First Shots

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**Author's Note:** This is the third part in a 4 chapter series. It is highly recommended you view the prior two parts before reading this to avoid any confusion. A link to the first part can be found [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/collective-punishment >here<]
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[[<]]

**Mikhail Kurdin:** Per majority vote, the Pan-Nälkä Congress officially declares itself enemies and be of the Global Occult Coalition and the "Veil" system, as well as the co-belligerents of all groups who oppose it.

//[Applause erupts across the room, lasting over a minute]//

**Mikhail Kurdin:** Thank you, everyone. With that, I officially close the first session of the Pan-Nälkä Congress.

//[END LOG]//

[[/<]]
[[/div]]

"So...we're partisans now, eh?"

"Well, not yet, no. The armed wing and its command will take a couple of meetings to establish, besides-" Mikhail was cut off as his partner pulled him in for a hug.

The next morning, the two awoke in each other's embrace while the first rays of sunshine crept into the stalinist-era apartment. Both were hungover, an empty bottle of vodka still resting on the table next to the bed-couch. Outside their apartment, the first snow of the year fell.

The two sobered up by the next hour, threw their trash out, showered and both got ready to leave. Mikhail for his desk job, Volya to the repair shop. As the two were about to go, however, Mikhail heard the question.

"So, Comrade Che, what are our first targets?" His partner asked, putting on a coat. "I know, still working on it, but we will have to start with something...you know, a commander, or other important guy".

"Well, we...do not have much intelligence. We'd go to Portland's, but..."

"But? Thought they hate the Gock's there. Plus everyone there knows everything!"

Mikhail audibly sighed at that and looked down, sliding a shoehorn into his boot. "Coalition got Portlands. They're shooting anyone who goes in or out. It might as well just be a big concentration camp in there".

"Ah." Volya nodded, seemingly unfazed. "Any other sources?"

"Enu said she knows of a few Coalition informers in La Rue. We've got a plan to take them prisoner and make them tell us where other units are. Aside from that..." Mikhail looked down, at his shoe. An idea ever so slowly crept into his mind. He smiled, then looked up. "Well, I was contacted by the...Security Protectorate, I think they call themselves? A large anti-GOC group. They told me a member of them could meet me in three weeks and provide intelligence."

"And when were you planning on tackling those informers in La Rue? I assume you want to "interview" them yourself."

"...Also in three weeks."

Mikhail paused, only now realizing how the dates lined up. He had to either delay the operation, or the meeting. Neither of which he could allow, given how precious the time was. That is, until Volya spoke.

"I could take care of it. I'm sure you're tired of all this diplomacy, eh?"

-----

[[=]]
//**THREE MONTHS LATER**//
[[/=]]

-----

Once more, he had to say goodbye. For a shorter time, of course, but Mikhail's heart still hurt as he waved back to his partner, unsure if he will return in one piece. At least he knew Volya will, for the first time in a good while, not be putting his life in danger.

The tunnel was moist and cramped, as before, though rather than the relatively cool and prestine meeting room, it led to a place of the same warmth and humidity. At least Mikhail wasn't being crushed from all sides by meat, however. Having escaped the tunnel, he looks again, seeing the near-endless swamp.

"You are Mr. Kurdin, yes?"

A young man, dressed in rags and with a ritual knife attached to his belt, approached him. Mikhail responded with a weak nod, at which the youngester turned around and gestured for him to follow. Stepping onto a small, wooden dock below which floated a collection of bone-crafted canoe sat.

"Are there crocodiles here?" Mikhail asked, as he lowered he very carefully lowered his right leg onto the canoe and carefully establishing balance. A second later, his left leg lifted off the ground...only for him to loose balance and land right in the swampy water below.

"Of course there are!"

-----

Volya made his way down the streets of Moscow, having no idea where he was meant to go or be. He wasn't the one for playing a detective, but it seemed like that was exactly what they wanted from him now. "Find an unremarkable man, in a trenchcoat, you'll know when you see him. Near Prospekt Mira". Pfft! Everyone in this city was unremarkable.

