GRU Barracks

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

(A new Ocelot, the more the merrier)

Vladislav was quite relieved when he was finally allowed to go to his assigned bunk and sleep. First days were always boring, hectic, and exhausting at the same time.

Groznyj Grad was a very unusual base, filled with very unusual soldiers. This had become apparent when he'd nearly been knocked down by a soldier dressed in some frightening, full body, flame proof suit shortly after arriving at the base.

It had become undeniable when Major Raikov had grabbed him, by the crotch, then again, he wasn't the only one the Major had grabbed. That was slightly comforting.

Vladislav Yaromirovich Borishnakov had quickly come to the conclusion that this was where soldiers who fail their psych evaluations are sent.

But all of those thoughts left Vladya's mind as he closed his blue eyes, only to recall that Raikov had commented on those too. That was really the last thing to cross his mind before he fell asleep. He was too tired to be concerned about the Major.

Comments

[charshy.livejournal.com]

The night was absolutely perfect. Even in the concrete wilderness of Groznyj Grad, it could be seen as beautiful: the moon hung in the sky like a lantern, leaving a silver tint over everything. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

They were the kind of conditions that could have completely fucked things over on a real mission, but really meant very little for the stealth assignment that Charushkin and Isaev were on.

The target was in the centre of the bunkhouse, unfortunately - that meant dragging him through the door would be a wholly noisy practice. Fortunately, the clear night made it easy to pinpoint the window, and peer inside. It was the best way to extract their target: balaclava forced over his head, he couldn't scream, and on the dirt ground, he wouldn't be able to make much noise by kicking.

Matvei approached the window, which was slightly open. Andrei would be the one climbing through, being as silent as he was, to grab their target. Matvei would handle keeping him still long enough to drag him through the yard.

His heart beat fast with nerves and excitement. This was the first time he'd been given this privelege, and he was determined to do his best.

He gave a smile at his friend in the dark, and a slight nod, slithering cautiously to peer inside.

Complete stillness.

Slowly, quietly, he lifted the window, really feeling its tension and ease, careful about how much pressure he applied as he opened it wider. That way, he could ensure even the squeakiest mechanism would remain as silent as he was.

After all, if their target was Ocelot-worthy, he might be awake and aware in an instant if they made the slightest mistake. It was as much a test of their own talent as it was their newest recruits'.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei paused in the shadows, and took a last drag of his cigarette before thoughtfully crushing it out between his fingers.

He miscalculated the pinch and burned himself slightly, but only spared a dismissive glance at his hand before returning his attention to the task at hand.

He considered the window.

Cake.

He'd climbed through it and its contemporaries several times in his tenure as an upper level Ocelot to abduct their chosen brothers. Occasionally, they'd used the underground tunnels, and once he and Fyedor Mikhailovich had made a truly dramatic entrance by taking the ceiling ventilation system, and crashing through a heating duct from overhead, right into the target's bunk.

The target had screamed like a girl. Protractedly.

It hadn't gone over well at first.

Upon seeing the trashed vent and his traumatized men, not to mention two facemasked intruders clad in covert nightblack, Major Raikov had been a seething, whirling ball of white-hot rage, reminding Andrei of his sister Marijyja's ill-tempered silverback Perisan cat back home.

Hissing and spitting and great glaring pale eyes...but so damn fluffy, especially all puffed up like a christmas tree, that it was hard to take seriously, so that you would laugh, even as he ripped your arm to shreds.

While Andrei was dazed and dusted with plaster fragments, rapt with thoughts of his sister's cat, Fyodor had the presence of mind to croak out the reason for their mission.

When he learned their objective, Raikov's anger had cooled as if he'd been doused in liquid nitrogen.

"Oh. That's different," he said, and promptly found them an economy size wheel of black electrical tape to bind the cowering initiate. "Take it," he insisted. "I keep one next to my bed. There's plenty more where that came from."

Andrei knew that no one was going to ask why Raikov would have electrician's tape in such ready supply, the way most people keep a glass of water handy.

He also knew they were all speculating the details, whether they would admit it or not.

"Believe me," added Raikov, crossing his arms languidly. "That stuff is like kryptonite. If you bind him up, he's not going anywhere."

"Mummy-style," Fyodor said, flashing a wicked grin at Andrei, so they had, the kid screaming the whole time about murder and how he was blind, with a balaclava shoved backwards over his head.

The screaming had lasted all the way across the artillery yard. By the time they got him untied and propped up and unveiled him in front of the others he'd yelled himself completely hoarse.

He smiled in the dark.

Luckily, Matvei had completely recovered.

He turned to his comrade, who turned and pushed his lips out in a three-dimensional frown.

Don't you dare, his eyes said.

Andrei grinned and shrugged.

He braced his hands on the sill, about to loft his body up, pausing to look at Matvei.

"All right then," he intoned, in a low, localized tone. "Vladislav. He's in the fourth bunk, barrack nine, top right, do I have that correct?"

...he wondered if Matvei was still bitter about being taped to the flagpole outside the mess hall

[charshy.livejournal.com]

Matvei shot him a dirty look, which was utterly pointless, considering his balaclava. Remembering this belatedly, he made a gesture in the dark to express his opinion in silence. His voice was just the kind that carried too easily in the dark, compared to Andrei's calm, levelled tone.

