෴Fidel෴

෴Ingrid෴

෴Raz෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Interview: Africa Confidential part 1

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

{{For reasons that may never be known, Raz Owens declined to share the following days with the general experiential datastream curated for Operation Nemesis. He’s never directly said why, but has been asked about it many times. The answer changes each time, but the common theme is that some things are private, and of little use to soldiers. In order to retain as much knowledge about this time period as possible, we’ve sought out people who could tell us what they recall of this time. Primary sources during this time are Fidel Chavez, Ingrid Lochee, Dr. Ramit Patel and Mayiied.}}

  {{Excerpts from Fidel Chavez interview in Russian. Session 4. All questions and comments by Russian-speaking interviewer and translator denoted with these {{}} symbols.}}

  {{Translator notes: In English, Mr. Chavez normally comports himself in a laconic, almost taciturn, manner. When approached about the interview, I offered to help. It turns out in his native tongue; he is downright chatty and somewhat difficult to keep on topic.}}

  {{Mr. Chavez, can you give me a brief self-introduction?}}

  My name is Fidel Perun Chavez. I was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. My father was a man of small stature, a diplomat from the island of Cuba. My mother was born in Veliky Novgorod, a small city on the river Volkhov. She worked for the Politburo, though not with any joy that I ever witnessed. In truth, I know not if she found joy in anything. When it became politically expedient to have contributed at least one child to fighting the population decline of the Motherland, they had me. I remember them as being older than the parents of my friends, and busy with work most of the time. It has been said that I was granted the short, broad stature by my father, and my looks from my mother. When I look in the mirror, I think perhaps this was an insult to her.

  Back when I was in University, I recall wanting to serve my country, in the military. When I came of age, I enlisted in the Russian Armed Forces.

  {{What followed was over an hour of Mr. Chavez telling me stories about his time in training, and when he served in the military. His delivery of this information is calmly jovial. Not exactly matter of fact, but all in line with the topic. He has a sort of dry, dark wit common to Russians in his generation. His overall demeanor is calm, almost lackadaisical. Full transcription available upon request.}}

  {{Perhaps that’s enough introduction for now.}}

  Yes of course. You’re interested in the days directly after He saved me.

  {{At this point, Fidel sat up straight, almost at attention. His bearing becomes very earnest, almost zealous. His tone shifts from matter of fact, to one of awe.}}

  {{Yes, you’ve frequently used that word, ‘saved’ when describing your relationship with Mr. Owens before. Can you tell me more?}}

  What is there to add? The Man saved me. In every way that matters, He reached out to me and saved my life, and my soul. That day, in the wake of what would become the most shameful actions of my life. My life, one already overburdened with regrets and lamentable actions. He saw something redeemable in me and gave me another chance at life, and the means to make good my opportunity.

  {{Translator note: Mr. Chavez seems to view Mr. Owens with an almost religious fervor.}}

   {{Mr. Chavez, Raz Owens is on record stating that he’s not a religious person. I’m not even sure he believes in the soul. How did he save yours?}}

  Whether He believes in the soul or not is of no concern of mine. That He did save me is not something I care to debate. What I can tell you, is that He healed a rift inside me that had pained me so long I’d all but forgotten how it felt to not ache. He saved my life that day.

  {{Did he? According to Mr. Owens, his healing of your body helped, but it was your will to live that made the difference. He says you would have survived on your own.}}

  {{Mr. Chavez tensed up here, his body language shifted into the defensive. I do not believe he handles having these events, or their intrinsic meaning, questioned very well.}}

  No. Mr. Owens is simply being overgenerous, or perhaps he is too humble. There is no chance I would have survived my injuries, even without the other dangers.

  {{Injuries inflicted by Mr. Owens.}}

  Yes. My greatest shame. I raised my hands against Him. Mr. Owens warned me of his power, both his swiftness and his lightning. He tried to spare me, but I foolishly pursued him into the darkness. I forced the conflict. He warned me, but I didn’t listen, and attacked him. When He tired of my insolence, it was over. He struck me down instantly, and without effort. It is only by his savage mercy that I continued to live.

  {{Savage mercy? What do you mean by that?}}

  The life He gave me was not without cost. He demanded a price. A price I will bear for the rest of my days.

  {{Would you care to tell us more about this price?}}

  No. I would not. Part of the agreement is that it remains private to us. I will tell you that his cost was light, and borne willingly, compared to what was given.

  {{What can you tell us about the travel down toward the refugee camp?}}

  Ahh yes. This is a story I’ll be happy to share with you. It was not long after He completed healing Ingrid. We have not spoken of it, but having known her before, and after his intervention, I believe he healed her soul as well. Not that you could tell a difference in her at the time. If I recall, He had just struck down one of the giant insect-like creatures with a single attack. The meat from those monsters was surprisingly tasty, like seafood. There we were, eating an early dinner. It was late afternoon.

