Game Worlds > Dark Waters

Cakes and Skates Don't Mix!

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"Stop moaning, Juron.  This place is perfect.  Look at it.  It's like something out of a TV show.  Big houses.  Perfect lawns.  And they don't even have Russian winters over here.  You get a little snow in December but nothing like back home.  Trust me.  You're going to be thanking me when we move in to our new home."  Mikhail had only seen his new house through photographs, and the real-life tour had yet to happen.  The car continued passed their new residence, down a couple of streets until they arrived at a large looking manor which seemed to tower over almost everything.  When the vehicle stopped, he opened the door and held it until Juron herself got out, before closing it and rubbing his hands together.  It was November, and the cool Canadian breeze felt like a summer to Mikhail, who spent most of the year in the cold climate of Norway.  He was already missing the place, he enjoyed living by the coastline -- even if he did have to wrap up in four layers of clothing to go for a walk.

Their bags had been taken straight to the house, probably dumped in the hall.  Not that they had brought much with them, anyway.  His new boss had told him that they should only pack a suitcase each, as everything that they would possibly need would be provided for them already.  For him it was fine, but he wasn't sure if it was easy for Juron to limit herself to just one case.  She was a woman after all, and Mikhail had went on enough holidays with one to know that his part of the suitcase was always very small indeed.

Waiting for them at the front door was their tour guide, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, a leather jacket rolled up at the sleeves with green-coloured camo trousers tucked in to a pair of boots.  Mikhail quickly noticed the silenced handgun strapped in to a holster which hung loosely around his waist.  "Morning."  He said in the south German accent that the majority of people here spoke.  "Welcome to Vankuver.  I'm Dietrich Schneider... I suppose you could say I'm the sheriff of this town.  Not that I'm really needed -- we don't have any trouble makers here."  He pulled himself away from the wall and opened the door for them.  "The Governor is upstairs... she has your house keys.  She also wants to go over the laws and rules of the town.  Won't take long, I promise.  I bet the pretty lady is just dying to start baking some cakes in her new oven."

"Oh, she certainly is."  Mikhail said, putting an arm around her and pulling her close to him.  "Isn't that right, dear?"  He asked, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.  "Juron is a wonderful cook."  Mikhail broke their embrace when Dietrich turned around and began to walk up the stairs of the large main hall, opening one of the doors on the landing and motioning for them to go in.  "Laura, will you tell the Governor that her new home-owners have come to pick up their keys?"  Dietrich asked the young woman behind the reception desk, as Mikhail sat down in the waiting room couch.

Juron wasn

Mikhail had been aware that convincing Juron to throw away her entire career (and hobby) was tough.  This was something she had been doing for a long, long time.  And although she wasn't exactly making it on to the front page every week, it was something which she loved.  People were reading her words, her column slowly creeping towards the front few pages instead of near the back where it had once began.  Her editor was having faith in her work, it looked like she was only a few stories away from a front page headline but then Mikhail dropped the bombshell.  He asked her to come with him, to pack a single suitcase and leave their little one-bedroom apartment, to say goodbye to her friends and family, to the job she worked so hard for.  He knew it was a big ask, and he had prepared himself for the word 'no'.  For her to shake her head and tell him that this time she couldn't follow him.  That he was on his own.  But she didn't.  She said yes.  And it took him off guard.  He remembered stumbling over his words, saying "...umm... what?..." about half a dozen times before finally locking their lips together in a kiss.  A new life.

"Maybe being a little housewife will do you the world of good... it'll keep you out of trouble... and you staying out of trouble will keep me out of trouble.  We know what you can be like sometimes."  He said, pressing a finger against her nose and pushing her head back a little.  By this point, Dietrich had said his goodbyes and closed the waiting room door behind him, leaving Mikhail and Juron alone with the secretary.  It didn't last long, as they were told to go through and meet Mikhail's new boss.

"Fraulein Knapp, nice to see you again."  Mikhail said, closing the door and sitting down on one of the two chairs in front of her desk.  He spent a few moments looking around her office, crossing one leg over the other while clasping his hands together over his groin.  He hoped they wouldn't be here for long, he was dying to get to their new home, put his feet up and crack open a beer.

Adalinda Knapp smiled sweetly at the couple as they entered her office and took up their seats across from her desk.  She

At this moment in time, there were no reasons to doubt Adalinda's intentions.  The place looked great, everyone who lived here looked like they were loving it.  While it was unusual that the place was run by Germans, when the location of the town was in Canada, he could understand why it was here.  The area was known to be rich with a special oil which only a few companies were permitted to extract.  Adalinda's Bavarian mining company were one of the first to set up shop, and it meant they also had the prime spot.  Mikhail had been brought on board due to his experience; while mining wasn't exactly a speciality of his, he was a hard-working engineer and a good team leader.  He couldn't wait to meet the guys he'd be working with.

Mikhail didn't bother to read most of which he was signing.  Most people made the mistake, they had bought in to Adalinda's faux friendliness and were just eager to get settled in.  With his name now scribbled on the upper line, he passed the paper over to Juron for her to sign it as well.  A few moments later, a knock at the door was followed by the re-appearance of Dietrich, carrying a bunch of papers clamped on to a clipboard.  The German looked at Adalinda and gave her a quick nod to see if everything was set.  The rules and regulations of the community would have to wait; they didn't want to scare Juron and Mikhail away.  Dietrich understood that many of them were strict, and some were downright unusual and confusing.  Yet it was Adalinda's town.  She made the laws.  He only made sure that they weren't broken.

Dietrich seemed to be carrying one other addition, something which he hadn't been carrying before.  On the other side of his body, clipped on to the belt which his gun was attached to, was a small box with a gas symbol on it.  Mikhail saw it, frowning at his observation yet not thinking anything of it.  "Dinner is ready, my dear."  Dietrich said, giving Adalinda the code-word to release the knock-out gas in to the sealed room.  The sheriff's hand ripped open the small box on his person, and pulled out the rubber mask, shoving his face in to it and quickly adjusting the straps to keep it secured.  A few moments later, Mikhail was out.


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