I write classic "good vs evil" creative writing pieces with smart twists inspired by vintage action cinema, gaming, and heavy metal.
"That was really messed up," said Sergei, an experienced OMON operator and a veteran of the Soviet-Afghan campaign, "I seen escaped convicts but those were something else."
It was 5 AM and the Soviet streets were still dark; an OMON unit responded to a call-up involving a prison riot and 4 armed convicts who took hostages after overpowering their guards; ending in a disastrous firefight where OMON command gave the order to terminate with extreme prejudice; civilians included. The operators, now back at the precinct, were awaiting debrief.
"Command knew there was no reasoning with these animals," added Stepan, the unit's marksman as he disconnected the magazine from his SVD long rifle. "They would have butchered the civilians anyway."
Sergei got up from the wooden bench, his AKMSU still slung over his shoulder and headed towards the bathroom; reflecting on the call-up as he moved.
"DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF TWICE?! OPEN FIRE!" he heard his commander's voice in his head; his gun's recoil repeating on his shoulder as he recalled falling civilians; trying to make sense of it all. While prisoner transport can go sideways and the convicts trying to escape using hostages is normal; shouldn't the priority be on securing civilians and neutralising the threat? The seasoned soldier and OMON operator knew full-well about the chain of command and subordination; not questioning orders especially, he, however, still wanted to question the commander.
Cleaning himself up, Sergei went to see the commander; gathering some intel along the way; the precinct was already a party; admin staff desperately keeping citizens at bay, patrol units dragging in vagrants and hooligans, as well as other OMON squads, returning; towering over the entire hive.
"This is a nightmare; how do we explain OMON operators shooting at correctional facility medical and security staff?!"
"Shut it, pray that OMON would be here to protect us when the whole city comes here wanting our heads!"
Such phrases jumped around the precinct's PR department; doom and gloom until Sergei ran into a young patrol officer, an enthusiastic village guy.
"Comrade Sergei!" he exclaimed, "Pleasure to meet you, 1 month on duty here and the chief already gives me an important task!"
Sergei had no intention to sour his mood, "Really? What is it?" he asked politely.
"He called me into his office and said he needed a patrolman with good eyes and ears; God knows us, Alexandrovka village folk have both of that!" he paused to pull out a file. "An undercover sting operation; we're catching a drug dealer that we think had something to do with this hostage incident."
"Now it's about drugs?!" Sergei thought to himself, "Command told us it was just a normal prison break."
"Well, gotta be better than separating two drunks fighting and looking for lost cows." Sergei joked in return, "Must have been boring back in the village."
"Yeah, I didn't spend years of training to become a candidate for sports proficiency in SAMBO (Russian martial arts based on wrestling and grappling techniques) to look for cows!" he replied as he walked away.
Moments later, Sergei caught up with his unit commander, the man looked different; like he ran a marathon while having a bad fever.
"What is it, soldier?" the commander asked trying to act natural.
"Why did we shoot the civilians?" Sergei asked as his gaze fell on his superior's neck; a stream of blood was seeping out of a rough patch job.
"I received word that they were conspiring against our country; that it was an act to divert attention so, we killed 2 rabbits with 1 bullet."
"Foreign agents?" Sergei asked.
"You can say that they smuggled and spread drugs coming from America; they staged the prison break to divert attention, little did they know we had a plant among them." The commander replied with faux confidence.
The commander's eyes started to widen and wander; like a frog stalking a fly, "The chief wants to see me, get to the briefing room with everyone else; I'll be there shortly." he ordered and walked towards the said direction.
Sergei watched his superior walk away however, he also heard him talking; as if he was responding to a conversation:
"He is a loyal soldier, he would serve us anyway; not like he asked any strange questions!"
The man paused for a minute and replied, "It is not normal for police to shoot civilians without context; he has the right to get it."
The rest was lost as he turned a corner. Sergei, as instructed went to the briefing room.