"Top right, here," he mouthed. He knew he had the right window: platinum blonde glowed like silver wire under the moonlight.

"Good luck," he further mouthed, giving a wicked grin.

Oh, how he was looking forward to inflicting some punishment, worse than his own. His mother would've had a fit.

If he could've, he would've made some comment to Andrei on not crashing into the room like a marauding elephant, but he was going to have to save that for the great unveiling.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei hoisted himself up and over with ease; he was inordinately proud of his upper body strength, his broad, lean shoulders and arms, which had never failed him yet. Tightening his stomach like an acrobat, he lowered himself slowly into the darkened room, uncurling his legs until they grazed the floor.

It was a rather high, removed window, probably designed to prevent instances like this one.

He glanced quickly over the sleeping soldiers, making sure he'd roused no one. He knew he hadn't. The languid somnolence of the atmosphere was like laudanum, warm and soothing.

The dreamy aroma of boots added a special touch, thought Andrei, dryly, making minimal motions to cross the room.

Ah. Here he was. The man of the hour.

"Hello, Vladya Yamirovich," he murmured, with a slight curl of his lip. "I'll be with you in just a second."

This was the hardest part of a top bunk abduction. Getting up there without rousing the cavalry.

Fortunatly, he was an old hand at this game, and top bunks were his expertise.

He crept up the ladder, equalizing his weight by instinct, making slow but silent progress.

Vladya was a tall, lean fellow, with a slender, intense face, and an artfully carved profile, like a worker's propaganda model.

He eased onto his hands and knees, crawling over the sleeping blond soldier, absently checking his belt with one hand to make sure his duct tape was handy.

Once he reached Vladya's waist, he straddled him carefully, so that if he happened to wake up in the process of being subdued, Andrei would have an automatic advantage.

His weight settled, pinning him into the mattress.

Vladislav continued to slumber like a nice, pleasant infant.

Andrei smiled.

Now he could work at leisure.

He cut a strip of tape with his survival knife and leaned forward, letting it touch Vladya's skin, and drop over his lips before smoothing it carefully down.

Then he leaned in close.

"Vladya Yamirovich," he intoned sweetly, slapping the young man's face lightly with his fingertips. "Wake up and keep your fucking mouth shut, won't you?"

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Vladya had been in the midst of enjoying a rather nice dream, a strange parody of a childhood memory, tracking a herd of hoofed animals. Only, they hadn't been hoof prints, they'd been boot-prints. Lots of them, hundreds, and out in the distance on the white snow he could see the green specks on the snow; uniformed men, GRU soldiers.

Then someone had touched his face, and his eyes snapped open. A man in black was sitting on top of him, his face was covered with a balaclava. His shout of surprise was muffled by the tape over his mouth. Since it appeared he couldn't shout for help, he'd have to deal with his attacker on his own.

Vladislav immediately braced his legs against the foot of the bunk, grabbing his attacker and attempting to roll sideways so he could be on top. Too late he realized that he was in a bed, and that there wasn't enough room, they'd roll off the bed. Then he remembered he was on the top bunk as well, but he had already thrown his full strength into the maneuver, and didn't have the leverage to stop the roll.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

When would they ever learn?

Andrei's hands shot out and seized the bunkpost,countermanding his target's ill-advised reaction.

"I don't think so, Vladya," he whispered, tightening his legs and immobilizing the soldier long enough to grab his gun. "That would wake everyone up, wouldn't it? Plus, it would really piss me off if I broke my pretty face on a concrete floor. I know, you can't see my face. You'll just have to take my word for it."

He pressed the muzzle under the young man's chin.

"Now," he breathed. "I didn't want to do it this way, chuvak, because that's not part of the fun, but that's how it goes."

Christ, where the fuck was Matvei? He was supposed to be right behind him to help him tie up the bastard and bag his head.

Then they had to hustle him out the front door.

He heard Makno, on his way, and he grinned, patting Vladya's head.

"Relax," he said. "You're going to a better place."

[charshy.livejournal.com]

Matvei dropped inside the window, rolling his eyes. He had heard Andrei talking to himself in triumph, and was fairly certain he had deliberately woken him up.

And he had been hoping for an easy carry-out.

Idiot!

He moved quickly but quietly, and looked up expectantly, fighting the smirk that threatened.

He knew what he was thinking from Andrei's rather... suggestive position, and if he were Vladislav, he'd have been fucking terrified.

You're a sadistic bastard, Andrusha, he thought fondly.

He was ready to catch their bound captive, to transfer him down without his boots meeting the floorboards, or the bedframe.

They could then toss him out of the window. Saved the off-chance of waking anyone else up in the building. It wasn't high enough to do any damage, and Matvei could always catch him if Vladislav didn't obey instructions to bend his knees.

Matvei raised one hand, holding the balaclava, and then the other, with the rope looped over his arm. Andrei had been insisting on the tape again, but Matvei had persuaded him rope just had that more menacing feel to it, and that he couldn't just knock on Major Raikov's door to get more tape for free.

As Andrei struggled to keep Vladya pinned, Matvei wondered if, secretly, all his fellows were wide awake and dutifully feigning sleep so they could observe their comrade's departure.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

'Part of the fun? A better place.'

