Downtime in Naarajärvi

Taavi rested in the medical center as the first batch of nanite treatments were being infused in him. The coughing had calmed down to the point that he was breathing again, and he was told that he would need to be kept overnight and a sizeable chunk of the next day for observation. Whispers of an altercation reached him during the staff change between the shifts. If he were a betting man, he'd guess both Eevi and Astrid were butting heads.

They were alike in many ways, but Eevi had seen more in her lifetime. Considering she and Taavi were contemporaries, this ought to come as no surprise - not that Taavi expected Astrid to know either of their ages. The key to putting up with Astrid lay with knowing what was off-limits to bring up and letting whatever she said roll off your shoulders. Her bite was worse than her bark whenever she decided to act.


He awoke coughing the next morning, with a little less blood than before. Tissue samples were taken for him to see if the nanotherapy was having any effect; the process took a few hours for the results to be given. While it looked like some cellular breakdown had slowed, it was overall inconclusive this soon after the administration of nanites; so he'd need to remain until at least noon. His coughing attacks became less frequent, but they were no less violent when they did come up.

By the time noon came about, more tests had been done. It looked like the cellular breakdown had slowed to the extent he most definitely wouldn't keel over in the next few days. The doctors gave him the estimates, and erred on the side of caution. As long as Taavi could continue with monthly treatments, he had roughly two and a half years to live - possibly three, if fortune was on his side. His chances were best, they said, if he stopped with mercenary work.

"Oh, sure...retire from mercenary work and leave you all starving?" Taavi asked derisively. "Thanks for the advice, but I can't do that."

Doctor Nilsson looked at him with a saddened look in her eyes. Taavi took his duty as the town's provider very seriously; well above his own personal well-being. Ever since he had become the mercenary that the town hired out to bring in its income, he cheated death more times than he cared to admit, all while looking it in the eye, unafraid of it coming for him. But those had all been potential deaths that were hazards of his profession; this one was an inevitability of time.

It would be the one death that was impossible to cheat. In any other circumstance, Taavi would accept it without complaint. Circumstances had changed; he met Eevi. A kindred soul who had survived many of the same horrors he did, with about as many psychological scars as he did, but hadn't put them past her the way he had. And even then, there were still old wounds that had been reopened after setting foot in Metsäjärvi.

He had to use what downtime he had to help Eevi move her moral compass's needle to a better path. Once that's done...he'll face his end the only way a soldier can: fighting. When someone lives by the gun, they ought to expect to die by the same. That was an acceptable compromise: use what time he can to help a kindred spirit, and then die a violent end for the same rather than waste away in front of her.

He was discharged at around 2 pm, local time. He was given a few emergency medical supplies for his cough and asked to come in the following week.

No one around him in town was willing to admit just how rough, gaunt, and tired he looked. They saw a dead man walking, but were too polite to say it. Going out near the local restaurant, Taavi spit out a bit of blood before entering.

Entering, the familiar sight of the owner greeted Taavi.

"Good to see you're alive and well, Taavi," the owner said, his hand going through his beard thoughtfully.

"For now, yeah," Taavi said, his voice raspy, deep, with a growl to it. "So, I've been hearing whispers from medical staff. Something went on here?"

"Astrid decided to pick a fight with the newcomer," the restaurant owner said.

"Oh, dear. She would," Taavi said, his voice heavy-laden with a sigh. "I'm guessing she was trying to goad Eevi into hitting her."

"She tried, but...she got hit in a different way," the owner sighed. "The newcomer invoked her father..."

A chill immediately hit Taavi's spine. Old Snorri had been one of the few people Astrid legitimately loved - and she didn't take invoking his name lightly. Astrid would have hit back with a similar family threat. It fell flat for Taavi himself when he and Astrid first met simply because there was nothing he had left that she could threaten. Taavi had been past the point of caring about how someone threatened him.

"How did Astrid hit back?"

"Threatening to grave-dig Metsäjärvi," the owner said.

Was Astrid completely insane? Sure, she didn't know as much about Eevi as Taavi did, but threatening outsiders was flat-out stupid. It's even stupider when the outsider is a Meta. Taavi had sort of hoped that, with him around to give her strong crack-down, Astrid would have learned. But then again, Snorri was still in Astrid's life back then - his finger was no longer on her moral compass's needle. She was more volatile now than she was when her father was alive.

"I'll give both of them a talking-to," Taavi promised. "This shit can't be allowed to go unaddressed."

"I agree," the owner said. "But before you go; you were in the hospital for days now. I imagine you're famished."

"Please, don't bother on my account..."

"No. I insist - it's on the house. Consider it payment for what you do for us all," the owner said with a smile. "Aina, get Taavi settled. And let's get the good dishes ready."

"I...I...yes father," the waitress said before looking at Taavi with a blush. "R-Right this way, Taavi."

Eevi rose from the bed in her new apartment, the first rays of morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar ache in her leg from the bullet wound was a dull reminder of the life she led—a life she had no intention of abandoning just yet. She moved through her morning routine with a practiced detachment, dressing in simple clothes that were functional rather than fashionable. The apartment itself was sparse, a place that still felt foreign, like a temporary stop rather than a home. But it served its purpose.

