22: Heart Attack

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Eastern Europe is beautiful. We swept through Poland contacting their military trying to find any clue of Vladimir Makarov, but Poland held nothing. The group split up— Soap and Ghost moved through Belarus. Price and Gaz move to Romania. Both Romania and Belarus didn't have any major whispers about Makarov, but they will still check. Roach, Charlie, Kortac, and I move through Ukraine. We'll meet up at the Russian border with the others.

Ukraine is far different from Eastern Europe. the architect and the culture were different. Of course, it would be, but it was quite startling to see. Europe was rather small, easily commutable compared to the US, and had vast cultural diversity. I guess this is what "uninterrupted" culture looks like, nowadays culture is destroyed by colonization.

"What are you thinking?" Charlie turns to me.

"Europe is so different."

"Of course, we are different people," the colonel states in a sassy 'I told you so' tone.

"I think it's impressive Europe has a diversity of whiteness for a place not even a continent."

"We are a continent!"

"You're a peninsula off of Asia, you have no plates that make you a continent. Why we consider you a continent is because white people made those maps. Am I wrong?" I ask him. Honest I see Europe and Asia as Eurasia as it's the right answer. I see how the world is broken into plates and continents and that's how I classified Europe and Asia. It makes sense to my autistic mind.

I can see the Colonel reset his clenched jaw from under his sniper mask. I repositioned my mind and let my cold eyes bore into his. I turn away to find Roach and Horangi staring at me.

"Also, I doubt... Asia wants Europe, so there's that too."

"Who hurt you?"

"White people."

"Amen," Charlie mumbles putting his hands together.

"Don't do that that's white people shit."

"You right," Charlie nods.

"Let's keep going," Horangi stated. We continue to walk my eyes gazing around the city at the old buildings and everything. It's beautiful. I couldn't stop looking at the old architecture, God does it hit the spot of my neurodivergent mind in a way modern architecture can't?

"You're like a child." König begins.

"Well," I begin, "I never had a childhood, so let me live a little, Mhm?" I said looking at him for a microsecond.

"They look like turnips," I point to the top of the church. Charlie stifles his laughter and nods.

"Yeah." I turn away from the church my eyes hurt from the bright gold of the rooftops. I slightly wince at the brightness.

"What's wrong?"

"It's so bright."

Weeks passed as we found important trails of Makarov's movement. Me and Roach were moving together, Charlie insisted on going with the Kortac men, against our protest. We're perched on a hill looking down at a run-down building.

Plink.

I look down to see Roach holding a little rock in his hand, He peers up to me and takes off his gloves to sign to be clearer.

'What's our plan?'

'You got your sniper gun?' I sign back. He gives me a thumbs up. 'Put your gloves back on and brace yourself I'll bring them here.'

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