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

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

Vladislav was not particularly fond of helicopter rides. Especially helicopter rides with bleeding scientists and large, dead crocodiles. It was loud, and between himself, the scientist, the crocodile, and the rest of the Ocelot Unit, they were making quite a smell.

He was quite glad that he didn't actually have to carry the crocodile, he didn't let it show but he was rather tired from his early morning jungle excursion. Borishnakov glanced over towards Andrei, having come up with a story.

"It's really dangerous out in the jungle," He commented slightly. "Good thing I saw his tracks leaving the base when I did and went after him." He indicated the scientist with his head when he said that.

It was a good cover story, and that way he'd probably only get in trouble for not reporting it in. Of course, if he'd really been doing that, it shouldn't have taken him as long as it did to track down the scientist, but well, things happened. Like areas where there were no foot-prints. And crocodiles, those seemed to happen rather violently. Then again, everything seemed to happen rather violent and frightening manners.

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Andrei nodded.

"All right," he said.

He glanced at the other Ocelots.

"You heard him. He's produced a hall pass. Let's keep it Q.T. on the Major's end."

The other Ocelots gave brief nods of affirmation.

It was no skin off their asses; besides, Vladya had provided a diversion from the norm of patrol, and the crocodile promised further entertainment.

Privately, he truly hoped Borishnakov could make good on his threats of cobblery.

Andrei smiled ruefully.

Boy, would Ocelot lose his shit when that care package arrived for Raikov with his warmest regards.

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

The helicopter ride was brief, but impressive enough.

They arced over the mountain ridge and approached the base. Kassian had originally arrived at Groznyj Grad at night, so he hadn't seen the full view of the sprawling base from the air.

Massive but plain concrete buildings were spaced by open areas filled with cargo containers and the occasional hangar. The Kamov banked gently, heading for the southwest quad, where a landing pad was outlined in yellow and ringed by spotlights.

Kassian caught a flash of red-accented black below. Ocelot, most likely, here to welcome them back personally.

At least their mission had been a success, and they'd even gone above and beyond by bringing the scientist back as well.

Ocelot should be pleased.

The Kamov touched down on the pad and the pilot began to power down the rotors.

Most of the Ocelots were grinning, in high spirits; they climbed out of the hatch and saluted the Major perfunctorily.

Kassian felt fairly pleased with the way things had worked out himself. He hopped out of the chopper after Isaev and joined the rest of the squad, wondering what Ocelot would make of their...trophy.

[major-ocelot-2u.livejournal.com]

Ocelot nodded at his squad individually as they disembarked.

He wasn't much for sentimental gladhanding and backslapping, but they'd done well, and he did have an inexplicable fondness for them, despite his best intentions.

They seemed to be unusually pleased with themselves, which was never a good sign. He scowled. Either it was still the Raikov business, residually haunting him, or something entirely new and Ocelocentric.

Well. He'd unfortunately find out, sooner or later. Most likely sooner, by the way Charushkin's cheeks were glowing with cheer.

"Colonel Volgin says well done," he parroted, blithely, with a lift of his chin. He gave them the fingerguns. "And I appreciate you not fucking up."

He watched as a couple of the Ocelots unloaded the moaning, feverish scientist, and then ducked back into the Kamov, grinning wider, causing him to frown.

"Isaev," he muttered, snapping his head toward the smooth-faced Lieutenant. "What have you pediks done?"

Isaev was standing next to the sniper, his hands jammed into the deep pockets of his black field tunic.

"I didn't do anything, sir. Nor did Irinarhov. Or Charushkin. Or Bodokin. Or Naimushin."

Ocelot's lip curled into a sneer.

"I don't believe you."

"Really, sir. It was all Borishnakov."

"What was all Borishnakov?" muttered Ocelot, rubbing the tip of his gun against his forhead.

Isaev glanced at Irinarhov and shrugged, then pointed.

"That."

[vladya-yamirich.livejournal.com]

The self-satisfied attitude of the Ocelots was contagious, if a bit odd. It somewhat reminded him of an expression his mother's favorite pet cat would get when the old feline had left a dead mouse around for someone to find.

