Apocalypse, now [February 19, 1964, 8:54 pm]

[heartofthunder.livejournal.com]

Volgin popped the last chocolate in his mouth and closed the box.

He felt better.

It had been a long, stressful day. Every time he'd walked unthinkingly past a window, realizing only as he'd passed that he shouldn't have done that, Volgin had nearly flinched, and Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin did not flinch.

Ocelot had been scowling, even more than usual, as he saw to various security precautions: extra patrols, guards posted on rooftops, a stuffed effigy wearing one of Volgin's uniforms left to sit behind his desk. Ocelot was looking even for another decoy, but there were few men who even approached Volgin's size.

That made Volgin think of Alexei, who actually did approach his size. Alexei, who'd appeared out of the ether and back from the dead to warn him, who cautioned him to move from his regular quarters in the Main Wing to his secondary quarters bunkered below, and just in time, too.

Like he'd known there would be an attempt on Volgin's life. He must have.

Volgin wanted to talk to Alexei now. He wanted answers, but more than that, he wanted to feel Alexei's ruthless mouth and unyielding arms, to have Alexei take him, possess him the way only Alexei ever had.

He sighed.

But there was no Alexei. Not last night, not all day.

His monthly shipment of imported Belgian chocolates had arrived earlier in the day, and it had been like a godsend. Exactly what he needed. He'd even put off eating them until he was alone in his quarters, and could really enjoy them.

He'd eaten every delectable piece in the span of mere minutes.

Carefully, Volgin hid the empty box in the trash, making sure to get every wrapper. It wouldn't do for Ivan to find out. Ivan disapproved of the chocolates, especially when Volgin ate too much in one sitting. "You'll ruin your teeth, Zhenya, or you'll get fat," he would chide, and then take them away, just like Volgin's mother had done, all those years ago.

Volgin loved Ivan, but he also loved chocolates.

Ivan didn't have to know about this.

Volgin got up, restless. Too early to go to bed, too late to be stalking around the base, especially with a sniper on the loose.

Maybe he should go find Ivan. Maybe he should find Ocelot, so they could have that talk. Maybe he should find someone hapless to terrorize, one of Ivan's men, perhaps, someone dispensable, whose smoking corpse wouldn't be particularly missed the next day. There had to be some sort of discipline problem that could use his assistance.

Hmm. Yes. That sounded like a good idea, actually.

Volgin turned to the door, then frowned. His stomach hurt. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten all those chocolates at once, after all.

Comments

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

"Ocelot," muttered Alexei. "Got it."

He recognized the name. His superiors had told him of his successor. Ad nauseum, in a way that made him suspect they were trying to viscerally prejudice him against it.

"You'll be ok," Lynx said, softly, whether or not Volgin could hear him. "You're a big man, and nothing has killed you yet. Not even your own power."

The doors shot open with a halting jerk and give, and Alexei stepped out into a tranquil evening cross-traffic of soldiers, looking wholly out of place, and impossible to ignore.

He didn't even hesitate.

"You, or you," he demanded, "or anyone- the Colonel needs a doctor, now."

[n-s-leonov.livejournal.com]

"That way," Leonov said mildly to the large man cradling the collapsed Colonel in his arms. He pointed.

[ocelottery.livejournal.com]

Senior Lieutenant Arkady Sergeyevich Kolyin was having another bad day.

This was supposed to be his day off, after two consecutive days on, but after he'd gotten in his eight hours, he'd gotten stuck being back on duty with Semeyonev again. Increased patrols, because of the sniper.

At least he'd gotten to sleep, Arkady thought, glumly.

Savva was talking again, gossiping.

"So yeah. I figure it's been going on at least three weeks. About as long as he's been here. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they hooked up the first - "

A hubbub rose, in the near distance. Voices, sounding alarmed.

He and Semeyonev looked at each other again.

Then they broke into a run.

They rushed up to the building just as a man carrying what looked like a rolled-up rug stepped out, only it wasn't a rug the man carried, it was -

"Oh god! Volgin," Semeyonev said.

Kolyin stared. The man who carried the burden was large, but the man he carried was larger, and dressed in the Colonel's overcoat.

This time, the Colonel's head was intact, though.

Kolyin checked.

But the man carrying Volgin was a stranger to his eyes, dark-haired and Russian, face grimly determined. He wore unmarked fatigues and had a dangerous mien.

Kolyin's hand went to the gun at his side, but he sensed Semeyonev suddenly stop in surprise.

