Bittsevskiy Park part 2

We didn't let up.

The barrels of our rifle stared without emotion towards the speaking target, our only replies being that of our heavy duty breathing.
Everyone within the checkpoint wore a balaclava over there face, it obstructed emotion, we stole this technique from the old Russian army- we used it as an intimidation tool to those who entered, to see those who was afraid and those who'd cause trouble.

Nobody with a rifle moved, though, one man did-
Footsteps beckoned from a corridor behind the armed force of men, snaps and clicks echoed from the hallway.
These snaps snapped until the source revealed themselves.

A man stepped out, he bore an old doctors face-mask paired with a rich and clean officers cap, a Shultzstaffle styled skull and crossbones insignia rested on the band of the cap. He'd have a large, black trench-coat over the top of a blackish uniform. His expression was also blocked behind his mask.

He'd step twice forward- beside me, holding nothing but a note board and pencil- he'd slam the lead of the pencil onto a box- scribbling something very quickly before sharply stating:
"Name?"

 

He blinked and shook his head "Riveris. My name is Riveris. Im from one of the stations between polis and Venice." The intimidation tactic was working well. Especially when the officer went to him "if there is an issue as stated I dont want any trouble. Just some rest and a maybe a bit of triad."

//test/low battery sorry. one seconed and ill be back.

 

The Officer would be quick with his next reply- seemingly rushing, or fully not really caring for his answers.
"Parents country of birth? Both."

 

//sorry. track.

he stumbled with his words a bit "Holly and Christian. Both from polis station. But Pre metro. Missouri, United states of America."

 

//Going to write my next post tommorrow

 

//allright Ill try and respond as fast as I can with this. Sorry. just life and school get in the way.

 

// No problem. I need some time to think of long and sexi posts anyway.

 

//allright. Cant wait to see it.

 

The husks of human-beings would continue to stare- there masks obstructing there face, there features blocked behind a wall of plastic and blacked out glass.
There'd be no noise for a moment, nothing but the sounds of heavy air filtering through the zipping holes of there masks, as one they'd stare and breath, guns in hand.

The actions of the man carrying the clipboard would instantly stop at the mention of the United States, his mask would tilt up- his breathing would slow- and he'd simply stare without a word. The feeling of his gaze was hostile and judging- generations of hate behind that uncomfortable feeling in his eyes.
No words were spoke- the mans simply slide at an angle and faced the soldier stood beside him, he nodded and that was it, he quickly turned afterwards and walked away. Seemingly finished with his interrogation.

The room continued to be silent- two of the more heavily armed men in the rooms eyes falling onto the soldier who'd been nodded at- that soldier was me.

Everyone else stood and stared at the American. There fingers tightening around there guns out of hatred and spite, there hidden faces rife with anger and the lust for what they considered to be 'justice'.

I slowly circled my shoulders in un-comfort, a mute crackle erupting from the bones of my shoulder- I slide my hand against the barrel of my rifle, and rose it towards the mans chest.
The two other masked men followed- there barrels glaring at the chest of the man, there fingers now pressed lightly on the triggers.

Nobody squeezed, and I spoke up:
"Under the order of the Fourth Reich-" I'd begin with a superficial tone masked by the robotic and cruel sound the mask filtered my words out with, "-you are under arrest for the distribution of corrupt genes, you will not speak, you will not resist, one word or move will result in on-the-spot immediate execution-" I paused for a moment to let it sink into his head, "-you will be trialed for your crimes against humanity-", I'd stop for a second, then the officers voice would return from the sideline:
"Guilty." He'd state thoroughly.

"-You have been found guilty. Place your hands on your head and fall to your knees."

 

His eyes widened in fear. He was shaking no. Trembling as he got down on his knees hands behind his head. Once the shock died down he started to think his eyes looking around "Allright Allright. We just play by there rules. Play by there rules and everything will work out just fine. You just gotta think. " he started making plans in his head using his mask of fear to his advantage getting glimpes. Not a lot but more than nothing. Men. possable stlye of guns. Assult or shotgun. Pre war though. Powerful. The man pointing the gun at his chest. Mask hiding his face. Monsters dont hide. thinking to himself "just play there game. Just play there game. Then it will be my turn. Stay calm stay collected." Working out his plan slowly. Shaking more now shutting his eyes

 

He was all too used to the viewpoint of fear- the trembling hands, the thick and constant breathing booming into the air in a husk of frozen smoke, most people felt uncomfortable about having such a image in life- the idea of people looking and you as if you was the devil, in disgust as if you are the embodiment of there anguish.

This world surely does it worst to us.

He'd swing his rifle over the top of his shoulder swiftly and silent, a single natural movement causing the rifle to hang like a piece of meat on a hook on his back. He'd step forward to the man, unbelting a stick from his belt- it'd be a dark shade of brown, wooden and blunt.
He'd not waste a second- swinging the baton towards the side of the mans skull with a fierce strike.