Chapter Five

Ifri dodged and weaved as Ström and her circled the sparring ring.  She dove in and rammed an elbow into his gut.  He stumbled back, but dropped down to her level and almost bowled her over.  She leapt nimbly away, harassing him.  Ström managed to catch her once and fling her to the ground.  She rolled away and engaged him in conversation. 

“Tell me a little about the men. You all seem to have fallen off the face of the earth as far as paperwork,” Ifri said, ducking to the left.

Ström withdrew slightly and responded as they circled again, “We are the rejects.  That’s all.  We pissed someone off and ended up here.”

“I know why you are all here,” Ifri said, she took advantage of an opening and took his arm in a vicious grapple.  He reversed it almost immediately, only to have her take his leg out and drop a knee into his chest. “I meant as people. I haven’t been able to find anything, not even birth certificates.” He managed to grab her knee before it landed and hauled her off balance.  She spun away, only to whip a foot into his cheek. He jerked his head back, plucking her foot out of the air, “The military doesn’t exactly like to recognize us as a legitimate unit.  We are, for lack of better term, cannon fodder.”

Forcing Ifri towards him in a stagger, he drove a fist into her ribs.  Without missing a beat, she grabbed his wrist, planted her hip into his side and floored him again.   “Even within the city files? I can’t believe that they would just erase citizens.”  Ström scissored her legs, dropping her as he grunted, “What can I say, it must be our charming personalities.”  They both crawled to their feet, exchanging a furious barrage of blows at the other.  “I don’t believe that for a minute and I know that you don’t either.”

Ström twisted away from her, bringing his opposite fist up, striking her jaw.  She jerked back, a little surprised.  Recovering quickly, she used his outstretched arm to throw him into the river they had been steadily moving towards.  He surfaced, sputtering, “Most of those here are refugees and outcasts,” he grabbed her leg and pulled her in with him, water frothing violently.  When she emerged, she returned the strike to the jaw, with a vengeance.  Ström stumbled, “I don’t know why we aren’t registered.  Most likely because they don’t expect us to last long.  Paperwork takes forever, after all.”   They stood, soaked to the bone, barely noticeably shivering.  They stared at each other for a long moment, ready to reengage.

Her hair plastered to her face, only one eye visible, the other developing an impressive shiner.  Ström breathing heavy and working his sore jaw.  Then, they smiled.  Ifri extended her hand as a peace offering, “How about a beer?”

“Damn skippy,” he grinned.  It was then that they heard the ruckus around them.  They looked around to see the entire remaining force cheering and chanting all around them.  Feeling a bit awkward, they both sloshed out of the water.  The crowd had begun to disperse, with only a few stragglers trying to get advice from the waterlogged duo. As they walked through the crowd, they ignored the questions and made their way to the bar.  Once they got inside, Ifri quickly closed and locked their new fans outside.

 

When they sat at the bar, Ström reached for his money but was stopped by Ifri.  "Put that away. I invited you for the drink remember."   "Whiskey, on the rocks." Ström instructed, with the bartender rolling his eyes muttering, "What a surprise."

 

 "Make mine neat," Ifri said before turning to address Ström, "We need to give the team instructions in about three hours."

 

"Go in, kick a*s."

 

"That is not a strategy Lieutenant."

 

Shrugging, Ström replied, "Good enough for us.  Simple, direct.  Just the way I like it."

 

Ifri shook her head, "These next missions are going to be nothing like your previous assignments.  These new missions are specifically assigned to us to kill me, not the rest of the company.  You and the rest of the men are just bonuses. They don't want me to get out of this and they don’t think that this company will be able to work well enough together for any of us to make it out alive."

 

Ström chuckled darkly, "That sounds more familiar than you might think.  We relish the challenge."

 

"I'm definitely glad to hear that," Ifri said looking down at the maps in front of them.

 

Ström reached over and pulled one closer, "So," he gestured to a spot on the map, "We rendezvous here and launch a diversionary assault here, right?"

 

Ifri slid a little closer to Ström and shifted his second finger slightly further south on the map, "The assault is here and the Ziege main encampment is about 3 miles west of there at the last fly-over."

 

Ström sighed heavily, "This is why I like the straight forward approach.  No confusing plans to get mixed up.  Tell me again, why we can't just barge in?"

 

Ifri took a deep breath and did something that she had never done before, "Pick a charging direction and we will just go with it."

 

Ström grinned wolfishly and point at a section of the map, "Here."  And slugged his whiskey in one gulp, ice and all.

 

"Just do me one favor?"

 

He glowered, waiting.

 

"Don't tell them that this is us just winging it until it succeeds."

 

"S'what I do."

 

Ifri nodded at him and gestured to the stairs to take them back down to the bar to celebrate their first agreement.  "What do you think about the two of us getting another drink and then we can see if you can beat me in the sparring ring?" She challenged.

 

Once more, he grinned.