Wanda Wolowicz
Wanda Wolowicz, Ordo Victrix (a.k.a. Wintermint)
"Who do you have for me today, Resnick?"
"This is subject Irate."
"Irate huh? Irate a promotion for getting her this far? You think yourself funny, Resnick?"
Wanda bit her lip, she thought he'd called her Irate because of her temper, but it was actually an ok pun, but it wouldn't do to laugh, they'd probably strike her again, and the adrenalin had worn off enough she'd feel the stun batons this time.
"Id?"
"Wanda Wolowicz, with the 8745th Montral Fusilliers."
"Rank?"
"Suspended, I'd rather not say."
"Oh, well if it's not active, you're going in with the general population anyways, you only get to mess with the officers when in good stead..." His smile made her feel sick to her stomach. "Like a rank private you go, missy." Even the jailer gave her a wide berth, they could all see her muscles, and didn't come closer than a stun baton's reach if they could avoid it.
The place was large enough, they'd seperated the women and the men, which was a relief. She didn't need to add to her rap sheet for killing an inmate, even in self-defense, the Commissar had been pretty clear: 'squeaky-clean, you hear me?' and she'd nodded, not one of her smartest decisions, but she felt she didn't have much of a choice.
Some days she just wanted to punch him in his smug face, he never showed doubt, never looked unsure, he must be part robot.
"Atten-hut." "You can leave us, corporal." "Are you sure? You're armed, but she's disarmed guards before..." He didn't know how well Michael knew this particular prisoner, had taken unarmed combat lessons with her, under the same instructor, while Michael knew no one was guaranteed to win against Wanda, knowing most of her tricks surely helped... After he left... "Talk to me, Lieutenant Wolowicz." "How the hell? You have less trouble saying my name than I do!" That was an avoidance technique, one Michael had seen through before... "I saw you, in the drunken padlock for block 8, I thought we had an understanding..." "I... I messed up, Mike, I'm sorry." "Well, now we're getting somewhere..." "What?" "At least you can admit it, at least you admit you have a problem..." "I'm sure it feels really good... Having that much power over me..." "You think I give an ogryn's backside about that? I just can't help you with your problem if you don't admit it's there... Listen, most of us went to schola together, and you and Cyn went to Tempestus," "Yeah, Cyn made good." She grit her teeth, having to take orders from the kid had been the worse part of that school, but she had a knack for command that made a Tempestus sit up and take notice, so she made Tempestor, and that was that. Tradition was still on her to greet Cyn(or any other Tempestus leadership officer) with
Private Irate Bettertreatment, 8473th Montral Ramillies, 1:35am, admitted to block 8 from Resnack's Repose, bar fight.I wonder what happened to Wanda, Michael mused. She was due at her billet hours ago, but I can't go investigate, not without an official reason, or can I? He thought some more. "Sniffy! Where's my good boy?" "Ruff." "Need walkies?" "Ruff-ruff! Ruff-ruff." Michael felt a pang of regret, he'd not seen the pup since embarkation, almost three days ago, he knew someone else would take care of the pup in his absence, but Sniffy was his dog, he had read somewhere that being seperated from 'their person' was traumatic for some dogs, and wanted to avoid if it at all possible. "Commissar? Can I help you?" "Just walking my dog, Niels, are you the one who walked Sniffy while I wasn't there?" "We all took a turn Sir, shifts permitting. We all love this good boy." He rubbed the scruff of the pup's neck, the way they all knew he liked it by now. "Thanks, Niels, extra ration of beer for your squad." "Aw, thanks Red-bearing." Red-bearing was the division's nickname for its commissars, who all had the prodigious red silk sash common to commisars, and a friendly demeanour to the troops that everyone appreciated, but half the troops suspected was just a way to get their guards down, especially people like Wanda... If only he knew... "I'll take this to Sis." He said, carrying the form Michael had just punched his signet ring through, he never carried less than ten of the forms, in case he needed to cheer up the troops, the reason he was winning the friendly morale competition Rajiv had set up between himself, Carmine and him. Ok, we're out of fusiliers encampment, where to? Michael thought to himself, but Sniffy, true to his name, had smelled something interesting, and was trying to attract his attention to it. "Ok, ok boy, you want to show me something? That's fine." "Ruff-ruff" A few moments later, they were next to the drunk lot, the nightly lock-up for the drunks and derelicts who'd been caught for public intoxication or participating in bar fights, for all of nearby block eight... Wanda tried to duck, but too late, Michael had seen her... He wanted to go back, but no, if he went, if he did anything official, he'd have to mark her for more punitive action, and he was out of options that didn't include dishonorable discharge or worse at this point...