Kolyin frowned, and he glanced between the stranger and Savva, who stared at the man like he knew him.

"Sir?" Semeyonev asked, looking astonished.

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

Alexei felt tentative relief at the sound.

Lynx knew the soldier's voice, and the eyes, not to mention the ready stance. He could always tell one of his men, even in a balaclava.

"He hasn't got much time, Parnik," he said, "take me to the infirmary. And get the pathologist, the one from Moscow."

The criminal forensic man was a better bet than the doctor, from what Alexei had seen. Poisons were a matter of chemistry fighting chemistry while keeping the body's heart and oxygen alive.

This Rasputin or Raketov or whatever- he would have dealt with poisoning cases, would know how to identify the tincture Lemsky had used.

And, Alexei realized, suddenly, there was Leshovik.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? He could CODEC the sniper, have him brace Lemsky for a straight answer on the substance.

Glancing down at Volgin, he could see no sign of life but a steady pulse in the skin of his great throat.

Unconscious, but alive.

As soon as we get there, Alexei told himself, as soon as he's in safe hands.

[ocelottery.livejournal.com]

After a spare second, Semeyonev nodded.

"Yes, sir!" he said, and looked to Kolyin, his expression shading somewhere between apologetic and urgent.

Kolyin held his ground, hesitating, though as he eyed Volgin, he didn't doubt the Colonel was in a bad way.

"You know him?"

Savva nodded quickly.

"Da. He was my commander before Ocelot. It'll be okay. We can trust him, Arkasha."

Kolyin glanced at the stranger one more time, feeling misgivings, but he didn't want to be the one responsible for Volgin's death because he'd delayed getting him to the infirmary.

"Okay," he said. "This way. Come on!"

Semeyonev raised his hand to his ear, murmuring into his CODEC to call for the pathologist as they moved out at a quick pace and crossed the yard, making a direct line for the infirmary though the light covering of snow that had fallen earlier, in the afternoon.

The man carrying the Colonel, this former commander of Savva's, kept up with them easily, even though Kolyin was sure Volgin weighed over a hundred kilos.

Double doors opened directly from the yard into the infirmary section of the medical wing. They burst inside, startling the night duty nurse, who at first looked angry at the sudden intrusion, then horrified as she realized who the patient was.

"Put him on the bed, in there!" She pointed toward an open room where a wheeled bed stood unoccupied.

The man who was carrying Volgin moved forward. He was breathing steadily, but not hard, Kolyin noticed, shaking his head briefly.

Semeyonev grabbed his arm. "Call Ocelot!" he hissed.

This time, Kolyin didn't bother to protest, though he sighed as he raised his hand to his ear and buzzed Ocelot's frequency.

[major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com]

Adam was having his crop buzzed when the hail click came, watching the tiny blond glints and tips cascade and sparkle into the sink like gold dust.

That sound, again. Like tinnitus, neverending.

"Stoy," he barked, lightly.

He held up a hand, and the barber turned off the razor.

"Ocelot," he said, frowning.

Kolyin's frequency. It was only nine or so. It could be anything, since they were on patrol.

Still, Irinarhov's words rang in his ear, or at least, the gist of them.

He'd said that given enough time, any assassin was eventually successful.

"What do you have for me?"

[ocelottery.livejournal.com]

Hope sprang eternal.

Ocelot didn't sound as aggrieved as last time, though it was early enough that Kolyin probably wasn't rousing him from a slumber, either.

"Er, Major, you should get down to the infirmary right away. Something's happened to the Colonel."

Kolyin paused, and eyed the large stranger.

"And this time, you should probably put some clothes on, sir."

[major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com]

"Shove your stubby fist in your ass face and stabilize the situation until I get there," snapped Ocelot, disconnecting.

If Kolyin was able to crack wise, at least the Colonel's head most likely wasn't a cheerful geyser of bubble gum.

Ocelot threw the dropcloth off and stood up.

"This will have to wait. There's a situation."

He was aware that one half of his head was trimmed and perfect, like a topiary hedge, and the other was slightly long, but there was nothing for it.

He was out the door and spinting down the hall before the barber could begin to sweep the floor.

When he reached the infimary he didn't even pause, but shoved his way though the swinging doors.

"Major," said a GRU soldier, stationed at the door, pointing to the ward inside.

Ocelot broke direction, and charged through the door.

Seeing Volgin lying there, Ocelot got a shock. He was pale and clammy, and coiled in on himself like a child. He got the strangest image of a giant toddler with stomach flu. He convulsed, every now and then, and his breath heaved like a rusty spring.

