[identity profile] ocelottery.livejournal.com
Senior Lieutenant Arkady Sergeyevich Kolyin was having a bad day. Most of the problem stemmed from the fact that his “day” had extended beyond a mere twenty-four hours, and had become two.

He’d had night duty with his usual partner and rankmate, Semeyonev, last night, when Sergei had died, but the next morning, he’d had an additional shift playing at babysitter for the MENTs, partnered with none other than the squad’s sullen sniper, Irinarhov.

When he’d finished the guard detail, he’d barely had time for a meal and shower before it was back on night duty with Semeyonev, who, as usual, had a quick grin and smile. Kolyin didn’t know how Savva could do it given everything that had happened, but at least he was better to patrol with than Irinarhov.

“And I swear, they’re fucking,” Savva was saying, filling him in on the latest gossip.

Arkady sighed. “I don’t care. Good for them.”

“You’re a beam of sunshine tonight.”

“You try spending all day with Irinarhov. I swear, that guy never says anything. No personality.”

Savva shrugged. “Snipers are like that,” he said, as if he had some special knowledge. “He’s just quiet. Anyway, Isaev seems to like him well enough.”

Kolyin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Actually, the relationship between Andrei and the sniper had been fodder for unit gossip lately. No one fucked regularly without everyone else knowing, and the fact that Andrei was rarely in his bunk in the mornings when Kolyin and Semeyonev got off duty hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Semeyonev laughed. “He’s not a bad looking guy. I’d do him.”

“Well, that’s not saying mu – ”

A shout broke the evening’s relative silence, followed by a call for help. Kolyin’s chest started pounding, and his gut twisted in the silent fear that it was another Serhyoza, that another Ocelot had died.

He and Semeyonev met gazes briefly, then ran forward to the sound of the disturbance.

One of the regular GRU stumbled out of the main wing, pointing a shaking hand behind him. “He’s dead!” the soldier barely managed to get out before he bent over and vomited.

“Who’s dead?” Kolyin shouted, but Savva was already running toward the building.

Arkady gripped his AK-47 tightly as he rushed after his rankmate.

There was already a stir inside – more GRU, running around uselessly, bumping into things like headless rabbits.

One had the presence of mind to run up to them and signal them forward frantically. Kolyin and Semeyonev followed the soldier down the hall, to a half-opened door.

“In there,” the soldier said, stopping in his tracks, showing no sign of accompanying them the last few steps forward.

Savva looked at Arkady again, and reached out to touch his shoulder briefly. Kolyin understood what it meant. Whatever it was – whoever it was – they’d face the horrible truth together.

Side by side, they walked down to the open door and peered in.

The room beyond was simple but spacious, and featured little more than a table and desk and wardrobe, and a giant, oversized bed. And there, near the bed, was the body of a tall and muscular man with a near-Herculean build, clad in a forest green greatcoat.

…and rubberized boots, Kolyin realized, after a moment, but his mind balked even then.

Together, he and Semeyonev edged forward, and saw that the body had only a gaping, bloody ruin where the top of his head should have been, and the floor around the body was decorated liberally with pink brain tissue.

It looked like bubblegum, Kolyin thought, vaguely.

“God,” Savva said, “It’s Volgin.”

“Oh God,” Kolyin said. “We have to tell someone. Major Raikov.”

Semeyonev shot him a look. No, not Major Raikov, he though in faint horror. Never mind his patented ball-crushing maneuver; someone would get castrated.

“Ocelot. We have to tell Ocelot. You call him, Savva. He likes you.”

Everyone knew that Savva got called for Special Duty more often than anyone else.

“You call him! No sense in having him pissed at the both of us. This way, if he gets pissed at you, I can calm him down.”

Semeyonev had a point, Kolyin thought, though he felt reluctant to concede it.

Suddenly, Savva grabbed his arm. “Fuck, bratan, do you see that? There’s a hole in the window. A sniper did this. We need to get back.”

They retreated into the hallway, and Kolyin let out a pained sigh. “All right, I’ll call him, but you’d better have my back on this.”

