Memory of Love: An Eroica Romance 4/?
Disclaimer: I do not own From Eroica With Love, nor its characters. No infringement is intended and no money is being made of this fic.
Rated M for violence and sexual content.
I couldn't find the name of the group of criminals that Dorian is a part of, so I made it up as well as the leaders name. If anyone knows the proper name please let me know and I will change accordingly.
Klaus may seem a tad ooc but, I figure between his injury, anger and guilt, he wouldn't be as in-your-face as usual. I tend to think a quiet Klaus is even more dangerous. Feel free to comment.
There was a fog covering the ground and a wetness in the air, which perfectly matched Klaus' mood. A storm was coming and most people were hurrying indoors before the downpour truly began. With sure measured steps Klaus entered the Rutting Bull, a hole in the wall bar where the Russians often gathered. It was not however a KGB owned meeting place, so NATO had been forced to ignore the ill-located bar as a legitimately owned business. Even their taxes were payed on time, so there was nothing to hassle the owners about.
If NATO had been looking into the shooting itself, Klaus would never have had the need to enter this KGB-infected hell hole. He would have had the whole intelligence department at his disposal. He was sure that his superiors would not be pleased, but they would have no recourse, since he was acting as a private citizen and not an agent of NATO. This wouldn't help his career much in the long run, but the Major never wanted to be a corporal anyway. He'd blow his own brains out before he would ride a desk into retirement.
Klaus was only a few steps inside the doorway when the chatter ceased completely. Even the jukebox seemed to fit the menacing atmosphere, he had no idea which song it was but the guitars were dark and as he walked further inside seemed to reach a crescendo. Klaus took a quick glance around and realized there were no civilians around at that time of day before he reached for his magnum.
"We don't want any trouble here." The bartender/owner told him calmly keeping his hands flat palm-down on the counter in a nonthreatening gesture.
"As long as I get the information that I need, there will be no trouble." Klaus sneered disdainfully, glaring around the room making sure to meet everyone's eyes. Reaching into his pocket he removed the truth serum and clunked it down on the bar counter, then slowly pushed his jacket up and unsnapped his shoulder holster, placing the gun within easy reach next to the vial. Klaus hoped that the showmanship would be enough to convince the commies to talk because he wasn't altogether sure he was up for any more vigorous interrogation techniques.
"Who do you think you are coming in here and threatening us you kraut bastard?" A large blond mad snapped from his right ignoring his countrymen attempts to quiet him. Klaus sighed tiredly before grabbing the blond's arm and forcefully slamming his skull into the mahogany counter. He fell to the floor with a grunt, his forehead opened up and bleeding down his face.
"My mother was in fact married to my father when I was conceived." Klaus commented as he casually used a nearby towel to clean the blood off his fingers. He pulled the binding in his hasty movement and if he was not mistaken had re-injured his shoulder. Thankfully the dark jacket would hopefully camouflage any blood. "Now then, I am in need of information about a hit contracted against me earlier this week. In the process a NATO contractor was shot."
"I heard the blond faggot got shot." A friend of the blond idiot on the floor sneered. Klaus fingered his magnum fondly.
"Did you?" Just as Klaus had pushed himself upright and began to walk toward the newest troublemaker he felt a heavy weight on his injured shoulder. It was all Klaus could do to soften the pained yell into a soft hiss.
"That will not be necessary, Eberbach." He would recognize that arrogant drawl anywhere.
"Mischa!" Klaus growled through clenched teeth turning to face the other man.
"There is no need for further bloodshed." The Cub nodded toward the blond who was now using napkins to clean his face. "The KGB is not responsible for the shot at you, nor for the injury to your... partner."
"He is not my-"
"Yes, yes. Of course, Major." Mischa answered nonchalantly, pulling a file from his overcoat. "The KGB is not foolish enough to make an outright enemy of you and you can be sure if we tried to kill you your skull would be splattered all over the walkway. At the very least we wouldn't have left unless you were dead, comrade."
Klaus did not know whether to take that as a compliment, but chose to focus on the important aspect of that statement. He pulled the file from Mischa's hands and opened it giving it a quick once over.
"Count Misovitch." Klaus growled softly.
"Head of the Criminal Syndicate."
"I will validate this of course."
"Why?" Klaus asked in confusion after replacing the vial and gun in his jacket.
"Eroica is a civilian contractor. There were many other opportunities to kill you without involving him."
"Hmm." Klaus grumbled as he strode out of the bar. The Cub confused him, perhaps there was a bit of honor to the commies after all. Even so that wouldn't stop him from punching the Cub a few times the next time they met. He still owed Mischa a few for Alaska, the commie bastard. "Z. Eberbach. I need to check some information for me. Count Vetric Milovitch. Yes him. As soon as possible. I will be at the Schloss."