Lost in Shuravia part 3

from /hhg/ Hazbin Hotel general #399
part 1: https://pastebin.com/4Mq6WEVR
part 2: https://pastebin.com/bx2QVKDF
part 4: https://pastebin.com/6BjC4TTm
----
"How about a song?"
>"A song?"

>it was nighttime, and he was out, in the middle of the desert, camping under the starry sky
>idyllic, in a way... had he not been equipped for battle, and sleeping in an army tent
>he'd cooked his food, had his meal, and was now just talking with HQ, trying to stay awake in the cold night
>he'd barely gotten any sleep these last couple of nights
>too much on edge
>too alert

>he had never spent such a long time out... up... here
>well...
>...there was that one time...
>but he didn't like thinking about that.

>it was a long time ago, in his mind, and at such a radically different location, that it felt like a whole different world
>sure, Hell had it's own climate, but it usually ranged from "shit this way" to "shit that-a-way"
>still...

>...how long was it?
>...three months? Tops.


*KRRSH*
"So, you want song, or no?"

>Moxxie looked around
>as far he could tell, he was completely alone in the valley
>nothing but shadows up there
>"Didn't know you were a musician."

*KRRSH*
"We made our own songs during war. I was reminded of one."


>warsongs

>they traveled to Pentagram for their honeymoon
>the city was crazy, and absolutely flooded with soldiers
>people were dying in droves topsides, in yet another fucking war of the new century
>the human penchant to throw your life away for some great ineffable idea
>never ceased to bemuse him
>if you wanna murder, do it for the sake of it, or because you'll get paid
>why lie to yourself?

>then again
>money didn't make for good songs
>this had been the longest time he listened to the radio
>fucking pop

>"Sure, let's hear it."


>the audio was trash
>but he still heard it
>he even briefly panicked, before realizing he still had the headsets on

>first came a humm
>then...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iAoibAgAvM
-
>the song still echoed in his head, from time to time
>but not right now

>the imp came down the mountain

>changing the barrel was easy - really, he had all the necessary parts to turn it into a full-length rifle
>now, staring down the scope, he was still mildly amazed
>didn't even take him that long

>target sighted


>"I can see him."
*KRRSH*
"You can see him?"
>"Yeah, he just left the house."
"Пpaвильнo."

>he followed him with the crosshair, as he hobbled about in the yard
>tending to the goats
>drinking from the well

>"When was this war, again?"
*KRSSH*
"From '79 until the end. 1989."
>"That's... Ten years."
"A decade, yes."
>...

>he watched him hobble back in the house

>"He looks like he aged a century."

"...That's what war, and those mountains do."
-
>he steadied his breath
>they told him to prepare to run
>regardless of the silencer, the echo will be heard for miles
>the mountains aren't on his side
>the man emerged from his hut again...
>...and with him...
>!!!

>"I have visuals on two children."
*KRRSH*
"Children?"
>"Yeah. Look to be young. Maybe four to six. Two boys and a girl."
>silence
>"Maybe they're his grandkids. I don't know."
>still, silence
>"..."
>he took his eye off the scope, tapping the headphones
>"Permission to execute?"
>what's the hold-up?
>"I have a clear shot. Sir?"


*KRRSH*
"...Пpepвaть!"

>he lifted his eye from the scope
>"What?"
"Mission aborted. Leave the area."
>is he serious?
>"But sir, I have a clear target, and...!"
"He has ceмья. Family. Let him be."
>he was serious
>"Don't you want to avenge your comrades?"

>silence

"...We all lost too many to those damn mountains."


>he sighed
>"Affirmative."
>quickly disassembling the rifle, he soon produced the carbine, and began his trek the opposite direction

>humans...
>he'll never understand them
-
>the path was shorter
>took him to the Murghab, and from there, he followed the river down the mountains, until he reached the planes of Badghis
>the cool winds greeted him

>"Where to, now?"
*KRRSH*
"There's someone there you need to find."
>"Another target?"
"..."
>"Sir?"
*KRRSH*
"Heт. Old acquaintance. You're getting bonus for your troubles. He has it."


>back in the office, the others tensed up
>while it may have been near a month for Moxxie, for them, barely a day had passed
>they were aware of the dilation
>he wasn't
>...if this was a trick...

>*KRRSH*
>"What sort of bonus?"

>moment of truth

"Figured you guys may need vehicle. Military ones are the most durable. There's an old comrade who's said to sell them there. You should reach him by tomorrow."

>"...You sent me here, so that I could pick up some old military jeep?"
*KRRSH*
"Эх. Not what I was thinking of."
>Oh?
>"...I'm interested."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBYa5-jrwuM

>another night, another song
>he could take it easy on these last few hundred miles
>fatigue was slowly catching up to him
>he was safe here
>this may have been one of the most richest provinces, but he sure wasn't seeing any sings of that
>as the song concluded, he found himself nodding off
-
>the harsh sun woke him up next morning
>dazed and surprised, he shifted around in the sleeping bag, slowly worming his way out of the tent...
>...scaring the old woman, who had been inspecting it, into a screaming frenzy
>with the cobwebs shaken off his mind, he realized where he was, as he watched her run off
>"...Fuck."


>the scrapyard was only a few miles away
>it wasn't a very large collection, but still, plenty to look through
>the one-legged, bearded ban, sitting in the small booth near some rusted tollgates, squinted at him, puzzled
*KRRSH*
"Have you found the package at the bottom of pack?"
>frowning, he took of his backpack, dug through it, finding a small, red carboard box at the bottom
>offering it to the man, he watched, curious, as his old eyes widened into saucers, and began tearing up, once he opened the box
>soon enough, he took out it's contents: a pin, featuring a red star, with a bright emblem in the center - ears of wheat, an open book, tricolors, the sun in the back -, which he quickly kissed, and hid under his turban, and a medal
>faded, chipped, but still clearly showing a red flag and a tricolor, side-by-side, both with an emblem in the top left corner
>now that, he put on his shirt, and saluted
>not wanting to make things awkward, Moxxie saluted back
>after a few minutes spent standing like that, the radio cracked to life

*KRRSH*
"Give headset to him."
-
>he watched, as the old man's face went from shock, to joy, to horror and dismay, and then, to cold, sad acceptance, as their conversation went on and on
>finally, he turned to him, and, handing back the radio, motioned him to follow
>they walked about a mile between the wrecks, passing trucks, APCs, artillery pieces, helicopters, tanks
>even a fighter jet, half disassembled
>finally, the stopped in front of a large shape, covered with a tarpaulin
>the old guy just yanked it off, allowing it to land in the dust
>as it settled, it revealed the eight-wheeled monster
>the imp could only stare in awe, before his rational mind kicked in
>he assessed the vehicle, hemming and hawing
>spending a particularly long time studying the short, smoothbore gun in the frontal, flat-topped turret
>finally, he said
>"This'll work."
>and hopped off

>finding another package (this time, a more heftier one) at the bottom of the pack, he handed it over to the old soldier, who, in turn, filled the vehicle's tank to the brim, and re-inflated the old tires

>with a rattle and a roar, he was off, carefully slaloming his way out of the yard, and onto the road, heading back to the mountains
>he'll need a large, vertical surface for the gate


>behind him, back at the yard, the old main squinted, watching as the APC disappeared over the horizon, is dust scattered and settled by the wind, like it always did, no matter what disturbed it...
>such as the trio of helicopters, which passed by above him, perpendicular to the little red thing's path

>heavy traffic today