Adam ignored his men and went directly to the Colonel's bedside, leaning down.

"Sir," he muttered, "what happened?"

When he got no reply, he whirled around, eyes narrowing, looking for answers.

"He's unresponsive," he declared. "What happened? What are we dealing with?"

[ocelottery.livejournal.com]

Kolyin and Semeyonev looked at each other.

Savva's look turned pointed, as if goading Kolyin to explain things to the Major, but Arkady glared back, then purposefully turned his gaze toward the stranger, Savva's commander, who was hovering darkly near the Colonel's beside as the nurse began to check Volgin's vital signs.

Semeyonev seemed reluctant, but looked back at Ocelot.

"Major Ocelot, this is Major Rys'. He..."

Savva hesitated.

"Er. He can explain what's going on."

Kolyin hoped to god Semeyonev was right about that. Former commander or no, the man wasn't authorized to be on base, at least as far as Kolyin knew, and that was a serious breach of security right there.

[major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com]

Ocelot turned, and retrained his narrowed eyes on the man on the other side of the bed.

Trained his eyes up.

And scowled.

"Lynx?" he exclaimed. "Of Osnaz Lynx?"

"Formerly of Osnaz Lynx," corrected the man, quietly. "I have no official rank or squad at this juncture," he added, after a moment.

It was clear enough to Adam that the beast of a man was referring to Shadow Ops.

The look he leveled at Ocelot was meaningful. Loaded. A request. Don't pursue it.

Ocelot nodded, after a moment, warily.

It was likely that someone had been sent in without notice, considering that Volgin's life had been threatened.

"Good enough for now," he said, slowly, as his gaze returned to the suffering Colonel. "But what about him?"

He pointed at the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" he demanded.

Lynx shook his head. His large hand idly stroked Volgin's great brow, and Ocelot found the sight both bizarre and surreal.

"He's been poisoned, Major. I don't know what the substance is, but it must be injectible and tasteless, and probably colorless as well. It was administered in a box of chocolates."

"Poison," muttered Ocelot. "And where the hell is Khostov?" he said, turning on his men, drawing his gun and raising his voice.

"Zhenya asked me to call for the pathologist, the investigator, before he collapsed-" Lynx broke in, from behind him.

Ocelot turned slowly.

"Zhenya?"

There was a pause, a beat, and their eyes met, locked and unwavering. Ocelot's light, iridescent and intense, and Lynx's, calm and incandescent like tropical water.

After a moment Ocelot broke off with a bloodless smirk.

"I guess we wait, then."

He glanced at his watch then lowered his voice, turning to Semeyonev.

"If he's not here in ten minutes, make the nurse deal with it," he said, darkly.

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

In spite of his preoccupation with Volgin, Alexei found it strange seeing Ocelot, and finally putting a sharp-featured, striking face to the name.

He kept silent, smoothing back the Colonel's pale hair, as a frown creased his face.

There was no way he could leave Zhenya's side to CODEC Leshovik without arousing suspicion in Ocelot.

But waiting was killing them both.

He was about to demand that Ocelot find this pathologist himself, when the door opened, and a woman flew in, pulling on a dressing coat as she did, the young night nurse trotting anxiously in tow.

She was probably no younger than forty, and slightly matronly, wearing a long, demure nightdress. Her brown hair was set in exacting pincurls for the night. Though she was unremarkable in every way, something about her suggested maternal authority, and every man in the room suddenly looked guilty, fidgety like a small, bad boy.

Everyone stepped back, out of simple surprise, and she crossed past Ocelot and directly to Volgin.

"Hands off, Mamontov," she clucked, and Alexei paused, bemused.

"Shto?"

"Hands," she repeated, not unkindly, looking him in the eye, and peeling his giant fingers away, "off. I need to examine him."

Startled, Alexei stepped back, looking up at Ocelot, whose face was a priceless mask of uncertainty and indignity.

"And you are?" the young major finally asked, bowing sarcastically.

"I'm the head nurse," she said crisply, without turning. "How long has he been unconscious? Stomach pains?"

"Poison," said Alexei, hesitantly, averting his eyes. "Confirmed."

Her gaze was sharp as she turned to him.

"I see," she said, slowly.

"And he hasn't been this way long," he added, quickly. "I brought him here as soon as it began."

She looked Volgin's face over, opening his eyelids, looking at his eyes. They were slightly red, and glassy.

