammit! I should have kept quiet as I thought about that matter! Besides, what happened with the 'imaginary friend'? The more that is out, the more the police have to do. The less cops will follow your footsteps! And the cops are the ones we do not want to come in contact with. But if you meet another killer, just kill them first. They are clearly not as skilled as you are. The force have realized that there is someone new out there. But they have not put any great effort to get this one."

"I am in control of my own actions, not others. One mishap from these people and I might be dead."

"And since when are you scared of something like that?"

"I am not concerned for my own life. I am more concerned of the fact that some people are free to roam these streets with blood on their hands. I serve to deliver justice to people, art for some."

"Then why do you not just commit suicide? The crimes that you have done will definitely give you the death penalty. They are not the targets, yet, ignore them! What happened to your 'special' target? If you take that fool out, whoever that is, the security will also be after the other guys! Not only you. Get it? The killers may be caught by your action or they find you. It is a gamble, and always has been that way from the bloody beginning!"

"When my service is over, and my actions are no longer needed I will get what I rightfully deserve. Though as you say they might be of use to us."
Artiom scratched the band aid that covered his busted nose.

"You realize that now after all I have said!? ...Damn, you clearly are an idiot."

Artiom gave Markov a fearsome gaze, clenching his fist as he did so.

"Wish to try your luck, tovarish?"

"Want the security to increase now already? Then it’s your luck that’ll be tested."
Markov did not care about the hostile aura from the man beside him, this was, in a sense, kind of funny. Finally something happened in his life again. But he did not want to be killed though, he knew Artiom, he would not kill him here. And because of that, he was not afraid of insulting him.

"You'd be suprised by how easily it is to murder someone in public and get away with it. But of course we need not go that far, a few ribs and a lung would suffice."
Artiom recalled his encounter with his former brother in that cramped old shop. And the times he’d deprived so many the joy of life.
In an attempt to change the subject, Markov came;

"You picked up some interest in picking out targets in high positions. Let's continue that now, shall we? Time is a precious thing, and I have to go soon."
Markov checked the clock on his wrist. Galine was probably wondering where he was, if he did not hurry home soon.

"Shall we make a plan, then?"
Artiom gestured for Markov to start.

"What is the list of people you want to bring your so called justice to? It would be a lot easier if I knew."

"If my wishing’s would be realized, your entire office would perish. However there is one man who smothers his comrades in guilt and fear. This man deserves everything I aim to give him. You should know him as Aspuratov.”
Markov ignored the first sentence, and proceeded with the planning that finally took form.

"Yeah, he is quite angry with me, old git. Where he lives, it’s in the rich part of town, in the outskirts, huge garden etc. Woods all around. A big playfield basically. His head of the ministry; he’s one of the people who stopped the police investigation due to the extreme expenses, claiming it didn’t produce any evident progress. I have been invited there once when I was new... We were talking about the cost of domestic security I seem to recall."

"Any info on his security?"

"Pretty low for a man of his status, even if he has a big house, he is mingy. But there are a few guards. They are around the front door at eve. Not that much around during the day. No one is inside the house. There are a few in the woods, however it is vast. This is the regular layout for his guards. I suggest you take the way from the woods. Go through the bushes covering the yard. Then inside the house, you should be safe.”

"What about the office?"

"Haha, there are alot of guards around."

"An act in his office would send a strong message. The scenery would be perfect."

"That is true, but if you are going to do that, I'm not going to tell you the layout or any patrol plans. Since it would be too obvious that there is an insider..."

"Knowing his house would narrow down the search for an insider, the office though. Lots of people passing in and out in a constant stream, finding someone would prove very difficult."

"If you kill someone at his house, then they will think you are a stalker."

"A stalker pursues his target for a long time, revealing his lust from time to time. A simple murder would seem strange."

"The police are idiots and break-in's aren’t exactly uncommon, they may think it is a robbery. Why would anyone consider an insider? They usually don’t consider that on those sort of matters!"
Artiom tossed his cigarr into the street and watched as it's burning tip slowly extinguished.

"If you want to go do it at the office, you better know how to climb and be unseen."

"Or, I'll get hired."
Artiom proposed.

"Haha! I hope that was a joke..."
Markov responded, almost losing his balance in a fit of laughter.

"I bear an identity no longer, what little they know of Artiom is left in a mental asylum. For all they know I am still in there, or resting calmly in my grave."

"Any vote to be in the government are two years to go from now, and the party have to choose you in. It is not easy."

"I need not a high post, janitor will do just fine."

"Right... then you are hired, suddenly someone is dead when the new janitor disappears. Not suspicious at all."

"Doesn't matter, I bear no background. I am a ghost in their records. And of course, I'll bide my time carefully."

“No, you are not, you are a former soldier. That is recorded. The name never vanishes from the records. And creating a false ID is hard... But I do not know what people you know..."

"My regiment was off the books, and on paper, I died. KIA. As far as the government in concerned I died in the field."

"Gonna return as a zombie? Good job... seriously..."

"Listing PTSD victims as KIA and MIA was easier than explaining to families that their husbands and sons were insane. As I said, I am ghost."

"A ghost who returns from the dead."

"Only to descend into the bowels from whence he came when his work is done."
Artiom got up and stretched his back.

"I'll go on a stroll, leave you with your 'entertainment'."

Markov just sighed.

"Let me think this through before you do anything stupid..."

Artiom grunted as he wandered off.

The night proffered much sustenance in terms of audible entertainment. Babies crying amidst the sound of police-sirens echoing in the distance. Cars carving linear lines in the melting snow, headlights blinding pedestrians. It seemed like a perfect charade, carried out by experienced actors living their lives as though everything around them revolved around them specifically. A perfect evening he thought, as he carried onward amidst the setting of the sun.