The land of the superfluous. New life Andrey Cruz, Maria Cruz

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Title: The land of superfluous. New life

About the book “Land of superfluous. New life "Andrey Cruz, Maria Cruz

New land, new life, new challenges. Once in this world and having figured out who is his own and who is a stranger, a former military man and a former businessman, it would seem that not so young man Andrey Yartsev, with all his ardor, enters the battle on the side of those who have become his friends and compatriots. And the new world provided a lot of opportunities for the use of his talents, sometimes quite specific ones.

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Andrey Cruz

Maria Cruz

The land of the superfluous. New life

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo

22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 13:00

I returned yesterday, or rather today, with a detachment of "Minutemen", dead from fatigue. And after the "meeting" I fell asleep so that if I had not been woken up, I would probably have slept until tonight. Or until tomorrow. Or even longer. Thanks to Bonita that this did not happen. She even closed the store at twelve o'clock in order to wake me up with all the intimate immediacy.

What is surprising is that I have already regained my strength healthy sleep. Usually morning coffee is my concern, but here she herself went to buzz with a coffee grinder. And I just admired from behind and could not stop looking. At home, she was generally dismissive of clothes, and she was proud of her perfect body and did not let me forget how it looks. And it looks like a sculpture of light bronze, where the author of the nights did not sleep over each bend, thinking how to embody it more perfectly. And then he embodied - and did not embody anything, because such a thing cannot be surpassed.

But everything beautiful ends sooner or later: you have to get back to business. Bonita told me, sitting next to her on the bed with a cup and cross-legged in Turkish, that a messenger was coming. And our plan, how to close the Passage and lead the Cubans out of the mountains, and through the plain, she conveyed with him. If the command agrees, then a telegram will be sent to her, and next week he will call again. Now it's up to me to figure out how my superiors will react.

I didn't expect a response, to be honest. Barabanov is no fool, the offer will pass through him, and he will be able to convince the commander and the others, further, on command. Yes, there is no need to convince anyone - the offer is beneficial to everyone. But I need to meet here with Nemtsov, so that they can see it in the city. Then maybe I'll be able to stay out of the spotlight as an agent.

In principle, if I light up, nothing terrible will happen, but it will be possible to put an end to all the secrecy of the work. It's not a secret for anyone here that I cooperate with the RA, and I have friends there, the question is completely different: to what extent do such friends keep me informed of their affairs? And how did I become aware of the Cuban units beyond the mountains, about which the locals never dream or spirit? Only from my Maria Pilar, who, it turns out, led everyone by the nose in this city. They may be offended, but she still has to live here. We have to live with it, in fact.

And if everything that is planned on our part succeeds, and it turns out that the Cubans have captured the Wild Islands, that is, they opposed the American States, how will the locals react to this? Although they do not have much honor for the government from Zion, both of them are Americans. There is one idea how to influence their minds, but you need to think it over carefully first. So I'll tell you another time.

And now - the rise, fifteen minutes for the morning toilet, and an accelerated march to the store, to work. Lazy people are not loved or respected in this city where everything is run by preachers.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled out of the car a few, but very valuable trophies and carried them to the workshop, spreading them out on the table for cleaning. There is no work on the goods, but there is still something to do.

During the day, people came into the store and even bought something. Three convoys from different places came to the city today at once. One of the guards on a convoy carrying German beer to Fort Jackson wanted to replace his English L85 with something more trouble-free, and I sold him an AK-101, buying in return a ridiculous miracle made by the Lee-Enfield company for very little money. I put it aside for a shipment of goods that will go to Porto Franco.

In the afternoon, from three to five, there was a complete lull - everyone dispersed for lunch, and Bonita went home to cook, and I stayed in the store waiting for the command "To the table!" and quickly put the English rifle in order, cleaned, oiled and packed in a box with the rest.

I continued to be overcome by bad and gloomy thoughts about my relationship with Svetlana. A few days later we had to go to Porto Franco, and this is only three hours from the Russia Base. According to local concepts - nothing, consider that the neighboring yard. The fact that I was behaving dishonorably was clearer to me than clear. Something needs to be done about this.