Before heading out, she paused near the door to listen. The soft meowing from Taavi’s apartment reached her ears, bringing a faint smile to her lips. The sound was comforting in its simplicity, a reminder that life, in all its forms, continued on, indifferent to the turmoil of human existence. She didn’t linger, though; there was much to do.

Opening the door, Eevi stepped out into the cold morning air of Naarajärvi. The town was still waking up, with a few townsfolk beginning their daily routines. Most kept to themselves, offering her little more than a nod of acknowledgment as she passed by. She returned the gesture, not out of politeness but because it was easier to blend in that way. The streets were quiet, the stillness only broken by the occasional sound of a door closing or a car starting.

Her first destination was the local market. The apartment was functional but lacked the basic necessities that made a space livable. She knew she needed to stock up on essentials, and the market was the best place to start. As she walked, her crutches clicked softly against the ground, each step methodical, her movement careful to avoid putting too much strain on her injured leg.

When she finally arrived at the small store, she paused outside for a moment. The building was modest, its windows displaying a variety of goods from food to household items. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and strangers were met with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Eevi took a breath, steadying herself before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The interior was warm, the smell of fresh bread mingling with the scent of dried herbs and spices. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with everything from canned goods to cleaning supplies. A few locals were milling about, their eyes briefly flicking to Eevi before returning to their tasks. She ignored the subtle glances, focusing instead on what she needed.

Navigating the narrow aisles with her crutches was a challenge, but Eevi moved with determination. She grabbed a basket and began to pick up the essentials: bread, some canned food, basic toiletries, and cleaning supplies. The process was awkward, her crutches occasionally catching on the shelves or the edges of the basket. When she finally filled the basket, the weight of it combined with the crutches made her movement even more cumbersome. Each step required careful balance, and she found herself adjusting the bag repeatedly as it hung awkwardly from her arm.

By the time she reached the counter, she was feeling the strain. The cashier, an older woman with kind eyes, gave her a polite smile as she rang up the items. Eevi returned the smile with a nod, not trusting herself to speak as she fumbled to retrieve the money from her pocket while trying not to drop the bag or lose her balance. The transaction complete, she took the bag of groceries with a sense of relief, though the challenge of carrying it alongside her crutches was immediately apparent.

Stepping back outside, the cold air hit her again, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the store. The bag in her hand felt heavier now, swinging awkwardly as she tried to adjust it with each step. The combination of the crutches and the unbalanced weight made her progress slow and somewhat clunky, but she pressed on, her expression stoic.

As she made her way back to the apartment, Eevi’s thoughts drifted to the previous day’s events. The tension with Astrid was still fresh in her mind. There was a part of her that relished the conflict, a reminder that she was still capable of cutting someone down with words alone. But the awkwardness of her current situation reminded her that she wasn’t invincible, and there was a nagging sense of guilt—one that she pushed aside, focusing instead on the physical challenge of making it back home.

Some towns in the United states are so small that they barely had more than 6 people. Goodsprings, Nevada had only 162 as of the 2020 census, for example. Naarajärvi wasn't even twice the population of Goodsprings, being only about 287. The bulk of the population worked the geothermal energy plant, with the rest being split among healthcare, hunting, fishing, and commerce. The values of the place were fairly old-fashion, very slowly catching up to the modern world - while the trend was very slowly changing, traditional gender roles remained for several households.

There were a few greenhouses that saw use in the summer months, but required heating from the power grid come August. They were mostly supplementary sources of food to the shipments they bought from further south. The fast majority of food found in the area came from hunting fauna. One of those hunters was Ingvar Nilsson, the uncle-in-law to the doctor that oversaw Taavi. Heavy, tall, with graying hair coloring his otherwise brown flat top as he was late in his Fifties, Ingvar was something of a mentor figure to those looking to pursue that avenue of life.

His boots crunched in the snow when he noticed the stranger trying to walk on crutches with a bag of groceries. Initially thinking little of it, he decided to come by anyway, since his destination was on the way, regardless. He only got involved when the stranger's balance seemed to be tenuous.

"Careful, stranger," he said, taking a bit of weight off of Eevi's burden as he lifted the bottom of the bag with one hand, his other focused on helping Eevi straighten up her posture on her crutches.

"Okay. I've got your groceries. Ease yourself up, alright?" Ingvar urged in a near-fatherly manner. "I'm Ingvar. Ingvar Nilsson. From your state, I'd say you've stayed at the local hospital - you might have met my niece."

At 6'2" and built like an Olympic power-lifter, Ingvar would project quite an intimidating presence to most people. Despite this, he was a firm, but otherwise well-meaning, military veteran.

"I noticed we were going in the same direction, anyway, so I decided to make sure you got to where you needed to go," Ingvar said. "Where were you walking to?"