Meanwhile, the young village officer was in plain clothes alongside 2 others in an unmarked Zhiguli car staking out deep within the city; waiting for a drug dealer their briefing described. All officers were lightly armed with PM 9mm handguns while wearing light armor under their shirts. One officer carried a briefcase, claiming it was marked bills to solidify evidence of the dealer's activity.
"There he is!" one officer exclaimed as he pointed at a nervous-looking figure.
"Go on!" the other patted the young village cop on the shoulder, "You're the buyer!"
He needed no convincing, he exited the car and with a cocky stride, he moved towards the figure; other officers observed, checking their guns.
Approaching the sketchy figure, he asked, "You Krot?"
"Who is asking?!" the figure replied snidely, "Krot finds you, not otherwise!"
"Regards from Zona!" (RUS: "The Zone" casualised term for prison) the village cop replied, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a snarling wolf (Oskal/Grin meaning extreme hostility to the law and authorities)
The figure loosened up, "Wish you showed this earlier, come on!"
As the figure and the cop walked, the latter signaled to his partners to get moving and tail him for a smash and grab.
"This is from overseas!" Krot whispered as he produced bags of white powder from his pocket, "My compliments to the blatnoy authority but first; show me the money."
Village cop dove into his own pocket and showed a thick wad of 20 Dollar bills, "20s," he added, "Well used and legit."
Krot scanned the bills carefully and relaxing, said: "We have a deal, bazaru net!" (RUS: No further talk needed)
As Krot handed him the bag, the village cop grabbed his arm and twisting it upwards in a pain hold, he guided the victim towards the waiting Zhiguli; stowing him inside the open back door.
Krot did not even notice himself thrown, he was stunned by the event as the other officers scared him back to reality.
"We have a lot of questions of you; either you cooperate or we test your pain threshold and THEN you cooperate!" the officer who was driving grinned as he scanned for a desolate spot to park.
Moments later, Krot found himself beaten with both legs targeted to be damaged but not crippled by continued low kicks and thrust kicks to the knees so he won't run.
"We heard you are breaking the agreement!" One officer said, "You were told to offer THIS!" he finished pointing at the now open briefcase full of green syringes.
"No one wants that!" Krot almost cried, "The few that bought it acted strangely and a day later, were found dead in some abandoned factory!" The cops looked at each other, one gave Krot another punch and asked, "Now we can bring you in for causing death, details!?"
"Please man, word on the street is that they were beaten by some guy in a leather jacket; they attacked him and he fought back as if he was some kind of professional!" Krot sobbed back. "It's not my fault all my customers are addicted to one kind of drug and won't settle for anything else!"
The interrogating cop grabbed the dealer by the collar and continued to grill him, "Professional you say?! You better start remembering more details before we pin espionage on you!"
Moments later, the village cop came back, calling his reaction confusion is an understatement.
"What are you doing?!" he demanded as he stared at the bruised, barely breathing Krot.
"Listen," one officer approached his comrade, "Times are changing and an honest militsioner (RUS: militia officer) barely makes anything anymore - driven to sell his commendations for peanuts just to make ends meet," he said calmly while putting his arm around his shoulder like an elder brother comforting his younger sibling. "The Soviet healthcare system gave us a chance to earn a big bonus by integrating medicine into our society that, unfortunately, our close-minded system won't accept!"
"I don't get it." village cop replied with his mind as cloudy as the sky above.
"Krot here is a drug dealer who took our offer of redemption and threw it back in our faces; he chose to sell drugs instead of the preparat (RUS: medicament) that will help people!" the other cop added as he snapped handcuffs on his beaten suspect, "He will answer to the law."
The broken drug dealer was stowed back into the car and all officers congregated about the information they obtained. Village cop was still nervous and therefore, listened more than he talked.
"We must locate this professional,"
"He assaulted those using the preparat so he isn't on our side, the chief must know about that."
"Yes, we need an APB and an identikit on this guy" one officer gestured towards the village cop, "Our friend from Alexandrovka will be gathering more information to compile it; the chief needs something concrete to authorise the operation."
© 2019 Jake Clawson