Lost in Shuravia part 4

from /hhg/ Hazbin Hotel general #419
part 1: https://pastebin.com/4Mq6WEVR
part 2: https://pastebin.com/bx2QVKDF
part 3: https://pastebin.com/tqP5kZAc
---
Right, so...
Lost in Shuravia, Part 4

>they heard the roar of the engine first
>then, the headlight - singular -, as it scrolled past them
>finally, the APC emerged from the large portal, screeching to a halt a bit further than they anticipated
>Bratislav hummed

"Brakepads need replacement."
>he mused
"And it needs new left headlight."

>the vehicle had eight large wheels, and a flat-topped turret at the front, equipped with what appeared to be a stovepipe sticking out the front, with a heavy machine gun next to it.

"Ah."
>the sinner seemed pleased
"He did modify it."
>he shook his head, chuckling
"Cyмacшeдший cтapый Caйeд ..."

>the top seemed to open up behind the turret
>the others, who had been cautiously inspecting the vehicle alongside the Russian, now looked up, startled, as a familiar figure clambered off the roof

>"MOXXIE!" cried the impette, tacklehugging him...
>...or, at least, attempted to, only to find him standing still, just barely recoiling as her body hit his
>she could feel the prickliness of his modest beard on her neck, as well as the muscles on his arms, as they wrapped around his fame


>it... really has been quite a month for him, hasn't it?

>he kissed her, long and deep - ignoring the gagging sounds Loona was making in the background
>slowly letting go, she stood back, holding him at arms length
>the trek through the mountains and valley (to mention nothing of the protein-, and vitamin-rich rations) had left him with an... Enhanced figure, to say the least
>"I really need a shower..." he chuckled, scratching his chin "And a shave..."

>but he fell silent, as Millie rested her head against his chest, inhaling deeply through his tunic (the jacket long discarded)
>she looked up, with a certain look in her eyes
>"It can wait." she said, husky, yet firm

>he just nodded
-
>Blitzo quickly dropped down into the driver's seat, and looked around, eager as a child
>...only to lean back in disappointment
>most of the equipment and gauges appeared to be damaged or missing

"She'll need some work."

>he watched as the imp jumped, banging his head against the roof
>remembering his old routine, he slipped into the radioman's seat so quickly that he didn't even notice him

>rubbing his forehead, Blitzo nodded, grumpily
>"Yeah... Well, at least I know what I'll use the money for..." he muttered
"Other half is back in the office."
>Bratislav explained

>nodding again, the leader of I.M.P. looked around
>"So, this is what you guys used there?"
"Дa, дa. Among other things. I traveled around in this one, with Sayid. It had different turret back then, different gun. I've seen the prototype, thought it was better. Told him so, and he promised that after the war, he'll fix this one up to look just like it."

>he paused, staring off in the distance through the viewport

"Didn't expect him to actually do it. Crazy Sayid."

>"No warranty then, I guess..." the imp mused
"No. You get full tank and ammo instead."
>shrugging, Blitzo kept fiddling around, until he noticed something
>"This doesn't seem like it belongs."
"Heт. That was an "aftermarket" addition. We were bored on the long roads... Not sure if it still works."
>"Well, one way to find out!"

>pressing the button, the old radio came to life, its voice slightly crackling and muffled from age
>the song that began to play filled out the silence left by Bratislav

>he knew this one...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aPM4XZUbO4

>"...You OK?"

>he shuddered, looking around
>the imp stared at him, pensively
>"You... Zoned out there a bit..."
"Oh."
>he stared, blinking

"I was just... Remembering."

>shaking his head, he began to get up
>"How come it was in English?"
"Good question, because the band is German. Was."
-
>slipping off the roof, the ground crumbled under his boots as he landed
>shitty concrete

"Well..."
>he sighed, picking up his backpack
"I have paid you fully, and gave you bonus for trouble."
>he tipped his ushanka
"I consider business done."

>and he began to walk off

>after exchanging glances, one of the imps called out to him
>"Wait!"

>he turned back
>Moxxie stood in front of the others
>"What about the equipment?"

>Bratislav shrugged
"Keep it. Sell it. Up to you."
>and he turned around to walk away
"I have plenty like that. Still my size, too."


>"Well... Where will you be going now?"
>now, he only looked over his shoulder
>Millie seemed somewhat sad to see him go
>he was mildly surprised - they hadn't exactly made a connection
>not like with his husband

"Leaving Imp City."
>he said
"Going to Pentagram. There's a Hotel there, for гpeшники like me..."
>he paused, for a moment
"A friend also wanted to got. I'll meet him there."
>thinking that will suffice, he fell silent, and turned back, continuing down the street
>It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary...

>"Think you'll come by sometime?" asked Blitzo
>he stopped again
"Maybe."
>and continued with the next step

>"About fucking time he left..." grumbled Loona
>without skipping a beat, he showed her the fig over his shoulder, before turning the corner, disappearing into the night
>the others stared after him for some time

>"Well, anyways..." the older imp muttered, smiling at the others "It's payday!"
>"Not before you dealt with the accounting!" Moxxie snapped "I don't wanna go on another one of these treks because you failed to keep a balanced budget, and we have to scramble to keep the company afloat!"
>"Oh, pish-posh! What's the worse that can happen?"

*click*


>the others stared, dumbfounded, at the pistol
>eyes the size of saucers, Blitzo found his vision focusing on the dark barrel of the Makarov, before lifting it up
-
>their marksman appeared calm
>eerily so
>half-laden eyes stared back at his boss' wide-open ones
>"My financial stability depends upon it." he said, calm, but firm "...Just do your fucking job right for once."
>Blitzo gulped, giving a shaky smile
>"R-Right. Capeesh, Comprende. Alright..." he muttered "Now, stop pointing that gun at me!"


>never breaking eye contact, Moxxie lowered it
>he felt... Calm
>usually, he would be neck-deep into a conniption by now

>the last month had been quite serene, despite its hardships
>maybe, it was the scenery
>or the fresh air
>really gave him time to clear his head

>truth to be told, he could've pulled the trigger
>Bratislav seemed like a man of his word, and even if he disobeyed him, and killed the old afghan, he would've paid up
>no BTR, of course, but they still would've gotten paid
>but he chose not to

>not really because he was following orders...
>what did those matter, when all his "superior" had was a shaky radio connection?

>and it's not like he had any moral hang-ups
>the guy was just a human
>just another target

>no, he just chose not to
>just
>like
>now


>Loona narrowed her eyes
>"You wouldn't dare, you little bitch."
>he stared right back at her, holding her gaze
>"I keep a hunting rifle, just for you." he replied

>the Hellhound raised an eyebrow
>"So?"
>he smirked

>"One bullet should be enough."


>eyes wide, Loona stepped back
>with a nod, the imp offered his arm to his swooning wife, and the two began to walk back to the office, arms wrapped
>it was a steady pace

>almost like they were marching