"Eevi," she introduced herself, her voice even. "And yes, I was at the hospital. Your niece is... competent." Her tone was neutral, neither warm nor cold, just a statement of fact. Compliments weren't something she handed out easily, but there was a hint of respect in her words. Doctor Nilsson had taken care of her adequately, after all.

As Ingvar adjusted his hold on the bag, Eevi allowed herself to relax slightly. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of kindness without ulterior motives, but something about Ingvar's straightforward demeanor put her at ease. He didn't seem to be the type to expect anything in return for a simple favor.

"I was heading back to the apartment complex," she said, her gaze shifting back to the path ahead. "I’ve got a few things to do before meeting someone later."

She wasn't one for small talk, but there was a sense that this man was someone worth listening to. His presence reminded her of the old soldiers she had known in another life, men who had seen too much, done too much, but still carried on with a sense of duty and responsibility.

"Your town is... different," she added after a pause, her voice betraying a hint of curiosity. "Small. But it seems to function well enough."

She left the statement hanging, unsure if she was inviting a conversation or merely making an observation. As they walked together, the cold air biting at her cheeks, she couldn't help but notice how this small town seemed to operate on its own set of rules, so different from the chaos of the outside world. In a way, it was almost refreshing.

"Thank you for your help," she finally said, her voice softer, almost reluctant to express the gratitude. It was clear she wasn't used to relying on others, but Ingvar's assistance had been more than welcome. At this point is what more personal with Eevi herself. Good Samaritans had better people to worry about than the likes of  her. "I can take things from here though, truly. Thank you and your niece again."

"The apartment complex, huh?" Ingvar said, a warm smile on his wrinkled face. "That's helpful; I was going to go hunting past that area for the local deer. I figured that if we were heading the same direction, I may as well make sure you got back alright."

Among the things Ingvar had on his person was an old M/28-30 rifle (basically, a Finnish-produced Mosin-Nagant) that was a family heirloom of his. His great-grandfather used it during the Continuation War. He survived, and it ultimately ended up in Ingvar's hands. Ingvar was a father himself, but his sons decided to live further down south when they came of age - he would have followed a few years ago if not for the early stages of rheumatoid arthritis kicking in. So, he elected to remain until the weather improved or until he died - and decided to train the younger hunters while he was at it.

"We simply learned to make it function with fewer people than the town was built for. There's very little we can do in leisure time in this town," Ingvar said as he walked with Eevi. "All of us have to pull our weight in some way to keep things going. This used to be a town of about a thousand people before the mass exodus left us with less than three hundred. We have plenty of extra space, and had to learn to make use of it. Almost every building at the edges of town had to be turned into a makeshift bunker - and those always need maintaining. Just about every man - and several women - in this town can do some kind of repair."

He smiled when Eevi gave her small thanks to him, saying, "Like I said: I just decided to help out since we were going in the same area."

The meow sounded from the upper floor, rather loudly, too.

"Ah. Helgi," Ingvar remarked. "Poor girl is clingy towards Taavi; he got her  a few years ago during a vacation in the United States, and she usually stays glued to his side. Hopefully, he'll be by soon. I'll remind my niece of your gratitude."

Elsewhere, the normally thrifty Taavi was chowing down on food like an absolute glutton. Well, "glutton" was an overstatement, but he was really putting away the food into his stomach. He'd been on the field and in the hospital so long, and chowing on canned goods in his apartment so long that he forgotten what a legitimate home-cooked meal tasted like.

He took the usual pine leaf tea, but had a small amount of mead to give it a bit of kick. The restaurant owner's daughter, Aina, had something of a crush on Taavi, based on the blush she always seemed to have when the two of them crossed paths. Taavi simply allowed it to play out, trying to gently hint that he wasn't interested - she was fresh out of her teens and trying to process all of her emotions. He still caught her sneaking a glance at him.

Internally, he sighed. In days before this diagnosis, he would have turned her down because he would have likely outlived her and any children they had. Now...he was a dying man on borrowed time - he couldn't humor her just to leave her behind when he died, be it bedridden or by a bullet. He couldn't do that to any woman.

As he thought, he put the napkin to his mouth as a coughing fit hit him again - it was lighter than the previous ones he had today, but still enough to decorate the white fabric with blood. Aina blanched when she saw the flecks of both red and black on the napkin.

"I'm not contagious," Taavi said once he was able to catch his breath, pulling out about 18 Euro, despite the food being on the house. "Here...sorry about the mess."

Using the booth for support, Taavi stood up and made his way back to his apartment complex at around 4 pm. Astrid caught up to him partway.

"You're out of the hospital," she said.

"Little Miss Obvious..." Taavi trailed. "Look, I've actually been wanting to talk to you."

"If this is about how I treated you...I'm sorry. About the bricks and rocks," Astrid said. "An apology was a long time coming."

She still didn't get it - the stones cast at him were simply a manifestation of a feeling. Namely, hatred and suspicion. The feeling of not belonging. Anyone can recover from bruises caused by tossed stones. The emotional pain of rejection was tougher. Physical pain seemed to be the only type of pain Astrid could empathize with.

