I want a fic based on this picture: http://browse.deviantart.com/?order=11&offset=240#/d2yv9jh and the song "Dance with The Devil" by Breaking Benjamin.
Basically, Canada is taken captive by Russia. I basically have no preferences--Human names are fine, but no genderbend. Base it on the picture and song. Thanks!
So big Breaking Benjamin fan is intrigued and has set out to fill this. I should be posting the first part soon. I note the title had more of a sexual theme to it, but the song and picture aren't necessarily about that. So I hope it's okay, if I decided to take it more in the direction of a dark thriller. It seemed to work better for me. I've already got references to both picture and song worked in.
Warning: This is a thriller with dark overtones. Don't look for love or fluff here. There is some description of violence, and some language. - Characters are human but playing on the larger political field. Historical Alternate Universe.
We’re all in, so begin. Just remember, I win. - ‘No Games’ from the album Saturate by Breaking Benjamin
United Soviet Socialist Republic of Russia - Moscow - the early-1980's (Before the Fall of the Wall) ()
A little pigeon tilted its head to the side as it watched a young man foolishly trying to duck and dodge among the cars and people in the heart of Russia. It came to land on a corner of a building. It watched as he came upon a knot in the crowd.
He fidgeted looking for a space to slip by, glancing back, he peered above the crowd to glimpse the dark hats of military men who were trailing him. He quickly ducked his head down and shuffled forward with the crowd.
He spied a small opening to the next intersection where a matronly woman stood waiting for a bus, her arms laden with her shopping. His hands trembled from cold and anxiety as he tapped her shoulder. He smiled shyly as he motioned his intention to slip past. She nodded and politely shifted to her left slightly allowing him just enough room to slip through the now open space.
He made a motion as if to grab the imaginary brim of his hat and with a nod and quick smile he spoke a quick "Thank you" and slipped through. He saw her give the briefest of nods for politeness' sake before shifting back to her right and reclaiming her spot.
He tapped his foot impatiently as he watched the intersection for his moment.
There. A brief break in the traffic. Then with a quick push of his toes of his boots against the gray cement he was off and sprinting through the traffic.
He dodged and weaved with the expertise of a Marine at a boot camp obstacle course. With a few expletives hanging in the air of his path, he slipped down an alley nearby, passing through to merge with the crowd on the other side.
Quickly hunching his shoulders and digging his hands into the pockets of his woolen coat, he slowed his hurried steps to match the slow march of the masses around him. Suddenly looking like every other young Moscovite walking along on the street on that chill fall day.
The little bird lost interest as he moved out of sight. The brief distraction gone, it flitted up into the gray sky. Already thinking on the breadcrumbs to be had two blocks down; it didn’t see the dark shadow as it skimmed nearby. By the time it sensed the blackness enveloping it, the hawk was already in it’s killing dive.
Author anon noticed spell checker was wee bit too helpful. Location should read Union of Soviet Socialist Republics - Moscow, Russia I will try harder to catch that stuff in following chapters. (Argh! I did have someone beta-read this for me before I even posted it too!)
1. In this story the characters are not anthropormorphized characterizations of their nations and culture. Characters are human and thus can hold positions within their respective governments and subsequently are acknowledged by the rest of us. That being said, I did try to keep their canon personalities.
2. Story request strongly influenced by Breaking Benjamin's "Dance with the Devil". Quite a few of their songs have similar sort of theme. So I had their other albums on in the background as I wrote this to help me get the atmosphere just right. Of course, dear readers, you aren't going to hear that since text-based stories don't come with a soundtrack, so I decided to include snippets of the lyrics at the beginning of each chapter, so you, dear readers, could have a similar experience. They are not integral to the story, so if you don't like it, skip them. If you do, then please enjoy. :)
(Curious about the music? Breaking Benjamin's style is hard rock, and some of their popular songs played on the radio have been: "So Cold", "Diary of Jane" and "I Will Not Bow". Gamers will recognize "Blow Me Away" from the second Halo game.)
Take a photograph, It'll be the last, Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here,
I don't have a past I just have a chance, . . .
“Rain” from the album ‘We Are Not Alone’ by Breaking Benjamin
The young man continued to follow the flow of the crowd, slowing inching his way over toward the inner part of the street as he dodged people coming the other way. Though his head barely moved, his eyes constantly roved the street in front of him. He was searching for the just the right building.
Then with a quick movement he slid out of the ebb and flow and into the entrance to a large apartment complex. He paused a moment at the entrance wondering if he perhaps chose too upscale a building. He knew here that exterior of many such buildings belied there interior.
Would they have a secured entrance? He remembered seeing the parking lot behind it. The vehicles behind looked average in make, nothing too fancy, so odds were against it. At least he hoped so.
He tried the door. He was in luck. It opened, and he walked in to stand in the front entryway. He sidled over to the far corner out of sight from the little window in the entryway. He tried not to collapse against it as he paused for a moment to catch his breath.
He had to get to the roof. He prayed that they had a door to the top and that it was unlocked. He could pick it, but probably not before someone discovered him. He just didn't have the time to waste. He hurried up the flight of stairs.
Ten floors later and his legs burning with the effort, he had made it up to the top. The Cyrillic lettering on the sign by the door had faded away to illegibility. He prayed that it hadn't once read "Warning-Emergency Exit-Alarm will sound" as he shoved hard on the rusty handle. It opened an inch and then stuck.
He glanced around the door. The hinges looked ok, so something had to be blocking it from the outside. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby to hear him. There were no apartments at this end of the hall. He backed up and then with a short run, he charged the rooftop exit like an American football linebacker. With a metallic 'thwack' and scraping noise, the door flung open.
Now the dark begins to rise Save your breath, it's far from over Leave the lost and dead behind Now's your chance to run for cover
“I Will Not Bow” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
The young man stumbled through at the door's sudden give. As he fell to his hands and knees on the gravel rooftop, the woolen cap fell off his head, releasing his blonde locks to cascade about his shoulders. He grimaced in discomfort as he pressed his hands into the gravel harder to push himself up to his feet.
By this time the door had started to swing shut with a scrape of gravel and slow high-pitched whine of its rusty hinges. The blonde man quickly stretched his left foot back to stop the door from shutting and automatically locking. This time he winced in pain as the heavy metal door slammed into the bony tip of his outer left ankle. "Hunh! Erm-oww," he groaned quietly, as he looked around the roof. Spying what he needed, he leaned forward and stretched out a hand to grab a golf ball sized stone along with his cap. He turned and slipped it into the doorjamb and then released the door to fall closed against it. The rock stayed in place leaving the door just barely ajar.
He stood next to the door a moment to listen as he settled his cap back on his head. Hearing no curious parties coming down the hall, he turned and looked around. Spotting a fallen metal chimney cap to his left he walked over to it limping slightly. He assumed this was what had been blocking the door. Flipping it right side up, he set the heavy and boxy messenger bag he had been carrying on the chimney cap's slightly curved square top.
He quickly pulled out pieces of his satellite radio and put them together. He would only have minutes to get a message out before either the government watchdogs would detect and locate him or his battery would run out of power. Once they transmitted his location to their men searching the streets below, it would be all over if he wasn't away from here and blended back into the crowd on the streets once again.
He connected the last two pieces together and flipped the switch. The radio crackled and buzzed to life. Reaching into the brim of his cap he pulled out a small folded note. He glanced back and forth at it as he carefully tuned to the frequency scrawled in his contact's stiff block lettering.
He waited. He closed his eyes briefly as he whispered, "Please connect, please."
Quick Author Notes: First mobile Satellite phone wasn't around until late 1980's, early 90's. But radio communication was fairly common. (Think aeronautic or maritime satellite networks, plus OSCAR satellites for amateur radio had been up since the 70's I believe.) So I'm imagining he's using something like that-just portable with a larger battery one might use in a lantern or car. Oh, and he's got to be up high, within line of sight. Mountains and tall buildings would actually block the signals.
He fumed at the request. 'Nature of my emergency?! Hello?! How about I should have been back there 10 hours ago, but I'm still stuck here in enemy territory with that devil and his hellhounds baying at my heels? And don't you think you should have noticed that you left me here!’