There was only one very logical conclusion to what the man on top of him was talking about, and Vladya did not like it one bit.

Why was no one else awake? Surely they couldn't all be asleep. What if the man in black had killed all the others already? He was obviously good, and well prepared. Vladislav's panic increased as the thought that he might be the only one that hadn't been killed yet.

And for some reason, his attacker had decided to save him for last, and apparently keep him alive for a while before he killed him. But he was smart enough to know he had to wait until the gun wasn't poised to blow his brains out before making a move.

With his mouth covered, it was very difficult to curse his attackers and promise them a messy demise as soon as he got free. That didn't stop him from trying though.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"We don't usually use a gun for this," Andrei told Vladya conversationally as he curved his fingers underneath the man's neck and lifted his head up perfunctorily for Charushkin to slip the balaclava over. "It's not exactly in the spirit of the thing-Backwards, Makno- remember? Christ, have you already forgotten when I did this to you?"

He made sure Matvei adjusted the balaclava before continuing. He could see his comrade's grin even though the facemask.

"The point is, just go with it, Vladya Yamirovich. You'll be glad you did."

He shrugged, as Matvei carefully hogtied the man's legs so he couldn't run when he hit the grass.

"Normally, I don't use a gun at all. I'm a close range assassin by trade."

Keeping both gun and eyes trained on their captive, he reached back, tested Matvei's bonds with one hand.

They were solid. Maybe too solid, Andrei thought, amused. Looks like they'd have to cut him out of his restraints when the time came.

"Damn, Makno. You always could tie a brilliant knot. Now do his wrists- thumbs together, that way Ilya showed you."

A good trick he'd picked up. It inhibited opposable movement and reduced the chances that the target could untie himself to almost nil.

"Not through the window," said Andrei, his gaze following Charushkin's questioning nod. "Out the door and through the hall. We need some fanfare."

The abduction was completed, the surprise element accomplished.

They had come in like lambs, but they would go out like lions, ALERTS ablazing.

Then the whole compound would know in short order.

"Can manage him over your shoulder? He doesn't seem like a heavy type." Andrei grinned. "If you can handle hauling him to the front doors, I'll get the alarms going."

He looked down Vladislaus, who stuggled, immobilized like an insect in spidersilk.

"Damn, Vladya, but you're a wriggly one. Save some of that vigor for what we have planned. We don't want you to pass out on us."

[charshy.livejournal.com]

Matvei gave a light snort at Andrei's constant instructions, followed by a scathing look at the reminder - and hauled their acquired Vladya over his shoulder.

He wasn't heavy, but he was a lot taller than Matvei, and he was concerned the other man could wriggle enough to stand upright and make a bid for escape.

Like a jumping caterpillar.

He fought back a laugh at the idea.

"I'll roll him if he becomes too difficult to carry."

He steadied his grip on the load on his shoulder - rather deliberately, just to have fun with him, grabbing the man by a cheek - and generally made sure it was the most undignified thing for the man as he could manage.

He began to weave his way through the halls, and Andrei dutifully began a ruckus that followed in his footsteps. The alarm bells and shouts were like a chorus, building up to a beautiful crescendo of chaos.

When he stepped out into the night, he felt like a hero.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Isn't it romantic, Vladya?" mused Andrei, dutifully helping Matvei by grabbing the man's legs and hauling him down so they could share the lively burden. "Carried away, just like a fairy princess."

Matvei and he didn't have to get far, just through the tankyard and over to the commons. The other Ocelots were waiting in the large room of the soldiers' communal banya.

They would be wearing their balaclavas.

And nothing else.

They would be sitting solemnly on the staggered benches of the steam sauna, like a masked jury, ready to impose some unspeakable punishment...

Andrei grinned to himself.

Christ, it never got old, seeing a new guy open his eyes to that tableau.

The whole thing summed up the Ocelot mindstate- it was so perfectly sophomoric and boyish, with an air of menace that only needed to be hinted at.

After the target had been properly terrorized by the conjecture of his own mind, they would pull off their balaclavas and cheer the news of his selection, give him pats on the back and punches on the arm.

Then came the alcohol and snow, which earned him his accessories. Gunbelt, boots, beret and scarf. One for each pass into the banya and out to roll in the drifts.

But he had to do the East Wing gauntlet to earn his uniform proper- shirt, field jacket, underwear and jodphurs. Four laps through the lobby at the mercy of Raikov and his men.

After the initial fright, most initiates were cheerfully relieved to only get groped and taunted.

[charshy.livejournal.com]

"Oh, very romantic. It's time that we give our beautiful princess a treat," Matvei returned, grinning like a loon.

He wondered if he would be able to contain his laughter, knowing exactly what was to come.

He was sure it would be equal or worse to his own flailing and screaming in fear. By the time they got to this point, he had thought he might cry back then, until out of nowhere he'd gotten cheered by his new brothers.

... To be fair, Vladya wasn't also being tied to a pole in the freezing cold, blind. That had really taken its toll.

The night was clear and crisp - not the same variety of freezing it had been on Matvei's initiation night.

He'd never quite gotten over Major Raikov's commentary on the size of his equipment whilst on his first run, and he knew the temperature had been to blame.

Although Andrei had been the ringleader in the whole sadistic affair, he had also been one of the first to embrace him, and he was wholly forgiven.