"Actually, it was about what happened yesterday," Taavi said. "I'm told you've been stalking one of the newcomers and picking a fight with her."

"She's an outsider, Taavi," Astrid said, defending herself. "You never know what they'll do to town. Outsiders basically killed the town, already, and then - "

"And then I came along," Taavi interrupted her. "I busted myself up bringing it back from the brink, but it's still not back to where it was. And think of it like this: if it works out, she can also help dig us out. It won't work if you give her a reason to want to harm us."

"S-she deserved what I said," Astrid said through clenched teeth. "After bringing up my father..."

"Don't worry," Taavi said. "I'll give her a talking to, later - it's still not an excuse to say what you did and give her ammunition to use against us."

"She still needs to be gotten back somehow," Astrid complained. "There's leftover blood at the butcher's. I can - "

"No. I don't want to hear about a 'period' prank, Astrid," Taavi said.

"Alright, I get the message - don't harm the lover boy's guest," Astrid said.

"L-lover boy? Are you kidding me?" Taavi stuttered out. It was true that he found Eevi to be cute - attractive, even. But they were still strangers, and both hired guns, besides that. Plus, he was a dying man. And he was certain that Eevi was still trying to get her own thoughts on him sorted out.

"G-get out of here, Astrid," Taavi said. "Don't you have range practice to do?"

With a grin, Astrid shrugged and took off, leaving Taavi all alone to walk the rest of the way to his complex.

Eevi and Ingvar walked toward her apartment, with Ingvar helping to carry her groceries as she maneuvered on her crutches. The conversation turned to the community, and how everyone was expected to contribute to the town’s survival. Ingvar spoke with a certain pride about the town’s resilience, highlighting how everyone played their part, even with their limited numbers. As they continued, Eevi decided to share her thoughts on Astrid.

“I understand the need for everyone to be useful,” Eevi began, her voice steady as she carefully navigated the uneven ground. “But that girl, Astrid… She doesn’t seem to fit the mold of someone who’s helpful. From what I’ve seen, she’s more of a dissident than anything else.”

She paused, adjusting her grip on the crutches as Ingvar lifted the bag of groceries a little higher to help her balance. “Maybe she has her uses, but all I’ve witnessed so far is someone who’s more of a headache than an asset. Her behavior… it’s reckless, confrontational. I doubt she’s anything more than a drain on this town’s resources and patience.”

Ingvar listened quietly, his expression thoughtful as Eevi continued. She could tell he was considering her words, though he offered no immediate response.

As they reached the steps to her apartment, Eevi fell silent, focusing on the task of climbing them. She could feel Ingvar’s gaze on her, perhaps weighing her assessment of Astrid against his own experiences with the girl. But whatever his thoughts were, Eevi had said her piece. If Astrid continued to be a problem, Eevi was prepared to handle it in her own way—one that wouldn’t involve the kind of games the girl seemed so fond of playing.

Reaching the apartment door, Eevi noticed the loud meowing from the apartment next to hers, recognizing it as Taavi’s cat, Helgi. She gave a small nod of thanks to Ingvar as they arrived. “Thanks for the help again, you really didn’t need to walk me all the way here.” She thanked him not unkindly. “I’ll be fine from here.”

As Ingvar turned to leave, Eevi’s gaze lingered on the apartment door where Helgi’s meows continued. She couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to the cat, as if it was a reminder of the fleeting connections she had made in this small, isolated town.

She had little time to ruminate and “appreciate” the ties that would bind her to this village. She had a meeting with Eemil to make. If what Ingvar had told her was true then she had a chance to meet Taavi either on the way to or alongside Eemil.

"Astrid is a good spare rifle when hunting," Ingvar remarked when the topic of Astrid is brought up. "Or when trouble like the living dead a few nights ago starts knocking. Beyond that, she stays out of trouble for the rest of us, but has to be put in her place when newcomers come in. Taavi has been surprisingly patient with her; he amazes even me with how he treats her, given how she treated him in the beginning. Then again, he probably has more on his mind than petty revenge."

When Eevi assured him that she'd be alright from here, Ingvar gave a nod and smile, saying, "Take it easy, Eevi. I'll be back with some meat for the town before the storm kicks in."


When he got to the apartment complex, Taavi paid the landlord for the next six months in person. Concerns over his cough came up, but Taavi assured him that he wasn't contagious - it was, after all, a long-coming consequence of his powers. The Lich Queen simply jump-started the breakdown. Clearing his throat as he got to the second floor, he wiped the blood off an a handkerchief.

The familiar meow of his cat came from his apartment, and he smiled. His cat was a little under middle-aged by feline standards, being a black-silver tabby Maine Coon of about six years of age. He got her off an old lady who was entering hospice and could not properly care for her anymore. By pure happenstance, the old lady had also moved to the United States from Finland and also held dual citizenship, just like Taavi. And she lived in Maine specifically because the winters reminded her of the Lapland.

In that sense, she had been very much like Taavi, who still owned a coastal cottage in Maine.