Instead he answered, "I need a new exit strategy. Stop."
The young agent mentally growled in frustration at the slow monotone of the disembodied voice.
"Backup was not at exit point, contact was compromised. Stop."
"Rzzpt. . . Registered. . . zzrckt . . One moment . . .for new . . . rrzzz . . . contact. . . inf. . .hisszzz."
The man put the little slip of paper back in his cap as the radio buzzed off into a humming static. He didn't turn it off, but pulled out a small notebook and map from his bag as he gingerly sat down on the cold stones.
As time ticked by, he watched the door and sky nervously, wondering what would catch him first. The men out hunting him or the cold rain threatening to pour from the concrete-colored sky. He rubbed his hands together, puffing a few heated breaths of air into his stiffening fingers. He shivered and pulled up the collar of the jacket as a fine cold mist began to sink down into the air around him.
Show me what it's like To dream in black and white, So I can leave this world tonight.
Full of fear, Ever clear. I'll be here, Fighting forever. . .
Never mind, Turn back time. You'll be fine - I will get left behind.
. . .How do I simplify, Dislocate - the enemy's on the way.
-“Unknown Soldier” from the album ‘Phobia’ by Breaking Benjamin
He had just begun to wonder if he should pack up and leave before he was caught, when suddenly the radio buzzed back to life.
"Zzzkerzck . . . Executing . . . exit strategy. . .zzz-rpt . . New Contact . . .” He leaned forward turning away from the door as he struggled to catch the staticy fading words.
Perhaps what held his attention so deeply was the bright line of hope that he clung, which came from the words in a staticy voice thousands of miles away. Or maybe it was the weather that had desaturated the world to formless shades of gray that had dulled his senses to the deeper shadow that had slid closer ever so slowly while he listened. It had sidled out from the black shadow of a six-foot high window well creeping along the thin strip of roof that ran along the walls of the upper story loft apartments. One can only assume that this was an architectural design to allow residents time to contemplate how they would like to die, should the building ever catch fire, as the contractor had never installed a fire escape.
". . .teen-forty-five hours . . " He furiously jotted down the information unaware of his darkening world as the man-sized shadow slid over his back to come to stop as it settled around him. "Zzzrt . . . memorize . . . rrzt . . . destroy all sensitive . . . rrkkzzt . . . after receiving . . . hhssssz. . ."
The radio hissed into silence as he glanced quickly at the information. He’d have to study it later when he was somewhere a little more secure. He had to get out of here. It wouldn't take long for their military eyes and ears to alert the ones looking for him.
He tucked the note into his cap. He had missed the sound of the heavy boots over the loud hiss of the radio as they finally stepped from the stone wall to the gravel roof near him. He turned the radio off and hurried to pack it before the sky cut loose with the rain it had been holding back.
I'm really happy that you are liking this and are excited about it. I hope the ending will still meet your expectations. I kind of took your request and ran off with it, so I'm glad you don't mind. Don't worry-you won't have to wait for long. I'll have the rest of the sections posted before the end of the day.
Take a breath Hold it in Start a fight You won't win Had enough Let's begin Nevermind I don't care
Don't carry me under You're the devil in disguise . . . .
“What Lies Beneath” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
'Damn.' he thought as he looked out over the roof seeing the distant stormy skies. 'That's just what I don't need, water-logged and ruined equipment.'
He turned toward the door, moving to stand when a razor-thin strip of shadow broke off, with a faint hiss of steel to rest against the pulse in his throat.
"Ah, Agent Maht-hew Vill-yams, the Invisible Man, so nice of you to come visit us."
Matthew Williams froze at the touch of the cold, hard metal against his warm, soft, unprotected flesh.
The shadowy figure behind him continued. "You have given me and my men quite a chase.
Matthew’s back stiffened at the sound of the velvety dark tones of the man behind him. The captured agent prayed it wasn't the man he feared it was standing with a sword at his throat. He shifted his weight casually readying himself for a quick maneuver that would duck him away from the blade and allow him to make an offensive strike back.
But the other man sensed it and moved in closer effectively shutting him down before he could even try.
"Tch' Why are you in such a hurry? Come, let me take your bag."
Matthew relinquished the bag in his left hand as soon as he felt another hand grab for it.
"Stay awhile. And you might learn some valuable things. For I have much to teach."
Cautiously twisting to observe the man behind him as he quickly patted Matthew down for weapons, Matthew responded slowly to buy time, drawing each word out, "Oh, I doubt that."
Cold light above us Hope fills the heart And fades away Skin white as winter As the sky returns to grey -“Anthem of Angels” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew caught the flashes of platinum blond hair gone gray in the fading light, like the beige woolen jacket that he currently wore. The tall Russian however wore an elegant woolen duster dyed a violet that in darkening sky had turned the midnight shade of the fruit of an eggplant. One end of the winter white scarf he wore hung loose near Matthew’s hand. Matthew willed him to move just a little closer, His left hand slowly moved closer, the fringe nearly in reach of his fingertips now, but the other man found the little double-action, semi-automatic pistol from Matthew's shoulder holster right at that moment too.
"Ah, ah, aah," his captor clucked disapprovingly. Easily sliding it out of the holster, he rapped the butt of the gun hard against the knuckles of Matthew’s hand as Matthew made a last-ditch grab for the rogue end of the scarf.
Matthew pulled his hand back rubbing the knuckles. He tried to get a better look at his captor. But the man stood with his face still partially hidden in the shadow cast by the light reflected off of billboard sign on the building behind him.
He studied the gun a moment. Then with a satisfied smile he turned the gun back towards Matthew. Then there was an audible click as the safety came off.
Only then did the other man slide the thin rapier-like sword with its steel gray handle of right angles back into its walking cane sheath. Now turning the little gun he had confiscated back onto it's owner, he held it to the shorter man's back, keeping him at bay.
"So you do not believe me little ghost? So much pride, so much confidence in one’s abilities. But it comes before the fall, eh?”
Matthew felt the little gun through his coat as the man pressed into back of his ribs on his left side as the man continued.
“You think I can teach you nothing? Then how do you think we 'saw' an invisible man, eh?" The man paused waiting for a response. “Guess, little ghost,” he commanded and gave the agent a sharp jab to his back.
Matthew drew his mouth into a thin line and kept up his silence.
But then Matthew felt hot breath near his left ear as the rich lilting baritone voice whispered into it, “It is no fun, if you don’t try.”
He gave a quick puff of air into Matthew’s ear as he drew out the last word; finally eliciting a reaction with that as the composed agent gave an involuntary shudder.
And then - Then the man let out a laugh.
A laugh that reinforced to the young agent that he did not want to know what this man defined as ‘fun’.
Daylight dies Blackout the sky Does anyone care? Is anybody there? Take this life Empty inside I'm already dead I'll rise to fall again God help me I've come undone Out of the light of the sun
-“Give me a Sign” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew tried to remember all the techniques he had been trained in to remain calm and unemotional. He stared ahead silent, thinking of calming visions of his homeland’s mountains and rivers.
"Oh, sooo stoic and dour." His captor chimed mockingly. “You know, I nearly got bored waiting for you.”
“What a shame.” Matthew finally replied back dryly, “I didn’t know you had RSVP’d. Next time, I’ll make sure to have my secretary cancel that particular engagement.”
“Again, such confidence! I am amazed you believe that there will be a next time.”
Suddenly, Matthew sensed movement and heard rustling behind him. He tensed readying for what might happen next. But all that happened was the man bit off a curse in Russian and the sound of crunching gravel as the man’s foot began an impatient tapping. Perhaps the man had checked his watch and had been unhappy with its answer. Because now the man seemed to have given up the effort of conversation and had switched to talking to himself out loud.
