The issue Dirk pointed out concerning Jason’s current appearance only worsened with Spoon around. As now both people accompanying him had unreadable expressions, limiting the amount of information he’ll be able to siphon out of the upcoming conversation to the most surface level exchange.

  - I’m here to get even with you. - Spoon spoke.

  Despite the meaning such a statement carried when taking into consideration the relationship between the old soldier and Three Stooges, the gypsy’s voice carried no malice. Not to mention that he was severely “outgunned” as things stood.

  - Can you do that without one of those grenade launchers of yours? - Dirk smiled slightly while raising both hands to his mouth and blowing hot air in between them.

  He wasn’t trying to be standoffish before, the cold was getting to him.

  - I regret to inform you that despite our first interaction telling you otherwise, I am not the biggest proponent of violent solutions.

  - Yeah, you’ve got Teddy for that, don’t you?

  - Friendship isn’t the same as indentured servitude, old man. But I am pretty sure you might be one person in the world that would fight me on that ground.

  For the first time since Dirk awoke, Jason got in character and uttered a guttural growl. His reaction was unnecessary, but appreciated.

  A slight snark was palpable in the Spoon’s voice as he spoke, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

  - Anyway, back to the topic at hand…

  - Stop beating around the bush and get to the point.

  - I am here to apologize on behalf of Ted.

  - Excuse me? - that was the last thing a soldier expected to hear from the man before him.

  After all, but a few minutes ago he was chastising him with the rest of Scout Squad. Not to mention that Dirk openly contemplated gravely wounding or even killing one of his friends. What he was saying made no sense to put it lightly.

  - Do not misunderstand. I’m not absolving you of what you did, fact remains that you’re an unpredictable, selfish old coot-

  - Tell me something I don’t know. - Dirk interrupted, quite tired of hearing the same thing.

  - Not to mention that delusional and dangerous. But your tactical acumen is sound.

  - Why thank you kindly for the carrot.

  - That in itself tells me everything I know about the position Ourobors assigned to you and validates their decision.

  - You’re quite eloquent aren’t you?

  - Nevertheless don’t push it, old man. - Spoon’s voice turned more stern for a moment. - I may not show it like Ted, or Becker, but after Garuda told us what you tried pulling during the battle I was willing to disregard my better judgment and strangle you in your sleep.

  Old soldier appreciated that even in his emotional bout Spoon’s way of carrying out his vengeance was in line with his rational and calculated personality. It is in those moments of weakness people show their true colors after all.

  - It is by the grace of Micheal and Armistice that you’re breathing right now.

  - Cute. But I’m not keen on thanking people after they told me what they really think about me, so you better get apologizing because this sermon is growing tedious.

  - God, you’re insufferable. - Spoon whispered to himself, but thankfully Dirk was able to catch it, despite the helmet. - I want to apologise for the altercation between you and Ted that occurred before the battle.

  Dirk couldn’t help but frown hearing these words. Just thinking about that shithead’s attempt to kill him with his back turned made anger well up in his gut. If it weren’t for the explosive specialist being part of their triumvirate he would assign them all to the most exposed spot within his battle plans.

  The aforementioned mercenary must have noticed that expression change as he continued putting words together much quicker than before.

  - I have no clue what exactly transpired between you two, but Ted never was the type of dude to keep things to himself. So being made aware of that, I am giving you the benefit of the doubt in saying that he was wrong to do whatever he did. But, him inconveniencing you is no excuse to-

  - He tried to kill me. - Dirk said flatly, catching the other man off guard. - He tried to shoot me in the back, projecting some bile he held while at it. So taking that into consideration, choose your next words wisely.

  Silence befell them, within that span of time Jason was looking directly at him, probably taken aback by that revelation. After all, he told no one about it and intended to keep it that way. Someone like Ted wouldn’t be able to kill him even if he were to be laying hog-tide on the ground before him, so the stunt he pulled didn’t really change Dirk’s opinion of the man.