His key went into the lock and he opened the door, greeted by the unblinking face and green eyes of his cat, Helgi. She rubbed up against her, marking her territory with a purr. But almost immediately after that, she stood on her hind paws and pressed up against him. It was as if she sensed what was wrong with him.

"Hey, girl..." he trailed, combing his fingers through her fur. Knowing that he's on borrowed time, he wondered which of them will pass away first - him or Helgi.

Eevi closed the door of her apartment behind her, the dull click of the lock a small reassurance in the quiet of the hallway. The sound of her crutches echoed softly as she made her way down the stairs, each step measured and careful. The pain in her leg was a constant companion, one she had grown accustomed to, but the ache seemed to intensify with the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Naräjärvi was not unlike Metsäjärvi, she realized. The parallels between the two towns were unsettling. Both were small, insular communities where everyone knew everyone else, and the arrival of a stranger was enough to set tongues wagging. In her old life, she had walked the streets of Metsäjärvi just like this, without crutches, without pain, and without the burden of memories that weighed her down now. The similarity gnawed at her, a reminder of the life she had lost and the home that was no longer hers.

She could still see the faces of her old neighbors, the way they would nod in greeting or stop for a brief chat. There had been a sense of belonging in Metsäjärvi, a comfort in the familiarity of it all. But there had also been a suffocating closeness, a sense that everyone’s eyes were on you, watching, judging. That was why outsiders were always the subject of gossip; because they were different, because they didn’t fit into the mold that the town had created for itself. It was the same here in Naräjärvi, with Astrid’s hostility toward her, the whispers behind her back, the cautious glances.

Ingvar’s words lingered in her mind as she walked the quiet streets. He had spoken about Astrid with a mixture of fondness and frustration, a common sentiment in small towns where everyone had to learn to tolerate each other’s quirks and flaws. Taavi, too, had shown an unexpected patience with the girl, something that surprised even Ingvar. It made her think of her own struggles with forgiveness, with letting go of the past.

But this town wasn’t Metsäjärvi, and she wasn’t the same girl who had once wandered those familiar paths. She had seen too much, done too much, to ever return to that innocent state. The memories of her old life, of the people she had lost, were like ghosts that haunted her, always just out of reach but never truly gone. The parallels between the two towns only served to remind her of what she had become, someone who didn’t belong, someone who was always on the outside looking in.

As she neared Eemil’s place, she pushed those thoughts down, burying them deep where they couldn’t hurt her. She was good at that, at pretending that the past didn’t affect her, that she could move forward without looking back. But the truth was that it was always there, just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to break through.

When she reached Eemil’s door, she paused, taking a deep breath. She could feel the weight of her memories pressing down on her, but she wouldn’t let them show. She couldn’t. Not now. She was here to see Eemil, to talk to him, not to dwell on the past. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and steadied herself before raising her hand to knock on the door.

Eemil Jarvi, mayor/administrator/what-have-you of Naarajärvi, was finalizing resupply contracts for the town's militia and negotiating the logistics of the next major food shipment when the knock on the door came. When Naarajärvi was in its economic prime, he had been a member of Professor Anttila's scientific research team. After he died, Eemil found politics to be his real talent.

Sending the necessary requests with the attachment, Eemil closed his desktop to answer the knock. When he opened the door, he saw Eevi there, maneuvering herself on crutches. Moving despite injury...she had the same level of stubbornness as Taavi.

"Miss Väinölä. You ought to be taking it easy and recovering," Eemil said. "What's on your mind?"


A lone man wandered through the woods a few day's hike to the west, under-dressed for the snowy conditions of the region. His duster creaked in the wind and he held his hat down as a gust of wind threatened to knock it off. A sip of whiskey trailed down his throat, providing a warming sensation. Truth told, as a Meta with regenerative abilities, he wasn't much worried about the frostbite that threatened his fingers. He moved eastward with one single-minded determination.

Quickdraw was noteworthy among bounty hunters for never losing his target. That changed back in the 1980s - he captured some blonde-haired, orange-eyed killer for hire. Thought it to be easy cash at the time. The dame turned out to be a lot more resourceful than he had expected, and she ended up getting away. The guards transporting her were apparently killed by being shot, but there was no physical bullet found at the scene, nor were there any shell casings. His quarry could apparently kill without requiring a physical gun.

Imagine his surprise in this long-running game when he heard of someone of exactly her description on a ride over to Finland, having not aged a day. By now, Quickdraw would have thought someone would have done Inkwell in. He immediate hopped a boat with someone who wouldn't ask questions. Back in the Eighties, the price on her head by official sources had been somewhere close to $50,000. Now, it's doubled. A couple of Russian Mafiya jokers were willing to pay $700k if she was brought in alive - half that, if dead. And an anonymous client was offering a whopping $1.5 million for her capture.

Last time he had a bounty that high, he knocked off a certain...leader of the Axis powers back in the 1940s. The price on that head made him a multi-millionaire, and he mopped up a few other high-profile bounties since, too. By modern standards, Quickdraw had more than enough to retire three times over. In fact, he didn't even need the reward money for this bounty. So, why did he keep at this gig?