The fact that Svetlana decided not to retreat so easily was also clear to me. Eventually, she was able to access sensitive bank information and track me down through my money transactions. By the way, how confidential is this information? And from whom is it closed, and from whom not so much? In any case, the girl from immigration control should not have been provided with such information upon first demand, it does not happen. So, someone helped her, who has access to the appropriate level, or does she now have such access herself? Raise? Job change? As far as I remember, she was expecting a transfer at the end of the year to the Base in Port Delhi, but she did not say anything else. Or just didn't tell me? In fact, she didn't tell me much about herself at all. I knew her intimately enough to say that she has two small moles on her back, located one above the other along the spine, that she has a small scar on her left thigh, but not close enough to tell how and where she got to Novaya Earth, how she lived before and why she made such a decision - to move to another world.

Andrey Cruz, Maria Cruz

The land of the superfluous. New life

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 13.00

I returned yesterday, or rather today, with a detachment of "Minutemen", dead from fatigue. And after the "meeting" I fell asleep so that if I had not been woken up, I would probably have slept until tonight. Or until tomorrow. Or even longer. Thanks to Bonita that this did not happen. She even closed the store at twelve o'clock in order to wake me up with all the intimate immediacy.

What is surprising is that I have already restored my strength with healthy sleep. Usually morning coffee is my concern, but here she herself went to buzz with a coffee grinder. And I just admired from behind and could not stop looking. At home, she was generally dismissive of clothes, and she was proud of her perfect body and did not let me forget how it looks. And it looks like a sculpture of light bronze, where the author of the nights did not sleep over each bend, thinking how to embody it more perfectly. And then he embodied - and did not embody anything, because such a thing cannot be surpassed.

But everything beautiful ends sooner or later: you have to get back to business. Bonita told me, sitting next to her on the bed with a cup and cross-legged in Turkish, that a messenger was coming. And our plan, how to close the Passage and lead the Cubans out of the mountains, and through the plain, she conveyed with him. If the command agrees, then a telegram will be sent to her, and next week he will call again. Now it's up to me to figure out how my superiors will react.

I didn't expect a response, to be honest. Barabanov is not a fool, the offer will pass through him, and he will be able to convince the commander and the rest, further, on command. Yes, there is no need to convince anyone - the offer is beneficial to everyone. But I need to meet here with Nemtsov, so that they can see it in the city. Then maybe I'll be able to stay out of the spotlight as an agent.

In principle, if I light up, nothing terrible will happen, but it will be possible to put an end to all the secrecy of the work. It's not a secret for anyone here that I cooperate with the RA, and I have friends there, the question is completely different: to what extent do such friends keep me informed of their affairs? And how did I become aware of the Cuban units beyond the mountains, about which the locals never dream or spirit? Only from my Maria Pilar, who, it turns out, led everyone by the nose in this city. They may be offended, but she still lives here. We have to live with it, in fact.

And if everything that is planned on our part succeeds, and it turns out that the Cubans have captured the Wild Islands, that is, they opposed the American States, how will the locals react to this? Although they do not have much honor for the government from Zion, both of them are Americans. There is one idea how to influence their minds, but first you need to think it over carefully. So I'll tell you another time.

And now - the rise, fifteen minutes for the morning toilet, and an accelerated march to the store, to work. Lazy people are not loved or respected in this city where everything is run by preachers.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled out of the car a few but very valuable trophies and carried them to the workshop, spreading them out on the table for cleaning. There is no work on the goods, but there is still something to do.

During the day, people came into the store and even bought something. Three convoys from different places came to the city today at once. One of the guards on a convoy carrying German beer to Fort Jackson wanted to replace his English L85 with something more trouble-free, and I sold him an AK-101, buying back a ridiculous miracle made by the Lee-Enfield company for very little money. I put it aside for a shipment of goods that will go to Porto Franco.

In the afternoon, from three to five, there was a complete lull - everyone dispersed for lunch, and Bonita went home to cook, and I remained in the store waiting for the command "To the table!" and quickly put the English rifle in order, cleaned, oiled and packed in a box with the rest.

I continued to be overcome by bad and gloomy thoughts about my relationship with Svetlana. A few days later we had to go to Porto Franco, and this is only three hours from the Rossiya Base. According to local concepts - nothing, consider that the neighboring yard. The fact that I was behaving dishonorably was clearer to me than clear. Something needs to be done about this.

The fact that Svetlana decided not to retreat so easily was also clear to me. Eventually, she was able to access sensitive bank information and track me down through my money transactions. By the way, how confidential is this information? And from whom is it closed, and from whom not so much? In any case, the girl from immigration control should not have been provided with such information upon first demand, it does not happen. So, did someone help her, who has access to the appropriate level, or does she now have such access herself? Raise? Job change? As far as I remember, she was expecting a transfer at the end of the year to the Base in Port Delhi, but she did not say anything else. Or just didn't tell me? In fact, she didn't tell me much about herself at all. I knew her intimately enough to say that she had two small moles on her back, located one above the other along the spine, that she had a small scar on her left thigh, but not close enough to tell how and where she got to Novaya Earth, how she lived before and why she made such a decision - to move to another world.

