majorbonerkiller | NonCanon: Snapped

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NonCanon: Snapped

[Ivan leaned in close to the mirror, eyeballing the cut across his face. He ran a gloved finger over it with a frown, noting that it yes, it had re-closed since its re-opening from his borrowed electric powers.]

[But now it was red and angry, slightly swelled above the surface. All together, hideous. Not to mention the sword wounds all over his arm and some on his chest that had suffered the same gruesome reanimation. Luckily those could be covered, kept hidden and neat.]

[Ivan curled and uncurled the fingers on his cybernetic hand, metal and joints creaking. A glove was pulled over it with slight resistance, and then he headed out the door.]

[An entire day spent wandering the Nexus, and all he had to show for it was a full belly and some ammo. Outside rooms were a bore. Effect rooms were to be avoided. His "secretary" was not around right now for casual encounters.]

[There were no other interests that day; nobody to take out his annoyance on of his again marred face. But there was Volgin, back at his apartment that he was now approaching. Volgin, on the couch as usual, acting like a-]

Lazy old man.

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[Lazy was a matter of perception.

Volgin had much of this floor charted out... mentally. He at least knew what was behind every door of their hallway. Moving day had come and gone, and they had hardly moved at all.

Today, the giant had arrived back to the roost first, and was helping himself to the long-standing puzzle of "How The Hell Is This Place Receiving Outside Transmissions?" The content of these transmissions was another matter in itself, but still, Volgin reflexively snapped the channel from the droll Western he had been formerly digging himself into at Raikov's arrival.

And his disdain.

At this, he rose a brow, his tone flat.]

Is that all you see me as nowadays?

Well what else do you do but laze around?

[His anger had to be taken out on someone. It wasn't even a conscious effort to take it out on Volgin; he was simply the only one left.]

I miss the Colonel! The one who would strike fear into some pathetic sap. You know...

[Ivan pauses, speaking very clearly to make an impact:] The man who I fell in love with.

[That brow became furrowed, as Volgin slowly rose to his feet. The commercial banter from the TV no longer existed.

He made slow strides to his mouthy lover.]

What are you implying?

That you need to shape up. [A sort of cruel matter-of-fact tone.]

[Ivan crosses his arms, not budging as he's approached.]

[Ivan found himself chest-to-chest with the giant.]

Now, in what respect are you suggesting?

[His voice had dangerous barbs in it, the same ones that caused the other subordinates to mentally consider what would be left of the victim that was worth anything at all when the Colonel was through with them.

Raikov should have been familiar with it, but never, as far as Volgin recalled, had he directed it towards him.]

[He sneered up at the larger man, eyes narrowed. Ivan was sick of pushing Volgin off the couch, and only now was how much he hated it really starting to show, even to himself.]

Any respect, who cares! Anything is an improvement over what you are now--a waste of space. You're just the shell of Colonel Volgin in a tacky sweater!

[Love would only take the selfish Soviet so far. He wanted a powerful man to feed into his megalomania. He wanted to have to be sneaky and manipulative to get what he wanted, not just be spoon-fed it. Taking candy from a baby is a novelty that quickly wears off. A struggle, no matter how slight, was much more rewarding.]

[Volgin curled his lip.]

What.

Are you going to educate me on something as ridiculous as being myself?

Yes. [Ivan took a step back, then walked over to the couch.]

Different couch, the same shit! I swear if I see you sitting on this thing one more time--Arrghhh! [Ivan reached up, gripping his own hair.] I'll rip my hair out!

[Volgin's hand twitched. This man could never be his Ivan; who was he kidding? He had spent the last few months weathering demands of an insolent child with the occasional fucking.

He was back on his feet now.]

Don't trouble your pretty, precious scalp.

[He took a step back.]

I understand now.

You aren't him.

[With that, he turned around, and headed to the apartment door, casually adding:]

I just got back. A little before you did, actually.

[He ducked under the doorframe, and disappeared.]

Huh--?

[Ivan stood there, rooted to the spot, completely dumbfounded as he turned to watch the other man walk out.]

Wait, hey... [His voice was much softer, but Volgin had already left the room.] Yevgeny...

[And regret quickly began to settle in, like the deep-seated itch of a mosquito bite.]

[Finally, Ivan managed to will himself to move in a sudden rush to the door. He gripped the frame, leaning out to see Volgin not far down the hall.]

Zhenya!! Where the hell do you think you're going?! You can't leave me!!

[Volgin paused and narrowed his eyes. He did not look back, calling more to the end of the hall with that powerful voice of his.]

You're a fool, Raikov, if you think I am bound to you in any fashion.

[Raikov could see his chest move as he forced out an airy chuckle.]

Are you even him?

I'm not myself.

[He continued and rounded the corner.]

What?

[The lump in his throat grew ever larger.]

Of course you are, what, do you think I just let you live with me for show?!

[He chased after him now, but still stayed a good ten feet behind.]

Stop walking and talk to me!

[Much more affirmatively, like announcing the title of a candidate and his slogan:] I'm Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov--the one and only worth your time in this shithole.

[Volgin again paused, but this time he turned around, if taking a moment to skim his gaze along the floor to the other man, gauging distance.]