Really, he did it for the love of the game. And his target here? It was a case of trying to patch up his personal pride, really. Quickdraw didn't really hold grudges, but he much preferred having a blemish removed from his otherwise spotless hunting record. If it didn't work out...them's the breaks. It simply wouldn't have been meant to happen.

Eevi settled herself into the chair across from Eemil, her crutches resting against the side. She winced slightly as she adjusted, the pain in her leg still a sharp reminder of her recent injuries. But she brushed it off, focusing on the man before her.

"Taking it easy isn’t really my style, Eemil," Eevi began, her voice tinged with a mix of wry humor and underlying exhaustion. "I've got a few things I need to talk to you about. And I’d prefer to get them sorted before I go stir-crazy."

Eemil nodded, leaning back in his chair, his gaze attentive. Eevi appreciated that about him—no nonsense, straight to the point, just how she liked it.

"First off," Eevi said, her tone shifting to something more serious, "I need to know everything you can tell me about that girl, Astrid. She’s a bit too much like looking in a mirror for my liking, and frankly, if I wanted to see another me, I’ve got plenty of reflective surfaces for that. I don’t need her in my business. I’m not here to be her mentor or her punching bag."

She watched Eemil closely as he considered her words, noting the way his expression softened, almost like he was choosing his words carefully.

"And while we’re on the subject of curious decisions," Eevi continued, not giving him a chance to respond just yet, "I’ve been wondering why you even needed to hire me in the first place. You’ve got Taavi—seems more than capable of handling things on his own. And let’s not pretend my reputation doesn’t precede me. You could have easily had him collect on the bounty on my head, cashed in, and moved on with your lives. So why spare me? Why go through the trouble of keeping me around instead of just dealing with me like you would any other potential threat? You don't expect me to take the answer that I could help this place make money just like Taavi and be content hmm?"

There was a hardness in her voice now, a demand for honesty. Eevi wasn’t one for flowery explanations or half-truths. She wanted to know the real reason she was sitting here, alive and relatively well, instead of rotting in some unmarked grave.

Her orange eyes, the greatest abnormality about her features, locked onto Eemil’s, waiting, not with impatience, but with a quiet, simmering intensity.

"All townsfolk of Naarajärvi are inherently distrustful of strangers," Eemil said. "But Astrid takes it to its extreme. She was diagnosed at an early age with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Our original idea was to move her to another city, but her family came from the original miners of the geothermal deposits under the town. Moving her and expecting the geothermal power system to remain maintained would have been impractical since her father was one of the most brilliant technicians for the purpose - and he specifically wanted to remain close to her."

"So, we offered a deal - sociopaths are still human, at the end of the day, and it's not unusual for sociopaths to have their own senses of right and wrong - even if said code is considered unusual from the perspectives of the rest of us," Eemil said on the subject of Astrid. "Her folks were to instill in her a sense of community and loyalty to the town. If her father were still alive, this could have been tempered more, but he died a few years back. The code he instilled in her remained a little bit too rigid - any native of Naarajärvi to her is good while any outsider is to be scrutinized and dealt with, if need be. There's little place for nuance in Astrid's moral code. Taavi is trying, but it's been slow going - his resilience astounds me, considering Astrid's first interactions with him have been throwing stones at him. She doesn't really bother him much anymore after all he's done for the town, but it's hard to call them 'friends'. We could relocate her during your stay here, if that's what you would prefer."

Eevi brought up the big question: why offer her work on the town's behalf. Eemil would have thought the answer obvious to someone who took hits for money. He was part scientist, part politician, part economist - all strategist. He banked on Taavi's long military history to take the contracts to keep the town afloat.

Eemil shrugged, saying, "When you administrate for an entire town, you look at every action and predict its consequences - you're looking at the immediate impact for you, while I have to look at the long-term consequences for the town. True, we could kill or ship you off to God-alone-knows-where, but a large chunk of it is pure realpolitik. We could get maybe 2 million Euros turning you in to the right client alive, but that would last the colony maybe a year under current economic conditions. Conversely, we could pay you a portion of contracts as a mercenary - like Taavi's own terms - and stretch out funds for the long haul. It's an economic weighing system of short-term gains versus long-term sustainability. As someone with experience in contracting, I'm sure you've factored in risk and reward before. I've been nothing but honest on that front."

Eemil sighed, adding, "Though he stressed that it ought to be a choice rather than forcing the issue, it was Taavi who made the suggestion to extend the offer - he stressed not to dwell on it if you declined. The big reason he stuck with us for so long is that he was paying back his own medical expenses, and because he figured it would be safer to have an entity at his back rather than to remain independent and invite every gun to face him. As for you...I don't claim to know what goes through his head at all times, but to me, his reasons sounded more personal than monetary. It must sound unusual, considering that he's taken jobs from both governments and corporate entities. And I have considered the possibility that someone would come for you - Taavi has my blessing to guard you while within Naarajärvi's walls."

