The Color of Steel

Part 1, Chapter 2

"Believe me, I wouldn't have spent this much time with a bundle of sunshine like you for this long for a prank." Courier took a drag off of his cigarette before continuing, with a glance to either direction down the alley. "'Specially a decorated war hero. Now pipe down for a second." He threw another wave in the general direction of the irritable soldier as he proceeded further into the alley. "And keep close, there are lots of twists and turns 'round here and I'd rather not have to deal with the mess of losing you back here."

"Your concern is appreciated," Suvorov replied in a bone-crackingly dry tone.

"Oh, I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about everyone else back here meeting up with your agreeable personality and tolerance of silly nonsense, or people trying to steal your wallet. Taking a hose to some random back alley to clean the poor bastard that tries anything isn't my idea of a good time, and Furious will have my ass for it afterwards. Really lives up to her name, she does."

Suvorov frowned (more than usual,) her brow furrowing in thought. Furious? That sounded familiar. It vaguely called to mind a freshly promoted First Sergeant, one that had been occasionally compared to her. "Yes, that Furious. Old Murder isn't all that happy about it, though you'd never know from the way that bastard scowls all the time. Still makes me giggle occasionally."

She thought for a moment, then shook her head slightly. I've been retired for too damned long. Questioning a decorated veteran joining some kind of conspiracy to undermine the government was hypocritical, to say the least. Still, it was strange to think that someone who had been so devoted and passionate about the thing on the outside had suddenly flipped sides. What's been happening? "I wouldn't have figured," she said after several long moments of silence.

"Well, I'm not inside her head, but I'm glad to have her support. Here." He stopped abruptly, lifting up a grate. Suvorov eyed him with an incredulous look.

"A sewer? Really? What is this, a roleplaying game?"

"Hey, I don't make the decisions on where to hide out. And for all I know this is a fake outpost. I dunno how much of a traitorous bastard you are." He grinned as he spoke this last. Courier received another glare for his trouble, prompting him to bark a laugh before clapping a hand over his mouth - which, of course, got him another, angrier glare. He stepped into the opening, deftly sliding down the ladder out of sight.

Suvorov followed a bit more ponderously, carefully placing one foot onto the first rung to the tune of a worrying groan of metal. "You'll be fine," Courier called up from the floor. "Probably. The fall won't kill you may be a better way to put it." Suvorov's main response was a grunt. The ladder continued to vehemently protest her usage of it; when all was said and done, there were distinct boot-shaped depressions on each rung. "Right then, here you go." Courier handed over a black strip of cloth to Suvorov, receiving a blank stare in reply. "What, you thought I'd just show you to the office with no reservations? You still officially hold a commissioned rank in the king's army."

The white-haired woman gave one of her signature looks to Courier before snatching the blindfold out of his hands and securing it herself. "Take this damned thing back, at least," she said, practically tearing his coat off and throwing it at him. "And you're only blindfolding me now?"

He shrugged. "Entrances to the maintenance tunnels - not a sewer, by the way - are easy to find. Getting to the fancy super secret rebel base is a lot harder to stumble into."

She searched for a moment for ways to rebut him, and came up short, instead opting for a short sigh. "Fine. Are you planning on continuing to lecture me?" Her voice echoed ever so faintly in the tunnel. It smelled a bit like a garage, the odors of metal and oil permeating the air in a familiar blend. Less gunpowder and magical residue than she was accustomed to, but close enough.