The Groznyj Grad Living Novel

Volgin woke.

His world was strange, full of quiet and color, blurs of sound and hushes of motion. He felt vaguely aware something was wrong, but he didn't know what, but as he tried to get up, and willed aside weakness, he couldn't. Volgin was stuck, half-swallowed by numbness, pinned by the weight of his own body.

He felt hot, he felt cold. He felt vaguely detached from himself. He couldn't understand what had happened to him. He was Yevgeny Volgin. The man who took steps that made the world tremble. The man who would bring the West to its knees, and laugh about it. The man who controlled the Philosophers' Legacy. The most powerful man in the world.

Yes. That was right. That was better. He opened his eyes again, and this time, there was a woman at his bedside, standing nearby.

A nurse, he realized vaguely. He must be in the infirmary.

Something had happened.

He'd been in a fight. There'd been an accident. Or -

Volgin made a small, strangled noise.

The woman immediately turned toward him, checking his eyes and doing the things nurses did, but Volgin was remembering what had happened.

Alexei had come back. Volgin had been ecstatic, and then...and then something had changed. He'd gotten sick for some reason, but Alexei had helped him.

Volgin's eyes darted around the room, but he could see no one other than the nurse. Where had Alexei gone? Had it been a dream? He needed to find out.

"Ocelot," he tried to say, but wasn't sure if he had. Volgin tried again.

"Ocelot."

The nurse hesitated, but then leaned closer.

"What was that, Colonel?"

"Ocelot," he said again, and Volgin even heard himself this time.

"I'll call him for you, sir," the nurse said.

Volgin grunted softly, and closed his eyes.

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Upon getting word that Volgin was awake, Ocelot left Irinarhov in charge of the range drills and headed toward the infirmary.

He was at the Colonel's bedside within ten minutes, looking down at a man who was much weakened, but looked a hundred times better than he had the night before, much to Ocelot's relief.

"Sir," he said, by way of a greeting. "You look much better this morning."

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"Eh..." Volgin managed.

He didn't feel much better. He didn't want to think about how bad he must have looked, before.

Volgin cracked open his eyes and peered at Ocelot, but his vision was still blurry, and it nauseated him a little to try to focus.

Still, he felt glad for Ocelot's presence. A small, steadying beat of normalcy in a world that had suddenly swung upside down.

His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out nonetheless, pausing in between each sentence to rest.

"How long have I been here...what happened...where's Alexei?"

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Ocelot frowned, averting his eyes.

"You were poisoned."

There wasn't much more to say than that, really. He paused to let that sink in, and crossed the room to lean against the windowsill where he could face the hospital bed.

Ready to field the rest of Volgin's questions, and settling himself in case it took a while.

"Alexei."

Adam tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as it dawned on him.

"...You're talking about Major Lynx. He's fine. I have him in temporary lockup."

Ocelot paused.

"From all appearances, Lynx carried you from your quarters after you collapsed. Saved you, according to the nurse."

He glanced up, meeting Volgin's clouded gaze.

"Does that conform to what you remember?"

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"Mm." Volgin nodded, weakly, but then another wave of nausea hit.

He rode it out, feeling helpless and frail. It felt strange, being unable to control even such a simple thing.

A lesser man would find it terrifying.

Volgin found it inconvenient.

And a little troubling, perhaps.

About a minute passed before he could speak again.

"Yes...that's Major Lynx. He came to visit but...I wasn't feeling well."

Poison. He remembered Alexei had been so concerned about the chocolates, and how that hadn't made sense, at the time. Now he understood.

"He's the one I told you about earlier. The one who warned me about the sniper. You can trust him, Ocelot."

Volgin shuddered with the effort of talking so much, and had to pause again. He breathed slowly, in and out.

"You don't need to hold him. Release him, and tell him I need to see him."

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"All right," said Ocelot, readily.

He wasn't concerned about Lynx, not really. The man had an overtly sincere patina about him, and a quiet fortitude.

