Celebration of the Small Victory.
Date 01.03.2120.
KANAR capital.
A series of strikes rolled over the street once again, coming from somewhere in the suburbs. The artillery, deployed nearby, a few kilometers away, in the fields, fired salutes every hour.
Dragovich, who at first really didn't want to drag himself outside, now, overcoming his reluctance and some lack of sleep, moved his legs, gradually gaining energy from the triumphant crowd.
Lisette, on the other hand, didn't need any recharging - she had also woken him up in the morning, after which she drew his attention to the working TV screen. Thus, Dragovich learned that the confrontation that had lasted for five days had been won. One of the "@enemy" arsenals finally got its due - now its satellite image with a trail of smoke trailing behind it flickered every now and then from everywhere where there was any TV screen.
Despite all this, it seemed that it never collapsed - it was dragged to its rear, where, most likely, it splashed into the water. If it had crashed - judging by the solemn frenzy that took place without any crash, a song would probably have been composed about it by now, which would have already been screamed from everywhere.
The people who poured out onto the streets came out purely spontaneously, without any calls or any organization, which took place, for example, during prisoner exchanges. There were no attributes of an official celebration like posters. Not a single one. Nevertheless, it was an obvious celebration - the same, only a little more modest, was here on New Year's. Now, too, every now and then, balloons that had been obtained from nowhere were rising into the air, pyrotechnics were popping, not even worn out by years of living in conditions of constantly disturbing "booms" and other sharp military sounds.
The bright spring sun warmed the air, and dripped from the roofs. Dragovich suddenly and unexpectedly remembered that in some dreams he had seen that distant and probably hardly achievable complete military victory and it was similar to what was happening now. It was a pity that it was not her.
At some point, Lisette feigned some concern and reminded that soon reporters who had been stuck outside the city, or rather, had gotten drunk outside the city, were supposed to appear, and that they would have to get down to business - record what was happening on the streets.
Dragovich had a strong impression that in fact she expected him, as a man, to do a manly thing. In this case, so that he could somehow figure out how to take over from the "Mexican" and further sabotage the work process, thereby gaining another day.
- We'll split up, - Dragovich answered, actually having a rather vague idea of how it would go further, - "The Mexican", he is still the main one among the two of us, said that another person will come here instead of him. He is not from the special corps. He is my colleague. And then we will meet this "Badger" of yours in a separate group.
- He is not one of ours, he is an independent American correspondent.
- What difference does it make.
Lisette did not explain the difference, instead she dragged him to something that resembled an outdoor cafe. In general, there really were such here, but they worked exclusively in the summer season, well, or until there was cold weather and snow. Dragovich managed to catch this in the fall. In winter, the awnings were either dismantled or, if the roof was hard enough to withstand the snow, they stood abandoned. Now one such eatery was reopened. The crowds, as it turned out, were attracted not so much by the coffee as by the fact that they poured it here, and for free. Maybe the calculation was that the free alcohol would gather a crowd, which would then buy the not-free coffee, it was hard to say. One way or another, such a promotion was going on. Dragovich did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity, Lisette got a huge cardboard cup, which she kept turning in her hands to make the coffee cool faster.
An aircraft roar was heard - several Russian attack aircraft flew over the avenue, judging by the quite distinguishable signs, Blok's by affiliation. A freshly printed poster with a destroyed arsenal and a caricature of General "@enemy" drawn next to it was being stretched onto one of the advertising stands, holding his cap and running, or rather running away at breakneck speed. The pants on the general's ass were torn and, like the arsenal, were smoking. It was necessary to have time to prepare this entire drawing, although it was not a difficult task.
- And it is still nice here, - Lisette suddenly said, once again looking around at what was happening. - Such an unusual city. Of course, there was this conflict of yours with the right bank.
- You probably brought this with you, - answered Dragovich. - Well, the fact that it has become so great and fun here. There was nothing like this before you.
In response, she only laughed. - Now we need to film everything around us and send it to the editors, - she added, taking out her phone. I have a feeling that all this means something.
- What could a holiday mean?
- I don't remember that. This victory was trumpeted all over the world. In our country, of course.
- How do you know?
- Well, you need to watch TV, - Lisette answered kindly, a little condescendingly, - Do you know how this "Badger" became what he became?
- A correspondent?
- Yes, a correspondent. A year ago, he was an ordinary infantryman in the US Army. Then he went with a group on a mission, they had to plant a flag in a newly captured territory. Not even captured, but simply recaptured - there was simply no one there. You know how and why this is done, right?
- So what?
- So, they planted a flag, two flags, and then they were shot down. Not flags, but one car with several soldiers. It turned out that the mission had been accomplished, and they had taken a hit, and everyone had survived. The most important thing was that he, this "Badger", had filmed everything properly - he simply loved this business. Of course, it also happened that this was not a simple sortie, but a resonant one, with a flag. Well, everything came together and he had a completely different career, not a soldier's.
- He was lucky. And here, with us, what's so special now? Well, it's a holiday...
- Well, we'll see, - Lisette said in a businesslike manner, handing a hot glass to Dragovich and making a phone. - I won't brag, but I'm not some random person off the street and I have somewhere to send the footage. I want you to be in the frame too, so make a face.
- Okay, I'll try, Dragovich reluctantly agreed.