[identity profile] vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] groznyj_grad
(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.

Date: 2006-09-09 04:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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."

Date: 2006-09-09 08:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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.

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