Hid From The Presence

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"Karcist Otsem, I can help you", said White Crow.
"I told you, I'm no Karcist!" said Otsem. "Not any more!"
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<< [[[The Past Is Never Dead]]]

A man walked into a bar.

The man in question called himself White Crow. He was thin and pale, with long white hair, although his face still seemed young. He was accompanied by Zhang Wen, a short man with the lean build of an athlete, and Rahab, a muscular giantess so tall she had to duck through the doorway to enter. All three of them were wearing black suits with bulky jackets.

The bar in question was in a village in Siberia, a nameless place in the wilderness that didn't appear on any map. There was little to distinguish it from any other building in the settlement, other than being slightly larger than the surrounding houses, but the residents of the village all knew where to go whenever they didn't want to drink alone. The clientele were all male, middle-aged or older, and covered with the scars and tattoos that were the markers of a life of crime. They turned towards the three new arrivals, surprised to see visitors.

"I'm looking for Karcist Otsem," announced White Crow, in Russian, as Rahab closed the door behind them to keep the cold wind out.

Curiosity visibly turned into hostility, but nobody made a move yet. There were a few glances towards a rough wooden counter, where a tall bald man sat hunched over a drink, and then a long pause.

After draining his pint glass, the man at the counter simply said, "There's nobody here by that name."

Undeterred, White Crow strolled into the room. "That's a shame. Do you know where I could find him?" He remained at arm's length from the bar's clientele, Rahab and Zhang watching his back in a way that made the occupants of the room think twice about approaching.

"Who's asking?" said the man at the counter, refilling his glass from a bottle of methylated spirits. "And why?" From the way his speech slurred, it was obvious he was drunk.

"We are the Serpent's Hand," replied White Crow, dramatically raising his left hand to reveal the head of a black snake inked onto his skin. "We'd like to make Karcist Otsem an offer."

"He retired," said a different man, walking towards the new arrivals. If not for Rahab, he would have been the tallest person in the room. "You should leave."

Zhang quickly stepped between him and White Crow, with the calm confidence of someone ready for a fight, but not enthusiastic about starting one.

White Crow threw up his hands, trying to calm the situation down. The black serpent shifted on his skin. "Gentlemen, please. I'd like to at least tell him what I have in mind first."

The man at the counter turned round, without rising from his barstool, still holding his glass full of industrial-grade alcohol. Although his head was bald, he had an untidy black beard trailing down his broad chest. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing an intricate image of a crucified man on his torso. On closer inspection, the many tattoos that covered his body featured obvious Sarkic symbolism - most notably in the horned cyclopean skull of Orok emblazoned on his forehead.

"You can tell me. Otsem will hear." He laughed, but nobody else reacted.

"Very well", said White Crow. "I'm here to help you with a prison break."

The man stared back at him in confusion. "Break out... who exactly?"

By way of reply, White Crow reached into his jacket pocket, making everyone tense until he slowly and apologetically withdrew only a stack of papers. He began placing them onto the bar, as everyone in the room leaned to get a closer look. The images had been taken mugshot-style, and showed a series of familiar faces, but the man at the counter didn't react until the very last one - a woman with long, dark hair and a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Get out," he said, words slurring as he rose unsteadily to his feet, leaning on the bar for support. Everyone else in the room looked away from him awkwardly, but White Crow maintained eye contact.

"Karcist Otsem, I can help you", said White Crow.

"I told you, I'm no Karcist!" said Otsem, slamming his glass down onto the counter for emphasis. "Not any more!" He took a moment to breathe deeply and compose himself, then looked at White Crow sternly. "What made you come all the way out here to lie to me?" Otsem reached out to grab him, unsure what he'd do next.

Like a striking serpent, Zhang grabbed his wrist, stopping him suddenly. Otsem turned to face him, confused by the strength of the short man's grip.

"Don't touch Crow", said Rahab, in a low voice.

The clientele of the bar rapidly transformed into a menagerie of half-human, half-animal chimeras. Otsem tried to pull his wrist away from Zhang, but to his surprise the man simply let go, leaving him to clumsily fall to the floor with a loud crash. Rahab clenched her fists, standing behind Crow and Zhang with a cold expression that gave even veteran members of the [[[SCP-2408 | Hunter's Black Lodge]]] pause. They had her outnumbered, but none of them wanted to move first.

To everyone's surprise, Otsem began laughing again. "Stop! I fell!" He slowly rose to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. "Don't eat them just for that." He suddenly lashed out at Zhang with his right fist. The smaller man effortlessly evaded, but the smile on Otsem's face stopped him from retaliating.

