Joined: 29 Jun 2012
|Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 2:05 pm Post subject: Winter, part nine
|When Winter awoke, a window was open. It was the first thing she noticed. A frigid, gentle breeze blew in the room as Winter looking around, surveying exit points, anything that would tell her where she was. Defaulting to her training regardless of the situation was the goal of the teachers in Belarus. And it was working well.
But the room was not a prison. She was not a captive. The walls were a light blue color, and the trim was painted white. Curtains danced in the wind as it blew in through the window. Winter tried to stir but felt the tightness around her wound where it had been stapled shut. Winter sighed... Memories of a warm human threatened to bubble up as the tears in her eyes dropped down each side of her face. They could never know.
Winter pushed those comforting emotions down as she looked up ad the popcorn ceiling. Winter's head shot to the door when she heard the footsteps, and then the hand grasp the knob. Winter heard the inner workings of the door squeak and clunk, wind and tink as the door opened, Winter watching a young woman come in.
“Heyyy... You're awake!” She said, a soft expression on her face, her light blue eyes sparkling as she looked at Winter. Winter glared at her. “You were left on our doorstep... This is a Naakaanee friendly free clinic...” The woman said with a smile. “What do you mean. What happened?” Winter said. “There was a towel taped to your back... Miss... You were shot...” The woman said. “I'm sorry miss... The police are on their way...” She said as Winter shot up from the bed and ran out of the door, stopping in the large room where various people- and Naakaanee- were on beds, some looking at her, a hospital gown covering her body.
Winter looked around furiously, for clothes, for anything she could use, then saw the EXIT sign, and bolted for it. Winter burst into the receptionist area, a line of sick and injured people gasping as she burst from the door. “YOU!” Winter said, pointing to a receptionist. “Give me your blouse!” She demanded, her face contorted into something that didn't even resemble a Naakaanee, and was more closely related to a devil. Winter looked down into the rows and rows of files, and looked under W, just behind the receptionist. Winter bent low, scanning the folders until she found white, under the Naakaanee section. Female, white, Naakaanee, Jane wolf which was the same as saying “Jane doe”, but for a Naakaanee. Winter grabbed the folder and glared at the woman.
The woman nodded, and pulled off her blouse, handing it to Winter who snatched it out of her hand, and bolted out of the door. After Winter left, the woman sat in her seat, her eyes blank, the woman dressed in only her bra, unsure of what had just happened.
Winter quickly found the most difficult area for a human police officer to follow her, and scaled the ten foot brick wall with nary a problem- just as the sirens rounded the corner. Her powerful legs thrust her up high enough to reach at the top, her fingers catching hold, pulling her up as her shoulder made awful cracking noises. Winter was so sick of feeling pain, she forced herself to feel it later. It was something they taught her. You can feel pain later. Not now. Now, she needed to escape.
“They will tend to your wounds.” Echoed through her head. And what a job they did. Winter felt a twinge of anger towards her mate, her cold, results driven mate, but quickly stowed the anger, as it would never serve her. It would only hurt her in the long run.
Winter hopped over the fence, falling to her feet into a dirt run. Though she landed on a patch of jagged rocks, her toes instantly adapted to the uneven terrain. She rarely regretted going shoeless. Even broken glass didn't penetrate the pads on her feet. Winter looked down at her toes, and saw the pink fingernail paint beginning to chip off. “Dammit!” Winter said with a sigh, realizing that that shade was hard to get.
If she chose an easier to find shade, it wouldn't have looked as good. That shade was pretty. Elegant. Well, not elegant. But it fit her. She thought... Winter stood up, the receptionists blouse poorly fitting on her tall Naakaanee body. And the wrong color, too. It totally clashed with her yellow eyes. Brown? Really? Was that the best she could do?