I didn't forget about the "gates" for a second. If she can access one piece of information, can she have access to the other as well? It turns out that I found the source of information? Excellent, well done! Bond. James Bond. Fuck it. Go to hell." He seduced one woman, lives with another, now, on the sly from another, he sleeps with the first one and, in the heat of passion, finds out all the most terrible secrets and surround the enemy from all sides. And then the wind and the night will leave her, declaring that he is called by a duty about which he cannot tell her anything, and will leave her in love and tears. And he will return to the other, saying that he cannot tell her where he was, but this is very, very important. There was danger all around, and bullets whistled overhead. Is that how it works? It turns out that way. But can I do this? I highly doubt it. To be able to do that, it was necessary to train the bastard part of nature, long and intensively, but I didn’t have time all the time.

Then I was distracted from my sad thoughts by an invitation to the table. He put aside all his affairs along with his thoughts - and ran to dinner.

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 18.00

After lunch and stuff, we reopened the store. Jay-Jay ran over to Bonita to take our "perenty" to the workshop in order to write a new lizard on the hood. There were no visitors yet, and I decided to deal with the weapons that I brought with me from the raid. So far, I've gotten trophies that are only good for sale, in my opinion. And now, for the first time, I came across something worthwhile that I did not want to sell. Two new "one hundred and fourth" and the same brand new, only from the warehouse, "Abakan".

Dismantling the "abakan" is not a "Kalash" to scatter into parts. Fortunately, the manual was found among the stocks of books that I took with me to the PPD, so I managed. Cleaned, collected, kissed a couple of times, aiming at the wall. A little unusual, but I can not say that it is completely uncomfortable. I have a lot of magazines for AK-74 in stock, so there will be no problems with this. Yes, and took eight spares from the battle, quite enough. I thought, I mounted optics on it, removing the PSO-1 and replacing it with the American ACOG from store stocks, attaching it through an adapter, and kissed again. Only now the store with an inclination to the right is embarrassing - somehow strange, out of habit it seems that the machine is warped or it will fall out now.

Undertook to clean the "one hundred and fourth". They are also brand new - obviously recently from the factory, without a scratch yet. They shot quite a few of them. Nothing special, but pleased. Let them lose in accuracy to the “one hundred and third”, but not too much - this is not a “stub” of the AKS-74U, but a full-fledged weapon, one might say - our answer to the M4. And when fighting in cramped conditions, when storming premises, he even wins against the “one hundred and third”. You aim faster with it, and when transferring fire along the front, the withdrawal of weapons is less - the center of gravity is closer to the shoulder. And if you consider that in plastic suitcases with personal belongings there is a good muffler for them, then the relevance of such a trophy in general increases very much. “Val” unmasks me too much, “one hundred and third” with PBBS becomes too long, and “one hundred and fourth” is a weapon that is quite common and very convenient for such cases.

It would only be necessary to get hold of US subsonic cartridges, otherwise I don’t have a single thing like that. They are not sold commercially - no one needs them, and the sale of weapons with silencers is not encouraged in most regions. It’s not that it’s forbidden, but simply ... you can’t buy cartridges, for example, you can’t carry a silencer with you, and so on. It is believed that a normal person definitely does not need a silent weapon.

Then three customers entered the store at once, and I went to deal with them. Maybe something else will fall into the box office.

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 35th day of the 6th month, Friday, 11.00

The day started out as usual. We had our own family rituals, in which there was “coffee in bed” in my performance - and “various joys of bodily love” in mutual. Then they went downstairs, opened a store, and at the same time made themselves another cup of coffee. Also a commonality of souls - both cannot live without coffee. I cannot exist without three cups in the morning.

Thursday and Friday were generally good for trading - it's hard to say why. There were twice as many people as usual. In the morning they sold a hefty revolver "colt-anaconda" caliber .45LC, "long colt", with an optical sight to it - obviously in the shooting club of friends to shake or hunt. And where else with such artillery? Another Brazilian IMBEL, in mediocre condition, but at a good discount, was sold to some farmer. He says that he is forced to hire workers and arm them, so he takes them for them.