"He's fast," Otsem said, in an approving tone. Nobody else moved.

White Crow relayed that comment to Zhang in Cantonese. After hearing the reply and hesitating for a moment, he translated. "He says you're drunk."

Otsem laughed again, but sounded less amused. "Of course I'm drunk. That's why I'm here." He sighed. "I'll hear you out. I've got plenty of time. But no more lies."

White Crow gestured to the documents on the counter. "They're not dead, Otsem. The Jailors did execute most Black Lodge members they captured. But they made some exceptions."

Otsem looked at the last file that had been placed on the counter. The photograph attached to it depicted a woman with long dark hair and a mouth full of carnivorous fangs. "And Marianna? She's one of them?"

White Crow nodded. "She's the only Rusalka they've captured alive. They're still working out how to classify her."

Otsem turned to face White Crow, meeting his gaze with intense scrutiny. "How do you know all this?"

White Crow paused before replying. "I did a lot of research, and managed to get my hands on some Foundation documents. I know we can get them back."

"They're not your people," said Otsem, suspicious. "What's it to you?"

"We share a common enemy. There's someone in the same facility I'd like to break out. If we can rescue your people and kill some Jailors in the process... well, I'd consider you an ally. And the Serpent's Hand looks out for their own."

Otsem considered this for a moment, looking around the room, then abruptly refused. "I can't. I was told not to retaliate. To lie low." He picked up his glass, swallowed the remaining liquid, then poured another. "This is as low as it gets." A quick glance at the bottle of industrial alcohol made it clear he'd already consumed enough to kill any ordinary man.

White Crow hesitated again, then said: "The Black Lodge couldn't stop you if they tried."

He quickly glanced around, and Rahab and Zhang tensed, but nobody in the room objected. There was a reason these men had followed Otsem all the way out here.

Otsem did not deny it, but simply said, "Even if they are alive, there's nothing I can do for them. I don't start fights I can't win."

"Neither do I," replied White Crow. "I think you're underestimating what you're capable of."

Otsem's patience was exhausted. "It can't be done. I'm not changing my mind. Get out."

White Crow didn't reply immediately. He assessed Otsem, pondering everything he'd researched about the man, as well as his impression of him now. Otsem was a monster, a violent cannibal who'd spent his life defying the law. But that wasn't all he was. Ruthless gangsters had once referred to him in hushed tones as a "Karcist", and Otsem had accepted their reverence, while carefully avoiding any overt challenge to the leaders of the Black Lodge. When he'd failed to protect his men from execution and imprisonment, he'd willingly gone into exile. He was a proud man, but not a selfish one. He looked out for his own.

White Crow shrugged. "Well, I guess we'll have to change our plans." He turned his back on Otsem as if intending to leave, although a couple of members of the Hunter's Black Lodge now blocked the doorway, one half-wolf and the other half-boar.

"Giving up so easily?" asked Otsem, reaching for his drink. "As I expected."

"No," said White Crow cheerfully. "I'll rescue them from the Jailors without you." He glanced over his shoulder to grin back at Otsem, then said, "Don't worry, I'll tell them I came here to see you first."

Otsem stared at him in disbelief. "You what?"

White Crow turned to Rahab and Zhang, now ignoring the Black Lodge entirely to speak in English. "We'll need to adjust the plan, call in some favours I'd rather reserve for later, but it can be done. Coming here was a long shot, I didn't expect -." White Crow paused, mid-sentence, as Otsem loomed over him.

"You said you didn't start fights you can't win. But you come in here and insult me?" Otsem's Russian was a deep and guttural growl. Although Otsem was six feet tall, his head still only came up to the giantess's chin.

White Crow glanced at Zhang, who was calmly assessing Otsem, then replied quietly to the former Karcist in the same language. "I thought you didn't care."

"I wouldn't be drinking if I didn't care. Tell me the truth - do you really have a plan?"

White Crow smiled. "I actually have several. I just need the right people."

Otsem signed deeply, then rubbed his head. After a tense pause, he started giving orders to his men. "Get these people a table. I'm going to sober up."

He walked past his guests towards the door leading outside.

"I'm not agreeing to anything yet. But if they are alive, we owe it to our friends on the inside to at least hear these people out. When I get back, we'll find out how crazy this man is."

Otsem smiled, with a hunger that hadn't been seen on his face for years.

"He's obviously insane. What I want to know is - is he insane enough to help us?"

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