The thing Vash Zwingli regretted most about his new life in America was that he agreed to be the one to teach Matvey Braginski how to be ready to kill. The first thing he asked the child, who was jetlagged and exhausted from the strain of leaving his family behind, was if he'd ever been shot.
Matvey stared at him with wide uncomprehending eyes, and then curled up crying. He was illiterate in English and even most Cyrillic, this Zwingli knew, but he didn't know the boy's extremely limited English vocabulary. Already Zwingli was unsure of how this new plan of Mr. Jones was going to work.
Matvey reminded Zwingli too much of his little sister when she arrived in America. But at least Lili had family to lean on when she was scared. Matvey got big guns and barked commands that he could only half-understand at the best of times. Zwingli knew a smattering of Russian from a part of his life that he wanted badly to forget, but didn't use it when he was training the boy, only when he wanted to tell Matvey how to be better.
He had left Switzerland at first because he was disgusted by the nation's constant stance of neutrality in a world that was tearing itself apart, and then because he wanted to be a part of the tearing. Teaching Matvey how to kill had taught him the value of peace. From now on, Matvey would be one of the most disciplined children in his generation, and possibly one of the best-trained gunmen in the world. But he would never go to school, not as long as his charge's life was in danger, and it was unlikely that he would be able to maintain his long-standing record of never having been shot.
Matvey asked Zwingli several times what it was like to get shot, as though knowing beforehand would better prepare him. Zwingli never answered, because to be honest he had no idea how to do it in a manner that wouldn't give Matvey more nightmares. He knew that Matvey's sleep was disturbed, even with the medications that they gave him to calm him down sometimes, and didn't want to add to that by telling him horror stories about Bosnia and Herzegovina, or the Mafiya...
And now Matvey was fourteen and frightened, though his hands never shook once. He was disassembling weapons today, not blindfolded, though, and he seemed much more concentrated on the task than usual.
"Stop Matvey," Zwingli said quietly. Matvey stopped obediently. Zwingli sighed, and switched to Russian. "Is there something troubling you?"
Matvey shook his head, and fiddled with some of the components of the gun he was putting back together.
He looked so much like Lili when he did this that Zwingli felt a lump in his throat start to form. Lili was in high school, had friends. She didn't need to worry about being shot at or how fast it took her to disassemble a gun and put it back together again, if she could keep it under a minute. Zwingli was working to make sure that she lived as normal a life as possible here, and Matvey would never have that chance.
"You've been very good the last few days, Matvey. Would you like to go early?" Zwingli finally said. "Unless you want to stay, of course."
"Chess?" Matvey suggested hopefully.
Zwingli was the only person in the entire estate who liked chess almost as much as Matvey. Aside from Mr. Bonnefoy in the kitchens, that is, but the children were generally advised to stay away from him. There was a set in the storage room at the shooting range for some reason, that had mismatched pawns from two different sets and a wooden block signifying the white queen, but it sufficed.
It was a game that occupied both of them from guilt and fear and God knows what else. In strategy they could find refuge from the real world, where even the best-laid plan with however many contingency plans could go to hell in a second. Matvey needed it to maintain some sort of childhood innocence. Zwingli needed it because... well, he needed it.
"Your queen is unprotected," Zwingli mumbled.
"Then why don't you take it?" Matvey challenged.
"Because you'll put me in checkmate. Your Russian is showing, little one," Zwingli responded, unconsciously calling Matvey what he called Lili sometimes.
He moved his bishop just beyond the queen's reach, and leaned back, awaiting Matvey's turn.
Within the next three moves, Matvey had captured his queen and put him in checkmate. Zwingli smiled.
"Job well done, Matvey. Will you have another match?"
Matvey shook his head, and started packing up.
"I have to go and shadow Alfred now," he said quietly. "I should do a good job today. I'll be away for a while afterwards. But you know that, right?"
Zwingli nodded, realizing that this is what Matvey must have been worried about. It wasn't fair that he had to have this done to him. And to a child who had never had to undergo such a major procedure before, this must have been terrifying.
"You will be all right, Matvey," he promised. "I know that they wouldn't risk hurting you."