Raising a hand to his ear, Kolyin slotted Major Ocelot’s frequency and prayed for the best.
[identity profile] heartofthunder.livejournal.com
[Continued from "Meanwhile, Back at Groznyj Grad"]

Volgin had begun to pace, but paused at Krauss' words.

The German was right. Roll call would be necessary, and at this hour, a hassle. He didn't particularly want to be the one that had to deal with it.

"Yes, yes." He waved a dismissive hand. "See to it," he told Krauss, then paused, and looked to Ivan.

"Afterward, do what you can," he said in an undertone to Ivan, his gaze flicking to Ocelot purposefully, but only for a moment.

The young major would be understandably upset at the death of his man, but flush with the bravado of youth, would probably deny it. Volgin knew that, about young men. He had been young himself once, fearless and invulnerable.

Ocelot was not a sentimental fool, but he hadn't had his command long. Oh, he was good - one of the best Volgin had ever seen, which was why he'd been chosen - but still, he hadn't experienced everything there was to know about command yet.

In times like these, a man needed a peer and rankmate. Not his subordinates, to whom he couldn't show weakness, and certainly not a superior.

Ivan would be able to do more for Ocelot than Volgin could. He would get a few drinks into Adamska, and talk to him. He could make sure Ocelot stayed grounded and focused.

"Report to me when you're done," he said, letting his gaze fall to all three men in turn. "I'm going to check on the weapons lab myself."

In addition to the Shagohod, there were some technicians and scientists that were essential. He would issue the curfew order himself, and made sure they understood it.

They were too close to success now to be thwarted by anything.

Or anyone, Volgin thought as he strode away.
[identity profile] raidenovitch.livejournal.com
Raikov's boots struck the floor hard and fast, as he paced furiously around the central building.

He was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

Being thrown off of Ocelot was not the greatest moment, but he could grudgingly admit that Ocelot was needed elsewhere.

So, of course, as soon as they had all left, it had been just him and the Colonel, and a shared wicked grin.

And they'd just settled into the mood when Raikov had been turfed out, again.

He was too annoyed at the whole situation to say much to the Colonel, although he was not personally angry with him. Jesus motherfucking bastard christ, he couldn't concentrate on a thing.

And the worse part was he couldn't go back to his quarters to deal with it himself, not when he was supposed to be keeping tabs on absolutely everyone on-base.

Anyone who came near him right now would live to regret it.
[identity profile] raidenovitch.livejournal.com
Raikov didn't fancy much spending time with the MVD people, showing up uninvited, but knew he had little choice in the matter. However, as he subtly nodded to Ocelot, it didn't mean they wouldn't have as much fun at their expense as possible. Who knows, maybe it would scare them home.

More than a murder, he thought with a grimace.

He sighed, and dug into his pocket, having sent one of his swifter men to retrieve a plan of the entire base, for the benefit of the investigators. Criminal forensics experts might find that sort of thing useful; Raikov knew the entirety of Groznyj Grad inside and out. Ocelot could speak more for the surrounding areas.

"Where would you like to begin?" Raikov asked politely, aware it was necessary for him to do so as the Colonel's representative. "You'll need to familiarize yourself with the area before getting to work, I'm sure."

He held out the base plan to the pair, having no clue as to what they were planning, but hoping they would say "yes" and they'd get on with it, or refuse their offer and he wouldn't have to play host to them ever again.

The map was clear, plain, and basic. It was all that was needed at that stage. )

[OOC: Thread closed, continuing here]
[identity profile] heartofthunder.livejournal.com
[PJATNICA, 14 FEVRAI, 1964 1100 hours]

Yevgeny Volgin strode out of the investigators' office, his mind turning like the gears of war, slow and grinding, but inexorable.

The Internal Services major had given him a lot to think about.

He was actually more concerned about the murder now than when it had occurred. Liadov's grim words had sent wet, icy fingers into his core, a sensation of numbness that threatened to spread.

It felt something like electrocution, though only without the pain.

The thought of Ivan as the object of some psychopath's fixation...

In the distance, outside the building, he thought he heard thunder rumble.

Another storm, perhaps.

Volgin had learned early on that delegation was a good thing. Surround yourself with the best people, tell them what to do, but leave them to their own discretion as to how they do it. It had worked for him throughout his entire career, and he was highly pleased that now, at the apex, he had the very best people he'd ever had - well, with a few exceptions.