"This is some bullshit..."

He said, sitting down at a bench overlooking the nearby medical university. He was more than exhausted, and here he thought being a diplomat for once would be relaxing. And he hasn't even found the one he was meant to talk with yet! He sighed and looked upwards, at the rapidly descending sun.

"You seem exhausted, young gentleman. Care for a smoke?"

"Uh? Sure." Volodymyr answered, not even looking at the one asking him that. Their british accent was odd, yes, but this was probably a tourist. Pulling a lighter out of his pocket, he snatched the offered cigarette and took a good, long whiff.

"Beautiful city you have here. The Kremlin is so...impressive, up close." The man said, grabbing his own stick of cancer and putting it in his mouth.

"I'm from Saint Petersburg. Who are you, anyways?"

To that, the man smiled. Volya could see him in the corner of his vision now. "You are are aware that could be spiked, right?" THe tall figure, dressed in a dark coat and a grey high hat chuckled as they saw him spit it right out. "But me? I'm Nobody."

Confused, Volya raised his eyebrow and looked more closely at the man. A light stubble on his chin, brown eyes, the face of someone in their late 40's. The most average man he could imagine. He opened his mouth, unsure if he wanted to insult the stranger or ask him what's his purpose, before he was cut off early.

"And you're Volodymyr Udovychenko, I assume?"

-----

"So, Mr. Legba, you are sure these are Coalition infiltrators?"

The old man across from Mikhail shook his head, a smile on his face as he does so. He looks Mikhail straight in the eyes. "You doubtin' me, sonny? Yeah, I saw them weirdos snoopin' around, stickin' they noses where they don't belong. So I go up the one of them' shacks, and guess what? All there, talkin' about sendin' photos to some "Undersecretary". Ain't that what they call the one in charge of the coalition, hm?"

Mikhail nodded in response. "It is. In that case, we can't thank you enough, Mr. Le-"

"Ain't no Mister around here. Papa Legba, they call me."

"Understood."

Mikhail turned back to his "party". It was made up of members of both the Natau family, as well as Sabatier's from the Dark Lodge. There were 6 of them, 7 if he was to include himself. He struck a mosquito that landed on his shoulder, before taking a deep breath.

"Everyone remembers the plan?"

"Of course! Joules and I hold the Nolänya, Aledai guards us, Julie, Elise and Adrien wait on the other side."

Mikhail look at the two in frustration, as they swung around the mass of flesh with a barnacle-like opening at the top, its brown and slimy tentacles still flailing around. "You don't hold it, you'll paralyze yourselves. You point it at the blue's, then you let go of it. Is that clear?"

The 20-something Natau member rolled his eyes and let out a simple "fine", before laying the creature down. Mikhail really didn't like how they were handling it, he knew how much trouble they would have with Abraxas should they damage one of their toys.

"Before ya go, young man, have this" He handed Mikhail a large, metallic object. Looking down, he saw a revolver. It was an old looking one, clearly with at least a hundred years. Together with it, Lega handed him a packet of ammunition. He was about to decline, before the elder shushed him. "Now, now. Know what'cha gonna say. As I told'ya, I don't want no mess around these parts. But if it turns to one, I'd rather have ya people walking out in one piece, than in a dozen, and ya don't seem like one to go swordfightin' and stabbin'. Understood?"

Mikhail simply nodded, eyes still fixed on the gun. It was true, he didn't know how to use bone spear or other traditional weapons. Neither had he any idea on on how to shoot.

-----

"An interesting story you have told me, Mr. Udovychenko. This Ion fella seems like a noble gentleman..."