He started complaining, clearly annoyed, “The hounds of Moscow were not in their best form today. My men should have cornered you in half the time it took. I will have to train them harder.” Now his voice grew heavy with resignation, “Though real the problem lies in a lack of proper training material. But what can one do when all the other little foxes, the agents, they send are dull and too easy to catch? There is no challenge in that. There really has been a shortage of good ones, recently.” The tapping ceased as he gave a boisterous laugh, “But then they sent you, you, their prized Invisible Man to me, on my personal hunting grounds. What a coup! Overconfident fools all to think the Devil of Russia would not notice.”
The air grew colder and Matthew felt shivers zip along his spine as the storm began to condense overhead.
The man continued, mirth still coloring his voice, “Ah, today was a good day and a good chase. YOU my little fox are cunning game!” He gave a little tap of the gun against Matthew’s back. “Which reminds me, have you figured it out yet? Have you an answer to my little riddle?” Matt stood firm as a mountain and still as death. Aside from distant thunder, silence reigned on the rooftop where he stood.
The other man gave a heavy sigh, "Shame. So that’s to be your answer then. You won't play and guess, will you?"
“No.” Matthew finally answered through gritted teeth, annoyed with this man’s game.
He felt the taller man lean down closer digging the muzzle of the gun into his back. His captor’s voice grew as cold as the air around them, "But then, I could always make you."
Matthew took a deep breath gulping down in panic the rising tide of bile in his throat as he felt cold metal press near his ear. Then suddenly, there was a sharp stinging pinch and then he felt the papers that he had tucked into the little hidden pocket in the inseam of his cap slide out, along with a warm trickle of something else; a thick sticky liquid that dripped and slid down his head from temple to jawbone pooling in the canal of his ear and crease of his throat.
Trembling, crawling across my skin. Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine. . . . . . .I won't last long, in this world so wrong. Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight. Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight.
“Dance with the Devil” from the album ‘Phobia by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew could see the flash of steel as he wiped the little stiletto dagger against the arm of his light-colored jacket staining it russet brown.
The man complained in a disgusted tone, “Tch’ even such minor flesh wounds on the scalp always bleed so much.” He paused inspecting the dagger, “Natalia makes such fine points. I always forget how razor-sharp they are.”
He stopped and Matthew felt gloved fingers searching the hair beneath his cap. The man pulled his hand away, commenting dismissively, “Don’t worry it is very minor, it shall stop soon.”
Matthew heard the rustle of paper and then a soft muffle as his captor slid both the knife and intelligence into his coat pocket.
“But any ways, I must thank you little ghost, that was just what I was looking for. Oh, and look here! I also have the answer to the our little riddle of how to make the invisible visible.” The man’s voice was light with amusement. “Did you know in the book they used flour and snow, but now we have these more modern little gadgets to track our uninvited guests and invite them properly."
Then the other man moved into view, violet-blue eyes alight with maniac joy, as he held up the little electronic tracker in one hand and the gun still trained on Matthew in the other. "In fact," his smile turning feral with canines suddenly gleaming under the electric light of nearby lightning strikes in the clouds. "I absolutely must insist you come and stay as my personal guest."
The inner calm that Matthew had fought to hold onto quickly fled as he recognized the man's face. The man whose face he had hoped to get out of Russia without ever seeing in close proximity, Ivan Braginski, the Devil of Russia, himself.
The tremors that had danced along his spine now coalesced into cold fear as they slipped into the pit of his stomach. The weight of it nearly sinking him to his knees as his calm flew away in the breath that was forced out in a stuttered, "Oh, god."
The tall man picked up in one hand, the heavy bag containing the radio at his feet and then easily slung it over his broad shoulder like it weighed nothing. Matthew stood there stunned, his face pale from blood loss and surprise.
Ivan walked past his shoulder a bemused expression on his face as replied, "Hah! Net. Not quite. Try again.”
Ivan moved out of view behind him and Matthew felt the pressure of the gun as it found its home against his back again. His mind raced for a way out as the factor for unpredictable and imminent danger had just multiplied.
The tall pale man continued musing thoughtfully, “Though, I think lucky for me, God does not live here. But maybe not so lucky for you, da?"
Bemused laughter echoed deep in his chest at his joke as he pushed Matthew towards the door. “Come and let us leave this place. Even invisible men can catch cold, I think,” Ivan Braginasky chided lightly his tone growing darker and more menacing as he continued. “And I wouldn’t want to lose my new student to pneumonia before I’ve even had a chance to teach him all his important new lessons,” the dark silky voice practically growling with barely suppressed anticipation on the last words.
It was only then that clouds chose to open up and pour out their heavy watery loads.
He hurriedly limped to the rooftop door under Ivan’s impatient prodding. He reached out a hand to open the door when a large crack of lightning came down nearby electrifying the air. They both jumped as the shock wave in the air hit them. The lights in the buildings surrounding them suddenly went dark.
Author's Notes: Invisible Man references book and character by H.G. Wells. Da is Russian for 'yes' and Net is 'no'. Hope you've enjoyed the story. Last chapter up next.
You fight me, flat on my lonely face I fell. Finding in the end I live well. In light of the life that I have found, It's coming down
This is how it’s going to End
-“You Fight me” from the album ‘Phobia’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew saw his chance. He flung the door open and made a break for the darkened hallway. If he could make the stairwell just a few steps away, he could leap over the railing before Ivan had a chance to fire.
But he never made it more than two steps before the heavy wood of Ivan’s cane came smashing down on his bruised ankle. The sudden pain drove him to his knees. He wondered if it was broken as heard heavy footsteps and was blinded by the bright lights racing down the hall towards them. He felt hands roughly grab him and haul him up. His feet slipped on the tile made slick from the rainwater dripping off his hair and clothes. He yelped in involuntary pain as he came down on his injured ankle.
“Careful! The left ankle is most likely broken,” Ivan barked in irritation.
Matthew still could only see dark shadows moving in the bright beams of the flashlights. He heard some shuffling and then felt cotton shoved near his noise. He recognized the cloying sweet smell of chloroform. He fought trying to turn away, but his head was roughly twisted back.
“I warn you, if you damage my new pet, I will be most unhappy.”
Matthew felt wrenching pressure on his head ease up. Ten seconds later after his breathing had sufficiently slowed, the cotton was removed and he was hauled up in fireman’s carrying position.
He felt the metal crook of Ivan’s cane under his chin as the man lifted his head up. He waited until Matthew’s drug-clouded eyes finally focused ever so slightly on him. Ivan stared into those dilated eyes, his own reflecting the cold dead light of the night sky from the window nearby before he made a slow twisting motion with his wrist, turning the cane and Matthew’s head along with it toward the little window.
He spoke softly, possessively, like a mother bidding her child goodnight, “Say Da-svi-da-niya to the sky my little ghost, MY Invisible Man. You shall not see her for a long time unless you are a good little student.”
Matthew watched as the Moscow evening sky with her gray robes and wild hair continued to beat against the window with her bitter rain, drowning the world in her sorrow. But she was too late, as Matthew felt the drug-induced blackness steal over him.
Still, he was glad as he stared out the window, eyes slowly closing; someone had needed to cry for him.
Here I lie forever Sorrow still remains Will the water pull me down and wash it all away? Come and take me over Welcome to the game Will the current drag me down and carry me away? Suddenly the light begins to fade
Silent I go under I am not afraid I can see the daylight shine And slowly drift away Safe to say it's over Sink into the grave There is nothing left inside But I am wide awake (and) I can hear the devil call my name
-“Hopeless” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Final Author Notes:Dasvidaniya is Russian for 'Good-bye'
P.S. Did you find scene where I incorporated the requested image?
It's the second paragraph of this last chapter. It's when Ivan follows Matt through and brings the cane down onto his ankle. The image would be right after that, on the downstroke to be precise, with Matthew crashing to the floor and the light of the KGB agents' lanterns illuminating his face.
Well,I always thought so too and originally had it spelled that way, but when I looked it up to double-check myself, the site I was on had the angelicized spelling as 'Net'. So the site I checked could have had it wrong or it could be a matter of phonetics, like trying to translate Japanese text over to Roman alphabetic characters.
Authoranon is glad. I wasn't sure of what you would think of the end. Thank you for all the encouraging comments along the way! They kept me moving along with the story.