He had a lot of people to talk to this morning. Ocelot. Ivan. The Boss. Krauss, and the Fury. He thought he was missing someone...or something...but he didn't let it bother him.

It would come to him.

It always did.

He had faith in himself.

He hadn't come this far to let something like this stop him.

Soldiers and secretaries scattered in his wake as he returned to the East Wing, equally alarmed by the intensity of his bearing, though probably for different reasons.

"Where's Major Ocelot!" he snarled, and one of Ivan's men blanched.

"Sir! We'll find him for you!"

The solider made to hurry off, but Volgin just shook his head.

"No. That will take too long. But if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him," he said, then cut a swath out of the office area, rumbling like a single tank on a mission to conquer all of Europe.

Faint sparks of electricity trailed in his his wake.

[OOC: Volgin wants to talk to several people in succession, including but not limited to Major Ocelot, Major Raikov, Voyevoda, Major Krauss, and the Fury. I will update this tag to reflect who he's currently looking for/talking to, so you'll know when your turn has come!]

[Currently: off to The Groznyj Grad Tour thread.]
[identity profile] nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com
Liadov raised his brows slightly.

"That is good to know...Captain Irinarhov."

He allowed a slight inflection on the corrected rank. Since he had only heard the man referred to by title prior to the demotion order they'd assigned, the name Irinarhov and Major had become somewhat linked in his mind.

A smile tipped his lips, dipped them in wryness like frost.

"This reunion is kismet, you know. Proof irrefutable that a man's questionable decisions do follow him through life."
[identity profile] parabellum-p08.livejournal.com

“Welcome to Groznyj Grad.” Krauss chuckled, stealing a sideways glance at the investigators. He decided it would be best to play it all off as a routine, normal occurrence, both for his own personal amusement, and because such strange sights were common around the Grad. Better to let them in on the secret now, lest for the poor bastards get a nasty surprise later on.

“Are you gentlemen alright?” He raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the yard full of naked and semi naked soldiers. “You act as though you have never witnessed morning roll call!”

It was easy to pick out Volgin, a mountain swathed in olive wool among the fleshy-pink unclothed crowd. The sooner he was able to pawn the investigators off onto someone else, the sooner he could retreat into his office, and drown his misery in Cognac.

“Right this way then. There is the man which you seek, by that tank, that’s Colonel Volgin.” He skittered along the edge of the crowd, not particularly inclined to venture into a writhing sea of naked men. Unusual, for the Major, but he was still heartbroken over the loss of Stefan.

“Colonel!” He called out, “we have a slight --” problem, was the word he wanted to use. “We have visitors.” Krauss did his best to smile, but it was useless, and hopeless.  

[identity profile] hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com
Senior Lieutenant Ippolit Zosimovitch Rakitin waited in the helicopter and tried not to think about wolves.

There was an old story they used to tell, about a wolf in the sky. The gods thought they could control it, but it grew too big and it grew too fast, and ferocious things turn on their handlers. They told it the binding was only a game, but no wolf is that stupid. For collateral, a god's right hand, bold interloper rappeling into the cavern of blood-scented breath beneath stalactite incisors. And when the deal was broken and the trap revealed, there lay the forfeit, sheared off at the wrist.

The first reason Ippolit had this job was that he remembered stories.

Outside of the thin steel shell, a man's voice called to another. Distant forms were outlined against the tarmac, as though it had come down with something that made it break out in uneven splotches of humanity. Life went on, motion and action, removed by an intangible membrane from the here and now of thought and stasis.

None of the figures seemed to be moving toward where the Kamov dozed, but the rising ripples of heat made it difficult to tell.

The second reason was that he never jumped to conclusions.

"Find the murderer," General Olavyenko had said, barely looking at him as he threw down a file whose emptiness spoke volumes. He had added, with a sort of gruff magnanimity, as though he should show gratitude for being handed a valuable secret, "And keep your nose out of what doesn't concern you."

Ippolit had spent most of the time from then until he was to report here - hardly any time at all, which he tried very hard to believe was due simply to the urgency of the mission - asking questions about this Groznyj Grad.