Then there was a pleasant surprise - James Frederick came in. He undertook to lead a convoy from Waco to New Portsmouth with his crew. This is such a small port in the continental enclave of the British Commonwealth. And then overtake the convoy back. The order was good - places in distant convoys were not cheap, and along the way it was possible to pick up temporary fellow travelers, so such orders were appreciated by the escort groups. James was not alone, but with his girlfriend, Jackie, the same laughter from Alabama City, who walked with us along the embankment. Jackie wanted to see the world and overcame the resistance of James, who tried to convince her to stay at home. She got into the column on her "Vitara" and set off on a long journey.

They just came in to chat, and in the conversation we found out that they would only leave the Alamo on Sunday, so we invited them to dinner, promising to pick them up at the hotel at eleven in the evening. We also made coffee for them, chatted for another fifteen minutes, after which they left.

And then a boy from the post office rode on a bicycle and brought me a telegram. Frankly, at the sight of the telegram, my heart sank, but it turned out to be from the PPD. Not even from Demidovsk, but directly from the PPD, without any conspiracy. However, it was signed by Nemtsov, and it said that if I intended to go to Porto Franco, I could join their convoy, which would arrive on Sunday evening and leave on Tuesday morning.

I showed the telegram to Maria Bonita, after which she became visibly sad. We were going to go alone, but she was waiting for a contact from the headquarters. Still in the service of Mi Guapa, whatever one may say, like me. And I counted on the fact that we would go together, and then savannah or not savannah, ambushes or not ambushes, but the journey would still turn out - there is nowhere more romantic. But everything turned out the other way around: “An order was given: he went to the west, she went the other way!” Except that, unlike the anthem of the Komsomol volunteers, she was not going anywhere, and I was heading straight east.

The more I thought about my relationship with Maria Pilar, the more I realized that I need her constantly and every minute. I could not pass by her without touching her, I could not help but hear her voice - thank God, like all women of the Spanish-speaking peoples, she could not be silent for more than fifteen seconds - I could not help but feel her near. And when I say "feel" I really mean it. I feel with my skin, soul and with all my being that she is near, that I can get up right now, go up to her and kiss her, stroke the mane of incredibly thick, shiny hair pulled into a ponytail, I can look into her eyes. And I know that she will answer me that she will not remain indifferent, and there is nothing in the world that could prevent her from expressing a reciprocal feeling, from showing her love.

She literally enveloped me, dissolved me and everything around in herself. Yes, I love her, and I feel love in return, no less. And maybe even more, if such a thing is possible in this world or that other. I had never experienced anything like this before and never thought or dreamed that I would ever experience it. There were many women in my life in that world, perhaps too many. But none of them could break through the shell that keeps all my feelings inside me, preventing them from developing, becoming something real. They appeared in my life and disappeared, leaving no trace in my soul. I did not think about them, parting, did not remember. Now the one who, with her appearance, changed me, made me suffer and suffer next to me, by the very fact of my closeness and inaccessibility at the same time, made me change, change in a way that no one else can change - she taught me to love.

When I was going to go with her to Porto Franco, I didn’t even have to worry that she could suddenly become a burden - she had shown more than once that she was worth a lot in battle. She was my wife, although we had not yet married, and a friend, and a partner in battle, and in general, everything in the world. The fact that it makes you always think about the future, starting every thought with the word “we” instead of “I”, look at things through the prism of not only your own, but also her perception of the world, and always and everywhere strive to return to her and fight for it. not to be apart for a second. And God forbid something or someone should stand between us, try to deprive me of the one that took half of my soul, leaving half of hers in return.

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 35th day of the 6th month, Friday, 23.20

We closed the store at nine o'clock in the evening, having traded well for the day. I put three personal checks in an envelope to go to the bank with on Monday, and then put 1,300 ECU in cash to deposit. Then we quickly cleaned the room, and I put the workshop in order - one buyer had to mount the optical sight he had before on an unsuitable rifle, changing the standard rings for new, larger diameters.

We didn't have to pick up James and Jackie until eleven o'clock - that's twenty-six zero-zero local time, let me remind you - so we had time for coffee, rest and affordable entertainment at home. At twenty minutes to eleven we got ready to leave, and I took the Abakan with me in a case with five spare magazines and an M21 with a supply of cartridges. I decided to compare: curiosity just sorted it out.

Jackie and James are staying at the same hotel where I once stayed for two nights. Behind the counter was the same fat woman who greeted us very friendly, put a glass of mineral water with ice in front of us and held out the phone.

