Well, I'm headed back to England. Will be. I would be on the plane now, but there was a slight issue. More on that later.
So things won't quite be going back to the status quo. I know I'm not secure under torture, so there are no real lines of communication between me and my people. Never told them about the blog (apart from Jeff) so that's out. Pity, but I wouldn't be going back to a command position anyway. Got demoted. For running. Can't really argue that; we're expected to throw our lives away at the drop of a hat, when I went against that it made me look bad. Ah well, I never claimed to be more than a coward. Proud member of the self preservation society.
Still, I want to put up my new CO. You'll laugh. I know I did, until I realised it wasn't a joke. Deimos. Fucken Deimos. I get the feeling someone up there doesn't like me much. And I'm not sure if I mean God or Central. On the plus side, I still have a lot of the old connections; Redcap, the Archive, the Lab, certain others. So I'll have less personal resources but still plenty of information.
So, why was I delayed? Runners. Jumped me on the way to the airport, nicked my arm with a knife. Would've been worse if they'd been patient, snuck up, but they didn't, they ran up shouting 'Die proxy scum'. I think they were expecting an easy target. Just because it isn't as obvious doesn't mean I'm not augmented, I turned, before I even realised what was happening. Azoth taking over again, but now I have more of a control. Before, I would black out, wake up having killed any threats. Not any more. Stayed conscious, took out the legs on one, pushed them into the other, knife he was holding caught my arm. Shallow cut, not a concern. Next thing was to get that weapon out of the picture. After all, while I'm more durable than before a knife in the gut will cramp anyone's style. So I broke knifey's arm, got that knife. He was rather upset about the arm, briefly. I think he's over it now.
So that just left his companion. She pulled a gun on me, which seems rather rude. Also stupid; she shouldn't have taken the chance, should've shot me in the back without getting close. Maybe it was some kind of ammunition conservation thing. More likely, she didn't want to get arrested. After all, there were people nearby. Surprised they didn't come running at knifey's screaming; suppose they thought it was an argument or something. The bystander effect, maybe. Didn't want to risk getting involved. Damned if I know. She wasn't any great shakes at aiming, tried to shoot me in the head. Advice for anyone shooting someone. Aim for the centre of mass. It'll put them down just as well and you're more likely to hit something. Whereas shooty just got brick shards into the back of my head. Minor lacerations. No concern. By the time she's got the gun level again I'd pepper sprayed her, took the gun. A revolver, Saturday night special. Guess funds were tight. She ran, I tailed her. Tracked her down to an estate type of place. Flats for people with nowhere else to go. But that's a bit harsh; these were pretty terrible, but not all such places are. In England there are at least a couple housing estates that are proper nice. She went into a flat, greeted by what seemed to be another runner. That normally would've been the time I'd block the doors and burn the place down, but there were other flats full of civvies connected. Besides, I'd left the last of my petrol bombs with the Italian proxies I'd been helping earlier. So it would have to be the hard way.
There are some who favour kicking in the door and firing, hard and fast. But it takes me a moment to aim, and I couldn't be sure I'd be full of lead before I could get the job done. So I lit a fire. Just a little one, burned a piece of paper under a smoke detector. Did the job, got people out. Pathed out, short term, and stepped into the flat. Of course any weapons would be left in there, if they ran out carrying a rifle they'd probably attract a few odd looks. Emptied all of those out, hid them, then got out of the way while the fire service looked around. Must've been an hour before they came back in. They weren't expecting a fight, which is just fucking standards. Sloppy as shit. Turns out that kind of thinking gets you five rounds in the chest at point blank range and/or a knife in the neck. Go figure.
Needless to say, I missed my plane. On the plus side, I got a free rifle and revolver, a Winchester of some description. So, you know, counting my blessings. Have to call in a couple of favours, though. To get them smuggled over the pond. Worth it. Probably be in for work by the day after tomorrow latest. At least now I know what it feels like to dread having to turn up for the job.