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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 07:16 pm (UTC)Kolyin went with him, even though he hadn't been specifically ordered, but he took it as a given that they would share the assignment. The dynamic duo of Kolyin and Semeyonev did everything together - except to hear Savva talk about it.
Then it was the dynamic duo of Semeyonev and Kolyin.
They escorted Savva's commander, this Lynx, across the Grad and toward the brig in silence. Kolyin figured that it was probably awkward to be put in charge of locking up the man you used to serve under, but Savva seemed to be handling it well enough, though he was quiet.
They arrived at the brig and started processing Lynx for incarceration, searching his person.
Disturbingly, the man didn't have a single piece of gear on him, not even a tactical blade. It made Kolyin even more relieved that this Lynx had come along quietly and was cooperating. Lynx was a huge man, not as large as the Colonel, but still impressive, and if he'd been the one that Savva had learned his hand-to-hand skills from, then it wouldn't really matter if Lynx had any gear or not if he resisted. He didn't, though, and they finished up quickly.
Savva seemed uncomfortable throughout the process, almost apologetic. He turned to the GRU guards as they locked Lynx in a small cell furnished only with sink, toilet, and bunk.
"It's only house arrest for the evening, so treat him well," Semeyonev told them. "Give him what he wants, within reason. Except for, you know, ketchup or something."
The guards nodded, solemnly. "Yes, sir."
Savva hesitated, but glanced at his commander. "We'll see you in the morning, sir," he blurted, then hurried out.
Kolyin thought he grasped Semeyonev's discomfort. Conflicting loyalties - to have once served under this quiet man who nevertheless had a commanding presence and a strangely tranquil demeanor, forced to lock him up at the behest of his current commander. Kolyin could understand feeling guilty about that. He gave Lynx a nod and rejoined Semeyonev outside.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, and Kolyin waited to see if Savva would say anything.
When he didn't, Arkady turned to look at him. "'Parnik?'" he asked, giving Savva a slight smile.
The name Lynx had called Savva had clearly been a squad nickname, the kind that some commanders gave their men.
Ocelot wasn’t the type to do so, but apparently Lynx was, and knew Savva as "Hotbed," which Kolyin was sure had been given in the spirit of a not-quite literal meaning.
Semeyonev turned to him, but then had the grace to look sheepish after a moment.
"Well...you know," he muttered.
Kolyin just laughed.