It was easy enough to get Vladislav through the yard with Andrei taking the other half of him, and they were soon blasted with familiar heat of the banya. Matvei almost envied his comrades sitting comfortably in the steam, but he wouldn't have missed this for the world.

He made sure to make as much noise as possible, so all his comrades would look ludicrously solemn, no laughing. Not until Vladislav had reacted appropriately.

"Princess has her admirers waiting. On her knees, do you think?" Matvei asked as sinisterly as he could manage, half-biting his lip to fight off a snigger.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Whatever you like," said Andrei, laughing. "I suppose the view will be more impressive from there."

Matvei had really shaped up into a ruthless one, give credit where credit was due.

He watched as his friend hit the reflex point behind the soldier's knees to buckle them, forcing him easily down.

Earlier, they had considered stripping the initiate of his uniform before the unveiling, but Andrei had vetoed the idea as possibly too terrifying.

They weren't trying to make him have an aneurism, after all.

"You're about to make a lot of new friends in a hurry, Vladya," said Andrei, knowing the words sounded far more ominous than the reality.

[charshy.livejournal.com]

With an easy smile, Matvei stooped, waiting a few vital seconds to wipe it from his face, and then ripped off the gag.

As Vladislav took a gasp of air, he then quickly removed the balaclava.

He waited for the immortal moment of horror.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

The complete panic that had overtaken him at the thought that everyone else in the barracks was short-lived. Apparently, these people did this fairly often. That still didn't mean he wouldn't struggle.

The fact that his kidnappers were purposefully raising the alarm and waking everyone up confused him to no end. What the hell was going on?! a lot of new friends in a hurry'

His answers came quickly as he was taken out of the cold night air and into someplace warm only to be forced down onto his knees.

Then the balaclava came off, and Vladislav could do nothing but gawk in horrified confusion at the sight in front of him. Men in balaclavas.

In his opinion, it would've been less terrifying if they had been dressed in any sort of horrible costume or outfit.

The look of horrified terror on his face must have been priceless, but at least he had sense to keep his mouth closed.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei couldn't take it.

He burst into laughter.

There was nothing funnier than a room full of naked men in balaclavas.

Or more terrifying, he thought, glancing at Vladya, who looked like he was about to pass out, and only the fear of being violated in some unspeakable way was keeping him conscious.

Andrei was aware of exactly how humid and hot the banya was after a moment. He and Matvei were the only ones wearing their full uniforms.

"Overdressed again," he sighed, whimsically, with a shrug of his hands.

He heard Matvei chuckle.

Fuckyourmother, it was warm. Andrei didn't fancy having this face mask on much longer, that was for sure.

All right. Vladislaus Yamirovich was off the hook. Well, at least, they needed to let him know this was a welcome party, not a gang rape.

He pulled off his mask, roughing up his blond hair.

"Whew," he exhaled, shaking his head. "Let's get on with this and put the poor bastard out of his misery."

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

Sitting around in the damn sauna for so long became rather uncomfortable. The heat was overwhelming and the wood was pressing painfully into his thighs. He joked with his fellow soldiers as they waited, wondering what was taking Matvei and Andrei so long.

He'd done his job, though. He'd informed the entire East Wing of what would be taking place that night and he was sure they were already lined up and waiting.

They burst in and Sergei did his best to remain stiff and serious beneath his balaclava. He pulled it off--Andrei lost it first, and once he was laughing, Sergei couldn't help himself.

The balaclava was pulled off soon after and he was given a better view of their new Ocelot. He looked like a strong one, especially since he hadn't even cried out--at least not loud enough that they'd been able to hear.

"Welcome, comrade," he said with a toothy grin.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Vladislav blinked in utter confusion as his abductor started laughing and pulled off his own balaclava. But in front of him the men were also taking off their balaclavas and he noticed that those who had taken them off were blond haired and blue eyed.

Then he looked over at the one who was welcoming him and he finally figured out what it was. Hazing. But.. he didn't recognize any of these men from the unit he had been assigned to.

The laughter was genuinely amused and almost happy sounding. Vladya decided to just not say anything for the moment. The most intelligent thing he had to say was 'What the fuck is going on here?!'

Besides, he was certain that he'd get an explanation, either before or after they untied him.

Hopefully before they untied him. And definitely before he agreed to remove any clothing, even if he was sweating already in the hot room.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei grinned, tossing off his gloves, and offered the man a hand up, hauling him off his knees.

"Andrei Alexandrovich Isaev," he said. "And your other assailant is Matvei Antonovich Charushkin."

The man nodded cautiously, as Matvei cut his hands and legs free with his overly sharp knife.

"You've been promoted, chuvak. Major Ocelot has chosen you to join the unit. How do you feel about that?"

He paused, gestured at the ebullient circle of his fair brothers...and one dissenter, dark and stormy looking, that his eye made a conscious effort not to linger on.

"Introduce yourselves, you naked bastards," said Andrei, grinning. "So he can put a name with a face."

Not like their faces had been visible for very long.

"Or whatever else identified you," he added, with a snort.

He looked at Matvei.

"I'm getting out of this fucking wool funeral suit, in the mean time," he said,wasting no time.