Now, that's impressive. Such a big claim from such a loud whelp of a man.

Shame only recently I stopped being no better than your dog.

[He coolly scratched at the back of his head, momentarily curling his lip.]

I'm surprised you haven't come home with a collar. [He began to run his hand around his neck as he spoke:] With my name on it and your address.

... [Ivan stopped where he was, glowering at the other man. There was a genuine hint of pain in his eyes, and he was doing his damnedest to hide it.]

Don't talk down to me. And I only treated you the way you let me. If you were going to roll over like a dog, then I was going to treat you like one.

I didn't like it. I hated it! It's disgusting, it's no fun, I tried to push you out of it, but you were too stupid to realize it!

[Volgin considered this for a time. His single eye reflected nothing, seemingly staring through the questionable incarnation of his lover.]

You would never understand where I came from, boy.

[Months in ether, between Heaven and Hell and other places that filtered along the dead, dispatched, and unwanted, free from everything but held to nothing.

It was death while being still being strapped to the back of an animal that should have been dead decades ago. Stasis, he supposed was the better word for it.]

I don't expect you to.

[He shook his head, the smirk twisting his face hardly a good one.]

I'm half a century old, and you know more than me. Truly, I am the dumb one here.

Maybe you're the Colonel and I am but a mistaken subordinate.

[His eye darkened.]

Is that right?

Stop playing stupid word games with me.

[Ivan frowned, sincere. His eyes trailed to the ground.]

You're the Colonel...you should act like one.

A long time ago. It's the ghost of a title now.

[What was he saying?]

The Soviet Union has since fallen.

[What was he saying?

Truth, he said to himself. He needed a smoke. And another version of himself with his fortune so he could recover it and finish what had been so carefully constructed. 100 billion dollars and a decade of living left to do; he could accomplish much in even with the little he knew of the modern world.

Here, if the past and future lived together in some sort of twisted discord that everyone else called harmony, of snipers and psychics, he would recover his Legacy and run. Buy his own country. Fund the seediest operations. Carve his name somewhere where it could be seen from space.

Possibilities.]

It wasn't long ago to me. And the Union still exists for me.

[His tone softens in earnest.]

You'll always be Colonel Volgin to me...

[Ivan balls his fists up, struggling to keep his voice steady.]

You say I'm not him? Well, how can I be, if you won't acknowledge yourself as the Colonel you are?

You're asking for a facade.

[Huff. Then a harsh chuckle. The airy noise became weary.]

For once, I think I understand now.

Ivan, I am a rare breed.

...

[Ivan tightens his jaw, a slight frown on his lips.]

Understand? Maybe you do, but I don't.

It's a new era now.

Espionage and politics. I could cut a swath through an army with my bare hands, but what does it matter in this world? Physical prowess is a means of power in ancient times. Ancient times.

No, you see, Ivan: I am man of power and perfection, but truly, I am merely an engineered tool for those with gifted tongues. Can you see me manufactured for their wars and front lines? They did not expect me to have a modicum of intelligence of my own, puppeting my own politicians and building my own regime.

It was beautiful, and they feared me. Rightfully so.

The world will be run by the clever and feeble. Men like me, they're just their tools, Ivan.

I'm a rarity in this sense: They never expected me to be able to pull the strings with the most sly and connected of them, when they simply wanted me out of the way.

[Now he really needed a smoke, having rambled to himself more than Ivan in a rare spot of self-reflection.

Funny that it took being hen-pecked by a... not-Raikov long enough to get him there.]

Should I keep lying to myself, Vanya?

[Ivan stared, bleary eyed and tuning out most of the rambling. Once it's finished, he simply raises a dubious brow.]

What? That's stupid. Who cares about any of that? [Ivan had no idea what he was talking about anyway. "They"?] We're here, you're you, so stop complaining about some stupid...whatever it was you said!

[Volgin had been lighting up a cigar. He puffed thoughtfully.]

I knew I kept you around for a reason.

Or is it, you keeping me?

[He began to turn around.]

To talk some sense into you, obviously.

[Ivan began to panic again, hurrying over.]

Hey! Where are you going?!

I am no one's pet, Ivan.

You haven't been listening.

I am no one's tool. I'm not your subordinate.

The only difference between you and anyone else is that I'm letting you live.

You should know how valuable that little courtesy is.

[He scowls.]

I never said you were! Has everything I said just gone in one ear and out the other?

[Hands, meet hips.] And I don't appreciate being threatened.

I am not threatening you, idiot.

I said I would not kill you. Don't give me a reason to.

[Smirking, egging him on.]

At least if you killed me, I'd know you'd be something to be feared again. But you're just a push-over now.

[Volgin turned right around again, taking a step towards the insolent bastard.]

Don't play this game with me.

[His tone was dangerous.]

[Ivan held his arms out, fingers splayed. He looked to the floor so his eyes were nearly lidded...almost modest. There was a smile.]

Come on~

You're boring now. I want to feel the way I did when I first saw you--that would be better than just sitting here and seeing you as a shell of a man.