And he'd been demonstratively compliant about the matter, understanding Ocelot's perspective as a commander.

He hit his Codec.

"Ocelot," he said, cutting off the guard who answered. "Release the man in holding, and tell him to proceed to the infirmary. Tell him the Colonel is awake and would like to see him."

A pause, and pulled out his Makarov, checking the chamber, letting it spin on his index finger.

"Yes. That's him. The mammoth fucking bastard."

He clicked off directly after the affirmation, giving himself time to straighten his beret with the other hand before glancing up.

"He should be on his way," he said, frowning at the Colonel's pallid lips and the hectic flush of his cheeks.

His eyes looked slightly silvered, as if shot through with mercury.

Arsenic tended to produce a fevered look, and clearly, its ghost lingered for a while.

"I thought he might be the one," Ocelot said, slowly.

He looked up, winnowing his gaze in on Volgin's hectically bright eyes.

"How long has this been going on, Colonel? And who exactly is out to take you down? Did Lynx happen to tell you that? My squad's master sniper, Captain Irinarhov, made the suggestion that we strike at the heart of the problem, higher up in the chain."

He paused, rubbing the barrel of his gun along his jaw, narrowing his eyes.

"...I think it's worth considering."

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Volgin grunted.

He was fading. He could tell his strength was bleeding out slowly, ebbing from the sheer effort of using his strained throat, as if it cost him a measure of energy for every word.

That displeased him, but there was nothing he could do.

"It just...started. As far as I know. The night I found out was when Alexei...Major Lynx...came to warn me. The night before the shooting."

Volgin frowned, his feverish, clammy brow creasing slowly.

"There wasn't enough time for him to tell me any details. But...I agree with your idea. We didn't start this...but we can finish it."

Volgin closed his eyes.

"Work with Lynx. Find out what you can."

He drew in a long breath, and he drifted away, fading into unconsciousness, though only for a few seconds before his eyes fluttered open once more and he looked hazily in Ocelot's direction.

"And...after Lynx...I want to see Ivan," Volgin said. "But tell him...what happened first. So he's prepared. Just not about Alexei...if you know what I mean."

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"...I do now," said Ocelot, after a moment, slightly incredulous.

He hadn't even considered that his predecessor and Volgin might have been...

Surely Raikov was the only gleefully shallow bastard attention-seeking and vain enough to risk horrible death for a few perks and the prestige of fucking the boss.

Wait a minute. Why hadn't he been expected to continue in Lynx's other duties? It wasn't something he'd envied Ivan, but now it irked him that he hadn't even been asked.

In fact, Volgin had been completely professional with him at all times. Nary an overture. Not even an inappropriate pinch.

Which was good, fine, right- but still. What did Ivan and Lynx have that he didn't? Was he really unworthy of even a leer?

Ocelot's eyes narrowed as he twirled his gun.

"Frankly, sir, I'm starting to feel lacking," he drawled, sullenly.

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Volgin's eyes were closed again, and the only sound he made was a soft sigh.

After a moment, his head lolled to the side, his breathing turned even, and he gave no other response.

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"Figures," muttered Ocelot.

He had been intending to stay until the black ops bastard arrived, if purely for company, as basic human decency suggested, but Volgin was clearly out of it.

"I'm going to talk to Raikov. If you need me, I'll be around."

He gave Volgin's unresponsive body a couple of cursory fingerguns, then snorted, stalking out as his spurs counted the steps.

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Volgin opened his eyes again, and there was Alexei.

It was just like a dream, wishing for something and then having it appear right in front of him, as large as life.

Scarred lips pulled into a slow, pleased smile.

"Alyosha," he said, but his voice rasped dry, barely audible.

"Alyosha," he tried again.

Volgin felt tired, even moreso than when Ocelot had been here, however long ago that had been. Not long, he thought, because Ocelot called to have Alexei released. Just a few minutes, then.