  He simply remained a liability and a pain in the ass.

  But the same couldn’t be said about Spoon’s reaction to that revelation. He was visibly racking his brain as to how to continue the conversation. Were he in a better mood, the old soldier would have probably laughed looking at this struggle, but currently it simply annoyed him that this behaviour prolonged his exposure to the freezing wind.

  - What did he exactly say, old man?

  - Some typical hog-wash about me not really wanting to protect the team, about being pushed enough in his life, about him being the only boss he answers to…

  - God dammit Ted. - gypsy murmured, as if hearing these words many times already. - Taking what you told me into consideration I am still upholding what I said before.

  - You trusted me that easily? That says things about your bond. - Chernobog couldn’t help himself.

  - I know Ted long enough to know that what you’re saying is something he could do, given sufficient push, which the two of you have been giving each other since the beginning of the assignment. - so said the Spoon, tension in his voice turning into disappointment. - Shit.

  - Now don’t give me that crap, gypsy-boy. - Dirk decided to stand his ground. - Your jock-of-a-friend jumped a fucking gun there and you know it. If I snitched about it to HQ he’d get a summary execution, you’re lucky I didn’t kill him myself. Before you ask, it wasn't out of goodness of my heart, they were simply bigger fish to fry at the time.

  This whole topic shift put Spoon on the spot. He was struggling between the “right thing to say” and desire to defend his friend. Seeing him so flustered showed that at the end of the day, no matter how rational he wanted to act, he was a human being, not a true soldier.

  Man wearing the bombing suit broke the status quo and started moving, instead of standing like they all did. Few steps here, a few steps there to finally squat in the snow.

  - I take it you don’t have much more to say? - their driver grew impatient with this whole fiasco.

  - There is an explanation. - man continued, answering Dirk’s question. - For Ted being the way he is, you know? I think that’s the least I owe ya.

  - Frankly, I don’t give a damn.

  - It could help you in managing the unit, if you were to know more about us. - Spoon made a good point. - Reliable intelligence is the hardest thing to obtain in impromptu groups like ours, it has its weight in gold, I’d say.

  Dirk couldn’t help but notice that when he spoke in a less official manner his infections weren’t that different from his friends.

  - What guarantee I have that you ain’t feeding me bullshit? - Chernobog crossed his arms over his chest. - I have no way of verifying what you say, information like that is useless and you know it.

  - Consider it a collateral, for Ted’s failed assassination attempt. - mercenary looked up at him. - That’s the best I can do to even the score.

  He really didn’t feel like listening to someone else's problems, especially to Ted’s. But ignoring the information that Spoon carried would not only be stupid but actively detrimental to him and everyone else under his command. Not to mention that even if Dirk were to actually transfer to a different unit, knowing more about the Scout Squad could prove useful in the social hierarchy of Ouroboros forces.

  Taking that into consideration-

  - No matter what you unveil to me about that dickhead, I’ll warn you now, since you seem to be a tard-wrangler of your group, in the future you’d best keep him as far away from me and Argonaut as possible. If you truly care about your friend. - Dirk declared, at the same time silently agreeing to listen to what he had to say.

  - Duly noted. Let me just say one thing ahead of time, some of the things I say might fly over your head.

  - The hell’s that supposed to mean?

  - You’re not from the Anglosphere. - the quick and direct way in which Spoon declared that filled Dirk with unease.

  - Why you say that?

  - The slang I used a few times since we met. Fact that you had no reaction to it shows that you’re neither a “nail”, nor a “hammer”. - Spoon used more terminology that the old man never heard in his life. - Forget about it, just be aware that some things may sound incomprehensible to you.

  - Then why don’t you explain them while you’re at it?

  - The glossary of culturally significant terms of the society you know nothing about isn’t part of my apology gift. - the mercs’ slight smirk from the beginning of their conversation returned.