I'm sorry I was so slow getting this posted. I wrote it fairly quickly, but I spent way too much time on this because I tend to be a perfectionist about things like wording and grammer. (Sometimes I've got to learn to quit tweaking things.)
Just a side note, but if you are interested in what became our little agent after his time with Ivan, I've got a cracked sort of little epilogue already written and edited that I could post for you.
Author's Notes: Well it seems the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. Our intrepid little agent just refused to have his story end there. And honestly, I myself wondered about what had happened to him afterward, sooo drum roll please, the following story is my very, very crazy little epilogue.
The epilogue is set a few years after the main story. What happens inbetween I will leave up to you my dear reader anons' imaginations. I'm pretty sure you could come up with much more fun scenarios than I ever could. *wink*
Anyhow, this story definitely delves into a very alternate view of history. Consider that you're warning. Thank goodness for anonymity! I only offer this parting comment in self-defense.
I wrote this epilogue for my own amusement. Some part of me apparently has been dying for the following scenario to happen in some form or another between Matt and Alfred. Sorry! (Goes to hide from fandom lynch mob.)
Story references: 1. U.S. President Reagan gave a speech at Brandeburg Gate calling for USSR's General Secretary Gorbachov to open the gate and tear down the Berlin Wall. He also called for them to expand air traffic, hold international conferences and sporting events (i.e. Olympics) in both parts of Berlin, and finally to allow youth exchanges between the two parts of the city. By November 9, 1989 the border is opened and the Berlin Wall falls. Though many other national leaders spoke out in support of opening the border between the two parts of the city, Reagan's speech tends to be the one most often remembered.
2.John Wayne, famous American actor and icon known for being a real man's man type of hero. Starred in a lot of Western and Military films. (BTW: Heroes in westerns always wear white hats)
3. Serious note: Yeah, people didn't know much about AIDs during the period this was set, so there was alot of misinformation and paranoia among everyone even the decision-makers.
4.John Barrymore is another famous American actor from the early days of film who had initially gained fame on the stage for his portrayals of Hamlet and Richard III in the Shakespearean plays. He also came from a family of actors.
Okay, that's enough reference. Now onto the cracky goodness! :)
'cause I've elected hell, Lying to myself. Why have I gone blind? Live another life.
You. You.
The only way out Is letting your guard down and never die forgotten (I know). Forgive me, my love, I stand here all alone, and I can see the bottom . “You” from Phobia by Breaking Benjamin
June 12, 1987 near Brandenburg Gate - West Berlin, Germany - approx. 10:15 a.m.
"'Mr. Braginski, tear this wall down!' "Well? Good, huh? Got sort of a heroic ring to it?"
Alfred Jones looked down expectantly at his bored mirror image casually slumped over the waiting room's loveseat. Noting the other man’s expression he turned away without waiting for a response; babbling on happily as he paced around the room.
"I just kept going back and forth on different variations of working together and pulling a broken people back into one, but none of it seemed just right." He turned to look over his shoulder.
“You know how that is, right?” The other man simply gave a non-committal shrug. Alfred turned back around to continue to stare out the window. "Then I just finally stopped and thought-well what would someone like John Wayne do?" The biggest cheshire cat smile broke over his face as he glanced over his shoulder at his companion. "Well he'd just go right up to the gate of that wall," Alfred turned and imitating one of the man’s scenes he moved as if dismounting his pretend horse. Then he adjusted his imaginary 'white' cowboy hat and walked forward imitating the famous movie actor’s strong bowlegged walked to the far wall.
"Then he'd shout out 'Braginski, sir, you better tear this here wall down mister," he started to point and gesture menacingly at a portrait of a famous German actress hanging on the wall. "Or I'm ah just gonna have to do it for ya' all." He turned around beaming.
"So I figured just go for the throat, right? Nothing better sometimes than just getting right to the point and saying what you mean."
He stood confidant. His hands at his hips as he waited for some response. The other man with nearly the same pale blue eyes, (though this man’s were more indigo than true blue) stood up and walked over to a small dressing table. Grabbing a plain black plastic comb off of it, he walked over to Alfred.
"You need to settle down. You're going to be on TV and now you've gone and mussed your hair up,” he chided as he reached the comb up to catch the unruly locks.
The other man fussed with Mr. Jones’ blond slightly wavy locks of hair smoothing them down into straight lines with the comb before Alfred grew annoyed and stopped his hand. "Enough already Matt."
Matt sighed and gave up the battle and turned to the mirror to fix his own hair.
Alfred came up to stand behind him frowning as he watched him in the mirror. "You looked better with it longer. Why'd you have to go and cut it?"
"Because I like it better shorter," Matt answered as he set the comb down.
"Fine." He waved it off. " Now come on! You haven't said anything about my speech!" whined Alfred.
Matt pulled on a pair of dark leather gloves before replying. "You'll do fine."
Alfred flipped around exasperated, his hands in the air as he spoke to other man’s reflection in the window. "Matt, I'm asking what you think of it!” His hands dropped to touch his forehead as if fending off a headache. “For god's sake, just once in your life tell me what you honestly think!"
His hands flew down and out into a beckoning gesture as he flipped back around, only to find himself coming nose to nose with a little short nosed semi-automatic pistol, a silencer attached to its muzzle. "Uh, Matt, what . . ."
Eyes the color of pale sky reflected on a Siberian winter snow looked straight into Alfred's eyes of the deep blue of a Texas sky on a balmy summer day, as Matt replied in a sanitized monotone,
"What, I think Alfred is that it's time you died now."
A quick bark of the gun and the boisterous man began to slump to the floor. Matt reached round to grab the other man and gently lowered him to the floor. He quickly pulled off the dark leather gloves leaving the pair of thin latex surgical gloves on his hands. He then slid the leather gloves onto the dead man's hands. Powder residue would confirm that the dead had self-inflicted the wound. A few important items exchanged, and the body was moved back to the same position as it fell, the gun set near the body in the appropriate place.
It was supposed to look like a suicide, but no country could have that, so an 'unknown' assassin and a few red herring leads for the authorities to entertain themselves had been previously set up. Matt slid off the rubbery latex gloves, rolling them up and casually tossing them unconcerned in the trash bin. He had long ago made sure that Alfred was paranoid enough about the recently discovered AIDs virus that he typically always made sure to carry a box with him on his travels. And all his staff knew it too. It wouldn't be too hard to see him running back to his adjoining room and grabbing a pair before running back to help the man.
He walked through the adjoining door to Alfred's room. He made a quick mental check. Yes, everything was set for the grand show.
Matt allowed himself a quick dark smile. Now, time to make John Barrymore look like an amateur.
Next part is still part of the story. Ran into charater limits when posting
The next day the papers spoke of the terrible assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister, Matthew Williams, cousin to the United States of American President, Alfred Jones.
Rumors had abounded that the bullet had actually been meant for the U.S. leader, to prevent his speech that day, but that the killer had got the wrong window. There was still an ongoing investigation, but the authorities stated that they were close to catching the guilty party or parties.
Some guessed that the killer was a Soviet loyalist. Another popular theory was that it was an extremist from a radical group. Only much later did a few papers and conspiracy theorists rail about how both countries had covered up a suicide. Of course Imagine how well that would go among the citizens of said nation if it was discovered that a mentally unstable leader had been in charge of the one of the great free nations. Imagine how other governments would few that nation? Naturally, any such views sneaking into mainstream had to be and were quickly quashed.
However, it still seemed to have the desired effect. Most people had heard whispered that the American president had come originally to give a speech supporting German unification, but the speech that was given that day was instead a subdued call of tolerance and greater communication with the Communist nations. The line most remembered from his speech that day was “I believe there is room enough in this world that its people’s can and should tolerate more than one theory of organizational government.”
Most people believe the death and speech that day definitely had an effect on the North American nations’ foreign policies and especially the U.S.A.’s relations with the U.S.S.R. and other Communist nations. Some historians have even gone so far as to view it as the actual turning point in the political landscape as other western democracies changed their standpoints under increasing pressure from both the U.S. and U.S.S.R., who to this day hold a special relationship between their governments.