He almost couldn't be bothered to worry about it. He found himself caught once more by Alexei's eyes, which were the beautiful blue he remembered, as clear and bright as a warm winter day.

"There you are," Volgin murmured. "And you were there when I needed you, weren't you?"

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"You're awake," said Lynx, quietly. "And alive."

His hand found Volgin's chest, and curved over his heart possessively.

"A regular Rasputin of Tselinoyarsk," he averred, letting his eyes drink in the scarred, beloved features of his former commanding officer and lover.

His eyes faltered in resolve, and he broke at the sight.

They lowered, as his head lowered, to rest upon Volgin's blanketed chest.

"I'll always be there when you need me," Alexei told him solemnly, feeling the thrum of the massive heart that animated that broad chest, pounding slowly and surely beneath the cage of his palm. "Or I'll die trying."

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"I know, Alyosha," Volgin whispered.

Something in him felt lighter, to hear Alexei talk this way. It was like before, four years ago, before he'd lost Alexei in a flash of light that had crashed over him like thunder.

Volgin had gotten new scars that day. He'd been bleeding when he'd run out into the hall, desperate to find help.

Somehow, Alexei's words made it easier to breathe.

He still felt feverish. Weak, but yet comforted by the knowledge that Alexei was here.

Volgin tried to raise a hand so he lay it atop Alexei's head, but his arm felt like it was strapped to the bed. His hand twitched, but went nowhere.

"I know," he said, again, because he couldn't touch Alexei. It felt like the next best thing. Volgin closed his eyes and just lay there, content with the gentle weight of Alyosha's head against his chest.

When he felt himself drifting again, Volgin opened his eyes.

"Alexei. There are some things I want you to know. About...the way I want things to be. I want you to come home. I want you to have a place where. Ever since you came to me that night, I've been thinking...and I have an idea."

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Lynx closed his eyes.

"An idea?" he said softly.

It was nice to hear someone had an idea, someone other than him for a change.

He began to remember what he loved about Yevgeny, apart from the Greek passion and unnatural acts of affection.

Volgin had and felt autonomy and authority in his will, which was liberating, no matter where on a scale of morality those choices fell. All he'd had to give to Zhenya was utter devotion and occasional insight- he led his own campaign and had his own mind.

It made Lynx feel less like Atlas.

"Tell me," he said, reaching for Volgin's hand and capturing it in his own.

He let his lips brush across the stricken palm.

"...You know I never wanted to leave."

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"I know," Volgin said. "But I'll make it up to you."

Alexei's touch, his scent, his rich voice - all of it felt so achingly familiar that Volgin couldn't believe they'd been apart for so long. Four years. It had been a lifetime.

He thought back to the night Alexei had come back to him, again disbelieving it had only been two nights ago. It seemed like much longer, though perhaps that was because he'd spent much of the time since in thought, daydreaming idly, and then not so idly, about what it would be like to have Alexei back in his life.

Volgin let his eyes close again.

He started to talk, seeing the future play out in his mind's eye, the same way it did when he thought about his subjugation of the West. Volgin had heard once, that in order to achieve his dreams, all a man had to do was imagine his success, to visualize it in his head, and he could make it be so through force of will alone.

It had worked well for him so far.

"I want Groznyj Grad to be more than just a remote fortress out here in the Urals, Alyosha. I want it to be...a training academy, of sorts. We'll take the best and brightest from everywhere and bring them here to be trained by the best. That's you. That's Ocelot. That's the Boss, and the Cobras. We'll train them, then we'll keep the very best of those, and they'll become part of our army."

It would be like a family, Volgin thought, and the kind of loyalty that would grow among them would be just like the legendary Cobra Unit.

He could see that image too, Alexei surrounded by a group of alert, inquisitive trainees, utterly in his element. It had always seemed to Volgin that Alexei found instruction very fulfilling. Volgin had always found it a joy to watch Alexei with his students.

Volgin let out a soft sigh.

"What do you think? Would you like that, Alyosha?"