  - Ain’t that fucking convenient?

  - That will force you to talk more with the rest of the Squad to decipher what you’re about to hear.

  - You cheeky brat.

  With that explosive expert got off the ground and began spinning the yarn.

  - Me and the guys, we came from the “Sphere”. Me, Eric and Ted, peas from the same pod, trio of dumb kids born into the “indebted class”, destined to huff fumes and work our ass until the day we die. - Dirk surmised that Eric must be the real name of Match. - I used to work in the power plant, felt inkling towards machines since I remember, not as much as how they work or making them, but just workin' with them. Like some people like driving cars, but not really working on them, you catch my drift? Eric worked at a nearby parish, always was the most eloquent of us three, even taught us how to read, could you imagine that?

  Dirk certainly could not imagine that, as the chaotic way in which Spoon spoke grated on his ears to no end. Did he act this way on purpose? Or was it the way he behaved “off-duty”?

  More questions and so few answers.

  - But he never believed in the scriptures, saying that "he don't see God anywhere". Bit morbid, but that's just Eric. Ted? Well Ted was a bellhop at a hotel where most of our superiors resided, in luxury and splendour. - vitriol in his words was audible and assured the old man that he’d probably have spat on the ground to accentuate this spite, were it not for the helmet. - While we killed and stole to survive every day in the industrial burrows. It was during those childish, formative years I got seriously injured by an overheated boiler, can still remember how they both bawled over my bed in the hospital.

  “That’s the explanation for his face I suppose” - Dirk thought, tapping the snow with his booth rhythmically.

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

  - Still can't tell if I find it hysterical or gut-churning, anyway. After that day I got a bit into explosives, tried to really get to know the ins and outs of their workings, so such a mishap never happens to me again. Got only so much skin to spare. That was also around the time we were all hitting our 16th birthdays. In the Sphere it's a dour occasion.

  - Why? - Dirk interjected.

  - Mandatory military service, that's why, five fucking years of it. - Spoon made his opinion on the military very apparent. - Really straightened us out. It allowed me to deepened my knowledge of explosives, so I didn't mind it too much.

  It wasn’t that surprising to hear that a mercenary has military service behind his belt. They wouldn't have made it this far without it, but learning that Anglosphere had a mandatory military service was something new to him.

  He heard no such a thing during the old days.

  - Ted also used to look at that time through rose tinted glasses, that's where he bulked up and got his bullish demeanour from.

  - That checks out. - Chernobog smirked.

  - He became "A True Anglo Badass" as he called it. Sounds stupid now, but each time he said it there was this fire in his eyes, made me respect the notion.

  Everything made sense to Dirk so far. When it came to the logical structure of what Spoon was telling him. It was annoying how he was skipping through some details that would prove very useful to the former military officer, but there was nothing to be done about that. He’d be forced to inquiry someone else about them.

  Maybe Black, as he was currently the only man he was on good terms with.

  - Only Eric despised the service. - gypsy continued. - When we got discharged something was different about him, but to this day I don't know what and he doesn't want to talk about it. Guess it's between him and God. Of course after the mandatory five years you gotta go back to the factories, if you're from the "indebted class", that's just how it is. Slaving away until the day you die, not having enough to pay the government back for all those years of "protection".

  “Guess all over the world it ain’t sunshine and roses” - old man thought. - “I don’t know if it’s good or bad that each super power seems to be turning to shit equally”.

  - So we all three made a plan to skip town. With the help of a good friend we met at the border patrol we managed to disappear into the thicket and from that day on, our life as mercs began. Each of us-

  - That was fucking abrupt.

  - What? - Spoon was quite surprised with this interjection. Probably because he got absorbed into the tale and was reaching its conclusion.

  - They didn't chase after you? I doubt any militarised country would be happy with its properly trained military personnel disappearing abroad.

