Path book 1 Igor

She stuck together, the vile ones took her away with them and mocked her, thinking that she was a simple Marine LT. And as soon as they realized who it was, they took a shit, and they killed her. The case immediately began to be hushed up — the sons turned out to be some local bosses. And the guy waited and waited, couldn't wait, lost his temper, went off on his own, took the bartender from the restaurant by the ass. He surrendered the entire Camarilla out of fear. The sorcerer, without thinking twice, came to the local club, where the whole gang was drinking that day, and this club was the father of one of the majors. Well, he pressed the group. He was a master of air and fire, beyond biotic techniques. And the dad who was in the club, that dumb deer, tried to bribe and intimidate the guy at the same time, and he lost his mind. And since there was no one else in the club at that time except these clowns, he took them all down: merzyukov, daddy, and daddy's guards. The locals heard these freaks screaming as they died, the cops were called, they cordoned off the club, and let's offer the guy change. Anyway, the rope was already shining on him, and he sent them. They came running to us, Cap went and talked to him, and sent all these freaks to such and such a mother. You've started this mess, he says, and you're clearing it up. And the guy wasn't going to give up. The cops refused to storm the building. And one of the bastards' dads hired mercenaries. Two platoons entered the club, two platoons... The fight went on for four hours — and back, out of fifty people, five came out, the rest stayed in the club forever! For the company of our boyfriend. Eh... what a guy he was! Our landing party commemorated them both every year....

Because of their power and rather cold nature, as a result of working with the implant, ordinary soldiers call biotics sorcerers, witchers — and they don't really like them. Biotics, in return, pay everyone else in the same coin. In addition, very often biotic people are elemental magicians and possess at least the rudiments of the gift of foresight. This makes them a very dangerous opponent at the level of the Asari paratroopers.

Four years ago, as soon as she arrived and looked around, Noirin laid eyes on our city sheriff. William Grayson, a lone former high-security investigator from the Ohio State Police. While working on a case, he managed to cross the path of someone from the powerful of this world. They staged a real hunt for the law enforcement officer: they killed the bride, made false accusations of all mortal sins. When the cop was completely desperate, he accidentally came to the attention of one of RM's human resources agents — God only knows how he got to the States. The corporation helped William fight off the charges and took him to Mendoir, out of harm's way. Here he was put in charge of public safety in Leonov, and he quietly moved away from what had happened in his life. Local unmarried gossips made eyes at the gloomy handsome sheriff with terrible force, but for several years he remained cold to their advances, apparently mourning the bride who died on Earth. Ноирин liked Bill very much right away, and she, in the best traditions of the landing, staged a real assault — as a result, six months later, after a sluggish flutter, our sheriff, to the universal grief of the gossips, was dragged down the aisle, and now sparkles with a gold bracelet on his right hand. And the coach has found a little feminine happiness, and she is already pregnant. Gossips, of course, sometimes hiss about a blue, lame witch who brazenly stole "such a guy"... and azari just laughs. Good girl! Ha, those fools would have been snapping their beaks even longer! Our coach is a real paratrooper. "Where we are, there is victory!" is about her.

Last year, I mastered the entire range of biotic effects of the Asari landing with her, and even those techniques that Noirin herself cannot use due to restrictions on the capacity of the biotic channel. But she was able to remember them and showed them to me. These are mainly effects of mass application, such as a deformation field or a detonation wave. So far, I've only used them on the training ground. Delight! The impressions are the strongest, the Azari girls were also impressed. Especially from the wave of detonations: a solid wall of explosions, fifteen meters wide, and pieces of plastic target containers flying in different directions, and dust clouds. I hear someone whispering behind me: "Strong red! They're like weapons of mass destruction!" Otherwise, we Shepards are like that!

He began to train elemental spells of mass destruction at the training ground. And an air spear. It's a powerful thing.

I'm twelve. The body is slowly changing, and I feel that the rate of change is increasing. Nasar and Azanti are growing and changing, only Azanti is changing more slowly, she is, in fact, still a child. Batarians grow up a little slower, but at this age it is very noticeable, especially in contrast to Nasar — Turians grow up faster than humans. A friend already quite resembles a guy and no, no, and casts glances at the girls.