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

  Fidel and Ingrid sat on top of the JLTV in the lengthening afternoon shadows. He wore his newly acquired and only slightly ill-fitting outfit, she was in her underwear sitting on a folded canvas tarp. They were each eating from long ropes of white meat contained within cylindrical hard shells not unlike a crab leg or lobster claw. The remains of the mantid lay where it had fallen. The fox seemed to have the right idea. It had taken a chunk of meat, and retreated under the shade of the vehicle. Fidel hadn’t seen it since.

  “Is full? He say you need eat,” Fidel broke off another length of the mantid leg and held it out toward Ingrid.

  She laughed softly, and said something in Norwegian. Fidel just looked at her until she finally relented, “Why Fidel, I didn’t know you cared.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He shrugged and tore another chunk of meat off for himself, “You need be healthy. I have girl your age. I worry.”

  Her eyes widened, “You have a family? How did I not know this? All this time I wondered why you never made a move. Instead, you just cockblock me all the time. Do I remind you of your daughter or something?”

  He scowled, “No. She smart.”

  A complicated expression of anger and amusement crossed her face, “Ooh, nice burn old man! Don’t worry, I’ll think of one to get you back with,” she looked toward the sun then at her bare legs, “Speaking of burns, I better get into the shade soon.”

  Fidel shook his head, but didn’t answer. He looked across the sand to where Raz stood atop the ridge of a nearby dune. The younger man moved through a slow, deliberate series of movements.

  “So what’s your new boss doing over there? He looks like he’s expecting to make something happen, but to me, he just looks like one of those old Chinese guys doing morning Tai Chi.”

  Fidel was about to reply when Raz pointed at a spot, and a blinding blade of lightning descended from the sky in a blink, smashing into the ground with an explosive flash of colors created by sand instantly sublimated then burned.

  The near instant crash of thunder deafened them both for a few seconds as they blinked away the afterimages.

  “Ok, he is making something happen, I’ll give him that.”

  A few minutes later Ingrid slid down off the roof of the JLTV and laid back onto the warm shaded sand and closed her eyes. Fidel continued to watch Raz.

  “He train his ability like muscle, like skill. Is good, you could learn,” Fidel commented idly.

  “Whatever,” her tone nothing but apathy, “Just let me know when you’re ready to make your move.”

  “Nyet,” Fidel landed next to her in a puff of sand, “No move.”

  She sat up, brushing errant grains of sand off her skin, “So what’s his deal?” She looked up the hill at Raz, the distant figure now floating on a blinding pad of electrical arcs.

  Fidel shrugged, “Not sure. Do not know him. He learns and works. I not yet know who he really is.”

  She focused on the shaded sand beside the truck. A cloudy glass knob made of fused sand rose up, then flattened out. A few seconds later she’d formed it into a crude lounge chair, “That’s not what I mean. Not that I’m ungrateful, but why are we here? You know he’s the guy on Leon’s wall. The beard and long hair threw me at first, but you have to know that's him!”

  Fidel opened the back of the JLTV and started rooting around, “Da, I know. Don’t care. We go south, away from Leon.”

  She pointed to the clear tracks in the sand, “And if he follows us to wherever we’re going?”

  Another lightning bolt struck the ground near Raz, deafening them for a moment.

  When Fidel didn’t answer, she continued as if he had.

  “Speaking of that, where are we even going? I’m not a huge geography nerd, but I’m pretty sure Africa is really damn big. I don’t care how much gas we have, we can’t drive blindly and just hope to find somewhere civilized!” She sounded frustrated, with a hint of concern.

  “Do not know. You have idea?” he kept watching Raz.

  She shook her head, “Yeah, how about we hop in the truck here, and get out of here! The last thing we need is this guy shooting lightning up our ass if he gets mad. Let’s just bail and get back to our team. I want to get paid.”

  His expression hardened, “I like you Ingrid,” she gave him a saucy smile and started to say something before he cut her off with a slashing motion, “Like you, but you young, foolish. You not speak like that again, or we have problem.”

  She swallowed then rolled her eyes in an exaggerated dismissal, “Whatever, jeeze, chill out some. Just saying, we’re in the middle of nowhere, and only getting more lost. I don’t know how much fuel we’ve got, but you know we’re going to run out of petrol or water soon enough.”

  “Is not gas. Is diesel. He have plan. I know it,” with that, Fidel closed the rear hatch and sat down to watch Raz.

  A few minutes later Raz approached the dead mantid and began digging into the body with the sharp edge of a trenching shovel. Fidel watched in puzzled fascination as Raz carefully filled a small metal flask with the liquid dripping from some kind of sac. When it was full, he took a swig with a grimace then topped it off again.

