The Search For Vladya the Coward

[imre-nico.livejournal.com]

Andrei breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

That had been easy. Pleasant, really.

He wasn't sure why he lacked the instinctive fear of the man that everyone else seemed to carefully carry in a handkerchief. Probably had something to do with being the son of a party member, and growing up seeing far worse beasts.

The Fury was a violent, tormented man. Russia was full of violent, tormented men. He'd seen them all his life- on the streets, in the taverns, in the Palace Square. Beating their wives and daughters, knifing other men in alleys, sodomizing the weaker. Dragging themselves upright in the morning again, to drive his father's car and shine his boots.

Those were broken men. Wounded and furious. Dangerous, certainly, if one was too trusting, or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But they weren't beasts.

Real beasts were sleek and well-fed, and their wives wore white mink. Real beasts had smiles and platitudes that killed more slowly and painfully than any britva to the gut.

Andrei had been raised by wolves.

It might have made a good folk tale, if not for the lack of a cautionary moral.

Isaev sighed. The scarf was his again. And next time he saw Ilya he'd be wearing it, prominently, so as not to catch hell from his comrade.

Ilya was very sentimental. Especially when he was drunk.

Andrei grinned.

Irinarhov. He'd almost missed spotting the fucker, he was so still and unflinching in his perch.

"Ochi chornoyje," he sang loudly, throwing open his arms. "Ochi krasivy..."

Comments

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

Kassian walked with Isaev and Charushkin back toward the yard to gather the other Ocelots. Isaev led the way. The lieutenant looked strung as taut as a bowstring, angry, affronted. Entirely focused on his mission. Even Charushkin, who seemed to be the good-natured sort - when he wasn't singling out Kassian for his ire that was - looked subdued, preoccupied.

In a squad as tight-knit as the Ocelots, Borishnakov's flight came off like a slap in the face.

Brotherhood was inflicted in this squad. Isaev had told him that. Now Kassian saw what he had meant. Once accepted, an Ocelot became a brother for life. To have someone reject that was the greatest insult they could suffer.

They reached the yard where the others gathered, milling like caged panthers. As soon as they saw Isaev they surged forward, rifles clutched in their hands. Some of them looked as angry as Isaev, while others just looked like they were still hungover and spoiling for a fight.

Not a single eye turned in his direction. No one seemed to be questioning his presence.

If there was a benefit to Borishnakov's dereliction, the sniper thought wryly, it was that Kassian now looked good in comparison.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei raised his eyes to the phalanx of Ocelottry.

"I don't care," he said, lightly, "how you get him, or how he doth protest. I don't care if you pistol whip him into next month. I don't care if you drive him into the jaws of a fucking Gavial. But one of you, or me, or all of us, are going to apprehend Junior Lieutenant Borishnakov and send him back to GRU with a brand of white-hot shame on his lemon-yellow ass."

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

"Calm down," Matvei admonished, looking a little concerned at Andrei's temper. "Look, he's going to come crawling back half-chewed if we don't find him first." He gave a shrug, and added, bluntly, "And if he's dead, he's not cut out for the squad. He has no chance of escape. I wouldn't fancy my chances crawling my way past mines for miles."

He exhaled slowly, looking deep in thought, ticking over all the possibilities, all the ideas he could formulate.

Borishnakov could have taken any direction. Logically he might have escaped to the nearest village. Of course, he may have taken his chances with the wildlife, as a smarter man might know that he could be caught there. It was also a question of how far he might have managed to travel. Given he likely had very little equipment, not far enough, especially before it was light.

Matvei assessed all the factors and felt he had a good idea how to begin, but kept quiet. He would wait to see what the others thought.

After all, he was barely a year into GRU, nevermind the squad. He didn't fancy a reputation as a know-it-all, a green kid coming up with half-baked ideas that the more experienced knew would never work. He was more content to trust the judgement of his seniors.