[His voice darkens a bit, and Ivan glances up. The pleased look is gone from his lips.] If your plan is to make me loathe you, you might as well end "us" with a bang.

[Volgin snorted.]

My plan isn't to make me "loathe" you, you insolent brat. You're hardly the man I know, as I must be to you.

I have no need to be below your dog now. I see how things work around here.

I could kill you, and it would only be a three day hindrance, if time mattered in the place.

Now you're saying I'm the wrong one? Well I've been nothing but true, honest Ivan. The only reason I've been so cruel to you, is because you've been so...bland and boring.

[Ivan smirks, goading him on.]

You're only below Galina because you do nothing to be worthy of a place higher than her. I think you forget, that I let you back. You still have yet to re-earn my respect.

[He snorts, turning his head.] You had it the first time.

[Volgin laughed, a harsh bark of a laugh really.]

I found your cruelty endearing, my friend.

[The giant came closer.]

But you see, if only you directed it towards my men.

[Closer.]

You weren't calling me bland and boring when I fucked you senseless.

[And, with the sudden swiftness of a reptile, Raikov was seized by the throat and effortlessly lifted up.]

I'm not a dog, Ivan. [Squeeze.] That's what they thought when they had me in their possession, at their beck and call because they thought I still believed in their nonsense.

No, I'm something much deadlier.

[Ivan took a half-a-step back, intimidation clear in his eyes.]

...

[And then Ivan felt his blood run cold as his throat was seized and his feet so deftly left the ground. He let out a choking sound when his neck was squeezed, his metal hand coming up to try and pry the giant's fingers off him.

The other reached for a gun, pressing it to Volgin's forehead.]

Me...too...

[Volgin's eye went cold, the yellow rim something feral. His smirk was dark. The fingers remained. As much as that hand could try, it was going to take much more to pry them open.

His grip did not relax.]

Well, what an interesting development.

... Are you going to pull the trigger?

[Finding it hard to breath, but still not lacking enough air to suffocate, Ivan wheezed. His eyes were filled with fear, but also a very deep-seated look of betrayal that was quickly being over come with a sort of forced hatred.]

Put...me...down...

I thought you found me boring.

[His voice was cold. Absolute. A gun to his head was hardly a deterrent.]

Is this entertaining enough for you?

I get...it...

[The pressure on his throat was starting to make his face heat, throb with blocked blood. His head felt pressured, inflated.]

[Another wheeze, and he pulls back the safety. Ivan doesn't want to shoot Volgin; it's the last thing he wants to do.]

No, I don't think you do.

[He took long strides down the hall, keeping his eye on Raikov. He should have blown the gun aside earlier; now a twitch of that trigger finger, by whatever means, and...

... He could play things around, make an artful statement in a place that death no longer had tread and have both of them killed.]

I will put you down, and things will be back to normal, won't it?

What were your words again?

Lazy.

Old.

Man.

...

[Ivan felt a nearly foreign creeping sense of guilt, but was quick to push it down, to reassure himself that he was only being honest, and Volgin needed to change.]

[The world was starting to grow mute; he tugged at the hand around his neck again.]

Put...down...

What was that?

[He held him a little higher, if in the odd sense of offering Ivan the opportunity to look down at the giant, even if he was grazing the ceiling.]

What's wrong, Vanya?

Are things getting a little dark?

[Ivan readjusted his gun accordingly, but could feel his grip begin to slip as his vision blurred.]

[Volgin wouldn't kill him, right? Even if he wasn't "his" Raikov...right?]

[Tears burned his eyes and skin as they rolled down his face.]

Hh...ghhk...

[But the world was starting to grow dark, and Ivan...Ivan didn't want to die. Not again. It didn't matter, it was still terrifying, even more so after he had left and come back to the Nexus.]

[Volgin had about a second to see the clearly pained expression on Ivan's face before he pulled the trigger.]

[He was going to do it. This game was taking a dangerous turn. Volgin's expression began to ease, with his grip, but it was too late.

Maybe Raikov would have seen that, as his finger pulled, when it was too far back to stop it.

Volgin only heard the beginning of the gunfire, but he never heard the end of it. He was falling, but he was dead by the time he hit the ground. Raikov was free.

The younger man would have found a neat hole blown into the thick skull of the older one as his body had crumpled against the wall. His eye was half-lidded. His expression relaxed. The blood trailing from the wound and around his nose resembled a new red scar to the myriad of older ones.

The ozone stench that always indicated the giant's presence began to fade.]

[He did see it, and he let go of the trigger, the gun entirely, but it had already fired. Ivan hit the ground as dead weight hitting his feet, then collapsing onto his knees.]

... [Half a word came out of his mouth before Ivan broke down, curling over on the floor. His forehead pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor as his hands weaved tightly into his hair.]

What did I do...?! What did I do...! [He repeated on and on, words broken up by sobs and whimpers. Ivan rocked himself slightly back and forth. Eventually he got back onto his knees, crawling over to Volgin and pressing his head to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat. Raikov's face was wet with tears, eyes still wide and brows creased in disbelief and shock of his own actions.]

I didn't..I...I ruined...I ruined everything... [And there went another fit of tears.]

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NonCanon: Snapped

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