Yes, the guys and Aliska Selezneva joined our company. The guys, as you might guess, are Alex Hartmann and Feron Tanris. Hartman, Nasar whispered to me, had a crush on Aliska. Too bad, the Citadel has opened ... otherwise I do not know! How we giggled when we overheard Joseph talking to his neighbor at the Galamarket, a fellow farmer, but a Turian named Mashkur Jarvis, the father of my twin classmates, which is incredibly rare among Turians. They stood at the counter of a small cafe in a megamarket and looked into the hall. Azanti, Nasar, and Aliska, I were sitting at a table eating ice cream, and they didn't see us.

"Listen, Joe, your youngest son has been visiting the Seleznevs a lot, but he's hanging out with their girl and her friends all the time. Have you fallen in love?"

"Don't tell me, Mashkur, you've fallen in love... He follows the redhead around like a chick on a string, looking into her mouth. I just don't know what to do with it."

Aliska was red-haired like me, but the shade of her hair was more orange. And the eyes are blue.

"Have you tried to talk? It's kind of early, they're only nine years old yet.... What about Aliska? How does she feel about you?"

"She needs him like muklik needs a brake light! She's an army bone — all the relatives are in uniform! Vaughn's father is a military surgeon. If the girl goes to the corps in five years, they only saw her. If he does, that's at least thirty years in the Navy! What kind of daughter-in-law is this? So I think it's nothing! Her character is like steel! Take one into the house, and in a month my whole farm will be marching and saluting. Well, fuck it! I've had my fill of all this stuff in the Navy... even at home, like in a barracks! A wife should obey her husband, not the other way around. And this one will obey, wait!"

"Do you think it will pass by itself?"

"It will pass. As soon as the sweetheart leaves for Earth, he will forget about her. Not right away, but he'll forget. And that's good. I'm a farmer, Mashkur, just like you, my job is to plow the land and feed the people. And theirs is to protect us all. And my awesome wife needs a farmer to know and love this life. And which of the soldiers is a farmer? You gave it away, Joe! Do you think I'm a bad farmer? Mashkur, what kind of soldier are you? He served the mandatory ten years and then moved here, bought a farm. You say yourself, I grew up on a farm, your father and grandfather are farmers. After all, I also gave ten years of my life to the Navy — my father sent me to the Space Marines at the age of 17. "Go," he said, "and repay your debt to your country, or are you not a man?" And while I was paying back my debt to the motherland, the corporations squeezed the farm from us. I came home and my friend, Liz, the neighbor's daughter, was sitting on our porch and crying. Their farm had been taken away the year before, and the whole family moved in with us. Her father didn't survive it, he died. And mine is really bad too. I came and sat next to her, and she told me everything, and she buried her face in my chest, and she cried even louder. I'm sitting next to her, and I'm so sad, Mashkur... This farm belonged to us, the Hartmans, for 300 years, there's a whole cemetery of my ancestors nearby... and now it's been taken away. Apparently, this is how the motherland needs us.... I've been under bullets for ten years, I came home, and the house was taken away! It's good that I accidentally saw a note about the recruitment of colonists to Mendoir. He married Liz, took her, his mother-in-law, his mother and father, his sister and her husband, and left here. And you know, I've never regretted it! Let's say that Russians have a bad democracy... do you know what, Mashkur? Fuck her, this democracy! Here in the States, it's also strange — whoever has more money is a fucking Democrat... and the Indians still live on reservations, just like three hundred years ago."

"Maybe you're right. My younger brother is going to join us too. He says he'll serve a year and quit. When he arrives, will we help him, neighbor?"

"Of course, we will help! The more farmers, the better! You and I, neighbor, are plowing-plowing, and other farmers are also busy, but everyone is the same — we have to bring a third of the food to the colony. This is not the case! So the society will only be "for" and will be glad to have a new owner on the land, there it is, how much land is empty — it's bad, it needs to be mastered... How about a drink, buddy?"

"Come on! While our wives are shopping and don't see us. Girl, pour us two two hundred vodka bottles, and a couple of pickled cucumbers," Jarvis replied, making a characteristic gesture with his fingers. After all, farmers don't recognize containers smaller than a glass, then or now, and it doesn't matter that it's not Land, and one of them is an American and the other is a Turian. The interlocutors clinked glasses, exhaled, drank and crunched cucumbers.

