From the Story Arc: Re-Bound

Previous Story in the Arc: Re-Leased by Re-Bear (Monday, August 21, 2006)

Next Story in the Arc: Re-Tribution by Re-Bear (Monday, August 21, 2006)

(posted Monday, August 21, 2006)

Bejouled stormed into her headquarters and slammed the door. Operative Dover sank into his chair and tried to look invisible. He was two months out of training and this was his first real assignment, working for a vicious, psychotic assassin fresh out of Paragon City. He aspired to be like his idol, Operative Vargas. He knew he would have to pay his dues.

"Dover!" Bejouled shouted, "Dover! Where are you?"

"I'm here, Boss," Dover squeaked.

Bejouled went over and spun his chair around. Electricity surged through the room, creating a palpable energy field in the room. Dover swallowed hard. She grabbed him by the throat and pulled him within two inches of her face. He felt his eyebrows crackle with energy and his fillings burned in his mouth. "Dover, what do you mean that we HAVE A BLIP?" Spittle flew from her mouth and burned him like sparks. She tightened her grip. "Tell me we have a misunderstanding, Dover."

Dover meekly pointed toward the biomonitor on his wall. Bejouled tossed him to the ground. She briskly walked over and glanced at the board. Sure enough, the bio information from the Soviet Bear had become lit and active. The monitor could not provide a location, just the information that the subject is alive. Bejouled scowled.

"Dover," Bejouled grimaced, "Get me a bio-scrambler and a DNA card outfitted with the Soviet Bear's information. I am making a trip to Paragon City."


The Soviet Bear crossed the yellow police tape blocking the entrance to his former apartment. There was a policeman there, sitting in his old recliner. He looked fresh and raw, a rookie cop squatting a dormant crime scene. "Ahem, excuse me, Sir," the Bear said politely.

The policeman jumped out of the chair and started reaching for his gun. The Bear put his hands in the air. "I am with CCCP, Comrade. I am here to pick up an item. I have a letter from my Commissar if you would like to read it."

The cop shook his head. "It's OK," he said, "I'm just a bit jumpy."

The Bear nodded. "I understand. I will only be a moment."

The Soviet Bear went directly to his fish tank; his worst fears were realized: Nobody had fed Sparky, the Socialist Fish. He floated on his side, lifeless. The Bear reached in and grabbed his former pet, placing it in his pocket. He would properly dispose of Sparky in a private setting later that night, placing it in Independence Port. He looked around the apartment; everything was dingy.

The Bear's entire life had been dingy. He had liquidated thousands in the Caucauses. He had overseen a factory in Odessa. He had lived in exile. He had lived in squalor, watching television everyday. Everything he had accomplished was attached with a patina of grime. "Thank you, Comrade," he said to the policeman, "I will be going now."

"Umm, see ya," the cop replied, tipping his cap.

The Bear climbed back out between the tape. He would never be coming back to live in this tenement. The Commissars agreed that he could live in the base for a while until he got back on his feet. He patted the corpse of Sparky gently and walked out into the light of day.