Author's Note: For those of you just joining me with this story, this is the second in a series, the first being The 141 and it is advisable that you read that story before you read this one. Also, a quick note on the title, Straw Man is a logical fallacy committed when one person misrepresents what the other person argued in order to make it easier to defeat. In other words, they attack the straw man instead of the actual person's argument. It just felt kind of appropriate. Standard fanfiction disclaimer applies, I own nothing, but hopefully you enjoy the story anyway!
August 17, 2009
Loyalist Safehouse, Northern India
Yuri Alkaev
Leaning against the door frame of the front doorway, Yuri brought the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke into the warm night sky. The chaos that had been going on behind him since the arrival of Nikolai's two soldier friends had died down, leaving only the quiet noise of the small Indian town at nighttime to filter around him. He took another drag on the cigarette, trying to calm his growing nerves. After being shot just before the massacre at Zakhaev International Airport, Yuri had fled the hospital to India, knowing that if Makarov would likely have heard about his survival and be hunting him. He had healed here, keeping an eye on the news while Nikolai's loyalist friends kept watch for danger.
Nikolai and Yuri had known one another since they were young and growing up in the same village. The two had chosen different methods to escape, Nikolai becoming a military pilot and Yuri joining the Spetznaz, but the two had kept in contact over the years. It had been Nikolai who had found a defeated and disillusioned Yuri in a Moscow hospital and transferred him to India where he would be safe to recover from the trauma and to plot his revenge. "Live, my friend," Nikolai had told him when Yuri had protested being moved, already resigned to his fate. "And make Makarov pay for what he has done."
Footsteps approached from the entryway behind Yuri as the former Spetznaz agent blew out another cloud of smoke. Yuri did not bother to turn, knowing exactly who was coming. Levi and the others might tolerate him, for the sake of the knowledge he brought to the Loyalist group, but none of them liked him enough to approach him. That left only one person to break him from his dark thoughts, not that the attempt would likely be successful. "I thought you said you had stopped," Nikolai said, voice full of good humor despite the day's events.
"I did," Yuri agreed, taking another drag on the cigarette. He had stopped smoking years ago, when he joined the Spetznaz, but as he had begun to see the truth of what Makarov was doing, he had picked up the bad habit again.
"It will kill you sooner," Nikolai said, no accusation in his voice. Yuri's friend was not one to spread accusations, even when he likely should have. For most of his life, the former Spetznaz agent had found it comforting, but now it irked him. He felt as if someone should have been throwing angry allegations at him. After the events of the past few years it would be nothing less than he deserved, and Nikolai's passive, almost sympathetic approach to his crimes irritated him. What right did Nikolai have to be forgiving when his friend had betrayed all the ideals he stood for?
"I'm not likely to live long enough for it to kill me," he retorted, flicking the still smouldering cigarette into the dusty Indian road. "Your friend Levi informed me that my hospital records have been hacked. Makarov will be hunting me."
"He could not kill you once, my friend. What makes you think he can manage to attempt it a second time?"
"He won't leave me to bleed out the second time," Yuri countered. "He'll stay to ensure I die, and then likely burn the body."
He removed the cigarette carton from a pocket and brought out a fresh one, lighting it as Nikolai said, "With optimism such as that it is a wonder that our mother nation is not at your feet begging you to lead us into a new era."
"Optimism is a foolish man's attempt to avoid the inevitable," was Yuri's pragmatic response. He took a drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke out before adding. "And I am not a foolish man." He caught a glimpse of Nikolai's amused head shake before taking another drag on his cigarette.
The peaceful sounds of the night surrounded them once more, but they were unable to soothe Yuri into a calmer state. He knew that Makarov was not only hunting him, but also the two soldiers his friend had brought here. To linger in India was to court disaster, but the injured one would not be easy to move, so linger they must. Yuri knew disaster would fall on their heads soon enough, and he intended to be ready for it even if he must stay awake all night to ensure their safety.
"I have a favor to ask of you," Nikolai said at last and Yuri blew out a mouthful of smoke before turning to look at his friend, smouldering cigarette held carefully between two fingers. "Some of Soap and Price's friends survived the general's attack and are waiting in a safehouse in Georgia. I must go to collect them at first light."
"What does this have to do with me?" Yuri replied, turning back towards the road and taking another drag of the cigarette, hoping vainly that the nicotine would calm his nerves.
"Trouble will come here soon," was Nikolai's reply. "You and I both know this. When it comes, Price and Soap will need help getting out. I only ask that you assist them in any way that you can."
"They will hate me," Yuri warned. "When they discover what I have done."
"And they are your way to find Makarov," Nikolai countered, but his eyes were worried. "Will you help with this?"
"Da," Yuri agreed, turning back to the front and blowing out a fresh cloud of smoke. "I will."
Sensing that the conversation was over, Nikolai turned and left the doorway. Yuri continued his smoking as if he'd never been interrupted, blue eyes scanning his surroundings. The tension in his shoulders remained, even when Vitaly, one of Levi's younger men, came to say Nikolai had instructed him to replace Yuri in keeping watch. The former Spetznaz agent slept shallowly that night, and was up at the break of dawn.
Yuri didn't bother to say farewell to Nikolai. He was nothing, if not a realistic man, and he knew that either his friend would return or he wouldn't. Saying a few words to him, as if for look, wouldn't ensure either outcome. Furthermore, Yuri was never one with farewells, so while many of the Loyalist saw Nikolai off, he wandered the halls of the safehouse searching for weak points. He did this until Inessa, one of the few woman in the area and a very capable doctor, found him. "What are you doing wandering about like a lost child?" she demanded, slim hand smacking his shoulder reprovingly. "You will open your wound again." She stepped back to look at him, dark eyes disapproving, and then ordered, "Come with me."
He followed her, a slim smile crossing his face for an instant. Inessa reminded him of his hardworking mother in the time before his drunkard of a father had murdered her. They both had sweet natures hidden under dragon like tempers and neither one was afraid to do what was necessary. In this case, Yuri had no doubt that the small woman would drag him by the ear to the infirmary if necessary.
The two of them entered the sick bay, Yuri taking in the view of the more wounded soldier lying still on a bed. His chest was rising and falling slowly with each breath, eyes flickering to and fro erratically behind closed lids, but otherwise he remained still. His companion was sitting in an uncomfortable looking folding chair next to the bed, eyes fixed on Yuri and Inessa. "Sit," the small woman ordered Yuri, unbothered by the staring. The former Spetznaz agent sat in the indicated chair and waited while she rustled around, gathering what materials she might need.
After a minute of silence, Inessa turned to him and ordered, "Shirt off." Many men would have commented with some crude innuendo in the hopes to make Inessa blush but Yuri had more respect for her than that. He was also fairly certain that she would throw anyone who tried that out a window. Yuri removed his shirt, revealing a slightly reddened bandage around his midsection. She scowled at the sight and replied, "See. This is what happens when you don't rest like you are supposed to." She unwound the bandages and clucked her tongue over the state of his stitches before patching him up again and re wrapping his midsection.
Yuri rose with a nod, catching a glimpse of a few silver strands in her dark brown hair, and she graced him with a slim smile before turning her attention towards her other patients. The former Spetznaz agent left the room while she was fussing over her other patients, roaming the halls again. Despite the ache where Makarov had shot him, Yuri had absolutely no intention of resting. Trouble was coming, and he was going to be ready for it.