Winter snarled, which scared a vagrant in that alley. Winter's face whipped around to look at the man, hoping he had better clothes. Lucky for him- he did not. The vagrant shooed her away with a drunken motion of his hand, as if she was a devilish apparition. Winter glared at him and ran down the alley, stopping and pushing her butt against a wall when she heard a siren pass. “Dammit...” Winter said out loud. They're looking for me.
Winter was alone. Abandoned. Maybe if she was a human, they would have treated her better. Here she was... On her own. If she was captured she'd be brought up on charges of treason or spying and be executed. Her government, her mate never saying a word in her defense. But that's what they always told her. You do not exist. If you are captured we will never confirm your existence. You are on your own. Never betray your country! Never betray your mate!
Unless you had long, brown hair and soft brown eyes, and your name was Sasha. Then you got the special treatment. Then you got rescued. But if you were a wolf... And if you're name was Winter, you got dumped in a free clinic. Winter shoved those bitter thoughts out of her mind as she remembered her loyalty for her country. The forests that never seemed to end... The natural beauty... The humans who truly cared for her. Okay, maybe the human who actually cared for her.
Winter sighed as she remembered her orders. If you are severed from normal contact, report to your drop site, and look for an envelope detailing your next mission. It never seemed to end. Winter pushed those thoughts out of her head, too. A taste of freedom... It will do that to you.
Winter glanced at the strip mall that was across the street. Good Will, the sign read. Winter tore open the folder, and pulled out her wallet, making sure everything was intact. It was. Winter smiled as she ran across the street, trying to find a more appropriate outfit for her. A nice black blouse and a pair of jeans- shorts, maybe. For a uh... Larger woman. Winter would pay for it with her allowance, her card never declined, it had a hundred thousand dollar limit, just in case she had to buy a car- or two- to keep up appearances.
Something within her soul- something soft, something that was not battle hardened nagged her, longed to be set free- but Winter had little use for such things now, and pushed it down deep within herself as she concentrated on getting to her drop site, on Fifth and Main. It was a vacant lot... With a locked mailbox that Winter could easily open- even with a paperclip and a small flathead screwdriver. And she had, too, once before, in a hurry when a mission went bad.
And today was no different.
Winter walked into the store as the bell above her rang, Winter's head darting up to look at it as her back throbbed with each beat of her heart. A woman looked at Winter with disgust as Winter glanced at her, trying not to glare. “I need new clothes, okay?” Winter said, holding out a hand with chipped pink fingernail paint on her obsidian black claws.
“Ohhhkay.” The overweight black woman said and returned to reading her magazine, which Winter saw was on Oprah. Winter found the women's aisle and rifled quickly through the rack of blouses, and finding a black one that would fit her. Winter walked pretty fast to the pants section, knowing they probably wouldn't have a pair that had the extra joint in the leg for a Naakaanee, Winter looking at the shorts instead. Winter found a pair very similar to the jeans she had worn before they dropped her off at the hospital.
Winter put both items under her arm and walked to where the tools where. She didn't find a small flathead screwdriver, but she did find an old children's toy that had a small flat protrusion she could use to lock the pins inside the simple mailbox lock to retrieve her itinerary. Winter brought the items to the woman and laid them on the counter. Winter also grabbed a jacked that would catch any blood that happened to leak out of her gunshot wound.
“You okay?” The woman asked, seeing Winter's body as it was growing skinny, her eyes pale from lack of adequate medical attention. “Yeah. Just a bad day.” Winter said, pulling out the card and handing it to the woman, who's eyes lingered on winter for a bit longer than she had wanted them to. “Aaaalright.” She said, swiping the card with more body language that was actually necessary to do so.
“Here you go.” She said, holding out a small thermal receipt as Winter told her to keep it. “You can change back there if you like.” The woman said, pointing to a small changing room behind the racks of clothing. “Thank you.” Winter said, walking back and changing her clothes. Winter winced as she pulled the blouse off, a small red stain beginning to form on the back- no doubt from when she tried to scale the wall- she could feel the staples tearing her skin as she exerted herself.