  Fidel hopped down and went to help. He arrived just in time to see Raz drop in several small crystalline pebbles into the flask. Raz called Ingrid over and directed them both to apply the liquid to their skin.

  “This is totally gross! If this is some kind of primitive sunscreen, I’d rather just get burned.” Ingrid protested as she wiped a blob of the thick brown-red gel onto her arm.

  “You need it. It’s either this or drink it. Trust me, you don’t want to drink it,” Raz said as he rubbed it into his own arms, “It’s like hand sanitizer, it’ll be gone before you know it.”

  Fidel simply nodded solemnly and slathered more of it on his exposed skin.

  “Ew! This is so nasty. Why does it smell like this?” She shuddered, but spread it into her skin.

  Raz wiped more onto his arms and neck, then returned to the lightning scarred hill top. Ingrid watched in shuddering sick fascination as the liquid sheen of catalyst vanished into her skin without a trace.

  “It’s cool, I got this. No worse than a charcoal mud treatment, right?” She told herself aloud. Beside her, Fidel squeezed the last drops from the fleshy sac onto his arm and rubbed the last of it in.

  The two watched Raz on the hill, as crawling serpents of arcing, snapping lightning wreathed his form as he sat in the sand. The lightning danced around him, close but never touching him. Then without warning, he pointed at a spot in front of him, and the charge jumped to the spot, sending up another explosion of sand.

  “So he hit you with that?” she asked.

  “Da. Hit me here,” Fidel stripped off his shirt, showing her a fractal burn pattern across his shoulder and chest, reminiscent of a lichtenberg figure, like lightning carved in flesh.

  She started to reach out and touch it, before pulling her hand back self consciously and looking over at Raz before looking back at Fidel’s injury.

  “I don’t get it. You’re so strong. Even Leon admits he can’t actually hurt you,” her eyes traced along the pattern of the burn scarring.

  Fidel shrugged, then pulled the shirt back on. “Da, am tough. Not matter. His power, cut through me like nothing. Could leave me die, save me instead. Best thing for you, take deal, have better life.”

  She shook her head. “How can you be so sure? Two days ago he was your enemy! Now you’re acting like he’s your man crush! I think I’m going to need to know more about that deal to just accept it. Honestly, the way I hear you talking about him, sounds kinda gay.”

  Fidel clenched a fist and shook it at her. “Is not gay! He good man. Good men hard to find.”

  She laughed, “Yeah, that right there. Makes it sound more gay. Sure you don’t mean,” she did a bad impression of his voice and cadence, “Hard maan ees gud to find!”

  Fidel ignored her, his right eye twitching.

  “Maybe you two are a good match. He had his hands on me when he did his healing seidr on me,” she gestured over her body with both hands, “No false modesty here, I know I’m hot. Most guys would have found some reason to grab a feel. He had plenty of chances, and didn't touch me. He didn’t even open my shirt! I think you two should just kiss already and get the tension out of the way.”

  Fidel scowled, looked at her as he shook his head, then looked away. A moment later she smiled when she caught him covertly raking his gaze over her artfully arrayed body laid out on her glass lounge chair.

  When it became clear that Raz would be at this for a while, Fidel opened the back of the JLTV and began organizing their supplies. He quickly realized that she was right. Water and fuel would be a problem sooner rather than later. He picked up the brushed aluminum case that stood out from the rest of the military issue cans and cases. He popped the case and looked inside. His eyes widened when he saw the gloves and other components. Fidel suddenly felt eyes on him, and slowly turned toward the light show. Raz was still floating there in the halo of energy, looking right at him. Fidel looked away, then slowly closed the case and slid it back into the rear storage compartment. As soon as he did, the intense feeling of being looked at faded. Fidel went up front to the cab and spent the rest of the afternoon reading the JLTV operations manual.

  Raz sat on the hill surrounded by snapping arcs of electricity into the late afternoon. As the dark of evening slid over the land, he hung suspended in a blinding corona of lightning, floating a few feet above the sand as he caused lightning bolts to strike the ground nearby.

  Eventually, he stopped calling down the sky, and came back to the truck, covered in sweat and grit, stinking of ozone.

  He grabbed a water can, turned it up, and took a long drink.

  “While I was up there, I spotted a thin plume of smoke. We’re going to head there next,” Raz looked at Ingrid, “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I can hear everything you say, and I keep the keys with me.”

  She swallowed and looked away, even as she subtly thrust out her bra-clad chest, “I was just talking. No need to worry.”

  Raz shut the rear hatch, “I’m not worried. I healed you because I could, we’ll either come to an accord, or you’ll go your own way as soon as you can. In the meantime, I’ll keep the car keys with me so we don’t have any unfortunate misunderstandings.”