He began to undo his holster at the shoulder and gunbelt, as he unceremoniously left the banya for the relative coolness of the anteroom, letting the door close behind him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Done. Now the new recruit could earn his black and red, and everyone would be happy.

He hoped Sergei had all the alcohol ready, and that he'd been able to safeguard it from the premature attentions of his brothers.

He hadn't seen it, but he supposed the kid could have hidden it back under the benches, clever as he was.

Andrei didn't worry. Sergei was unfailingly reliable.

He was trying to clear his mind, as he shrugged out of his black field jacket, to make his mind a blank that harbored no thoughts but the initiation.

Fun, he thought. Nothing else matters now.

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei followed soon after, a light sheen of sweat across his forehead as he stumbled out of the door, trying to remove his balaclava and shirt simultaneously.

"... Fucking roasting," he grumbled, swinging onto the nearby bench with an impressive amount of balance, given how unsteady he was just a moment ago.

Sergei was fucking good at hiding things from others.

He gave Andrei a slight smile, but was more interested in getting out of the uniform before he began to cook in it.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei nodded, shaking his head and leaning back against the wall to draw off his jackboots, which clung obstinately to calf after a day of drills and patrol.

"It's better than hell, but not much," he said, grinning.

He hoped the bastards had actually seen fit to introduce themselves to the newcomer, and not just stare at him.

It was good to make pleasant conversation when you were naked, because otherwise you seemed uncomfortable, and if you seemed uncomfortable, people might start inventing ideas for why exactly you felt uncomfortable.

And when people started inventing ideas, well, that could get really uncomfortable.

"What do you think of our new Vladya?" he asked, mindful of following his own suggestion. "I know he hasn't been with us long," he added with a laugh.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Vladislav had reluctantly removed the remnants of what he had been sleeping in while he thought over the fact that he'd been promoted to the Ocelot Unit. He had heard some weird things about them and their Major. Especially Ocelot's ability with a gun. They were supposedly the best of the best, peerless withing GRU.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about them yet, but there was at least one thing to be said for them. They really knew how to be stealthy. And terrifying.

It was tempting to ask what came next, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything, still rather shaken up from his ordeal so far. But there were several questions that begged asking.

When Andrei got back in, Vladislav decided to ask him, as he seemed to be the ring-leader of this little circus.

"I'm being promoted? I just got here... not that I'm complaining I mean... but why me?"

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei shrugged, as he climbed up and took a seat on the highest bench.

"You'd have to ask Ocelot, chuvak," he replied, smiling affably as he tapped Sergei on the shoulder, indicating he should break out the liquor. "I don't make those choices. But you must have something, comrade, to recommend you."

He grinned.

"Any idea what it is?"

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

"Ah... no. Not really."

That was a lie, there was really only one reason he could've been put into the Ocelot unit. His tracking ability and probably the fact that he was almost as good at night as he was during the day.

But he didn't want to brag, and he didn't want to be wrong about it. "Is he not here?" Vladya looked over the rows of blond haired, blue eyed men. It would be hard to tell them apart without their uniforms. They were all roughly the same size and appearance.

There was a briefly entertaining notion of a unit with interchangable men. An outsider would probably find it impossible to tell the difference if they were to swap uniforms, or, out of uniform, claim to be someone else.

The uniform appearance had to be intentional. He just couldn't figure out why.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei laughed.

"He doesn't keep company out of rank. Much."

He studied Vladya. Lean, blond and pale eyed. As he would be, of course.

"You'll be reporting with us in the morning, though, so you'll get to meet him then."

A grin spread over his face.

"Now, however, Makno is going to stoke the stove up so it's actually warm in here...then we're going to drink some serious liquor. And then, we throw you in the snow and you earn your accessories."

He sat back.

"Sergei, get him started on a bottle."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian did not usually drink much these days - like smoking, it was a social activity, and he often abstained from polite company. Still, there had been a time when he regularly fraternized with comrades, and the atmosphere - laughs, teasing - reminded him of those years.

He kept to the edge of the group by instinct, though, quiet, but let conversations flow around him while taking in every word. He watched the way they interacted and put names to faces he hadn't bothered to mark earlier.

Kassian tried not to pay overt attention to Isaev, though still found his eye drawn from time to time.

It would not do to be obvious in front of Charushkin, he thought, lowering his gaze. When he looked up again, he thought Charuskin tossed him a glare, but it was gone by the time he could focus.

He didn't care.

And fortunately, the new recruit held the center of attention. Predictably, he looked like the others, though Kassian read him as a little elusive. He could understand that, though - the shock of the kidnapping probably didn't help - but he thought Borishnakov would do just fine.

Kassian leaned back against the wood and let the rising heat ease him, relaxed enough to await his turn at the bottle.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

The steam was heavy, veiling faces intermittently.

Andrei leaned back and took a long pull of the slivovic Gurlukovich handed him. He swallowed easily, immune to the taste and the nuclear burn of it.

Elixir of plum and acetone. Delectable, he thought, vaguely amused. God, what those long winters of old have wrought for us in the modern age.

It was a better banya drink than vodka, which was better cold. If one was going to drink vodka in the banya, it had better be shots hard upon, so it had no time to lose its chill.

He slapped the bench next to him in invitation as Matvei finished stoking the fire.

It was billowing steam heat, now, and it filled his throat- a strange sensation before you learned to relax and enjoy it.