Winter finished changing her clothes and exited the changing room, the toy in the pocket of the jacket, the blouse draped over her arm. Winter exited the store without looking at the woman, though she could see out of her peripheral vision the woman was most definitely looking at her. Just before the door shut, the woman said “We have nail polish!” Winter's hand almost getting caught in the shutting door.
“What?” Winter said, popping her head back in, though she heard the woman just fine. “We have nail polish. I think we have that style pink. Over there-” She said, pointing to a wall Winter had ignored. She was going to have to be more careful in the future when it came to ignoring things...
Winter walked back in and walked over to the wall. Yes, they actually had it. The same brand and everything. Someone had dropped off a box of manicure items there, all of them new and unopened. Winter grabbed the Zoya Jessika nail polish and walked back to the counter, setting it on the scratched glass, some knives and other trinkets sitting under the well worn glass. “Can I get that knife, too?” Winter asked, looking up at the woman who set her magazine down and walked over, looking down through the glass herself.
“The black one?” She asked, looking up into Winter's eyes. “You got pretty eyes...” She said as Winter smiled and thanked her, though she could smell the twinge of fear, as this woman wasn't sure just how one complimented a Naakaanee. Winter's smile and warm eyes reassured her she had done a fine job.
“No, the uh, silver folder with the serrated blade, please.” Winter said. The woman's eyes went wide as she realized this Naakaanee knew her weapons. She slid the door behind the counter back, as it caught, she jerked it the rest of the way open. Winter guessed she had to do that every time.
She pulled it out and handed it to Winter. It was a Christopher Reeve, and it had a price tag of $5. Winter collected herself, never betraying an ounce of emotion, as that knife was around $1,500 when it was new... “Um.... Yeah... I'll take it...” Winter said, studying it, then setting it back on the counter. “That'll be six dollars.” The woman said.
Winter pulled out a twenty and set it on the counter, grabbing the stuff and walking out. “Miss! Your change!” The woman yelled just as Winter exited the door. “Keep it! And thank you!” Winter said, walking away. “You're welcome!” the woman said, putting the twenty in the drawer and putting fourteen dollars into her pocket. “Mmhmm.” She said, picking her magazine back up.
Winter hailed a cab, which took her to her drop site. Winter had to scale a couple of chain link fences that she easily loped over, cutting through some abandoned warehouses as she made her way to the concrete foundation of what was one a machine shop, the building around it long ago dismantled. Winter surveyed the weeds that were beginning to push the concrete up as the peaked out of the growing cracks, the many metal studs embedded deep in the concrete for anchoring large, heavy industrial machines.
Winter walked to a locked mailbox that strangely stuck up from the ground near a series of two inch wide bolts that jutted up from the ground. Winter fished the toy out of her pocket, and picked up the paperclip she had stuck in a crack in the ground almost a year ago. It already had the bend at the end and everything. Winter inserted the paperclip into the lock, and using the toy with just the slightest amount of rotational force, she raked the pins and the lock opened almost instantly.
Reaching inside the box, Winter felt... Nothing. Winter closed one eye and peered into the box, her eyebrows furrowed. There was supposed to be orders, here. Winter thought. Winter shut the door and picked the lock back shut. She put the paperclip back in the crack and sat down, her back aching.
Winter sat there, her arms around her knees, the pain not just significant, but also monotonous and annoying. Winter rocked a little, when she noticed the paint on her fingernails was beginning to chip even worse. Winter sighed and shook her head. It was difficult being a spy... Even more difficult being a female spy. She smiled as she realized that if her nail color was all she had to worry about, how lucky she really was. Her gunshot wound stapled shut, the right color and brand of nail polish in her pocket... Hey... Things were going her way.
Winter pulled the small bottle of nail polish, and while sticking her tongue out of the side of her muzzle, began to touch up her nails. Winter was careful not to get any on her fur, but when she did, she said some expletives and tried wiping it off, it only sticking to her shirt instead. Winter closed her eyes, trying to relax, trying to forget the pain, when her mind drifted to that hard bed in that apartment. Winter shook her head so hard her lips smacked against her teeth.