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Russia/Canada-bondage and bloodplay
(Anonymous) 2010-09-17 09:44 pm (UTC)(link)Basically, Canada is taken captive by Russia. I basically have no preferences--Human names are fine, but no genderbend. Base it on the picture and song. Thanks!
Re: Russia/Canada-bondage and bloodplay
(Anonymous) 2010-09-18 09:09 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (1/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 04:51 am (UTC)(link)United Soviet Socialist Republic of Russia - Moscow - the early-1980's (Before the Fall of the Wall) ()
A little pigeon tilted its head to the side as it watched a young man foolishly trying to duck and dodge among the cars and people in the heart of Russia. It came to land on a corner of a building. It watched as he came upon a knot in the crowd.
He fidgeted looking for a space to slip by, glancing back, he peered above the crowd to glimpse the dark hats of military men who were trailing him. He quickly ducked his head down and shuffled forward with the crowd.
He spied a small opening to the next intersection where a matronly woman stood waiting for a bus, her arms laden with her shopping. His hands trembled from cold and anxiety as he tapped her shoulder. He smiled shyly as he motioned his intention to slip past. She nodded and politely shifted to her left slightly allowing him just enough room to slip through the now open space.
He made a motion as if to grab the imaginary brim of his hat and with a nod and quick smile he spoke a quick "Thank you" and slipped through. He saw her give the briefest of nods for politeness' sake before shifting back to her right and reclaiming her spot.
He tapped his foot impatiently as he watched the intersection for his moment.
There. A brief break in the traffic. Then with a quick push of his toes of his boots against the gray cement he was off and sprinting through the traffic.
He dodged and weaved with the expertise of a Marine at a boot camp obstacle course. With a few expletives hanging in the air of his path, he slipped down an alley nearby, passing through to merge with the crowd on the other side.
Quickly hunching his shoulders and digging his hands into the pockets of his woolen coat, he slowed his hurried steps to match the slow march of the masses around him. Suddenly looking like every other young Moscovite walking along on the street on that chill fall day.
The little bird lost interest as he moved out of sight. The brief distraction gone, it flitted up into the gray sky. Already thinking on the breadcrumbs to be had two blocks down; it didn’t see the dark shadow as it skimmed nearby. By the time it sensed the blackness enveloping it, the hawk was already in it’s killing dive.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (1/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 04:59 am (UTC)(link)I will try harder to catch that stuff in following chapters. (Argh! I did have someone beta-read this for me before I even posted it too!)
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (1/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 05:14 am (UTC)(link)Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (1/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 05:37 am (UTC)(link)can't wait to see where you take this!
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (2/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 02:08 pm (UTC)(link)1. In this story the characters are not anthropormorphized characterizations of their nations and culture. Characters are human and thus can hold positions within their respective governments and subsequently are acknowledged by the rest of us. That being said, I did try to keep their canon personalities.
2. Story request strongly influenced by Breaking Benjamin's "Dance with the Devil". Quite a few of their songs have similar sort of theme. So I had their other albums on in the background as I wrote this to help me get the atmosphere just right. Of course, dear readers, you aren't going to hear that since text-based stories don't come with a soundtrack, so I decided to include snippets of the lyrics at the beginning of each chapter, so you, dear readers, could have a similar experience. They are not integral to the story, so if you don't like it, skip them. If you do, then please enjoy. :)
(Curious about the music? Breaking Benjamin's style is hard rock, and some of their popular songs played on the radio have been: "So Cold", "Diary of Jane" and "I Will Not Bow". Gamers will recognize "Blow Me Away" from the second Halo game.)
Now onto Chapter 2!
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (2/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 02:14 pm (UTC)(link)It'll be the last,
Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here,
I don't have a past
I just have a chance, . . .
“Rain” from the album ‘We Are Not Alone’ by Breaking Benjamin
The young man continued to follow the flow of the crowd, slowing inching his way over toward the inner part of the street as he dodged people coming the other way. Though his head barely moved, his eyes constantly roved the street in front of him. He was searching for the just the right building.
Then with a quick movement he slid out of the ebb and flow and into the entrance to a large apartment complex. He paused a moment at the entrance wondering if he perhaps chose too upscale a building. He knew here that exterior of many such buildings belied there interior.
Would they have a secured entrance? He remembered seeing the parking lot behind it. The vehicles behind looked average in make, nothing too fancy, so odds were against it. At least he hoped so.
He tried the door. He was in luck. It opened, and he walked in to stand in the front entryway. He sidled over to the far corner out of sight from the little window in the entryway. He tried not to collapse against it as he paused for a moment to catch his breath.
He had to get to the roof. He prayed that they had a door to the top and that it was unlocked. He could pick it, but probably not before someone discovered him. He just didn't have the time to waste. He hurried up the flight of stairs.
Ten floors later and his legs burning with the effort, he had made it up to the top. The Cyrillic lettering on the sign by the door had faded away to illegibility. He prayed that it hadn't once read "Warning-Emergency Exit-Alarm will sound" as he shoved hard on the rusty handle. It opened an inch and then stuck.
He glanced around the door. The hinges looked ok, so something had to be blocking it from the outside. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby to hear him. There were no apartments at this end of the hall. He backed up and then with a short run, he charged the rooftop exit like an American football linebacker. With a metallic 'thwack' and scraping noise, the door flung open.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (3/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 02:32 pm (UTC)(link)Save your breath, it's far from over
Leave the lost and dead behind
Now's your chance to run for cover
“I Will Not Bow” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
The young man stumbled through at the door's sudden give. As he fell to his hands and knees on the gravel rooftop, the woolen cap fell off his head, releasing his blonde locks to cascade about his shoulders. He grimaced in discomfort as he pressed his hands into the gravel harder to push himself up to his feet.
By this time the door had started to swing shut with a scrape of gravel and slow high-pitched whine of its rusty hinges. The blonde man quickly stretched his left foot back to stop the door from shutting and automatically locking. This time he winced in pain as the heavy metal door slammed into the bony tip of his outer left ankle.
"Hunh! Erm-oww," he groaned quietly, as he looked around the roof. Spying what he needed, he leaned forward and stretched out a hand to grab a golf ball sized stone along with his cap. He turned and slipped it into the doorjamb and then released the door to fall closed against it. The rock stayed in place leaving the door just barely ajar.
He stood next to the door a moment to listen as he settled his cap back on his head. Hearing no curious parties coming down the hall, he turned and looked around. Spotting a fallen metal chimney cap to his left he walked over to it limping slightly. He assumed this was what had been blocking the door. Flipping it right side up, he set the heavy and boxy messenger bag he had been carrying on the chimney cap's slightly curved square top.
He quickly pulled out pieces of his satellite radio and put them together. He would only have minutes to get a message out before either the government watchdogs would detect and locate him or his battery would run out of power. Once they transmitted his location to their men searching the streets below, it would be all over if he wasn't away from here and blended back into the crowd on the streets once again.
He connected the last two pieces together and flipped the switch. The radio crackled and buzzed to life. Reaching into the brim of his cap he pulled out a small folded note. He glanced back and forth at it as he carefully tuned to the frequency scrawled in his contact's stiff block lettering.
He waited. He closed his eyes briefly as he whispered, "Please connect, please."
Say Good Night Mr. Williams (4/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)I'm the one you left behind
“What Lies Beneath” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
"Zzzz-zt. . . Please give. . rrrzzzt . . . your security code. . krzzt . . ."
Eyes quickly opened as he dove for the transmit button. "One. Leaf. Red. Stop"
"Sshzzrt . . . registered . . .-gent MW. . rrzzshzzt . . .state . . .rzt. . . nature . . . of emergency. Stop."
He fumed at the request. 'Nature of my emergency?! Hello?! How about I should have been back there 10 hours ago, but I'm still stuck here in enemy territory with that devil and his hellhounds baying at my heels? And don't you think you should have noticed that you left me here!’
Instead he answered, "I need a new exit strategy. Stop."