James came down in half a minute, and Jackie was delayed. From the words of James, it turned out that if Jackie did something in time, he would suspect that it was not her, but her twin sister, lost in childhood. Although this time, all from his own words, she did not linger too much, going downstairs after some fifteen minutes. Everyone was assembled and went out to the car together.

It was Jackie's first time in the Alamo, so we took them through a rather winding road, giving them a look at the town, general impression from which she poured out into the phrase: “Westerns are not filmed here?” My first impression was exactly the same. Now I'm used to it, I perceive it normally.

The club was quite crowded, but the advantage of the associate member card was the opportunity to take a table from the reserve. We were met by Roy Peterson himself, led to a table. Pointing to two weapon cases in my hands, he asked if something interesting was expected? I said that I don't know if it would be interesting, rather they took a new weapon for testing. Peterson said that he liked everything new, and asked him to call him to see when it came to the point. We promised. We're sorry, right?

James has been to this club before, but for Jackie, who lived in Novaya Zemlya less than a year, and in past life studied at the University of Georgia in the department of fine arts, a place so devoted to shooting and weapons was a curiosity. James even led her to the head of a stone monitor killed and skinned by Maria Pilar Rodriguez. Jackie touched the terrible teeth, said that the creature looked terrible. A really scary animal, I also agreed with her on this.

They returned to the table, and Jackie said that she asked for a trip with James to paint. She draws a lot and even arranged two small exhibitions in Alabama City, with local landscapes and portraits of acquaintances. Now she hopes to find a few more artists in this world and try to organize a traveling exhibition, once again teaching the people of New Earth not only to fight for existence, but also sometimes remember that there are other things in the world.

I'm not sure that this will work in the Alamo: here the most beautiful things were considered a revolver, a steak and love in Christ and so incompatible with it. And the only painting in the city could be considered a stained-glass window with a crucifix, located behind the pulpit of the reverend in the city church.

In general, art in this world was in its infancy. Films that were shown on local television and that could be bought on discs all got here from behind the "gates", and they were completely pirated. Only the news and reports about the competition were local, the lion's share of which was broadcast or sold on tapes by businessmen from New Reno. Back in New Reno, porn was filmed, and I don’t know if we should be proud of this fact, but these films were the first sign of New Earth cinema. Symbolic, don't you think?

The books were also mostly from the Old World, except that they were printed in local printers. But there was more reading here, especially children, compared to what the children of the Old World read. There were no stupid endless superhero cartoons or soap operas on the local TV channels. Be that as it may, Jackie decided to attach this harsh world to a reasonable, kind, eternal, for which she should already have said “thank you”.

After a fairly long supper, I suggested we stop for a while, saying that before I got drunk, I would like to show Maria Bonita a new weapon. James also expressed a desire to look, but we and he were more struck by the fact that Jackie went with us - this was not expected from her, and she was wincing at the constant shots coming from the shooting range.

Andrey Cruz

Maria Cruz

The land of the superfluous. New life

22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 13:00

I returned yesterday, or rather today, with a detachment of "Minutemen", dead from fatigue. And after the "meeting" I fell asleep so that if I had not been woken up, I would probably have slept until tonight. Or until tomorrow. Or even longer. Thanks to Bonita that this did not happen. She even closed the store at twelve o'clock in order to wake me up with all the intimate immediacy.

What is surprising is that I have already restored my strength with healthy sleep. Usually morning coffee is my concern, but here she herself went to buzz with a coffee grinder. And I just admired from behind and could not stop looking. At home, she was generally dismissive of clothes, and she was proud of her perfect body and did not let me forget how it looks. And it looks like a sculpture of light bronze, where the author of the nights did not sleep over each bend, thinking how to embody it more perfectly. And then he embodied - and did not embody anything, because such a thing cannot be surpassed.

But everything beautiful ends sooner or later: you have to get back to business. Bonita told me, sitting next to her on the bed with a cup and cross-legged in Turkish, that a messenger was coming. And our plan, how to close the Passage and lead the Cubans out of the mountains, and through the plain, she conveyed with him. If the command agrees, then a telegram will be sent to her, and next week he will call again. Now it's up to me to figure out how my superiors will react.

I didn't expect a response, to be honest. Barabanov is no fool, the offer will pass through him, and he will be able to convince the commander and the others, further, on command. Yes, there is no need to convince anyone - the offer is beneficial to everyone. But I need to meet here with Nemtsov, so that they can see it in the city. Then maybe I'll be able to stay out of the spotlight as an agent.