The closest thing he had gotten to an answer was a Captain who had done nothing but laugh.

And the third, maybe the only one that mattered, was that he stuck his hand where no one else would.

Restless, Ippolit's eyes ran a thousanth lap of the Kamov's interior. The other one should have been here by now.

There was that, at least. No matter what sort of place this was, he wouldn't be going into it alone.

Or, as far as he knew, he could be walking into a den of wolves with a tiger at his back.

Ippolit waited, and tried not to think.
[identity profile] capt-kasya.livejournal.com
[SRIDA, 29 YANVAR, 0030 hours]

[OOC: Warning, description of dead body to follow.]

Here. )

The Gym

Dec. 14th, 2006 10:47 pm
[identity profile] raidenovitch.livejournal.com
(Continuing from Raikov's journal, in the gymnasium.)

Ivan had been approaching the shower-room, idly considering the merits of raiding the rations shed, when he heard footsteps.

He rolled his eyes in irritation. He wasn't in the mood. Who apart from him wasn't on duty at this time of day, that they had the free time to fuck around? He had come here especially to enjoy his solitude, and now he wasn't able to take a shower to cool off.

The Colonel would probably obliviate anyone who dared to consider sharing a shower with Major Raikov.

He turned around, prepared to supply the appropriate look at whomever entered that would make them leave.
[identity profile] raidenovitch.livejournal.com
[Continued from the Groznyj Grad Runway]

"That fucking American knocked me out. Then the Fury decided to rough up my unconscious body," he explained, as if Raikov had asked, but he knew the question was forthcoming. He was only trying to save time.

Raikov fought back the smirk on his face, luckily able to conceal it as he faced the door to his room. The mental image of the spaceman frisking Ocelot was just priceless.

They both marched in, and Raikov gestured for Ocelot to take a seat. "At least he didn't set fire to you," he said, unable to hold back a slight chuckle at the thought.

He turned his back on the Major to dip into the drawers closest to his bed, rummaging around intently. "Pentazemin?" He inquired politely, knowing Ocelot wouldn't give a shit as long as it worked, and took pity, handing him a couple of tablets.

He looked kind of cute, and less dangerous, with a groggy scowl on his face. Ivan shook his head, knowing that the Major was really anything but, and he shouldn't get too squishy on him, unless he fancied a makarov to the temple.

Hell, he'd probably do it first, in that case.
[identity profile] charushkin.livejournal.com
Matvei had helped Sergei along with his bad leg, determined they should get their fair chance to inflict as much embarrassment on Borishnakov as when they had each been forced to do the circuit.

And now, they had a damned good front-row seat of the hilarity.

The Gauntlet )
[identity profile] major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com
Ocelot hadn't followed his men to mess after roll. With a taut and monosyllabic "yours", he left the unit to the discretion of Lt. Imanov and took off down the yard toward the East Wing, in the direction Raikov had headed.

Generally, he and the Major got along famously. They were both young and overachieving- albeit in different arenas- and had a shared proclivity for using human nature against itself. He admired Raikov's deceptive Adonis Flytrap technique and ready brutality when the situation demanded he stop being pretty and start getting results. He also admired his nasty sense of humor. He was, like Ocelot himself, a polished brat.

What did not please him was when that extended into needling him by breezily transferring random soldiers into his unit.

Random soldiers with questionable incidents.

Especially random soldiers with friendly fire incidents.

Considering the haste of his departure, Ocelot was pretty sure the Major was having cock for breakfast.

Raikov was going to eat his fist for lunch.

Ocelot gritted his teeth.

"I hope he left some room," he muttered to himself.
[identity profile] capt-kasya.livejournal.com
[PANIDYELNIK, 27 YANVAR, 1964 0530 hours]

(OOC: After roll call in the courtyard, at mess. All Groznyj Grad personnel, feel free to post!)

Read more... )

Role-call!

Jul. 17th, 2006 06:48 pm
[identity profile] raidenovitch.livejournal.com
(OOC: Feel free to start... incidents. This is another introduction, breaking-us-in-gently entry before we get stuck into the story/crack properly.)

Soldiers had best better get in line... )

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December 2010

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