Vladya was doing what he believed to be a fair job of concealing his own good mood when the other Ocelots hopped out and joined in the saluting, seeing the man who was obviously the Major of the strange, strange unit.

Clearly, he was the one who set the standards for them. The man had the fair skin, blue eyes, and blond hair that dominated the unit. The Ocelot Major did look a little, young. And he seemed to be somewhat eccentric, and... were those spurs he was wearing?

Vladislav's eyes pulled away from the Major to glance at Andrei when the man said it was all his doing. In truth, it was, and he had yet to determine if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but regardless, he had to struggle to keep from grinning broadly when Isaev pointed to his trophy crocodile.

Though, Vladislav did have to wonder how the Ocelot's could tell themselves apart with their identical uniforms and almost uniform appearances. Irinarhov seemed the only one who wasn't blond haired and blue eyed.

Had Major Ocelot chosen men to purposefully look like him?

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

Ocelot's eyes widened at the sight of the crocodile, briefly and then he looked at Borishnakov.

"You did this?"

Before Borishnakov could answer, Andrei interjected.

"Sir, the Lieutenant noted some non-personnel track this morning before duty commenced, and followed it, assuming it was a...scientific defector. He came across this gavial with the missing scientist in its jaws, and shot to kill."

He paused, letting Ocelot look the animal over.

"The man will be all right, and we thought perhaps the crocodile could be tomorrow's solyanka. Since we have her, and Charushkin can cook." He grinned.

Then he turned to look at Borishnakov, remembering that Ocelot would be looking to come down on the AWOL Ocelot like a ton of bricks.

"So Major, Lt. Borishnakov is not guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer, but merely overzealous judgment in the commission of those duties. He is duly apologetic, and meant only to prove himself a valuable asset to his new squad."

Ocelot tilted his head, smirking.

"Well, then we'll skip the brig, in light of this lesser offense." He scowled at Borishnakov sidewise. "It was still an inconvenience. But a few hours of desk duty should teach you a lesson. Assigned to the East Wing as Major Raikov's personal assistant, that is."

Isaev grinned and cringed, as did Charushkin, and he thought even Irinarhov shot him a wry crinkle of his eyes that suggested amusement.

It could have been much worse, but an afternoon in Raikov's company could prove plenty harrowing. Many of them had been there.

Ocelot's eyes slatted coolly as he cocked the gun in his hand and spun it.

"Nice lizard," he added. "Haul it out of here. I don't want to see it again in this form."

[capt-kasya.livejournal.com]

"Yes, Major," the Ocelots said, saluting. A group of them moved forward to wrangle the crocodile in the direction of the mess hall. Charushkin went with them.

As the group began to break up, Kassian turned to Isaev. "Good call," he murmured, shifting his gaze to Borishnakov for a moment.

Even though he'd been irritated at Borishnakov earlier, Kassian thought that if the junior lieutenant had the presence of mind to shoot a rampaging crocodile, he probably would find the stones to continue with the Ocelots.

Sure, it had been a mistake, but maybe Borishnakov had learned his lesson.

After all, Kassian was a firm believer in second chances.

"What now?" he asked Isaev. He still did not have the squad's routine down, and besides, the search for Borishnakov had neatly broken it. It was probably too late to deal with the medical procedures. That could be handled tomorrow.

Ocelot seemed disinclined to issue orders, but instead twirled his guns and looked contemplative.

Kassian regarded Isaev's youthful, well-cut features and watched those reflective, pale eyes. "Any more accessory extractions on the itinerary today?"

[andrei-isaev.livejournal.com]

"Now might be a good time to show Isaev how to fire a fucking gun," observed Ocelot, mildly, looking at his own and clicking the trigger meaningfully.

He smirked.

"That is, if you're not too busy."

Andrei glanced at Irinarhov and nodded.

"What do you say?" he said. "I'm willing if you are. And I tend to be a pretty apt pupil."