Khariton

The Moscow rain was a greasy film on the busy streets, reflecting a sickly yellow glow of its street lamps; Khariton, a former soldier of the Tsar’s Imperial army pulled his greatcoat tight around him; the hood sewn to it was raised up and covering his head from the rain; despite the greatcoat he wore, the chill seeped into his bones, a familiar ache that mirrored a knowing emptiness in his soul.
Siberia had hardened him much more than his experiences when Russia had been at war against the Empire of Japan, and now here, back in Moscow; this was no longer the same place he had once visited, it felt as though it was an entirely different beat altogether; when he’d left, there had been no mysteries, but now it was a breeding ground for secrets and shadows.

He had been tracking the serpents trail for months, ever since stumbling upon the activities in the Siberian wilderness, activities that threatened the village he had chosen to call home; those that had been forced against their will to work in search of something that the Imperium was looking for; all he knew was the little he had been told from one of the captives he had saved.

His searching had brought him back to Moscow, the heart of the Empire; to Moscow’s grimy underbelly.

He spent days lurking in shadow; following rumours and whispers; they had finally paid off when he spotted him – Vladimir, a man whose expensive suit couldn’t hide the fanatic that gleamed within his eyes; Khariton recognised him from the faded photography he had been provided.

This man had orchestrated the Imperium’s control across the Russian Empire, sent out the cultists to places that attracted the Imperium’s attention; was responsible for the deaths of many innocent people.

Now though; Vladimir was cornered.

Khariton herded him into a narrow alley; the kind where the sun never dared to peek; the stench of refuse and stale urine hung heavy within the air, Vladimir, pale and sweating looked like a trapped rat “Please” he stammered, his voice trembling “I don’t understand what you want”

Khariton didn’t speak; he simply stared, his gaze a predators assessment; he reached into his coat, pulled out a worn leather pouch and opened it; revealing several strangely carved wooden figures; these Vladimir recognised, they were meant to serve as proof of identity, something small and unsuspecting.
Vladimir’s eyes widened, he tried backing away; Khariton was an unknown to him, he wasn’t at all certain what this man was capable of; but it was obvious to Vladimir he was a soldier and more than his match.

“The Imperium” Khariton finally spoke, his voice a low growl that echoed in the confined space of the alley “What is its purpose; who leads it?”

Vladimir shook his head frantically “I don’t know anything; I swear, you have the wrong man”

Khariton sighed, throwing the leather pouch to Vladimir feet; the sigh that escaped his lips sounding like air escaping punctured bellows; he knew this dance, lies were often the first weapon of the guilty.
Moving forwards, he reached out; grabbing Vladimir’s hand, his grip like iron, he turned his hand over to expose the palm; and with his other hand, he produced a thin, wickedly sharp knife “This is the only chance I am giving you” Khariton told him, his voice devoid of emotion “Tell me what I want to know, and I might let you live; lie to me, and you will regret the day you was born”

Vladimir’s eyes darted around the alley, searching for an escape; panic choked him; he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously “I…, I can’t tell, they will kill me”

Again, Khariton let out a bored sigh before pressing the knife against Vladimir’s palm; a tiny bead of blood welled up “They will kill you eventually; but I can promise you more pain than you could ever imagine; it will make their methods seem merciful”

Pressing harder; Vladimir felt it, he let out a high-pitched scream of pain, a desperate sound

“Who is your leader?” Khariton’s voice was unwavering

“I…, I don’t know” Vladimir said quickly, his voice trembling “I swear I don’t know; we have a council, a Council!” he said with urgency

“Not much there” Khariton said, his voice indicating boredom as he applied more pressure “Give me something; what is your purpose, who leads you, how many do you number; something, now!” he snapped

“The Imperium is a governing body; we…, we operated individual groups across the world, the Imperium is the voice that allows us to work together; its how we don’t cross each other’s paths, how…, how we operate efficiently”

Khariton slowly nodded his head “A Purpose?” he queried; he was still sounding bored, but mentally, he was filing the information away for later use

“We all have differing goals!” he shouted urgently

“Then what is your goal” Khariton locked eyes with Vladimir

“To…, to reshape the world; to bring a new age; one of order and…, and….” Vladimir felt the knife as Khariton applied more pressure; he let out a raw, animalistic scream that startled a flock of pigeons roosting on a nearby rooftop

“Order through what” Khariton narrowed his eyes “Torture; Murder; slaughtering innocent people, sacrificing them?” his voice was laced with a barely contained rage

“If that is what is necessary!” Vladimir shrieked “It is for the greater good; the Imperium will cleanse this world of impurities!”

“Impurities” Khariton repeated “Like children” Raising the knife, he span it quickly in his hand, know holding it in reverse, he swung his elbow back; connecting against Vladimir’s nose, before straightening his arm as he swung back; the knife plunging into Vladimir’s shoulder, he forced him back against the wall painfully; the blade kept in place as he applied more pressure, pinning Vladimir as he looked at him with anger.

Vladimir bucked and writhed; his body was a spasming mess of pain; he screamed and pleaded; begging for mercy, now promising to tell Khariton everything he knew; though Khariton didn’t stop, he was a machine, fuelled by anger and burning desire for justice; and he was going to extract it no matter the cost.

He learned all he could about the Imperium; about the Cultists that operated across the Russian Empire; about other Cultists that Vladimir knew of, one of the Cultist group he learns of; the Cult of the Minotaur was spoken of in a whisper, an ominous and foreboding fear.
He learnt of the Russian Cultists that operated within Government, that held sway over the Tsar and the Military; the twisted ideology they follow; how the Imperium sort to find an Ancient Prison; explaining the reason behind their operation at the crypt in the Siberian wilderness; he painted a horrifying picture with his detailed explanation of the very being that the Imperium was trying to find and free.

Hours passed; the rain continued to fall – washing away the blood from the ground, Vladimir was a broken husk of a man; his spirit was shattered, his body a canvas of cuts, wounds and bruising.

Finally, Khariton had stopped; he stood back, watching the heavily breathing Vladimir, he shook his head as he whimpered like a wounded animal “One final question” Khariton said, slowly kneeling down to look Vladimir in the eyes “Where is the Imperium’s council located?”

Vladimir stared at him; his voice a croak, barely audible, rasped “America…, I don’t…, I don’t know where exactly”

Khariton nodded his head slowly; he could only see fear in Vladimir’s eyes, he then stood back up slowly, he holstered the knife, his movements were stiff and deliberate; turning, he began making a move to leave; he left Vladimir where he was, leaving him to whatever fate awaited him.

He stepped out of the alleyway and into the rain-slicked street, his eyes landed on the woman who had accompanied him from Siberia; their eyes locked for a moment he simply made a gesture with his head and the two began moving down the street in silence.

Written By: Westley H.