The men were getting down to the serious business of making Borishnakov pyan v stelku.

He watched, amused, through half-lidded eyes, as Alexei and Grigorii urged Vladya to down repeated shots of slivovic.

"Drink up, fresh meat. Think about how many worse things we could have made you swallow," snorted Alexei, but he was grinning.

Vladislaus seemed game enough.

Andrei was glad things had resolved between Charushkin and himself, even if a part of him was conflicted by the means of that resolution.

Satisfied he had ensured a good start to Borishnakov's shitfacing, he let his eyes rise deliberately, seeking Captain Irinarhov's storm-eye presence, finding him, unobtrusively watching the tableu from somewhere in the middle.

He felt his blood rising as Matvei sat down beside him, sighing and leaning back.

"Khuy, Isaev...you get off on terrorizing a man?" laughed Alexandr Ivanovich, looking pointedly at his loins.

Andrei glanced down, laughing slightly. He was hard, unmistakably so.

He smirked, and made it wave at Alex by tightening his stomach.

"I can't remember, Xasha- does your mother like her hair pulled while you fuck her? Or is that your aunt?"

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei gave a light snort, and determinedly looked away, taking a decided interest in the bottle, watching that go around, instead.

It was best not to analyse anything that might end up having a similar effect on himself.

"Give me some, you pricks," he finally groused, good-naturedly, leaning forward, as it was depressing to be the only sober person in a room of drunks.

He finally managed to have the bottle passed back to him after some good-natured returning insults, and drank his share, smothering a splutter at the burn.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian leaned back, nearly drowsy, eyes half-closed. The steam and the liquor had conspired to turn his thoughts torpid. He merely listened as the Ocelots joked amongst themselves, following the conversations from one man to the next.

His attention was drawn by Isaev's voice, but as he looked over he saw that the others were teasing the lieutenant, and then he saw why.

Kassian looked away immediately, jaw going tight.

Among other things.

He closed his eyes deliberately and took in a deep, humid breath, then thought about nothing, again and again.

Kassian had the advantage of his years and self-discipline to keep him relaxed enough to not let any interest show. What also helped was the thought of drawing attention, or worse yet, someone making the connection between himself and Isaev.

Humiliation did not become him, and made him feel small.

It still didn't keep him from flinching when someone bumped his shoulder and handed him the slivovic. He'd taken sips in measured grimaces before, but this time he took a deep, violent pull, coughing before passing on the bottle on to the next man's hand.

He told himself it was nothing, not erotic in the slightest, that Isaev's state was a natural function of just the heat and bodies pressed close together, and the thrill of the kidnapping earlier.

Then he remembered he was not supposed to be thinking about it at all, and scowled.

Kassian did not dare to look at Isaev again, but instead kept his eyes firmly closed and focused on another conversation, marking it closely, hoping that it would be soon time to throw Borishnakov in the snow, or make him vomit, or something. Otherwise the night might just go on a little too long.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Vladya was surprised to notice the only dark-haired, dark-eyed soldier among the group. He wasn't quite sure how it had taken him so long to notice, the guy really stood out.

His attention was quickly taken away as a bottle was put once again in his hands. Every time one came his way he made it a point to consume as much of it as he possibly could, intent on getting drunk enough to forget how utterly horrified he'd been a few minutes ago.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"You know...he's really doing well," remarked Andrei, watching Vladya shotgun booze like a champ.

He glanced at Matvei and laughed.

"I think he's about ready. He won't feel a thing.

He lifted his chin.

"Hey, Borishnakov. Feel like taking a little jog around the vehicle yard?"

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

It was nice to see how happy everyone was at the sight of so much good alcohol. While Sergei wasn't the hugest fan of drinking until he couldn't see straight, he knew that most of his comrades were. If he was expected to deliver, he wasn't going to let them down.

Quite a few were sending him thankful grins, which he returned with equally sincere smiles. He didn't drink much himself; for one thing, he wasn't exactly in the mood for it, and secondly, Ocelot had warned him to be careful. He was probably taking the major's words a little too seriously, but he tended to do that.

The new blood was mixing in well, though. He seemed to be fit to drink with the rest of them. Sergei would have liked a chance to speak with him so they could begin to form a friendship beyond mutual understand of being part of a close unit, but it was hardly the time for such things. No, he had a bit more to do before he was officially one of them.

Andrei seemed eager to get on with that, as well. Sergei just laughed and shrugged. It was cruel, but they'd all done it.

Almost all, anyway. He glanced at Kassian, try to size him up. But there wasn't much to read there, which really made Sergei even more curious. Perhaps he would ask Andrei about it--he seemed to be chipping away at the man already.

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

"Oi, oi, Sasha," Matvei remarked lazily from his perch, "you'll have to do better than that."

He gave a grin, knowing no offense would be taken. He and Sergei were permanently on good terms.

He faced Andrei as he noticed that familiar, trouble-making smile settle into place.

"You really are a sadist," Matvei shook his head, trying not to laugh. "You go push him outside. I'm staying here."

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

When Andrei called his name Vladya looked in his direction. Jog around the vehicle yard. He nodded before he had a chance to think about what he was agreeing to.

