Konrad had to find someone by a nickname alone.
And it happened to be the most nondescript one to ever exist in a war zone.
Strelok. Shooter. Rifleman.
What was he supposed to do now?!
"Anything else you know about this guy of yours?" the Captain asked, his business-like smile already fading. "Like, his real name or at least his nationality. No way to find him without those."
Yeah, he had already figured that out.
"Strelok is the only name I know," Konrad said, dejected. "And that he flew here from Japan."
The officer furrowed his brows, scratching the back of his head.
"We didn't get any Japanese," he claimed. "I doubt we've got anyone from Asia in general. But the Legion's brand new. Those guys arrived from Finland yesterday. That one's a Brit, and—"
"No, no," Konrad shook his head. "He was born and raised in Ukraine, but worked in Japan."
He should have clarified that earlier.
"Ah," was all the Captain had to add now.
It was a long, frustrated sigh while he rolled his eyes.
"Then you're in the wrong place, Sir. This is the International Legion. For volunteers from all over the world. If the guy you're looking for is a returning citizen, he'd go to the army."
Right. Well, that made a lot of sense.
Why didn't he think of that?
"Yeah, okay, I see," he mumbled, fishing for his phone in frustration. "That's my bad."
19:30. It was official.
He hadn't achieved anything all day.
It was unlikely that he'd get himself booked with the army this evening.
Could he even pass their screening? Or did his question break any OPSEC rule?
A cold chill ran down his spine.
"Um, well, sorry for wasting your time, then, Captain," he kept mumbling as he took a hesitant step backwards. "I should've done a deeper investigation before I flew here, but—"
"What's the story?" the soldier asked, giving him a pause. "The reason you're chasing this guy."
"Ah, that," Konrad forced a laugh, caught off guard.
What could he have said to that?
A reincarnated hitman decided to screw what the heavens wanted and came home instead?
That he needed allies to fight Lucifer?
What story would be worth chasing for a journalist coming here all the way from Japan?
"All I know is that he had a juicy job in Tokyo," Konrad ended up improvising. "And when he heard of the invasion, he threw it away to return home, and, um—yeah. That's pretty much it."
The captain's stance changed.
"So it's a story about a patriot," he summarised, straightening his back. "I see. Not bad."
He gazed into nothing for a while, and Konrad didn't want to wait for that. He checked his phone again, but time could feel slow even when Gabrielle wasn't messing with it.
It was still only 19:35.
Not that he got any closer to his goal.
Should he have gone already?
Or fake an interview in case someone had heard about Strelok by chance?!
Those volunteers decided in his stead when they approached with measured steps.
"We're getting a musical performance, or something?" a private with a German flag on his shoulder and a thick accent asked. "Or does he, like, have a weapon hidden in that thing?"
He pointed over his head, and it took Konrad a moment to figure out what he meant.
His guitar case. He had to bring it along, since he had nowhere else to put it.
He had booked no hotels yet, not even thinking that far ahead.
"Right? I've been wondering about the same thing," the Captain joined in, crossing his arms and tapping his chin. "Are you a musician or a journalist at the end of the day?"
And ding, ding, ding—
Leaving would have been the correct answer.
Well, too late for that.
"Ah. Haha," Konrad took another step back, only to bump into a flanking soldier. "A journalist, of course. But I came here straight from the airport, and I didn't get to drop this thing off."
"Journalist?" a Finnish volunteer asked. "We're getting interviewed already?"
"Is it going to be on TV? And—you never said if you are playing after all?"
As a journalist, shouldn't he have been the one to ask the questions?!
"I do, but I'm not that good," he said, raising his hands. "It's, like, my emotional support guitar."
And the Captain answered the other question before he could.
"You guys are no good for him," he joked. "He was looking for a Ukrainian patriot who flew home all the way from Japan. But as much as I'd like to help, he's in the wrong place."
Yeah, and he wanted to leave, so why were they still surrounding him?
Tired as those soldiers seemed, they laughed.
"If you want to interview patriots, look no further than the Captain," the British guy said with a grin. "He's a pretty big deal, but I'm sure every journalist knows him already, right?"
"Enough of that," the officer in question flashed him a glare.
Was he actually some big dog?
Konrad had no idea.
The others were still more interested in his guitar, too.
"So no guns?" a Finnish guy asked, disappointed. "Who even puts instruments in a guitar case?"
His comrade hollered.
"I guess everyone, except the Captain's namesake. That movie's kind of a classic, though. And now I'm wondering if our AKs would fit into that thing or nah?"
The Captain's namesake? Who? What?
Should he have looked into the military leadership to make his background believable?
Konrad didn't even check the officer's nametag until now.
Cpt. Bandera. Okay, he might have gotten that joke.
"Desperado?" he asked. The only title that could fit the bill.
A weapon in the guitar case.
"That's the one," the Finns laughed, one of them slamming his shoulder. "Good to see that kids these days still watch those old classics. Damn, the female lead was so hot in it."
Kids? Old classic? Those soldiers could have been no older than thirty.
But of course, his new vessel looked much younger.
He kept forgetting. Especially since the last time he saw that movie, he was still living in his old body. Was it twenty or thirty years ago? For the spirits, he felt old now.
And he was, too. But he wouldn't let them know.
"Anyway, yeah, I play sometimes, but I'm not that great," he said while taking another step back.
"That's fine, man," the British soldier nodded. "I kinda wish I brought mine, too. Play a little metal to let out some steam. It's like, all you do is pluck the strings, and it recharges you, right?"
Oh, it sure did.
But Konrad doubted they would have the same meaning in mind.
"Yeah, uh, sure, so anyway—"
For some reason, he wanted to get out of there, and fast.
It was only a hunch, not even Lily's warning, but—
Something bad was definitely coming.
"I should go," Konrad said, clearing his throat. "Thanks again for, um, pointing me in the right direction, and sorry for wasting your evening. Stay safe out there, and whatnot."
He managed two more steps and another nervous glance at his phone.
19:38.
Nope, the counter flipped to 39 right as he was about to lock the screen again.
And it felt like the entire sky above him shifted.