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groznyj_gradVolgin 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.
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.
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Date: 2007-08-16 06:26 am (UTC)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."
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Date: 2007-08-16 07:30 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2007-08-16 08:11 am (UTC)"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.