After a moment though it occurred to him he wasn't quite sure where the vehicle yard was. "Of course, Isaev... but you'll have to go with me to show me where it is. Just arrived on base, you know."

He took an even larger drink the next time the bottle came his way, getting the distinct feeling he was going to need every drop he could manage to make it through the night.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei rolled his eyes, standing up and stretching languidly.

The heat was nice, but not as hot as his reptilian senses liked it, and he hadn't reached his breaking point yet, but duty was duty.

Fucking snow it was, then.

"Oh, so it's like that, is it?" he good naturedly. " 'Andrusha Alexich, I don't how to roll around in snow, can you show me?'"

He shot a look at Matvei, and snatched the junior lieutenant's towel from him with a quick hand.

"If you're staying in like a proper lady, you won't be needing this," he smirked, wrapping it around his loins and tucking it in deftly. "You know, Makno, sadist is a terrible word. I really prefer 'catalytic diplomat'."

He glanced at Vladya, who was champing at the bit, already raring to go, hand on the wooden door.

Andrei laughed.

"Khuy, bratan! I've never seen anyone so eager to earn his spots before." He looked down, and grinned. "You know, Vladya, you can wear a towel out on the walk through the hall. We just whip them off before we dive into the banks. Put them right back on."

He turned surretitiously to his grinning comrades, making an exaggeratedly ironic face behind Vladya's back.

"It's not like we'd make you go through the Grad naked or anything. I mean, we're bastards, but that would just be...gosh, can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?"

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

The sooner it was over, the sooner he could start sleeping this off. Vladya rarely did things in half measures, and while he was patient he didn't like wasting time, either.

Vladislav nodded and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. "Well, Andrusha. Since you put it that way... They do say it's best to learn by example... and don't call me Vladya." He really disliked that name.

[gurlukovich.livejournal.com]

Sergei smirked at Matvei's teasing tone. He would have dared the other to finish the drink off for him, but there was no reason to encourage Matvei to take in more alcohol than he already was. Sergei instead took a few more sips, watching the exchange between Andrei and the new one.

He didn't like being called Vladya. He'd make a note of that. He wondered if it was a simple dislike or if there was some reason he didn't approve of the name.

Snorting at Andrei, he shook his head, not able to stop some mild laughter. That was almost unfair, but hopefully the fresh meat would pick up on how sarcastic Andrei was being.

"Just take him out, Andrei," Sergei pressed. Poor guy should get it over with already.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei grinned at Sergei.

"All right, all right," he said. "I hope his fablous prizes are ready."

He'd asked Gurlukovich to go out to the vehicle yard and hang each of the Ocelot accessories on the end of a tank, a tricky proposition, as the tanks- and their barrels, were blanketed in snow.

Sergei got to use a ladder to get them up there.

Borishnakov, on the other hand, would have to shimmy-hump and monkey-crawl his way along the canon barrel to get to the end and retrieve them for himself.

Andrei idly wondered if that was sadistic, or merely ingenious.

He looked around the room as he backed out, hand on the knob.

"Anyone else who wants to take a dip, now's your chance to join us."

It wasn't out of line. Most of them did when they used the banya.

But most of the Ocelots had seemed disinclined to give up their bird's eye view.

Still, it never hurt to ask.

He could use more backup when Vladislaus inevitably decided he didn't feel like dry-humping a frozen gun arm with his tender joybits dragging and made a break for it, thus necessitating tackling.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Something was happening.

Kassian opened his eyes and paid attention, tracking the activity that had stirred in the group. Isaev seemed to be in the middle of it, of course, but it also looked like it was time to throw the new recruit in the snow.

He looked around at the rest of the Ocelots, trying to judge if the others were going along, but most kept their place. Kassian got up.

"I'll go," he said. In truth, he did not mind the cold. There were times when he'd had to nest outside for hours and after a while, he'd learned to adapt.

And he would feel more comfortable to be outside, not so many people all in one space. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Isaev didn't have time to hide his surprise.

"All right," he said, blinking, then smiling.

Irinarhov was the last person he would have expected to step up and give him a hand.

Well, not exactly. The Captain was one of the first people he'd have expected to led a hand. He'd proven that in the short time Isaev had known him.

But this sudden participatory streak...well, he could only assume Irinarhov wasn't above learning new tricks.

Andrei nodded.

"Da vai. Let's go then."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian wasn't sure of what he was getting into, but found himself unworried. He would hold Isaev at his word, then, and let the lieutenant take the lead.

Isaev met his eyes and smiled at him, which made Kassian lower his gaze and just nod slightly. Perhaps he had downed one too many swallows of slivovic. His face felt hot.

He was looking forward to sharp, chill air outside and the peacefulness of night. He followed Isaev and Borishnakov, bracing himself for the shock.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

It wasn't far to the end of the hall, from there it was out the metal door and down four flights of external concrete stairs.

The chill was welcome against his chest as Andrei pushed open the door.

He sighed, pleased, letting the fresh evening breeze lift his hair as his cheeks were touched by small, glinting stars of snow.

Perfect. The snow was deep and thick in this part of the yard, the tanks blanketed.

Andrei paused on the landing, putting his arm around Borisnakov's shoulder companionably.

"All right, here's the deal, Vladislaus. See those four tanks? Look what's hanging at the end of each barrel. There's your beret, your scarf, your gloves and your holster."

