Cyryl Ostrowierchow slowly removed the slide stop of his trusty pistol. A beautiful copy of M1911 answered him with a cheerful glitter, reflecting the light of the bonfire that he started as a mean of getting a little bit of warmth and light in this otherwise perfectly dark place.
Yes. There were no other people in at least 10km radius. There were no other lights in the depths of Forest Of Magic that day.
But, he wasn't alone. He had his pistol, which, disassembled, laid at his feet while he was cleaning the barrel. He had five magazines of .45 ACP cardridges, an amount that costed him way too much, compared to their worth in the outside world, but were one of his most treasured things that he carried around. Every single cardridge had been carefully wiped of all filth, and inserted into the magazine with utmost care. He had his Geiger counter that had served him well in the past, but had no use in the Forest. Still, he kept it out of simple sentiment, as it saved his life more times than he counted. He had his gas mask, that just like his counter, had no use, but he still always kept it on his face when out in action. He had his canned food. A guitar, that while a bother to carry, provided entertainment on silent nights like this one. He had water. He had a sleeping bag. He had his protective suit. Everything had to be perfectly clean for Cyryl.
And last but not least, he had his woman.
Who smacked her toungue loudly after Cyryl kissed his re-assembled pistol with admiration. - Do you really like that thing so much? He turned his amused gaze (Cyryl loved cleaning his gun, and he loved chaffing with his woman) towards the one who apparently envied the care Cyryl showed to his pistol. Just like him, she was wearing a protective jacket on top of her usual clothes, and while it served no purpose other than aesthetic one, Cyryl could sleep assured, knowing that his woman was protected from dangerous radiation (which wasn't present in the Forest, but Cyryl had his own eccentricities). Altough the fact that her legs were covered only by a short, brown skird ticked him off a bit, as it was really careless for her to wear such an attire, he kept silent, knowing that he had no chance in quarrels with that woman. Speaking of which, she coquettishly drew the blonde hair off her face before giving the M1911 a spiteful glance. She knew that this little piece of metal was the only thing that stood between her and absolute ownership of Cyryl, but she also knew, that it was the only thing that stood between her and many hungry youkai as well. Know your enemy - they say, and so she learned to handle that little bastard. There were two Makarovs that she usually used in her backpack, but to be honest, despite all the hate she had for it, she preffered to use the Colt as often as possible. Which irritated Cyryl a bit, but he always nodded when she was asking for it. Now, however, it laid perfectly clean, and no one other than Cyryl had access to it. And she knew that. - What are you talking about, Parsee? Don't tell me - Cyryl raised one eyebrow - Are you jealous? The woman named 'Parsee' snorted with anger before averting her gaze. - You always act like it was made of gold or something. - she pouted - When was the last time you hugged me? Cyryl looked at his wristwatch - a silver Atlantic685 - then smiled at the irritated girl. - Seven minutes and thirty six seconds. - he stated, as-a-matter-of-factly - Too long! And so, Cyryl had no choice, but to stand up (careful not to let any dirt fall on his pistol) and hug the whimsical girl.
It was half past eleven and quarter to Clean Your Pistol Again for Cyryl, when the girl, apparently bored with the silence, spoke up again. - Play for me. Of course, Cyryl knew what that meant - he would have to abandon the undoubtedly pleasant chore of caressing his Colt and grab a guitar instead. But there was no helping it, since he knew that if he refused, a worse fate would meet his own self. And while he loved his gun, Cyryl loved his testicles even more. And he loved Parsee the most. - Alright. - he stood up (again, carefully) and reached for the old acoustic guitar he had with him all these years - What will it be today? The End Of Campfire Draws Near? - Cemeteries Of London. - she replied, as always, defiantly. She enjoyed ruining Cyryl's plans as much as he enjoyed chaffing with her. Cyryl shrugged, then sat back down on the tree stump he had been using as a seat for quite some time now. - I don't like it. - he said, displeased, as he reached to his pocket for a little plastic triangle that he used to pluck the strings. - End of campfire would be way better. - Start playing already.
Cyryl sighed and positioned his fingers on the first sequence of the song. - At night they would go walking ‘til the breaking of the day, The morning is for sleeping… Singing la lalalala la lé… His voice carried far in the still air of this chilly, autumn night. If there were other people around, his voice would serve as a beacon of hope, a blink of light in the scary and dangerous deeps of this forest. - Through the dark streets they go searching to seek God in their own way, Save the nighttime for your weeping… Your weeping… But it just happened so, that there were no other people around. Altough it would be unmotivating and scary for normal people, Cyryl was that sort of guy who liked being alone. Alone with Parsee, that is. - And the night over London lay. So we rode down to the river where the Victoria ghosts pray for their curses to be broken… We’d go wandering neath the arches where the witches are and they say There are ghost towns in the ocean… The said was sitting on her own stump, on the other side of the bonfire, happily tapping her boot on the ground along with the rhythm of the song. For some reason though she'd rather sleep in a normal house, she would never trade this delightful moment, even for a giant bed with canopy. And fluffy pillows. Yes, that was what being with Cyryl lacked - fluffy pillows. But she had everything else. - The ocean… Singing la lalalala la lé… And the night over London lay... Cyryl took a deep breath after those lines, and carefully watched as Parsee reached into her backpack, slowly, carefully, and pulled out one Makarov. He didn't flinch a slightest bit when she fired a bullet, barely missing his head. The loud, pained squeak that sounded a second after her shot quickly lost to the music, which didn't stop even for a moment. - God is in the houses and God is in my head… and all the cemeteries in London… I see God come in my garden, but I don’t know what he said, For my heart, it wasn’t open… Not open… Singing out these lines, he slowly stood up as Parsee shot another bullet into the darkness, reaching for the other Makarov at the same time. - Singing la lalalala la lé… and the night over London lay. Singing la lalalala la lé… There's no light over London today.... As if it was a pain all along to hold this guitar, Cyryl dropped it on the ground and slowly walked up to his precious Colt. There was a clod of dirt on the handle, and while he knew exactly who did that, the punishment had to wait. Parsee stood near the campfire, with her back turned to Cyryl, aiming two her pistols at the both sides of their little camp. The silent growling and sniffing was perfectly audible. The youkai were approaching. - Man, already? - Cyryl said calmly as he picked up the pistol - Has there been a blowout recently? They usually don't come out so soon. - It's because you were singing. Your fault. - Well... Just for the effect, Cyryl pulled back his gun's slide and let it retract with a loud snap. He loved that sound. Looking around, he noticed many pairs of glowing eyes behind the line of light. A dozen or more. - Ready? His partner asked, still aiming where she thought the monsters were closest to the camp. Cyryl stood behind her back and gave her a light poke in the butt. With his own. - Why, at a time like this... - She wanted to sound her displeasure, but Cyryl quickly silenced her by nodding at the enclosing foes - You crazed bastard. - Runaway princess - Cyryl said while loading a magazine into his pistol. - Insane loner! - Jealous morveuse. They're coming. - I know! Cyryl pulled the slide again, making the first cardridge enter the chamber. He then aimed at the spot between nearest pair of glowing points. It was nothing special. Nothing he wouldn't take care of back in those days when he roamed the outside world. He smirked. - This is what I live for! - Shut up, will you! His partner was clearly scared, but he made nothing of it. After all, she was not a human, and even if she got bitten by those things, she'd heal in a day or two. Which didn't mean he wouldn't shield her with his own body. He was a practical man, but not one without heart or pride. What kind of man would let a girl be wounded in front of his eyes? - It's Ostrowierchow time! - he shouted and fired the first bullet.
As if it was a trigger, the other abominations jumped out of the shadows all at once.