The farther from Dave she was, the safer he was. Winter sat indian- legged and began to paint her toenails, her tongue lolling out the side of her muzzle as she focused intently on her work. “Ah!” Winter said excitedly when she was done, splaying her four long, thick Naakaanee toes out. “Allll done!” she said, acting like the juvenile she really was, never being allowed to grow up properly. Since she was all alone, she could let out a little joy...
Or so she thought.
Winter heard the footsteps first. Four young men came walking from around the corner of the adjacent abandoned warehouse. In their twenties, they looked like trouble, and each had a weapon. Winter turned her head to watch them approached her. Blue shirt knife, white shirt pipe, tall white shirt chain, black shirt bar. Winter memorized their weapons and shirt colors, as when she was tearing them to pieces that might be all she saw...
“HUH!” One of them gasped when they saw her. “It's a Naknee!” “Naakaanee.” Winter corrected. “Shut up!” One said as Winter froze. “Look at the pretty doggy!” One of them said in a demeaning manner, his voice betraying the lack of any substantive intellect. “It's a wolf, man...” One said, correcting him. “I'm neither.” Winter said, standing up. “Painting your nails, huh! Freak...” One said as he circled her, the others finding places all around her.
“Man we shouldn't do this...” One said. Human on Naakaanee violence was rare, but it did happen. Naakaanee on human violence was almost nill by comparison. “Pretty pink toes, huh? Who you tryi'n to fool, bitch?” Two of the young men started to laugh.
“Look. I don't want any trouble.” Winter said, holding her arms up, the knife hidden in one of them.
“Naw. You're all alone, painting your fingers and toes, in the middle of Locos Treses Barrios territory... Naw... You want trouble. Now, when I hit you, you ain't gonna howl or nothi'n are ya?” He said with a smirk.
“If you can hit me, I promise I won't.” Winter said coldly, which enraged the young man, who was probably about twenty. He lunged for Winter, Winter standing her ground as he brought the pipe down, Winter staying still, her lupine mind analyzing the situation about a hundred times faster than the kid's did. At the last microsecond she grabbed the pipe and pulled it, the young man terrified, as he was pulled into her, his eyes meeting hers, just as her lips curled up in a vicious snarl.
The man wet himself, and Winter planted a foot deep in his gut as he welt flying, his head sliding and hitting a threaded stud jutting up from the ground.
Then the rest closed in. Winter heard the chain sweeping through the air and ducked as she shot her hand up, grabbing it and pulling it out of the young man's hands, swinging it against the metal bar where it was torn out of the other punk's hands.
The last punk dropped his knife and ran, Winter glaring at him. Winter flicked her knife open and swirled it in her hand so that it pointed down while she simultaneously grabbed the kid with the chain who said that they shouldn't do this... And stuck the tip of the blade in his neck. Not much. Only about 1/16 of an inch.
He screamed and flailed until she pushed a little further, his eyes wide in terror. “You gonna make fun of my kind again? Huh? You gonna do it, kid?” Winter said, this being the first time she had any intention of sparing a life she did not have to. “No! No! I swear!” he said as she pulled the knife out of his neck and kicked him across the foundation.
The other punk turned and ran. Winter could have been on him in a heartbeat if she wanted. The other punk lay down on the warm concrete, as a pool of blood slowly poured from out of his head. Winter got up and walked over to him, picking his head up by his hair as she surveyed the wound. She could see skull, but it was mostly a scalp wound. She let his head drop back down and hovered her foot by his unconscious face. “You like this shade?” She asked, pressing her foot against his cheek and moving his limp head around.
Winter sighed and took her foot off of the young man's face. She would have to request a new drop spot, now. She didn't know if they had seen her, but she could never take that chance.