  - That's not worth the resources. - explosive specialist surmised. - If we ever decided to come back to the Sphere “the grid” would find us instantly. Then we'd have to pay our due and that's what the government wants at the end of the day, isn't it?

  - Money. - the storyteller silently nodded to these words.

  - If we don't come back, not a big loss, just another bunch of worthless pseudo-slaves gone with the wind.

  Silence signified the end of this tale, one that was much more concise than Dirk expected. He didn’t even notice any cypher within to throw him for a loop, nor slang to screw with the overall message.

  Dirk couldn’t decide if it was Spoon’s naivete or a genuine helping hand.

  - So that's where we are currently, always chasing the bag, always moving forward, nothing to come back for and only riches ahead.

  - Yeah, yeah, you three and everyone else. - Dirk did a quick stretch, now that the story was over. - Still doesn’t really explain why Ted is such a cunt. If he enjoyed the service he should be accustomed to following orders.Which leads me to a singular conclusion…

  With his body bounding back to its proper position after a stretch Dirk pointed towards Spoon in an accusatory manner.

  - You’re holding out on me.

  The accused said nothing in return. Which in itself proved the old soldier's point.

  - If you won’t tell me then I’ll learn on my own in due time. Jason, to me. - with that he passed by the mercenary. - That concludes our little break, now does it?

  - Right. - gypsy answered, following him back to the truck.

  - Still, I’m quite surprised. I would have never guessed that out of your trio you’d be the one talkative type.

  - Never judge the book by its cover, Chernobog.

  Hearing that Dirk couldn’t help but smile. Such a cliche saying, but so perfectly apt for both of them. Maybe even the whole expedition of theirs?

  Rest of the way back to the truck they covered in silence, with having nothing else to really say to each other. But once they reached their mobile base, unsurprisingly Eric and Ted were already at the precipice, alongside Michael.

  Once they spotted them Ted took charge.

  - The fuck were you two doing out there? Inside of the truck is fucking freezing due to your little stunt!

  - Then why didn’t you close the ramp? - Dirk asked a sound question.

  But received only a scornful gaze in response.

  - Because “queen bitch” is occupying the cab, just as you told her. - Ted made a wrong assumption, but since it wouldn’t be the first time the old man didn’t really care to correct him.

  - Is that so? There is the controller on the side of the ramp you know.

  - You think I’m daft or something? It’s the f- Mike’s fault. - the leader of the Three Stooges corrected himself, seeing as the man in question stood close by.

  Michael stared at them silently, the disappointment still prevalent on his face.

  - I assume you’ll be fine with driving again Chernobog? - he called Dirk out.

  - Yes. - the old soldier had nothing else to say to him.

  So they passed each other by and Dirk headed towards the cab, where Barbara awaited him. As he approached he managed to catch voices from within, the young pilot was talking with someone on the radio.

  He assumed it was probably Elephant, as she was taking care of her vehicle and its cargo. But as he slowly opened the door a familiar voice reached his ears.

  - Devochka I wouldn’t know that. I might’ve been alive back then but that doesn’t mean I gave a shit about every single little thing in my country, simply because it existed when I was younger.

  - What do you mean, red? You didn’t have a driving license back then or something? - the argument in which she roped her speaker was quite heated.

  - Durak, of course I did, but for civilian cars, not heavy duty trucks!

  - Am I interrupting something? - as Dirk said these words Prusk turned towards him.

  She had taken his seat and had both legs thrown over the steering wheel, getting way too comfortable.

  - Oh, it’s the old man. - she exclaimed, while holding the PTT on the receiver. - Say hi, red.

  - Suka blyat, D- Chernobog, bratuha, you weren’t calling for so long I thought you forgot about the little old me. - Morozov yelled so loudly into his own receiver that audio began to peak.

  With a careless throw the temporary driver lobbed the microphone towards Dirk, who managed to grab it without much issue. Nonetheless he frowned, ensuring that she was aware of his displeasure concerning such a sloppy maneuver. Troublemaker smiled in return.