"He coughed up blood," Lynx said, suddenly. "Right before he collapsed."

The nurse immediately looked at Volgin's lips, and her eyes narrowed.

"Arsenic," she said crisply, to the night nurse, who hovered anxiously like a headless butterfly.

"Poison," exclaimed the younger woman. "I'll get the charcoal."

"Njet, Svetlana," the head nurse interjected reprovingly. "Surely you know that arsenic is a metal- and charcoal won't absorb metals and alkalids."

"It won't," said Night Nurse, lowering her chin and searching Head Nurse's eyes carefully.

"No," said the Head Nurse tolerantly. "We'll need to begin chelation."

"Oh!" The aforenamed Svetlana brightened considerably and ran into the supply closet.

The Head Nurse addressed the rest of them with a sweeping, efficient glance.

"If it was recent enough, simply evacuating his stomach contents and using chelation treatment to remove the rest should suffice."

She busied herself setting up an IV and a saline drip.

"And I can get back to my book," she added, taking Volgin's limp arm and swabbing it briefly with alcohol, then inserting the IV needle without ceremony.

Alexei and Ocelot both winced.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

Sleep caught Ippolit at odd hours. There were too many more important things to do. He set it aside until it crouched and pounced on him like a jungle cat. He had fallen onto his bed fully dressed, intending only to humor the need for rest until it was pacified.

A persistent buzz leeched into his dreams. Someone needed him, and he wasn't there. Something was terribly wrong.

Light and reality invaded his eyes, and he answered.

Rakitin was out and running before he could process what he'd heard.

The infirmary was crowded with the Ocelot major and people he didn't recognize. All Ippolit could see was the Colonel, unconscious, sheened with sweat, and obviously in pain. The sight drove a spike through the center of Ippolit's heart.

"Good god," Rakitin breathed. "What the hell happened?"

[major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com]

"You're here," said Ocelot, announcing the obvious.

He turned back to the bed, crossing his arms.

"The Colonel's been poisoned. They think it's arsenic. Since no one knows where the good doctor has gone, the nurses have taken charge."

He shrugged.

"Better than I could do."

Ocelot frowned, watching the young Svetlana and the older chief of nurses ready an unpleasant looking device with a long tube.

His eyes narrowed.

"What end is that going in?" he demanded, uneasily.

"Hush," said the older nurse. "It's just a tube for gastric lavage."

"For what?"

"A stomach pump," she said, firmly. "It's been less than an hour-" here she looked at the elusive Lynx, who nodded affirmatively, meeting her gaze with troubled blue eyes, "-therefore, most of the poison can be retrieved before it even passes into his system."

Ocelot made a face that eloquently expressed his feelings on gastric lavage.

"You don't have to watch, Major," she said primly, prying Volgin's jaw open.

He cringed and glanced at Rakitin, who didn't seem the least bit bothered. Anxious, maybe, but not repulsed.

"When the patient is unconscious, we always intubate for breathing before intubating for the lavage pump," the Head Nurse explained, now inexplicably directing her comments at Rakitin, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit in unsavory tasks in the name of Science.

Svetlana eagerly held another wicked-looking length of rubber tubing by his lips.

"All right, Svetlana, like we practiced. If you hear gurgling, you know you're in the esophagus. We want the trachea, dear."

Svetlana beamed as she tiptoe-eye peered into Volgin's throat, threading the tube past his lips, concentrating prettily like she was brushing a doll's hair.

"That's it. No- now put some arm into it, dear! You'll never clear the esophagus without some force."

Svetlana obeyed, like a good soldier, furrowing her brow and shoving for all she was worth.

"I've only done this to seals before," she told them, beaming.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"Don't tell me that," Ippolit muttered.

As invasive as it felt to watch, he couldn't take his eyes away. A skeletal hand squeezed his throat. The Colonel was supposed to be invincible. Untouchable as a force of nature. Not curled on himself like a hurt child.

"Poison," Rakitin said numbly. "Who- why would anyone want to poison him?"

He shook his head, dislodging the whisper in the back of his brain.

"If it was arsenic, he shouldn't be unconscious. I've seen people dead of arsenic poisoning."

Rakitin let the insinuated idea of the Colonel, dead, pass him by. Purposefully but gently, he brushed past the nurses to thumb up the Colonel's eyelid.

"They don't look like this."

Close. But not exactly. The differences were subtle, but enough to set off alarm bells in his mind.

If he'd been here sooner- No. There was nothing he could have done.