The heat becomes unbearable, and Nasar suggests going to the backwater to swim, maybe catch crayfish, if the fish are such a bummer. We roll up and stomp to the pool, and in the meantime I remember a conversation two years ago with my grandfather — I was lying at home on the bed, quietly whimpering from the cramping pain in my muscles. Nasar was sitting next to me and stroking my head, flooding everything with sincere sympathy and pity. Over the past five years, pain has been my constant companion. As Uncle Dahi says, "Your body is more flexible, faster, lighter, and stronger than an ordinary person's, and it's already very noticeable, and the pain is the price to pay for such opportunities. Be patient, Igor — by the age of seventeen it should be over." By this time, human boys are ending their period of intense growth and maturation. Until the age of 22, the body will still be forming, but there will be no such pain. Oh, Uncle Dahi made me happy, he really encouraged me...

Grandfather came into my room. He sat on the edge of the bed and asked:

"Tell me, Igor, where are you going? Why do you need all this? Is it related to your dreams? Did you see something there? Answer me, please — I want to understand the reason for this obsession, grandson."

"I won't tell you, Grandpa, this knowledge won't change anything — it will only poison your life. You, Grandma, parents, all of you."

"Are we able to change something?"

"No, Grandpa, nothing depends on us."

"Something can be done anyway. Tell me what?"

"Train us, Grandpa, as much as you can, and we will train with all our might. That's all we can do. We can't do anything else."

"Tomorrow morning at the intersection, both of them. Let's start studying — I'll make up a schedule for both of you, I'll arrange with Tanris. We will teach you seriously, don't you agree? We nodded. Igor, no more amateur activities — you will strictly follow my recommendations, just like the recommendations of Dahi and Ratneitan. Agree?

"Yes, Grandfather."

And then all Hell broke loose. And it continues to this day. Running, knife fighting, shooting with all kinds of weapons, including heavy sniper rifles, unarmed fighting and biotic firing range. Aegich teaches me how to hack all kinds of electronic systems, conduct a proper associative extranet search, and crack data protection systems and locks. Granny — works with reasonable people, conducts a conversation correctly, imperceptibly extracting the necessary information from the speaker, teaches rhetoric and the ability to influence the interlocutor. I just made some adjustments, remembering that my original character couldn't sing or dance in the game. In previous lives, I was able to play the guitar and the flute, plus a completed musical education. But, as they say, that was when it was... and I couldn't dance there either. I signed up for a ballroom dancing class with our Sveta. Nasar and Azanti followed me, only Azanti plays the violin, and my friend plays the kattor, it's such a Turian accordion, with a bunch of small buttons under the claws, it sounds just like an ordinary one.

Dancing didn't work out for me. Sveta taught me how to dance, but I do it mechanically, automatically. "Igor, you don't have a spark of a real dancer in you — you seem to dance beautifully, but without a soul, it's too mechanical and cold", She told me. Well, okay, I'm dancing ... with a knife, though, I'm better at dancing — Master Toliyat is pleased, even praises sometimes. We are lying on a hot stone with Nasar, looking at the holographs that Azat sends me in my toolbox. They show Palaven, his friends in the training regiment, and himself in training armor. It is easy to distinguish it from the usual one — there are no distinctive part icons on it. There is Ali in some of the photos — he is not so stocky, more graceful, with a narrow waist. Unlike Azat, tattoos have already been applied on his face. In a letter, I asked my brother why he didn't have tattoos, and he replied that he was being trained as an intelligence agent. My brother will be a quiet man in the service of Hierarchy. And they don't get tattoos to make it harder to identify. Only before the task, a tattoo is applied with a special paint, which can then be washed off with a special compound, according to legend. And Tam already has a whole pussy with tattoos on his right arm. The youngest is being trained in the Naval special forces, his grandfather's school has taken its toll. Both of them will arrive soon, but only for a month — an official annual vacation. How I've missed them all! When they arrive, we will prepare for the Young Talents competition. I, as befits a real hitman, spent the whole year doing the favorite thing of all hitmen.... Like what? That's right... plagiarism! I remembered good performers of my time and searched for them on the extranet, and if I didn't find them, I shamelessly used their work. I also remembered my old songs, although they are almost all in Northern Irish. He prepared six songs, wrote the score, and arranged the songs into parts. Denis and Alexey — guitarists and vocals, Azat — bass guitar and vocals, There are vocals, I am a flute and guitar, and backing vocals, Nasar is a kattor and backing vocals, Vasil is drums, Azanti is a violin, Bina is keyboards and backing vocals. That's our whole group, with the poetic name "Berry patch", in honor of our village. Oh, let's light up the competition! Aliska and Al are preparing their performance at his farm.