He shot a look at Irinarhov, a fleeting and conspiratory smile, before turning back to Borishnakov.

"Your boots, however, are in the dog yard. Right over...there." Andrei grinned. "They're in one of the dog houses. Probably Goliath's, if I don't miss my guess. He's Sergei's favorite," he explained, aside.

Andrei knew it depended on the recruit's personal cold tolerance how many trips a man had to take back to the banya and out again to retrieve all his items.

Occasionally someone made it to his boots and wriggled out to the ends of all the tank barrels in one trip.

He was betting on Borishnakov to be among the more hardcore, seeing as he was stone staggering drunk.

"You might want to get the boots first," he suggested, raising his eyebrows. "Without them you get a lot colder."

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

"Dogs." He knew quite a bit about dogs, his father had kept them. Of course, his father's dogs had been trained for different purposes, and those had been part wolf. These were guard dogs, and they didn't know him.

It was time to make a good impression on his new unit. "Bring on the dogs," He muttered to himself, heading over for the dog yard in what was suppose to be a determined, dramatic stride.

The effect was ruined when he nearly tripped over a something in the snow. Not that his slightly drunken swaying had been very dramatic to begin with, but there was no denying his determination.

He paused outside the dog yard, staring to see if he could figure out which one of the little dog houses his boots were in. After identifying a likely target Vladislav carefully opened the door to the dog yard.

Hopefully the dog hadn't chewed on his boots.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei grinned to himself, impressed by the man's fortitude, even five or six sheets to the wind.

Sergei had left only puppies and half-grown puppies with access to the outside from their warm kennels, so Vladislaus had nothing to worry about, except being bratpacked, licked to death and probably knocked over.

"Watch," he whispered to the Captain. "This should be good."

He glanced up, as the locker room window slid open and a disembodied "Woooo!" sailed out.

The Ocelots were in form.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

There was both good news and bad news as he peered into the doghouse.

His boots were, in fact, in there. Unfortunately, he woke up the dog when he went to get them. As the furry form stirred Vladya could tell that it wasn't a full grown, fully trained guard dog.

But the puppy was almost as bad as it wagged it's tail and tried to pounce on him, barking happily. The puppy didn't knock him over, but it did wake up the rest of it's little friends.

Vladya found himself mobbed by pups of various ages as he ran frantically for the exit, dogs trying to lick and jump on him every inch of the way.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei's eyebrows rose briefly.

"And what would you suggest I call you, junior lieutenant Borisovich?" he asked, amused.

The rather tactless demand didn't faze him particularly, although he knew if Ilya was here in his stead, it would be a different story.

And a very different initiation process, he thought, wryly.

He'd be fighting to pull Ilya off the insubordinate soldier by now, as Imanov sought to familiarize the new recruit's face with the more intimate properties of tile grout.

Oblivious to his own vulnerable nudity, of course.

Andrei laughed out loud, shaking his head, knowing that no one would understand what brought on his sudden and abrupt levity.

For once, he was very glad Ilya was in the infirmary.

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

"Vladislav, Yamirovich, or Borishnakov... just not Vladya... or Vladik, for that matter." When Vladislav drank, tact and common sense were the first to go. And, in fact, the more he drank the more talkative he became.

"And what was that you said about earning spots earlier?" Hopefully it was a metaphor. Though, Vladislav had heard of hazing rituals that had involved painting recruits with camouflage paint, and then making them do all sorts of strange things naked with the paint all over their bodies. Of course, he figured it was just a bunch of stories to scare trainees.

Andrei was laughing, though, apparently he had found something amusing. Vladislav wasn't quite sure what. These Ocelot's weren't nearly as bad as he'd expected from what he heard when he first arrived on base.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei caught Irinarhov's uneasiness like a scent, turning his head to take him in at a glance. His body language taut and avoidant, and he treated the bottle of slivovic that was thrust at him like the strike of a snake.

He took himself away from shooting off with his comrades to make eye contact with Irinarhov, to make a nonverbal inquiry as to his distress, but found it impossible.

The Captain was actively avoiding his gaze. He frowned.

He was offended, then, or upset by the casual bravado of their unit. Andrei saw no shame in an occasional case of masculine rigor mortis in the company of comrades; to try and hide it or pretend it wasn't there struck him as far more questionable behavior.

When a man wore himself well, he could do as he pleased. As for stubbornly saluting small soldiers...well, those too, would pass.

Although not right away.

Still mindful of Kassian's physical expression, he discreetly reached for the towel beside him and draped it absently over his lap, just enough to obscure the offending physiology.

Andrei didn't mind making a polite concession in this case. Irinarhov was doing his best to acclimate to a strange new breed, and Andrei had no wish to make his time in purgatory more unpleasant.

I guess that solves the question of where his predilections stop short, he thought.

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei gave a shrug and a grin. "Yeah. Well, I think he's tall..." He laughed. "He didn't have a chance to have his personality shine between me carrying him out, and you straddling him whilst taping his mouth."

He threw his clothes off as hastily as he could so he didn't sweat in them any longer, and could join the party.

"That was fun," he added, fondly, having thoroughly enjoyed his first kidnap of an Ocelot.

They were soon stripped, and he looked forward to being just another smile in the sauna.