"Atten-hut." "You can leave us, corporal." "Are you sure? You're armed, but she's disarmed guards before..." He didn't know how well Michael knew this particular prisoner, had taken unarmed combat lessons with her, under the same instructor, while Michael knew no one was guaranteed to win against Wanda, knowing most of her tricks surely helped... After he left... "Talk to me, Lieutenant Wolowicz." "How the hell? You have less trouble saying my name than I do!" That was an avoidance technique, one Michael had seen through before... "I saw you, in the drunken padlock for block 8, I thought we had an understanding..." "I... I messed up, Mike, I'm sorry." "Well, now we're getting somewhere..." "What?" "At least you can admit it, at least you admit you have a problem..." "I'm sure it feels really good... Having that much power over me..." "You think I give an ogryn's backside about that? I just can't help you with your problem if you don't admit it's there... Listen, most of us went to schola together, and you and Cyn went to Tempestus," "Yeah, Cyn made good." She grit her teeth, having to take orders from the kid had been the worse part of that school, but she had a knack for command that made a Tempestus sit up and take notice, so she made Tempestor, and that was that. Tradition was still on her to greet Cyn(or any other Tempestus leadership officer) with
"Tempestus!" Who'd reply with: "Tempestor! Tempestus as-is!" or "Tempestor Prime! Tempestus, as you were!" if she ever got to meet one of that rare breed, not that even a Tempestor was exactly common, five times as many Tempestor Primes came out of scholams as Inquisitors did, but the latter didn't have the fatality rate of the first.She'd been distracted, and he had asked her a question... Shit! Shit! She'd been distracted! He caught the look in her eyes... "I asked you, how's things with Cyn? You used to be good friends..." "She won't associate with rabble like me, not if she knows what's good for her sir, and maybe you should do the same..." "Look Wanda, are you trying to see if you can make me help buy you a firing squad?" "I... don't know." "Because you've given me at least cause for three, not just one, so I'm getting really impatient for you to stop..." "What?" "Regulations..." "Frak regulations!" "You know I can't do that..." "No, you just frak the colonel..." "You didn't just say that..." "Everyone knows you did..." "I didn't, well, not in the way you think, anyways, but, it seems everyone wants to get into my business..." His voice started to get more growly, she shivered. She remembered a time, long ago, she'd been leaving the progenium for tempestus, and he'd been teasing her about her lack of discipline, even then... "She won't take you back then?" "None of your business, but even if she did, I don't need the publicity, fuck, if we got caught one of us probably gets a firing squad for sure, unlike you, we are on notice by other Commissars..." "What? Marvel Mike? In trouble?" "Not funny. I don't need to give Rajiv the satisfaction, either." "Rajiv, your commissar-buddy?" "Well, it's either him, or Lady Commissar-General Thanh, or maybe Carmine, especially if she does the catching." "So a friend growing up, your new boss who's so shiny she still squeaks, or your childhood crush? I know who I'd pick." He stared at her, hard, unblinking. "Ok, ok. Being shot for getting laid is a pretty sad reason to go." "Do you need a reminder?" "What? You bring up that old thing?" "Why not? We're alone, and you're misbehaving, and I can't put it past you to misbehave for attention, either." Wanda rubbed her earlobe, she was distracted, it felt good to talk to him. "It's almost as if you're angling for a spanking, from 'daddy'." He said, half joking, but Wanda shook her head, he ... was onto something, enough that it broke the moment, at least, thank goodness for small favors... "Can I go now, Sir?" She forced respect for his title out, instead of... other things. She made a mental resolution to try to talk to Marsha, who was trying to be her friend right now, maybe she'd help her make sense of her feelings.
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Year of Birth
40934 CE
835 Years old
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