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StagsviewRB

The Black Fox

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Your radio flickers on, the sound of wind comes over your radio when suddenly the wind gets rudely abrupted by the sound of a rope being tightened, it is followed by a short silence and more wind in the background before you hear footsteps that seem to be going away from the radio. A heavy voice comes on. Its accent sounding Slavic, he speaks calm and collected. His voice gives an air of confidence and cold-bloodedness. “See this as your last chance to speak sobaka.” He says.

 

 

The radio waves get filled with more wind, there is a heavy feeling being portrayed, your heart sinks as you realize what it might be. The wind seems to last for an eternity before suddenly the breathing can be heard, it sounds accepting but also defeated, before shortly after a man with a Chernarussian accent breaks the wind like the tightening of the rope had done before. He stumbles out a few words, sometimes stopping in between, trying to collect his thoughts, battling the inevitability of his situation “I know you can hear me, congratulations, you played the card I never saw coming, well played” he takes a moment to collect his thoughts before he gets agitated, before that last bit of life tries to find it's way out, as a scream perhaps or maybe a pleading to please let it be a nightmare, he continues but this time more resolute, more certain about what he needs to say “The word traitor really does fit you well tho doesn’t it”. The wind fills the gaps between the sentences. “To anyone that hears this broadcast take note do not trust the woman by the name Laska, she is a Russian sympathiser, foreign lover and a traitor to her country” He stumbles out the words, filled with disbelief, anger and a hint of acceptance that he was betrayed. But he calms slowly and inevitably settling on his last words, the last words he would ever fill the world with, fleeting like a memory of a place; of a story; the few that knew it would never forget, he breathes in a last time and speaks. “I’m coming home Jitka, I’m coming home” 

 

The sound of a push comes through, so much happens at once, the sliding of the rope over the edge, the agonizing scream of a man falling and inevitably the snap that halts the fall.

 

The soft gurgling of what was once the life of a man that most likely was full of love and hope, dreams and believes, fading. Before it gets interrupted; by a sinister laugh, the voice almost sounding pleased with itself speaks the next few words. "The job is done Vasyli, I killed the fox your lady friend wanted dead" The sound of the wind takes over as the choking sounds disappear leaving only footsteps and wind before the radio abruptly cuts off again with the familiar sound.

 

//For all that travel to Dubky, there would now be a body hanging from the roof of one of the apartments, a rope attached to the ladder used to climb up there. The body hangs about two floors down, it seems to be a male in his mid-twenties.

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A Chernarussian voice comes across the radio waves.

"Laska is not the "traitor". Vania is mistaken."

The voice fades away leaving a brief static before cutting to silence.

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