"Zzzz-rpt . . . existing . . . rrrrzzrk . . exit contingencies . . . still in effect . . . .krzhiszz. . ."
The young agent mentally growled in frustration at the slow monotone of the disembodied voice.
"Backup was not at exit point, contact was compromised. Stop."
"Rzzpt. . . Registered. . . zzrckt . . One moment . . .for new . . . rrzzz . . . contact. . . inf. . .hisszzz."
The man put the little slip of paper back in his cap as the radio buzzed off into a humming static. He didn't turn it off, but pulled out a small notebook and map from his bag as he gingerly sat down on the cold stones.
As time ticked by, he watched the door and sky nervously, wondering what would catch him first. The men out hunting him or the cold rain threatening to pour from the concrete-colored sky. He rubbed his hands together, puffing a few heated breaths of air into his stiffening fingers. He shivered and pulled up the collar of the jacket as a fine cold mist began to sink down into the air around him.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (5/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)To dream in black and white,
So I can leave this world tonight.
Full of fear,
Ever clear.
I'll be here,
Fighting forever. . .
Never mind,
Turn back time.
You'll be fine - I will get left behind.
. . .How do I simplify,
Dislocate - the enemy's on the way.
-“Unknown Soldier” from the album ‘Phobia’ by Breaking Benjamin
He had just begun to wonder if he should pack up and leave before he was caught, when suddenly the radio buzzed back to life.
"Zzzkerzck . . . Executing . . . exit strategy. . .zzz-rpt . . New Contact . . .” He leaned forward turning away from the door as he struggled to catch the staticy fading words.
Perhaps what held his attention so deeply was the bright line of hope that he clung, which came from the words in a staticy voice thousands of miles away. Or maybe it was the weather that had desaturated the world to formless shades of gray that had dulled his senses to the deeper shadow that had slid closer ever so slowly while he listened. It had sidled out from the black shadow of a six-foot high window well creeping along the thin strip of roof that ran along the walls of the upper story loft apartments. One can only assume that this was an architectural design to allow residents time to contemplate how they would like to die, should the building ever catch fire, as the contractor had never installed a fire escape.
". . .teen-forty-five hours . . " He furiously jotted down the information unaware of his darkening world as the man-sized shadow slid over his back to come to stop as it settled around him.
"Zzzrt . . . memorize . . . rrzt . . . destroy all sensitive . . . rrkkzzt . . . after receiving . . . hhssssz. . ."
The radio hissed into silence as he glanced quickly at the information. He’d have to study it later when he was somewhere a little more secure. He had to get out of here. It wouldn't take long for their military eyes and ears to alert the ones looking for him.
He tucked the note into his cap. He had missed the sound of the heavy boots over the loud hiss of the radio as they finally stepped from the stone wall to the gravel roof near him. He turned the radio off and hurried to pack it before the sky cut loose with the rain it had been holding back.
OP is pleased
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: AuthorAnon is happy
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)Re: AuthorAnon is happy
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-19 18:29 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (6/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)Hold it in
Start a fight
You won't win
Had enough
Let's begin
Nevermind
I don't care
Don't carry me under
You're the devil in disguise . . . .
“What Lies Beneath” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
'Damn.' he thought as he looked out over the roof seeing the distant stormy skies. 'That's just what I don't need, water-logged and ruined equipment.'
He turned toward the door, moving to stand when a razor-thin strip of shadow broke off, with a faint hiss of steel to rest against the pulse in his throat.
"Ah, Agent Maht-hew Vill-yams, the Invisible Man, so nice of you to come visit us."
Matthew Williams froze at the touch of the cold, hard metal against his warm, soft, unprotected flesh.
The shadowy figure behind him continued. "You have given me and my men quite a chase.
Matthew’s back stiffened at the sound of the velvety dark tones of the man behind him. The captured agent prayed it wasn't the man he feared it was standing with a sword at his throat. He shifted his weight casually readying himself for a quick maneuver that would duck him away from the blade and allow him to make an offensive strike back.
But the other man sensed it and moved in closer effectively shutting him down before he could even try.
"Tch' Why are you in such a hurry? Come, let me take your bag."
Matthew relinquished the bag in his left hand as soon as he felt another hand grab for it.
"Stay awhile. And you might learn some valuable things. For I have much to teach."
Cautiously twisting to observe the man behind him as he quickly patted Matthew down for weapons, Matthew responded slowly to buy time, drawing each word out, "Oh, I doubt that."
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (7/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)Hope fills the heart
And fades away
Skin white as winter
As the sky returns to grey
-“Anthem of Angels” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew caught the flashes of platinum blond hair gone gray in the fading light, like the beige woolen jacket that he currently wore. The tall Russian however wore an elegant woolen duster dyed a violet that in darkening sky had turned the midnight shade of the fruit of an eggplant. One end of the winter white scarf he wore hung loose near Matthew’s hand. Matthew willed him to move just a little closer, His left hand slowly moved closer, the fringe nearly in reach of his fingertips now, but the other man found the little double-action, semi-automatic pistol from Matthew's shoulder holster right at that moment too.
"Ah, ah, aah," his captor clucked disapprovingly. Easily sliding it out of the holster, he rapped the butt of the gun hard against the knuckles of Matthew’s hand as Matthew made a last-ditch grab for the rogue end of the scarf.
Matthew pulled his hand back rubbing the knuckles. He tried to get a better look at his captor. But the man stood with his face still partially hidden in the shadow cast by the light reflected off of billboard sign on the building behind him.
He studied the gun a moment. Then with a satisfied smile he turned the gun back towards Matthew. Then there was an audible click as the safety came off.
Only then did the other man slide the thin rapier-like sword with its steel gray handle of right angles back into its walking cane sheath. Now turning the little gun he had confiscated back onto it's owner, he held it to the shorter man's back, keeping him at bay.
"So you do not believe me little ghost? So much pride, so much confidence in one’s abilities. But it comes before the fall, eh?”
Matthew felt the little gun through his coat as the man pressed into back of his ribs on his left side as the man continued.
“You think I can teach you nothing? Then how do you think we 'saw' an invisible man, eh?" The man paused waiting for a response. “Guess, little ghost,” he commanded and gave the agent a sharp jab to his back.
Matthew drew his mouth into a thin line and kept up his silence.
But then Matthew felt hot breath near his left ear as the rich lilting baritone voice whispered into it, “It is no fun, if you don’t try.”
He gave a quick puff of air into Matthew’s ear as he drew out the last word; finally eliciting a reaction with that as the composed agent gave an involuntary shudder.
And then - Then the man let out a laugh.
A laugh that reinforced to the young agent that he did not want to know what this man defined as ‘fun’.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (8/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)Blackout the sky
Does anyone care?
Is anybody there?
Take this life
Empty inside
I'm already dead
I'll rise to fall again
God help me I've come undone
Out of the light of the sun
-“Give me a Sign” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew tried to remember all the techniques he had been trained in to remain calm and unemotional. He stared ahead silent, thinking of calming visions of his homeland’s mountains and rivers.
"Oh, sooo stoic and dour." His captor chimed mockingly. “You know, I nearly got bored waiting for you.”
“What a shame.” Matthew finally replied back dryly, “I didn’t know you had RSVP’d. Next time, I’ll make sure to have my secretary cancel that particular engagement.”
“Again, such confidence! I am amazed you believe that there will be a next time.”
Suddenly, Matthew sensed movement and heard rustling behind him. He tensed readying for what might happen next. But all that happened was the man bit off a curse in Russian and the sound of crunching gravel as the man’s foot began an impatient tapping. Perhaps the man had checked his watch and had been unhappy with its answer. Because now the man seemed to have given up the effort of conversation and had switched to talking to himself out loud.
He started complaining, clearly annoyed, “The hounds of Moscow were not in their best form today. My men should have cornered you in half the time it took. I will have to train them harder.” Now his voice grew heavy with resignation, “Though real the problem lies in a lack of proper training material. But what can one do when all the other little foxes, the agents, they send are dull and too easy to catch? There is no challenge in that. There really has been a shortage of good ones, recently.” The tapping ceased as he gave a boisterous laugh, “But then they sent you, you, their prized Invisible Man to me, on my personal hunting grounds. What a coup! Overconfident fools all to think the Devil of Russia would not notice.”