Rakitin let a list of symptoms and substances run through his head, back and forth. Nothing quite matched.

The thought that it wasn't long ago he would have been excited at the prospect of an entirely new poison was drowned by a silent whisper. Please wake up. Please wake up.

[ocelottery.livejournal.com]

Semeyonev was looking green, and Kolyin wasn't feeling much better, truth be told, but there was nothing they could do while Ocelot was standing right there.

If Ocelot stayed, they stayed, though Major wasn't looking too happy about being here, himself.

Kolyin kept his eyes averted, not wanting to watch the giant tube being forced down the Colonel's throat. He was about to turn to Savva and say something when several nurses flooded into the room like cats at mealtime, looking energetic and intent, brimming with purpose.

Arkady blinked. He hadn't known there were so many nurses in Groznyj Grad, never mind so many women. Where had they all come from, and why hadn't he really noticed them before?

He felt quietly astounded as he watched them get to work preparing other dubious looking instruments, no doubt to use on the Colonel.

Kolyin winced.

One nurse pulled at a curtain hung around Volgin's bedside, pausing to look at the assembled group.

"I'm sorry, but you can't stay. I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. You can wait down the hall if you want, but you can't be in here. Someone will come to find you when there's something to report."

Her tone was brisk, polite but firm, and she gave them all a smile that invited no arguments.

Kolyin was the first out the door.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

Reluctance weighing down his steps, Rakitin followed. The nurses were swarming, and Ippolit's instincts regarding others' territory were deeply ingrained.

One of them happened to twitched the curtain aside as Ippolit looked back, revealing a glimpse of the Colonel's face, pale and drawn, violated with tubing, scars standing out like livid wounds.

It was all wrong.

Like he was just another mortal, vulnurable and heart-wrenchingly finite.

There was nothing Rakitin could do now. Once the poisoned material was extracted, there would be all too much. Feast or famine.

Rakitin winced. Bad choice of words.

The smart thing to do would be to get some sleep. Take advantage of the last chance he was likely to get for a while.

Rakitin joined the solemn procession in the hall and prepared to wait.

For the first time, he consciously realized there was a stranger in their midst. Ippolit hardly knew everyone on the base, but he would have been bound to notice someone of that impressive size and build, not to mention the striking blue eyes, now fogged with unmistakeable anxiety.

"Excuse me," Rakitin said tremulously. "Er, who are you?"

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

Realizing the words were intended for him, Alexei looked up, fixing his eyes on the speaker.

The officer, the pathologist from Moscow. The one Volgin had told him to get, before he'd lost consciousness.

He gave the pathologist a gracious nod, and tried to alleviate the solemnity in his gaze with a smile.

"I'm...a ghost," he said. "At least, until further notice. The name I go by is Lynx."

He glanced at Semeyonev briefly.

"I was a commander here, in a previous life."

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"I see," Ippolit said, glad to be on firm, familiar ground in one thing, at least.

Finally, someone admitted it.

Rakitin's memory presented an image he had paid little attention to while it was happening, more concerned with the fallen Colonel than the man who gazed down at him in anguish.

"And you came back for him."

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

"Well I-"

Was sent back to kill him?

Came here to warn him that I was sent here to kill him?

"..yes," said Lynx, evasively, letting his eyes climb the wall. "I came back because I knew he was in imminent danger. It was inside information, I guess you could say."

The pathologist seemed unconcerned with the details of his classified background, which suprised Alexei.

Normally on the rare occasions when one might mention Black Ops and ghostmen, people fell all over themselves trying to keep a polite distance.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" he asked, hesitantly, after a moment.

The pathologist was probably pissing in the dark, just like him, but at least he might have some idea of the vicinity to aim his dick.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

Ippolit understood that this Lynx wouldn't want to be specific about his origins. It took impressive spiritual fortitude to openly acknowledge what he was, let alone how he had gotten that way.

"Why would anyone want to hurt him?" Rakitin said, mystified.

Even as he asked, he knew the answer. The same reason some defaced works of art. The base, repugnant pleasure of destroying something beautiful.

Rakitin nodded firmly to Lynx's question, meeting his piercing eyes.

"I'll find out what it is, and I'll find a way to reverse it. I swear to you."

He didn't mention what he would do when he found out who had done it. That could wait.

Ippolit's anger broke into resolution, and he smiled reassuringly.

"Whatever it is, it won't be enough to keep him down for long," he said, with more confidence than he felt.