Eemil shook his head and then said, "You saw Taavi's state as well as I did in the intensive care unit. It doesn't matter that he's out now - everyone knows he's living on borrowed time. If I know him even half as much as I think I do, he'll think he needs someone who can take over for him when he dies - or at least, keep us afloat until we find someone else. As much as I'm hesitant to entertain the notion, given your reputation, it would have to be you until someone else comes along - frankly, you get things done. As detached as I'm making it sound, the economist in me knows turning you in with Taavi gone would be our last resort - something to do only if we had no other choice."

Eemil extended Eevi a hot cup of coffee, saying, "I'm sorry if you don't find these answer satisfactory, but the are the facts."

Eevi took the coffee from Eemil, her movements deliberate as she reached for the sugar and creamer. She loaded her cup with far more than most would consider reasonable, stirring it until the liquid was a pale, sweet concoction. The bitter taste of black coffee was something she had never developed a taste for—too harsh, too reminiscent of things she would rather forget.

She appreciated Eemil’s straightforwardness. He was pragmatic, a man who understood the stakes, and didn’t bother with sugarcoating reality. That was something she could respect. She sipped her coffee, the sweetness coating her tongue as she mulled over his words. The town’s situation was precarious, and Eemil’s approach to it made sense. Cold, calculated sense. The kind of sense that had kept her alive for as long as she had been on this earth.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Eevi took her time with her coffee, allowing the warmth to settle in her, not just physically but mentally as well. This arrangement was something she could work with. There was clarity in it, a defined line of give and take, something she could navigate with ease. She had worked for men like Eemil before—men who understood the value of an asset, who could appreciate the brutal efficiency she brought to the table.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Eevi placed the empty cup on the desk in front of her and leaned back in her chair, her orange eyes still locked onto Eemil’s.

“Astrid can stay,” she said, her tone even, “but the girl had best know her place. If she thinks she can play around with me, she’ll find out just how easy it is for someone to disappear without a trace. I’ve made bodies vanish before, and I can do it again if need be. She steps out of line, she won’t have to worry about Taavi holding her back. A child like her might ponder where to hide a body. Not someone like me though. There won't be one to find if she pushes the right buttons.”

She let that sink in before continuing, her voice lowering as she addressed the more personal aspect of the conversation. “As for the work, I’ll cooperate. I’ll give the town a cut of my earnings, but understand that this is blood money. There’s no nobility in what I do—never has been. If that’s something you can live with, then we’ll get along just fine.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered her next words. This was the part where she laid down the final card, the one that would keep everyone on their toes.

“But once Taavi’s gone,” she began, her voice taking on a dangerous, cool edge, attempting at matching the factual frankness that Eemil had done the decency of sharing with her, “what’s to stop me from killing you and everyone else here? This town is small, isolated. No one would ever know what happened. You’d all be just another set of nameless graves in a forgotten corner of the world. Just like my own home, two towns sharing a fate. Maybe some comfort to the dead finally having company no?”

She let the threat hang in the air, the tension thickening between them. Eevi wasn’t making an idle threat, she was laying out a possibility, a reality that Eemil needed to consider. Her gaze was unflinching, her expression blank and hollow as she waited for his reaction. This was how she operated; clear terms, clear consequences, and no illusions about what she was capable of.

"Then I'll be damned for my decision. Simple as that," Eemil said, acknowledging the threat. "But I get the feeling that you actually respect Taavi enough to not do so. Not after he vouched for you. I have good instincts - that old soul sees something in you that I don't. Now that you're on contract, I have to stick with the cards I have in my hand. It either works out, or it all goes bust. Once you've fulfilled your contract's terms, you're free to walk after that."

The unspoken statement would be there: nothing could really stop Taavi from taking the contract on her if she stopped working for Naarajärvi. Nothing except Taavi's own conscience, that is. For as long as his life held out. Though something told Eemil that Taavi would be hell-bent on trying to keep going past his estimated lifespan. The old boy was nothing if not stubborn.

You're free to walk if you don't mind having Taavi's crosshairs on your back... he thought.

"We'll forward to your apartment a laptop of contracts that are available," Eemil said. "Same we did with Taavi. This soon after the undead invasion, they'll be pretty sparse. You can take the contracts our benefactors offer, or find your own to take. We can intervene if you're in Naarajärvi, but you can't expect a big cavalry rescue if you run into trouble on assignment."


Taavi got up at some point and decided to take a walk through town. Helgi was so well-behaved that she didn't need a harness when the two of them went walking. In town, a very small machine shop stood - in Finnish, the words would read "Virtanen Weapons Repair". It was a side gig Taavi took on to keep himself occupied when he was between contracts and/or vacations. In short, Taavi apprenticed a few residents in small arms repair.

He wished he could say his military misadventures had ended with the Lapland War, but they didn't.