The air grew colder and Matthew felt shivers zip along his spine as the storm began to condense overhead.
The man continued, mirth still coloring his voice, “Ah, today was a good day and a good chase. YOU my little fox are cunning game!” He gave a little tap of the gun against Matthew’s back. “Which reminds me, have you figured it out yet? Have you an answer to my little riddle?”
Matt stood firm as a mountain and still as death. Aside from distant thunder, silence reigned on the rooftop where he stood.
The other man gave a heavy sigh, "Shame. So that’s to be your answer then. You won't play and guess, will you?"
“No.” Matthew finally answered through gritted teeth, annoyed with this man’s game.
He felt the taller man lean down closer digging the muzzle of the gun into his back. His captor’s voice grew as cold as the air around them, "But then, I could always make you."
Matthew took a deep breath gulping down in panic the rising tide of bile in his throat as he felt cold metal press near his ear. Then suddenly, there was a sharp stinging pinch and then he felt the papers that he had tucked into the little hidden pocket in the inseam of his cap slide out, along with a warm trickle of something else; a thick sticky liquid that dripped and slid down his head from temple to jawbone pooling in the canal of his ear and crease of his throat.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (9/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine. . .
. . . .I won't last long, in this world so wrong.
Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight.
“Dance with the Devil” from the album ‘Phobia by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew could see the flash of steel as he wiped the little stiletto dagger against the arm of his light-colored jacket staining it russet brown.
The man complained in a disgusted tone, “Tch’ even such minor flesh wounds on the scalp always bleed so much.” He paused inspecting the dagger, “Natalia makes such fine points. I always forget how razor-sharp they are.”
He stopped and Matthew felt gloved fingers searching the hair beneath his cap. The man pulled his hand away, commenting dismissively, “Don’t worry it is very minor, it shall stop soon.”
Matthew heard the rustle of paper and then a soft muffle as his captor slid both the knife and intelligence into his coat pocket.
“But any ways, I must thank you little ghost, that was just what I was looking for. Oh, and look here! I also have the answer to the our little riddle of how to make the invisible visible.” The man’s voice was light with amusement. “Did you know in the book they used flour and snow, but now we have these more modern little gadgets to track our uninvited guests and invite them properly."
Then the other man moved into view, violet-blue eyes alight with maniac joy, as he held up the little electronic tracker in one hand and the gun still trained on Matthew in the other. "In fact," his smile turning feral with canines suddenly gleaming under the electric light of nearby lightning strikes in the clouds. "I absolutely must insist you come and stay as my personal guest."
The inner calm that Matthew had fought to hold onto quickly fled as he recognized the man's face. The man whose face he had hoped to get out of Russia without ever seeing in close proximity, Ivan Braginski, the Devil of Russia, himself.
The tremors that had danced along his spine now coalesced into cold fear as they slipped into the pit of his stomach. The weight of it nearly sinking him to his knees as his calm flew away in the breath that was forced out in a stuttered, "Oh, god."
The tall man picked up in one hand, the heavy bag containing the radio at his feet and then easily slung it over his broad shoulder like it weighed nothing. Matthew stood there stunned, his face pale from blood loss and surprise.
Ivan walked past his shoulder a bemused expression on his face as replied, "Hah! Net. Not quite. Try again.”
Ivan moved out of view behind him and Matthew felt the pressure of the gun as it found its home against his back again. His mind raced for a way out as the factor for unpredictable and imminent danger had just multiplied.
The tall pale man continued musing thoughtfully, “Though, I think lucky for me, God does not live here. But maybe not so lucky for you, da?"
Bemused laughter echoed deep in his chest at his joke as he pushed Matthew towards the door. “Come and let us leave this place. Even invisible men can catch cold, I think,” Ivan Braginasky chided lightly his tone growing darker and more menacing as he continued. “And I wouldn’t want to lose my new student to pneumonia before I’ve even had a chance to teach him all his important new lessons,” the dark silky voice practically growling with barely suppressed anticipation on the last words.
It was only then that clouds chose to open up and pour out their heavy watery loads.
He hurriedly limped to the rooftop door under Ivan’s impatient prodding. He reached out a hand to open the door when a large crack of lightning came down nearby electrifying the air. They both jumped as the shock wave in the air hit them. The lights in the buildings surrounding them suddenly went dark.
Author's Notes: Invisible Man references book and character by H.G. Wells.
Da is Russian for 'yes' and Net is 'no'.
Hope you've enjoyed the story. Last chapter up next.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (10/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)Finding in the end I live well.
In light of the life that I have found,
It's coming down
This is how it’s going to End
-“You Fight me” from the album ‘Phobia’ by Breaking Benjamin
Matthew saw his chance. He flung the door open and made a break for the darkened hallway. If he could make the stairwell just a few steps away, he could leap over the railing before Ivan had a chance to fire.
But he never made it more than two steps before the heavy wood of Ivan’s cane came smashing down on his bruised ankle. The sudden pain drove him to his knees. He wondered if it was broken as heard heavy footsteps and was blinded by the bright lights racing down the hall towards them. He felt hands roughly grab him and haul him up. His feet slipped on the tile made slick from the rainwater dripping off his hair and clothes. He yelped in involuntary pain as he came down on his injured ankle.
“Careful! The left ankle is most likely broken,” Ivan barked in irritation.
Matthew still could only see dark shadows moving in the bright beams of the flashlights. He heard some shuffling and then felt cotton shoved near his noise. He recognized the cloying sweet smell of chloroform. He fought trying to turn away, but his head was roughly twisted back.
“I warn you, if you damage my new pet, I will be most unhappy.”
Matthew felt wrenching pressure on his head ease up. Ten seconds later after his breathing had sufficiently slowed, the cotton was removed and he was hauled up in fireman’s carrying position.
He felt the metal crook of Ivan’s cane under his chin as the man lifted his head up. He waited until Matthew’s drug-clouded eyes finally focused ever so slightly on him. Ivan stared into those dilated eyes, his own reflecting the cold dead light of the night sky from the window nearby before he made a slow twisting motion with his wrist, turning the cane and Matthew’s head along with it toward the little window.
He spoke softly, possessively, like a mother bidding her child goodnight, “Say Da-svi-da-niya to the sky my little ghost, MY Invisible Man. You shall not see her for a long time unless you are a good little student.”
Matthew watched as the Moscow evening sky with her gray robes and wild hair continued to beat against the window with her bitter rain, drowning the world in her sorrow. But she was too late, as Matthew felt the drug-induced blackness steal over him.
Still, he was glad as he stared out the window, eyes slowly closing; someone had needed to cry for him.
Sorrow still remains
Will the water pull me down and wash it all away?
Come and take me over
Welcome to the game
Will the current drag me down and carry me away?
Suddenly the light begins to fade
Silent I go under
I am not afraid
I can see the daylight shine
And slowly drift away
Safe to say it's over
Sink into the grave
There is nothing left inside
But I am wide awake
(and) I can hear the devil call my name
-“Hopeless” from the album ‘Dear Agony’ by Breaking Benjamin
Final Author Notes: Dasvidaniya is Russian for 'Good-bye'
P.S. Did you find scene where I incorporated the requested image?
It's the second paragraph of this last chapter. It's when Ivan follows Matt through and brings the cane down onto his ankle. The image would be right after that, on the downstroke to be precise, with Matthew crashing to the floor and the light of the KGB agents' lanterns illuminating his face.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (10/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-19 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)BTW, it's No in Russian spelled Nyet? Thats what I was told anyway.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (10/10)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 12:30 am (UTC)(link)Authoranon is glad. I wasn't sure of what you would think of the end.
Thank you for all the encouraging comments along the way! They kept me moving along with the story.
I'm sorry I was so slow getting this posted. I wrote it fairly quickly, but I spent way too much time on this because I tend to be a perfectionist about things like wording and grammer. (Sometimes I've got to learn to quit tweaking things.)