In principle, if I light up, nothing terrible will happen, but it will be possible to put an end to all the secrecy of the work. It's not a secret for anyone here that I cooperate with the RA, and I have friends there, the question is completely different: to what extent do such friends keep me informed of their affairs? And how did I become aware of the Cuban units beyond the mountains, about which the locals never dream or spirit? Only from my Maria Pilar, who, it turns out, led everyone by the nose in this city. They may be offended, but she still has to live here. We have to live with it, in fact.

And if everything that is planned on our part succeeds, and it turns out that the Cubans have captured the Wild Islands, that is, they opposed the American States, how will the locals react to this? Although they do not have much honor for the government from Zion, both of them are Americans. There is one idea how to influence their minds, but you need to think it over carefully first. So I'll tell you another time.

And now - the rise, fifteen minutes for the morning toilet, and an accelerated march to the store, to work. Lazy people are not loved or respected in this city where everything is run by preachers.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled out of the car a few, but very valuable trophies and carried them to the workshop, spreading them out on the table for cleaning. There is no work on the goods, but there is still something to do.

During the day, people came into the store and even bought something. Three convoys from different places came to the city today at once. One of the guards on a convoy carrying German beer to Fort Jackson wanted to replace his English L85 with something more trouble-free, and I sold him an AK-101, buying in return a ridiculous miracle made by the Lee-Enfield company for very little money. I put it aside for a shipment of goods that will go to Porto Franco.

In the afternoon, from three to five, there was a complete lull - everyone dispersed for lunch, and Bonita went home to cook, and I stayed in the store waiting for the command "To the table!" and quickly put the English rifle in order, cleaned, oiled and packed in a box with the rest.

I continued to be overcome by bad and gloomy thoughts about my relationship with Svetlana. A few days later we had to go to Porto Franco, and this is only three hours from the Russia Base. According to local concepts - nothing, consider that the neighboring yard. The fact that I was behaving dishonorably was clearer to me than clear. Something needs to be done about this.

The fact that Svetlana decided not to retreat so easily was also clear to me. Eventually, she was able to access sensitive bank information and track me down through my money transactions. By the way, how confidential is this information? And from whom is it closed, and from whom not so much? In any case, the girl from immigration control should not have been provided with such information upon first demand, it does not happen. So, someone helped her, who has access to the appropriate level, or does she now have such access herself? Raise? Job change? As far as I remember, she was expecting a transfer at the end of the year to the Base in Port Delhi, but she did not say anything else. Or just didn't tell me? In fact, she didn't tell me much about herself at all. I knew her intimately enough to say that she has two small moles on her back, located one above the other along the spine, that she has a small scar on her left thigh, but not close enough to tell how and where she got to Novaya Earth, how she lived before and why she made such a decision - to move to another world.

I didn't forget about the "gates" for a second. If she can access one piece of information, can she have access to another? It turns out that I found a source of information? Excellent, well done! Bond. James Bond. Fuck it. Go to hell." He seduced one woman, lives with another, now, on the sly from another, he will sleep with the first one and, in the heat of passion, will find out all the most terrible secrets and surround the enemy from all sides. And then the wind will leave her in the night, declaring that he is called by a duty about which he cannot tell her anything, and will leave her in love and tears. And he will return to the other, saying that he cannot tell her where he was, but this is very, very important. There was danger all around, and bullets whistled overhead. Is that how it works? It turns out that way. But can I do this? I highly doubt it. In order to be able to do this, it was necessary to train the bastard part of nature for a long time and intensively, but I didn’t have time all the time.

Then I was distracted from my sad thoughts by an invitation to the table. He put aside all his affairs along with his thoughts - and ran to dinner.

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo

22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 18:00

After lunch and stuff, we reopened the store. Jay-Jay ran over to Bonita to take our "perenty" to the workshop in order to write a new lizard on the hood. There were no visitors yet, and I decided to deal with the weapons that I brought with me from the raid. So far, I've gotten trophies that are only good for sale, in my opinion. And now, for the first time, I came across something worthwhile that I did not want to sell. Two new "one hundred and fourth" and the same brand new, only from the warehouse, "Abakan".