Taavi considered himself a three-time war veteran by virtue of the fact that he didn't serve in any combat theater on the fourth time. He had been fresh out of his wedding and receiving his US Citizenship when the US got involved in Vietnam. He saw the draft coming a mile away and thought he could dodge it by being already enlisted. It worked a bit too well - rather than being sent to fight in Vietnam, Taavi was done with three weeks on-the-job training and instead stationed at Fort Polk. It was renamed into Fort Johnson nearly a decade back - but the horror stories of the incompetence never ceased.

Officially speaking, Taavi spent his entire time in the US Army as a small-arms repair technician, and that lead to its own headaches when you had to manage logistics for six infantry companies. When he became this town's mercenary, he apprenticed several younger men with the knowledge he retained to keep the weapons for the town's militia functioning.

The smell of weapon lubricant hit his nose as he entered. "Jens? Anton? It's me. Checking up on you two," he called.

Eevi watched Eemil's reaction, her expression unchanging, as if she were testing him, pushing to see where his limits were. His response, steady and resolute, was exactly what she had expected. There was a certain cold pragmatism in the way he acknowledged her threat, and she could respect that. It wasn’t often she met someone who could look into the abyss and not flinch.

"Good," she finally said, the tension easing ever so slightly from her shoulders. "I guess we’ll see how this plays out, then."

She knew Eemil was right about one thing: she respected Taavi, perhaps more than anyone else she had crossed paths with in recent years. There was a part of her that didn't want to disappoint him, a part that craved the stability his presence offered, no matter how fleeting. For now, that would be enough to keep her in line, to keep her from letting the darkness in her heart consume everything around her.

The conversation with Eemil left her with much to consider. She had expected cold pragmatism from him, but there was something more beneath the surface, a sense of loyalty to the town and to Taavi that she hadn’t fully appreciated until now. It wasn’t just about survival for him—it was about maintaining something worth fighting for, something that would endure long after they were gone.

With a nod, Eevi stood up, taking her crutches and heading toward the door. "I’ll take a look at those contracts when they come in," she said over her shoulder. "In the meantime, I’ve got some other things to take care of."

With that, she exited Eemil's office, leaving behind the weight of their conversation and stepping back into the cold reality of Naarajärvi. The streets were quiet, the snow crunching under her crutches as she made her way back to her apartment. There was a strange comfort in the silence, a reminder that life here moved at a different pace, one that allowed her time to think, to plan, and to prepare for whatever came next. She even felt a strange, almost blinding, sense of comfort as she walked back home.

Old Lady Katja was one of the oldest residents of Naarajärvi, born in the back half of the Continuation War. By all accounts, she was also blind; not that one would think it, the way she behaved. She didn't travel with a seeing-eye dog, or the distinctive cane that one would expect a blind person to carry. Apart from the fact that she wore sunglasses at all times, even in dim weather, one could easily mistake her for a perfectly normal old woman.

Katja had something of a reputation for being the town's most eccentric resident. She claimed that they guided her. When asked who "they" were, she would often interchangeably refer to the "old gods", the Vanir, or the Æsir. And based on the Mjölnir pendant she wore around her neck at all times, she was damn serious about her beliefs. This tended to make her something of a social pariah, but many of the "visions" that she claimed to have often turned out to be uncannily accurate, leading some of the more superstitious members of the town to believe her abilities might be the real deal.

It would also explain why she didn't need to use a cane or service animal to travel around town.

They spoke to her in the days past - about the stranger. Off-putting as Katja may come across, she wasn't one to leave a stranger feeling unwelcome.

"Greetings, stranger," her parched throat said. "I'd say 'nice to see a new face', but - alas - I lost my sight decades ago. Didn't need it anymore."

Near where Katja and Eevi stood, a lone Maine Coon watched with great curiosity as it approached from the direction of the "Virtanen Weapon Repair" shop.

Eevi paused in her slow walk through the streets of Naarajärvi, her crutches crunching softly on the snow beneath them as the voice of Old Lady Katja reached her ears. She turned her head, her curiosity piqued by the woman's confident tone despite her claim of blindness. The cold air bit at Eevi's cheeks, but she barely noticed it, her mind more focused on this peculiar resident.

"Greetings," Eevi replied, her voice careful and measured as she observed the older woman. "Not often you hear someone say they don’t need their sight anymore. Must be something special guiding you, huh?"

There was a teasing lilt in her voice, but it was softened by genuine interest. Something about Katja’s presence intrigued her—an oddity within an already strange town. The Mjölnir pendant around Katja's neck caught Eevi's eye, and she wondered just how deep the old woman’s beliefs ran.

As Eevi spoke, her attention briefly flickered to the Maine Coon approaching them, its large, curious eyes fixed on the interaction. She recognized the cat from earlier, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"And who’s this little watcher?" Eevi asked, glancing between Katja and the approaching cat. "Seems like we’ve got an audience."

The town felt strange, even more so now with this enigmatic figure before her. But Eevi wasn’t one to shy away from the unusual—if anything, she was drawn to it, perhaps because she herself was an outsider, an oddity in her own right. And there was something about Katja that made Eevi want to probe deeper, to find out what lay beneath those dark sunglasses and cryptic words.