Hearing that produced an annoyed groan from the man. "Just call me Volya, sir" He said, throwing the half-burn cigarette onto the sidewalk before them. "Some of us think he's still here, or that he's gonna return soon. He's sure taking his sweet time if so, blyat"

"It's funny, Mister Volya, this is not the first time I have met those who use the magic of their ancestors and await patiently for the return of their leader. Those folk in Obskura sure are-"

Volya looked at Nobody with a killer's expression, hearing that. If he was caught in any worse mood, he would have punched this "Nobody" right there and then. Instead, he looked as the man slowly raised his hand in a defensive gesture.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to offen" He shook his head, extinguishing his own smoke against the bench, before throwing it into the nearby bin. "I have to say, up until now, you didn't seem like the most...devout man, why is that?"

"We're not a religion you're "devout" to, we're a movement" A chuckle escaped Volya, before he looked down. "My partner convinced me to join, those 6 years ago. It seemed...very weird, at first. Cannibalism, flesh magic, living temples. But...they're good people! I would say."

Nobody gave him an uncomfortably warm, long smile as he said that, before shaking his head. Placing his hand on Volya's shoulder, he finally spoke. "Not the first time we've heard of the Nälkä, Mr. Volya"

He furrowed his brow at that, waiting for Nobody to follow up on that. Instead, the mysterious man just took his hand off of Volya's shoulder and reached under the bench, putting a briefcase on his lap. "But I see we've made some assumptions we shouldn't have. Seems bias can't escape even our enlightened few, can it?"

"Huh? Thought we kept ourselves from people well enough. Didn't know half of the veil knows us already"

Nobody shook his head. "Just one of us knows anything in specific. He calls himself a "Mekhanite", I believe"

-----

Night in La Rue was even worse than the day, Mikhail now realized. Walking through the vermin infested swamp with just a single flashlight, he was bitten by more mosquitos than his regenerating body could handle, and that was after covering himself in mosquito spray! The others didn't seem to suffer the same fate, their bodies flesh-shaped in order to repell the insects of the swamp. He should have asked them what rituals they used for it.

Finally, they saw it. The shack of the spies, surrounded by trees and standing right at the edge of the endless swamp that surrounded the pocket dimension. All 7 dropped down and began to slowly crawl towards it. Out of the group, he wasn't the only armed member, others carrying their blades and spears. All were to be used as backup. "This will be a bloodless affair", he kept repeating like a mantra.

A man and a woman sat around the campfire, while two more figures were visible inside the shack. The group slowly surrounded them, leaving the only opening in front of the shack. Mikhail waited, with a branch in his hand, ready to break it as the signal to release the Nolänya. In the meantime, he attempted to listen to the conversation before him.

"Got that brew Legba said he'd give?"

"Yeah, yeah. You know, he's a fun one. It sucks we've gotta-"

"Oh, Luke, come on. Don't be saying that, someone's gonna record it and leadership will whoop our asses again"

Just like that, the dialogue was cut short as the two other men exited the shack into the backyard, proclaiming that "Alright! Update sent". Arms shaking, Mikhail put all his strength into breaking the branch. Seconds later, as the group turned in his direction, a screech could be heard behind them. A cloud of yellow spores burst in the air, flying right towards the infiltrators.

The man the group has identified as Luke fell face first onto the ground, without time to run or call for help. Seconds later...nothing happened. The creature let out another screech, but another burst of the yellow fog was nowhere to be found.

"Fucking Abraxas!" Was all Mikhail got to say before shots rang out across the forest, the remaining trio pulling out pistols and spreading out. Just as Mikhail spotted a piece of cover nearby, they began shooting at the tree line. "Retreat!"

As he ducked behind a tree, he could hear that his command fell on deaf ears. Or maybe his team didn't hear him among the gunshots? Whatever was the case, he could see the boy he had scolded before, weilding a knife and having abandoned the unreliable biological weapon, running among the trees and closer to the GOC personnel. Trying to gesture for him to go back, he finds himself under more fire, the tree giving him cover rapidly falling apart.

"Wha-FUCK!"