Dismantling the "abakan" is not a "Kalash" to scatter into parts. Fortunately, the manual was found among the stocks of books that I took with me to the PPD, so I managed. Cleaned, collected, kissed a couple of times, aiming at the wall. A little unusual, but I can not say that it is completely uncomfortable. I have a lot of magazines for AK-74 in stock, so there will be no problems with this. Yes, and took eight spares from the battle, quite enough. I thought, I mounted optics on it, removing the PSO-1 and replacing it with the American ACOG from store stocks, attaching it through an adapter, and kissed again. Only now the store with an inclination to the right is embarrassing - somehow strange, out of habit it seems that the machine is warped or it will fall out now.

Undertook to clean the "one hundred and fourth". They are also brand new - obviously recently from the factory, without a scratch yet. They shot quite a few of them. Nothing special, but pleased. Let them lose in accuracy to the “one hundred and third”, but not too much - this is not a “stub” of the AKS-74U, but a full-fledged weapon, one might say - our answer to the M4. And when fighting in cramped conditions, when storming premises, he even wins against the “one hundred and third”. You aim faster with it, and when transferring fire along the front, the withdrawal of weapons is less - the center of gravity is closer to the shoulder. And if you consider that in plastic suitcases with personal belongings there is a good muffler for them, then the relevance of such a trophy in general increases very much. “Val” unmasks me too much, “one hundred and third” with PBBS becomes too long, and “one hundred and fourth” is a weapon that is quite common and very convenient for such cases.

It would only be necessary to get hold of US subsonic cartridges, otherwise I don’t have a single thing like that. They are not sold commercially - no one needs them, and the sale of weapons with silencers is not encouraged in most regions. It’s not that it’s forbidden, but simply ... you can’t buy cartridges, for example, you can’t carry a silencer with you, and so on. It is believed that a normal person definitely does not need a silent weapon.

Trial version. 34 pages available

Andrey Cruz, Maria Cruz

The land of the superfluous. New life

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 13.00

I returned yesterday, or rather today, with a squad of Minutemen, dead from fatigue. And after the "meeting" I fell asleep so that if I had not been woken up, I would probably have slept until tonight. Or until tomorrow. Or even longer. Thanks to Bonita that this did not happen. She even closed the store at twelve o'clock in order to wake me up with all the intimate immediacy.

What is surprising is that I have already restored my strength with healthy sleep. Usually morning coffee is my concern, but here she herself went to buzz with a coffee grinder. And I just admired from behind and could not stop looking. At home, she was generally dismissive of clothes, and she was proud of her perfect body and did not let me forget how it looks. And it looks like a sculpture of light bronze, where the author of the nights did not sleep over each bend, thinking how to embody it more perfectly. And then he embodied - and did not embody anything, because such a thing cannot be surpassed.

But everything beautiful ends sooner or later: you have to get back to business. Bonita told me, sitting next to her on the bed with a cup and cross-legged in Turkish, that a messenger was coming. And our plan, how to close the Passage and lead the Cubans out of the mountains, and through the plain, she conveyed with him. If the command agrees, then a telegram will be sent to her, and next week he will call again. Now it's up to me to figure out how my superiors will react.

I didn't expect a response, to be honest. Barabanov is not a fool, the offer will pass through him, and he will be able to convince the commander and the rest, further, on command. Yes, there is no need to convince anyone - the offer is beneficial to everyone. But I need to meet here with Nemtsov, so that they can see it in the city. Then maybe I'll be able to stay out of the spotlight as an agent.

In principle, if I light up, nothing terrible will happen, but it will be possible to put an end to all the secrecy of the work. It's not a secret for anyone here that I cooperate with the RA, and I have friends there, the question is completely different: to what extent do such friends keep me informed of their affairs? And how did I become aware of the Cuban units beyond the mountains, about which the locals never dream or spirit? Only from my Maria Pilar, who, it turns out, led everyone by the nose in this city. They may be offended, but she still lives here. We have to live with it, in fact.

And if everything that is planned on our part succeeds, and it turns out that the Cubans have captured the Wild Islands, that is, they opposed the American States, how will the locals react to this? Although they do not have much honor for the government from Zion, both of them are Americans. There is one idea how to influence their minds, but first you need to think it over carefully. So I'll tell you another time.

And now - the rise, fifteen minutes for the morning toilet, and an accelerated march to the store, to work. Lazy people are not loved or respected in this city where everything is run by preachers.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled out of the car a few but very valuable trophies and carried them to the workshop, spreading them out on the table for cleaning. There is no work on the goods, but there is still something to do.

