Kashmir
Everything took on a hazy shape as Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov opened his baby blue eyes and felt the presence of his lover in bed next to him. His body still ached dully from last night's activities, and he smiled fondly at the memory. Today marked four years that they'd been back together, and things felt right again. Ivan sighed happily, wanting to snuggle closer to his gently snoring lover, but deciding it was best for him to get up instead and let Volgin sleep. He rolled over, but was greeted with something unexpected: the barrel of a gun. A quiet voice spoke.
"You're going to do exactly as we say, or we'll shoot the both of you. Got it, Blondie?" Ivan's eyes widened, his stomach clenched. He nodded. The man motioned for him to stand up and tossed him a uniform. Oh, this was a uniform he knew. His old Major uniform from all those years back in Groznyj Grad… He put it on, quietly, not wanting to wake his Zhenya, and was led downstairs and out of the house. Questions flooded through his mind. How had these people found them? What were they going to do? As they led him out into the snow, he wondered if this was how his darling would find him: dead on the ground, the snow around him painted red with his blood. His eyes landed on a caravan, and he was shoved into the back of it. He felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head as he turned to look at his home. The engine began to roar, and suddenly Ivan saw something.
"VANYA!" Volgin's voice, full of fear and rage, filled the snowy air.
"Zhenya! Help me! Don't let them take me!" Ivan screamed, watching as his lover sprinted forward as the car began to move.
The sound of a crack,
The scent of blood,
The throbbing pain,
And then blackness.