He heard a yell, followed by the sight of the injured and bleeding Natau member running back, without their knife. The shots cease, allowing him to peak over the cover. The sight of the rapidly swelling and bleeding body of the female GOC infiltrator, running towards her comrades, fills him with equal parts disgust and relief. He could still see the weapon lodged in her back. Seconds later, the body slumps over as it is shot by one of the combatants.

Just as they attempt to withdraw into the shack, a bone-spear impacts one of them, right in the neck and creating a fountain of blood as it tore clean through an artery. Mikhail stands stunned for a moment, before he looks back at the shack, into its windows. The inside is filled with cables and monitors, one showing the words "booting" on its screen. "Of course", he thought to himself, "they're trying to call for backup". And so, he gave chase.

-----

"I see. It's not that you are enemies, but that one side had assumed the other was. Is that correct?"

"I suppose." Volya shrugged. It did take a lot of mental strength not to go into a rant about those god-worshippers and stay objective. "But your ally uh, what was his name?"

"Gibson."

"Yeah, that machine worshipper, he agreed to work with us already, right?"

"After much convincing, yes. On a basis of having a common enemy." Nobody answered, resulting in an awkward few seconds of silence. Finally, he reached under the bench, pulling out a Brown suitcase and sitting it on his lap. "If I may, Mister, what does "Nälkä" mean to you?"

He found himself at a loss for words at that question. He never really considered it since joining NNM.

"I suppose...brotherhood?"

"Hm?"

"Knowing there are others, with the same goals. You know, making people immortal, healthy, feeding everyone. It's just good to know others want that, and are trying to get that, too. Right?" He chuckled. "I'd join even if it wasn't based on the words of some 4 thousand year old anarchist."

"I see" Nobody nodded his head, before looking down at the suitcase. "I believe that is everything I need to know from you, Volya. I will have to discuss it with other members of the council. But until then, I have something for you."

Volya raised his eyebrow.

-----

Mikhail dropped the gun, his hands still shaking and his ears still ringing. The room was filled with the smell of gunpowder, illuminated by the light of error screens and stained with blood. In front of him laid the body of a GOC agent, hand still on the keyboard, with a single gunshot wound to the head. The PC was shot cleanly through as well, while the rest of the bullets broke through they shack's wall

He was broken out of his trance as suddenly, someone touched his shoulder. It was Adonis, the same young Man he saw with bullets lodged into his body, standing in front of him now. His flesh seems to have mended much faster than one would expect.
-
"Is everything okay? I am sorry we didn't-"

"It is okay, I..." Mikhail shook his head. "I just need a moment. Is that one alive?"

He stepped over to the window as he asked, seeing the team pick up the paralyzed GOC agent. His arm twitched as they carried him away, seemingly a sign of life.

"Uh, I think?"

He shook his head, "I am sorry, you've done a great job, you all did. Tell that to the team, alright?"

-----

Volya opened the suitcase in front of him, finding a lot inside. Much more than his brain could process. Coordinates, photos, names and maps. He looked up at Nobody, then back at the suitcase.

"This...we're getting all of this from you, for free?"

"Not exactly. The Protectorate would like to have some sort of guarantee that this won't fall into the hands of the GOC. Where your people are located, where their influence extends, what the Congress' long term goal are. The usual stuff"

"Here and now?" He didn't know the answers to most of that. Mikhail was the one who dealt with history and paperwork. And he was now out there in some swamp on the other side of the globe, working as a guerilla.

"Pardon?"

He shoudn't have asked to switch roles.

-----

[[=]]
//**THE NEXT DAY**//
[[/=]]

-----

"I'm ho-"

Before the tired Mikhail could finish, he would be met with a hug, his face shoved right into his partner's beard and his body almost crushed under his muscle. He gasped for air after being released a moment later.

"Man, I missed you so much. How was it there, Subcomandante?"

To that, Mikhail just gave him a tired smile, before collapsing on a nearby couch.

"Man, I'm not built for military."

Volya sat down next to him, wrapping a hand around him, the laughed.

"Neither am I for diplomacy."

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