Just a side note, but if you are interested in what became our little agent after his time with Ivan, I've got a cracked sort of little epilogue already written and edited that I could post for you.
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (10/10)
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 00:43 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Say Good Night Mr. Williams (10/10)
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 01:16 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Say Good Night Mr. Williams-Epilogue Notes
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 04:24 am (UTC)(link)The epilogue is set a few years after the main story. What happens inbetween I will leave up to you my dear reader anons' imaginations. I'm pretty sure you could come up with much more fun scenarios than I ever could. *wink*
Anyhow, this story definitely delves into a very alternate view of history. Consider that you're warning. Thank goodness for anonymity! I only offer this parting comment in self-defense.
I wrote this epilogue for my own amusement. Some part of me apparently has been dying for the following scenario to happen in some form or another between Matt and Alfred. Sorry! (Goes to hide from fandom lynch mob.)
Story references:
1. U.S. President Reagan gave a speech at Brandeburg Gate calling for USSR's General Secretary Gorbachov to open the gate and tear down the Berlin Wall. He also called for them to expand air traffic, hold international conferences and sporting events (i.e. Olympics) in both parts of Berlin, and finally to allow youth exchanges between the two parts of the city. By November 9, 1989 the border is opened and the Berlin Wall falls. Though many other national leaders spoke out in support of opening the border between the two parts of the city, Reagan's speech tends to be the one most often remembered.
2.John Wayne, famous American actor and icon known for being a real man's man type of hero. Starred in a lot of Western and Military films. (BTW: Heroes in westerns always wear white hats)
3. Serious note: Yeah, people didn't know much about AIDs during the period this was set, so there was alot of misinformation and paranoia among everyone even the decision-makers.
4.John Barrymore is another famous American actor from the early days of film who had initially gained fame on the stage for his portrayals of Hamlet and Richard III in the Shakespearean plays. He also came from a family of actors.
Okay, that's enough reference. Now onto the cracky goodness! :)
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams Epilogue (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 04:31 am (UTC)(link)Lying to myself.
Why have I gone blind?
Live another life.
You. You.
The only way out
Is letting your guard down and never die forgotten (I know).
Forgive me, my love,
I stand here all alone, and I can see the bottom
.
“You” from Phobia by Breaking Benjamin
June 12, 1987 near Brandenburg Gate - West Berlin, Germany - approx. 10:15 a.m.
"'Mr. Braginski, tear this wall down!' "Well? Good, huh? Got sort of a heroic ring to it?"
Alfred Jones looked down expectantly at his bored mirror image casually slumped over the waiting room's loveseat. Noting the other man’s expression he turned away without waiting for a response; babbling on happily as he paced around the room.
"I just kept going back and forth on different variations of working together and pulling a broken people back into one, but none of it seemed just right." He turned to look over his shoulder.
“You know how that is, right?” The other man simply gave a non-committal shrug. Alfred turned back around to continue to stare out the window. "Then I just finally stopped and thought-well what would someone like John Wayne do?"
The biggest cheshire cat smile broke over his face as he glanced over his shoulder at his companion. "Well he'd just go right up to the gate of that wall," Alfred turned and imitating one of the man’s scenes he moved as if dismounting his pretend horse. Then he adjusted his imaginary 'white' cowboy hat and walked forward imitating the famous movie actor’s strong bowlegged walked to the far wall.
"Then he'd shout out 'Braginski, sir, you better tear this here wall down mister," he started to point and gesture menacingly at a portrait of a famous German actress hanging on the wall. "Or I'm ah just gonna have to do it for ya' all." He turned around beaming.
"So I figured just go for the throat, right? Nothing better sometimes than just getting right to the point and saying what you mean."
He stood confidant. His hands at his hips as he waited for some response. The other man with nearly the same pale blue eyes, (though this man’s were more indigo than true blue) stood up and walked over to a small dressing table. Grabbing a plain black plastic comb off of it, he walked over to Alfred.
"You need to settle down. You're going to be on TV and now you've gone and mussed your hair up,” he chided as he reached the comb up to catch the unruly locks.
The other man fussed with Mr. Jones’ blond slightly wavy locks of hair smoothing them down into straight lines with the comb before Alfred grew annoyed and stopped his hand. "Enough already Matt."
Matt sighed and gave up the battle and turned to the mirror to fix his own hair.
Alfred came up to stand behind him frowning as he watched him in the mirror. "You looked better with it longer. Why'd you have to go and cut it?"
"Because I like it better shorter," Matt answered as he set the comb down.
"Fine." He waved it off. " Now come on! You haven't said anything about my speech!" whined Alfred.
Matt pulled on a pair of dark leather gloves before replying. "You'll do fine."
Re: Say Good Night Mr. Williams Epilogue (1 b/2)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 04:36 am (UTC)(link)His hands flew down and out into a beckoning gesture as he flipped back around, only to find himself coming nose to nose with a little short nosed semi-automatic pistol, a silencer attached to its muzzle. "Uh, Matt, what . . ."
Eyes the color of pale sky reflected on a Siberian winter snow looked straight into Alfred's eyes of the deep blue of a Texas sky on a balmy summer day, as Matt replied in a sanitized monotone,
"What, I think Alfred is that it's time you died now."
A quick bark of the gun and the boisterous man began to slump to the floor. Matt reached round to grab the other man and gently lowered him to the floor. He quickly pulled off the dark leather gloves leaving the pair of thin latex surgical gloves on his hands. He then slid the leather gloves onto the dead man's hands. Powder residue would confirm that the dead had self-inflicted the wound. A few important items exchanged, and the body was moved back to the same position as it fell, the gun set near the body in the appropriate place.
It was supposed to look like a suicide, but no country could have that, so an 'unknown' assassin and a few red herring leads for the authorities to entertain themselves had been previously set up.
Matt slid off the rubbery latex gloves, rolling them up and casually tossing them unconcerned in the trash bin. He had long ago made sure that Alfred was paranoid enough about the recently discovered AIDs virus that he typically always made sure to carry a box with him on his travels. And all his staff knew it too. It wouldn't be too hard to see him running back to his adjoining room and grabbing a pair before running back to help the man.
He walked through the adjoining door to Alfred's room. He made a quick mental check. Yes, everything was set for the grand show.
Matt allowed himself a quick dark smile. Now, time to make John Barrymore look like an amateur.
Next part is still part of the story. Ran into charater limits when posting
Say Good Night Mr. Williams Epilogue (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 04:37 am (UTC)(link)The next day the papers spoke of the terrible assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister, Matthew Williams, cousin to the United States of American President, Alfred Jones.
Rumors had abounded that the bullet had actually been meant for the U.S. leader, to prevent his speech that day, but that the killer had got the wrong window. There was still an ongoing investigation, but the authorities stated that they were close to catching the guilty party or parties.
Some guessed that the killer was a Soviet loyalist. Another popular theory was that it was an extremist from a radical group. Only much later did a few papers and conspiracy theorists rail about how both countries had covered up a suicide. Of course Imagine how well that would go among the citizens of said nation if it was discovered that a mentally unstable leader had been in charge of the one of the great free nations. Imagine how other governments would few that nation? Naturally, any such views sneaking into mainstream had to be and were quickly quashed.
However, it still seemed to have the desired effect. Most people had heard whispered that the American president had come originally to give a speech supporting German unification, but the speech that was given that day was instead a subdued call of tolerance and greater communication with the Communist nations. The line most remembered from his speech that day was “I believe there is room enough in this world that its people’s can and should tolerate more than one theory of organizational government.”
Most people believe the death and speech that day definitely had an effect on the North American nations’ foreign policies and especially the U.S.A.’s relations with the U.S.S.R. and other Communist nations. Some historians have even gone so far as to view it as the actual turning point in the political landscape as other western democracies changed their standpoints under increasing pressure from both the U.S. and U.S.S.R., who to this day hold a special relationship between their governments.
OP
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 05:21 am (UTC)(link)not enough love for crazy mattie. Nice job
Re: Author Anon
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 12:26 (UTC) - Expand