During the day, people came into the store and even bought something. Three convoys from different places came to the city today at once. One of the guards on a convoy carrying German beer to Fort Jackson wanted to replace his English L85 with something more trouble-free, and I sold him an AK-101, buying back a ridiculous miracle made by the Lee-Enfield company for very little money. I put it aside for a shipment of goods that will go to Porto Franco.

In the afternoon, from three to five, there was a complete lull - everyone dispersed for lunch, and Bonita went home to cook, and I remained in the store waiting for the command "To the table!" and quickly put the English rifle in order, cleaned, oiled and packed in a box with the rest.

I continued to be overcome by bad and gloomy thoughts about my relationship with Svetlana. A few days later we had to go to Porto Franco, and this is only three hours from the Rossiya Base. According to local concepts - nothing, consider that the neighboring yard. The fact that I was behaving dishonorably was clearer to me than clear. Something needs to be done about this.

The fact that Svetlana decided not to retreat so easily was also clear to me. Eventually, she was able to access sensitive bank information and track me down through my money transactions. By the way, how confidential is this information? And from whom is it closed, and from whom not so much? In any case, the girl from immigration control should not have been provided with such information upon first demand, it does not happen. So, did someone help her, who has access to the appropriate level, or does she now have such access herself? Raise? Job change? As far as I remember, she was expecting a transfer at the end of the year to the Base in Port Delhi, but she did not say anything else. Or just didn't tell me? In fact, she didn't tell me much about herself at all. I knew her intimately enough to say that she has two small moles on her back, located one above the other along the spine, that she has a small scar on her left thigh, but not close enough to tell how and where she got to Novaya Earth, how she lived before and why she made such a decision - to move to another world.

I didn't forget about the "gates" for a second. If she can access one piece of information, can she have access to the other as well? It turns out that I found the source of information? Excellent, well done! Bond. James Bond. Fuck it. Go to hell." He seduced one woman, lives with another, now, on the sly from another, he will sleep with the first one and, in the heat of passion, will find out all the most terrible secrets and surround the enemy from all sides. And then the wind and the night will leave her, declaring that he is called by a duty about which he cannot tell her anything, and will leave her in love and tears. And he will return to the other, saying that he cannot tell her where he was, but this is very, very important. There was danger all around, and bullets whistled overhead. Is that how it works? It turns out that way. But can I do this? I highly doubt it. To be able to do that, it was necessary to train the bastard part of nature, long and intensively, but I didn’t have time all the time.

Then I was distracted from my sad thoughts by an invitation to the table. I put aside all the affairs along with my thoughts - and ran to dinner.

Sovereign Territory of Texas, Alamo. 22nd year, 34th day of the 6th month, Thursday, 18.00

After lunch and stuff, we reopened the store. Jay-Jay ran over to Bonita to take our "perenty" to the workshop in order to write a new lizard on the hood. There were no visitors yet, and I decided to deal with the weapons that I brought with me from the raid. So far, I've gotten trophies that are only good for sale, in my opinion. And now, for the first time, I came across something worthwhile that I did not want to sell. Two new "one hundred and fourth" and the same brand new, only from the warehouse, "Abakan".

Dismantling the "abakan" is not a "Kalash" to scatter into parts. Fortunately, the manual was found among the stocks of books that I took with me to the PPD, so I managed. Cleaned, collected, kissed a couple of times, aiming at the wall. A little unusual, but I can not say that it is completely uncomfortable. I have a lot of magazines for AK-74 in stock, so there will be no problems with this. Yes, and took eight spares from the battle, quite enough. I thought, I mounted optics on it, removing the PSO-1 and replacing it with the American ACOG from store stocks, attaching it through an adapter, and kissed again. Only now the store with an inclination to the right is embarrassing - somehow strange, out of habit it seems that the machine is warped or it will fall out now.

Undertook to clean the "one hundred and fourth". They are also brand new - obviously recently from the factory, without a scratch yet. They shot quite a few of them. Nothing special, but pleased. Let them lose in accuracy to the “one hundred and third”, but not too much - this is not a “stub” of the AKS-74U, but a full-fledged weapon, one might say - our answer to the M4. And when fighting in cramped conditions, when storming premises, he even wins against the “one hundred and third”. You aim faster with it, and when transferring fire along the front, the withdrawal of weapons is less - the center of gravity is closer to the shoulder. And if you consider that in plastic suitcases with personal belongings there is a good muffler for them, then the relevance of such a trophy in general increases very much. “Val” unmasks me too much, “one hundred and third” with PBBS becomes too long, and “one hundred and fourth” is a weapon that is quite common and very convenient for such cases.