Allie's War Episodes 1-4(146)

Revik swallowed, staring up at him. “I’m really fucking hungry,” he said. “Can I have some food?”
Terian laughed. “Now that...that sounded like my friend! Is it possible I am reaching him at last? No, no...do not sleep. You have slept enough, Revi’...”
Revik glanced at Jon. “Do you believe this guy?”
Jon laughed. Him? What about you, man? He’s right, you know. You can’t just spend the rest of your life asleep...
“What choice do I have, Jon?”
You need to get laid, man. I mean bad. I hope Allie’s been exercising.
“Gods.” Pain clenched in his chest “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s my wife, Jon.” Blood darkened the water by his hands.
Someone slapped his face, disorienting him.
“Why were you in Germany, Rolf?”
Revik fought to see, couldn’t. His eyes were light, just light...he couldn’t see past it. Terian flicked his fingers impatiently. “Yes?” He tilted his head, as if listening. “You killed some humans? Really? Well, I ask you...so what? How many millions of seers have died at human hands, Revi’?” He leaned closer. “Tell me. Do you really care, even now? Or is this an act, too?”
Revik looked at Cass. “I care, Cass. I do care...”
I know you do, big guy. That’s why you’re talking to me. She grinned, making the crazy symbol by her head. Better than remembering that shit...right? Maybe you were right to wait with Allie. She’s going to rip it open, you know. She can’t help herself...
Revik pressed his face to the floor. The cold tile felt good.
He was ravenous, so hungry he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make himself want to. When he glanced up, Jon was throwing pieces of meat in the air, catching them in his teeth. He worried each one before he swallowed them, flecking the green walls with blood and Revik felt himself getting hard, watching him. He stared at his fingers, broken and bleeding, digging in mud.
He was almost there. He could see daylight...
Terian’s eyes were dead, burnt glass. “You see,” he said. “I am becoming increasingly certain it wasn’t by accident that Galaith and I stumbled upon you in Germany like we did, Rolf. Nor a coincidence that you exactly fit our most desired recruitment profile. Estranged from family, few friends, no strong political beliefs, willing to kill humans...willing to follow questionable means for morally justifying ends. You could have guessed we’d concentrate our initial efforts in the Reich...”
Terian smiled, waggling a finger at him.
“You always were the clever one, Rolf. Were you Vash’s man, all along? Were you, Nenz?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” he managed.
“Do I need to bring her here for real? To get you to talk? I seem to recall you were at your most malleable when you thought I had your wife in custody, too...”
Revik saw her then, and his heart clenched until he couldn’t breathe. Allie watched him from where she lay twisted on the floor, her neck broken. Her green eyes stared at his, dead-looking, a smoky gray.
He let out a groan, reaching for her. “No. Gods...please.”
“So when did their plans go wrong, Rolf? Was it when we killed Elise?” Terian leaned closer, his amber eyes hard. “Did you blame the Seven for that, too? But that was your fault, wasn’t it, Rolf? Dragging a vulnerable human into the middle of your very dangerous game? A bit arrogant, yes?”
Revik tried to concentrate on his words, couldn’t. “Give me food. Please.”
“Will you talk to me, if I do?”
His sickness worsened. “Yes.” He fought tears. “Just don’t hurt her. Please.”
Terian regained his feet. Revik clutched the empty water glass to his chest. When he was younger he could size someone’s range and limbs in a single look. Back then, he’d always known what space his body possessed, what he could do in that space, limitations, strengths, possible weapons...in case anything bad happened, which it frequently did.
Terian reached down, leaning over him.
Revik waited until the seer started to tug the empty glass from his fingers.
...and caught his wrist.
He whipped his legs around, smashing them into the back of Terian’s calves. Throwing his torso backwards as far as the chain allowed, he yanked him forcibly to the floor.
His other hand shattered the glass.
The seer fell on him. Revik rolled, half-pinning the Indian seer under his chest. Working his fingers quickly into strands of his hair, he jerked the head back. The Sark’s eyes showed white.
“Rolf, no! This won’t help you...!”
Revik ground the shard of glass into the seer’s throat.
A thin spray of blood hit him in the face. Sliding the glass in as far as he could, he gasped, crying out, seeing himself covered in blood and fresh wounds and scars, naked, bearded, in a hundred mirrors. He tore through muscle, veins and skin, then ripped the shard out. Blood sprayed upwards in a hot arc. The white throat pulsed, pouring thick fluid.