He decided not to add 'too much'. The boy was scared enough as it was.
seriously anticipating more. matt's russian showing is tantalizing and zwingli is oddly endearing here. (and it seriously feels like matt's plotting...even if just a little). and the student/mentor this is awesome
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Disposable (5a/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-28 01:39 am (UTC)(link)Matvey stared at him with wide uncomprehending eyes, and then curled up crying. He was illiterate in English and even most Cyrillic, this Zwingli knew, but he didn't know the boy's extremely limited English vocabulary. Already Zwingli was unsure of how this new plan of Mr. Jones was going to work.
Matvey reminded Zwingli too much of his little sister when she arrived in America. But at least Lili had family to lean on when she was scared. Matvey got big guns and barked commands that he could only half-understand at the best of times. Zwingli knew a smattering of Russian from a part of his life that he wanted badly to forget, but didn't use it when he was training the boy, only when he wanted to tell Matvey how to be better.
He had left Switzerland at first because he was disgusted by the nation's constant stance of neutrality in a world that was tearing itself apart, and then because he wanted to be a part of the tearing. Teaching Matvey how to kill had taught him the value of peace. From now on, Matvey would be one of the most disciplined children in his generation, and possibly one of the best-trained gunmen in the world. But he would never go to school, not as long as his charge's life was in danger, and it was unlikely that he would be able to maintain his long-standing record of never having been shot.
Matvey asked Zwingli several times what it was like to get shot, as though knowing beforehand would better prepare him. Zwingli never answered, because to be honest he had no idea how to do it in a manner that wouldn't give Matvey more nightmares. He knew that Matvey's sleep was disturbed, even with the medications that they gave him to calm him down sometimes, and didn't want to add to that by telling him horror stories about Bosnia and Herzegovina, or the Mafiya...
And now Matvey was fourteen and frightened, though his hands never shook once. He was disassembling weapons today, not blindfolded, though, and he seemed much more concentrated on the task than usual.
"Stop Matvey," Zwingli said quietly. Matvey stopped obediently. Zwingli sighed, and switched to Russian. "Is there something troubling you?"
Matvey shook his head, and fiddled with some of the components of the gun he was putting back together.
He looked so much like Lili when he did this that Zwingli felt a lump in his throat start to form. Lili was in high school, had friends. She didn't need to worry about being shot at or how fast it took her to disassemble a gun and put it back together again, if she could keep it under a minute. Zwingli was working to make sure that she lived as normal a life as possible here, and Matvey would never have that chance.
Disposable (5b/?)
(Anonymous) 2010-09-28 01:40 am (UTC)(link)"Chess?" Matvey suggested hopefully.
Zwingli was the only person in the entire estate who liked chess almost as much as Matvey. Aside from Mr. Bonnefoy in the kitchens, that is, but the children were generally advised to stay away from him. There was a set in the storage room at the shooting range for some reason, that had mismatched pawns from two different sets and a wooden block signifying the white queen, but it sufficed.
It was a game that occupied both of them from guilt and fear and God knows what else. In strategy they could find refuge from the real world, where even the best-laid plan with however many contingency plans could go to hell in a second. Matvey needed it to maintain some sort of childhood innocence. Zwingli needed it because... well, he needed it.
"Your queen is unprotected," Zwingli mumbled.
"Then why don't you take it?" Matvey challenged.
"Because you'll put me in checkmate. Your Russian is showing, little one," Zwingli responded, unconsciously calling Matvey what he called Lili sometimes.
He moved his bishop just beyond the queen's reach, and leaned back, awaiting Matvey's turn.
Within the next three moves, Matvey had captured his queen and put him in checkmate. Zwingli smiled.
"Job well done, Matvey. Will you have another match?"
Matvey shook his head, and started packing up.
"I have to go and shadow Alfred now," he said quietly. "I should do a good job today. I'll be away for a while afterwards. But you know that, right?"
Zwingli nodded, realizing that this is what Matvey must have been worried about. It wasn't fair that he had to have this done to him. And to a child who had never had to undergo such a major procedure before, this must have been terrifying.
"You will be all right, Matvey," he promised. "I know that they wouldn't risk hurting you."
He decided not to add 'too much'. The boy was scared enough as it was.
op
(Anonymous) 2010-10-01 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)