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The image Volgin spun was a the sharpest kind of cupid's arrow, leveled directly at all the things Alexei held to be crucial and essential.

Brotherhood. Love. Purpose. Skill. Ingenuity. Sculpture. Art. Elitism. Isolation. Hermitage. Conquest. Lust. Passion.

And Volgin, the storm eye of it all, the axis, like a human Tesla coil.

"That would be heaven," murmured Alexei, raising his head, eyes light and seeking. "We could do it, Zhenya. It could be..."

He paused.

"But the men they sent with me..." he said, sobering. "They're bivouacked in a remote locale, awaiting me, Colonel. Do I have your permission to bring them here, until I can figure out how to neutralize the threat? I've told them we'll be laying low, no attempts until I give word."

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Volgin knew the old adage as well as anyone.

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Volgin's smile turned light, and dreamy, utterly pleased by Alyosha's enthusiasm.

It would be like the family he'd never had, and never would have.

His own private army, loyal and true. The inheritors of the Earth remade, the globe that would be sundered by lightning, but joined once more by that same force now tamed and directed at will.

That was what Volgin did. He was a force of nature himself, destructive, but also creative. It wasn't going to be merely enough for him to conquer the world, but he intended to unite it, as well.

Volgin's eyes shut again. He felt exhausted from the effort of talking. The effort of dreaming.

"Of course, Alyosha," he murmured. "You know I trust you utterly. Whatever you need to do."

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Evidence of the pain the Colonel endured brought the taste of compassion to his mouth like lime, but Alexei felt no disappointment or disillusionment in seeing Volgin like this, kitten-weak and wan.

To Alexei, Zhenya was always a juggernaut of epic proportion- whether recuperating or rampaging, the energy of the man remained the same, and that energy was utter, raw power and assuredness. Volgin did not question his right to be in the world, or his fitness to own it.

Lynx had seen him in every state of submission imaginable, and loved him all the more in his vulnerability and surrender, always to him, only to him.

He knew Volgin would rebound to this blow, shake the plaster of the fallen sky off his massive shoulders, lift those steel grey eyes in a predator's gaze and rise up even more colossal.

The idea made Alexei long to deconstruct him, the way they loved, the way they practiced when they were alone.

"When you're better, Yevgeny, I intend to fulfill all my promises in full," he whispered, easing his hand down Volgin's massive thigh. "Perhaps even before then, I can give you a taste of what we've missed."

He smiled, unable to help himself as a feeble spark of tiny lightning frittered over Volgin's broad loins.

Volgin would not be this fatigued for long, or forever. Being bedridden would begin to bore him soundly soon enough.

Alexei intended to spend a number of visiting hours making the man forget his misfortune.

His eyes met Volgin's, and then he leaned forward, stroking the chilled skin of his face, slowly.

"Zhenya...please forgive me for letting it get this far. I saved you from death, but not from agony. I should have known, I should have watched more carefully."

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"Nonsense," Volgin murmured. "There's nothing to forgive. Lightning strikes where it wants."

He gave a small laugh, a slight shrug of his shoulders, but even that tiny motion cost him.

Volgin frowned as he felt once more newly exhausted, unable to hold his eyes open.

"And...you know I don't mind...a little agony...now and then."

In spite of the darkness that threatened to overtake him, Volgin felt pleased to be reminded of what he and Alexei had once shared together, glad for the fact his power hadn't tried to steal their intimacy from Alexei's memory.

No, Alyosha seemed to remember everything just fine, now.

"Mmm...you know I'll hold you to each and every promise," he whispered, smiling again as he thought of the consequences to come. Alexei knew how to own him, how to break and then remold him. He knew how to dole out exquisite pain, knew how to touch Volgin everywhere he liked. And more than that, Alexei did it all with absolute skill and confidence.

But event the promise of what was to come wasn't quite enough to let Volgin stave off weakness.

"And I'll be better soon, Alyosha."

His lips twitched, even as his eyes drooped shut.

"Trust me."

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