[ stubborn. and strong. kazama feels the rifle's heavy weight jolt in his hands, feels the impact it makes against russia's skull vibrate through the metal. it's a blow that would easily knock out most people, even kill someone weak -- and somehow, russia still manages to throw out a solid punch before collapsing. the impact of knuckles into his unprotected side is enough to make kazama double over with a quiet gasp, and he has to fight to keep himself quiet, letting out stifled coughs as he watches russia collapses. a few small twitches before that massive body goes still. thank god. kazama's a trained agent, but he's pretty sure a full-on confrontation would have gotten incredibly ugly.
the first thing he does is get to his feet -- ignoring the dull ache radiating through his chest -- and carefully peek out into the hallways. completely empty. no sign of anyone having heard any commotion. so the door is locked, then jammed shut with a spare chair. it's been drilled into his head, exactly what he needs to do. so kazama's movements are efficient, machine-like, without hesitation, without emotion -- he simply does what needs to be done.
he hefts russia's limp body into a chair -- grunting from the exertion, the effort straining heavily at his bruised ribs -- then gingerly reaches into his jacket. extracts a leather case of medical vials and syringes that he's managed to keep unbroken so far. a knife is used to slice away at russia's sleeve, and kazama injects the contents of the first vial into that now-bare forearm before giving a long exhale. (something to shorten russia's breaths, tighten at his lungs -- render him unable to speak loudly or call for help. deaden his nerves, make it much, much harder for him to move. make him feel numb. he should be able to talk, but anything more would be difficult.) ]
Wake up. [ his voice is low, level, and not entirely disrespectful as kazama grabs a hand at russia's shoulder and shakes him one, twice, firmly, to wake him up. a pause before kazama pulls away the mask hiding his face -- at this point, there's no use keeping it on any more. he waits until russia's conscious before speaking concisely, ] I intend to keep this as painless as possible. Answer my questions without causing trouble and this will be quick.
GUESS WHO ROLLED A NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
the first thing he does is get to his feet -- ignoring the dull ache radiating through his chest -- and carefully peek out into the hallways. completely empty. no sign of anyone having heard any commotion. so the door is locked, then jammed shut with a spare chair. it's been drilled into his head, exactly what he needs to do. so kazama's movements are efficient, machine-like, without hesitation, without emotion -- he simply does what needs to be done.
he hefts russia's limp body into a chair -- grunting from the exertion, the effort straining heavily at his bruised ribs -- then gingerly reaches into his jacket. extracts a leather case of medical vials and syringes that he's managed to keep unbroken so far. a knife is used to slice away at russia's sleeve, and kazama injects the contents of the first vial into that now-bare forearm before giving a long exhale. (something to shorten russia's breaths, tighten at his lungs -- render him unable to speak loudly or call for help. deaden his nerves, make it much, much harder for him to move. make him feel numb. he should be able to talk, but anything more would be difficult.) ]
Wake up. [ his voice is low, level, and not entirely disrespectful as kazama grabs a hand at russia's shoulder and shakes him one, twice, firmly, to wake him up. a pause before kazama pulls away the mask hiding his face -- at this point, there's no use keeping it on any more. he waits until russia's conscious before speaking concisely, ] I intend to keep this as painless as possible. Answer my questions without causing trouble and this will be quick.