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Had he been himself, Kostya might have indulged her. His weakness for talkative, curious women could be traced back to a singular source. Had he been himself, Kostya would have at least proven to her that he had no scars anywhere decent.

But he was not.

A blip from his phone alerted him to a new message. He schooled himself to think of nothing, not of names forbidden, of a girl in a cave very far away, or anything else. Instead, easy as you please, he responded to the text. It was redundant with his own plans, anyway.



Kostya turned his eyes towards the door and did what he'd been doing for some time now:

He waited.

Melvin hadn't expected a text from Jan that he wanted to take leave today and just wanted off the island. Not one to question Jan when he was giving him personal time alone (something hat had been limited with America living with them), he left the labs and packed with Jan for a nice getaway.

He stood with the blonde and smiled, glad to leave for a nice few days away.

"'fraid I'm gonna have to argue with you on that one pardner." Lawr said with the same smile, which did not reach his eyes. "I insist."

He shot Melvin a look, he had stressed to the other man this might well be a matter of life or death, and he intended to leave one way or the other. "Now if y'all'd just turn the other cheek, we'll be out of yer hair before you know it."

"Argue imply it is possible to change my mind." Kostya would not be swayed, and certainly not for Lawrence <******** Weiman, nor his accompaniment.

"Order comes from lead. No one may leave island at this time. It is not personal."

He pushed his glasses up his nose, thinking of static and its patterns. "Apologies."

The dagger would slide into Melvin's side with such quiet precision and ease, he wouldn't realized what had happened until he hit the ground, his side wet with blood. Standing over the Life hunter was Leona Tavish, her gaze leveled at Kostya.

"You had one job, Bashmet."

He aimed at the woman and pressed the trigger.

Dmg: 11

Kostya did not cower or back down. Even at the use of America's name-- a tactic and a ploy, one that would not be heeded-- Kostya remained calm. Mild, even.

Lawr thought himself to be an unstoppable force, Kostya knew himself to be an immovable object. It was a paradox.

"There is a lockdown. You are not permitted. I will not open a portal--"

Melvin's body dropped, and Syntax was summoned, eyes sliding over to Leona, who had staggered back from a blast. White noise in his head, teeth grinding, so hard they felt as though they might crack.

The power filtered in again, and it was, what, the third? Fourth time? A channeling that was so hard to resist, tapping into Kostya's innate self. His desire to serve, to bend the knee for a force greater than he. And it was strong, like a coiling snake around his mind, cold and obsidian and relentless.

It was revenge he wanted. The barrel of Kostya's weapon turned from Leona to Lawr, and a thin sheen of sweat broke out against his temple. The black crystals formed beneath Syntax, all the way up his elbow and a bit further still: and it was almost a relief. A physical manifestation of the things that had plagued him for so long, for days and months and almost years.

"I vill do my job," he snarled, shaking from exertion. Kostya felt the ache of exhaustion down to his marrow, worn out and tired of fighting something in his own head.

In a restless, jerking movement, the Russian turned the barrel of the gun to Leona and fired.

"And protect my home."

dmg: 12 to leona
charge: 1/3