  - Yeah, I suppose it has been a while since we last spoke, Misha. - Chernobog began, while sinking into the passenger's seat.

  Once he did so, the Taurus’s engine sputtered and roared to life. Without any proper authorization female mercenary resumed their monotonous parade through the frozen taiga.

  - What I heard from Barb’s quite a lot happened on your side, da?

  - You can say that again. - hearing his old friend's voice released a lot of pressure from the former war-god’s body.

  - Fought some mutants, da? On two separate occasions from what I can tell.

  - More info from Garuda? - while they talked Dirk idly watched Jason close the door to the cab, while he stayed outside to guard the door.

  Nice gesture on his side.

  - Nyet, word travels fast. - that was not the response he expected.

  - You mean Ourobors was relying our situation to other units? That’s simply-

  - Stupid. - Misha finished his sentence for him. - I know tovarish, but that’s not the case. Even if HQ wanted to keep a tight lid on the events of past hours, simply saying that “Scout Squad encountered terrain difficulties” was too brief of a summary to appease human curiosity.

  - So info leaked from chatty Ouroboros employees?

  - Da, loose lips sink ships, as westerner’s say.

  - I’d have to trust you on that. - Dirk had minimal exposure to Anglosphere culture and custom throughout the years.

  It was somewhat of a blind spot in his extensive knowledge. Fortunately not many people knew about it. They weren’t as much of an imminent danger to the Empire as Kintsugi Union, being a continent away and all.

  - What droplets did you manage to lap from the leaky faucet? - Chernobog decided to satiate his own curiosity before filling Misha in on the truth.

  - Oh, there were many rumours! - Russian began to drag his words and fluctuate his pitch, making mockery of what he was about to say. - Some said that remnants of The Red Rebellion ambushed you all, looking to replenish their forces for another offensive against the Empire!

  “Now that’s rich” - Dirk couldn’t help but chuckle over such a notion. Guess there were quite a few romantics in their mercenary ranks.

  - Those more rational people simply theorised that some in-fighting must have erupted and to settle down the disputes you lot had to stop and regroup.

  - Damn, if they knew how close they were to the truth. - Barbara chimed in, with a pretty weak laugh.

  Due to the nature of their method of communication Misha couldn’t hear her comment and that was for the better. Since Dirk couldn’t help but find such a joke very sour, taking the current mood within the Squad into consideration.

  - Still, what I can tell after cross referencing my sources is that you got into a squabble with a very hungry fauna. Please tell me none of you died, because you’d have to be a real durak to die to fucking dogs and pigs while armed with automatic rifle. - Misha laughed loudly into the receiver.

  - You’ve got that right. - what his former rival was saying made sense, but also brought him dismay.

  Not due to its actual message, the fact that it was laughing at the dead. No, the issues were the implications towards a person that would allow such an event to occur - a person that failed at steering the incompetent sheep away from the wolf’s jaw.

  As much as it hurt him to admit. He was the shepherd in this allegory. It was his duty, no matter how incompetent were people under him, to keep them alive.

  His duty and burden.

  - Something’s bothering you, bratuha? - Misha asked a peculiar question.

  - What do you mean?

  - I can hear it in your voice. Wouldn’t be much of a friend if I couldn’t pinpoint these little changes.

  - That sounds more like something you developed from chronic poker addiction

  - Ha! Pashol na hui, you prick. - Red Mill laughed heartily. - Still, no topic changing here, who wronged ya? Who’s gonna be losing their kneecaps on the first bus stop?

  - You’ve got a pen and paper on you? It’s gonna be a long list. - Dirk couldn’t help but smirk.

  - I’ve got my personal scribe sitting next to me, their ink is fresh and parchment dryer than my throat, davay.

  Two men began to spill their woes on the radio-waves, unabated. Oblivious to the eyes watching them from the deep, dark night.