Through the streets of Leningrad, Ms. Balalaika walked, bag over her left shoulder. As she passed the street shops under the glow of the street lights, she couldn't help but think of when she walked the streets years ago as a young girl alongside her uncle, her eyes full of life back then. Her uncle, Marshal Volkov, had always instilled in her a sense of pride to be a Soviet. The walks he had with her were always her favorite parts of his visits from Moscow. When he wasn't around, she felt alone, having lived in an apartment he had set up for her ever since her father's death. She had learn to overcome adversity though, and her athletic and marksmanship skills had led her uncle to once tell her that she could redeem herself in the Olympic shooting competitions. The Party officers had other plans however, and soon she faced being conscripted into the Soviet army as a clerk. Looking towards her uncle's position in the VDV, the Soviet paratroopers, as a worthy aspiration, she talked him into getting her into a training regiment on par with the VDV. When she was forced by the Party into a female base staff detachment in Afghanistan, she took a chance one day. When a convoy she was riding with, headed by a VDV platoon was ambushed, she took charge. Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, she emerged from the hellish fires as a beacon towards the soldiers that were being torn apart by insurgent fire. A goddess to these men, she lead them to repulse the enemy, and soon she found herself a leader of these men. They would become known as the Visotoniki throughout all of Afghanistan, and her nickname, "Balalaika", after her skill with a Dragonov rifle, would become legend. She lead them through countless battles, and their devotion to her was unwavering. When she was captured during a failed cross border operation, they were the ones who went back to get her. The torture she had faced by the insurgents had left her scarred though, and she only hanged on to life because of her men as she undertook recovery in a hospital for many months afterward. She was discharged along with her men that same year.
While Balalaika thought about the past, she walked past an alleyway that was not illuminated by the streetlights. She stop suddenly, as though sensing something, one hand under her coat, reaching for her Stechkin APS. Slowly walking away, she suddenly turned around and grabbed at the darkness, managing to grip the coat collar of someone. The figure attempted to free itself, but Balalaika slammed the figure up against the alley wall. Stechkin pressed into the figures skull, she addressed the figure coldly.
"I thought the higher ups would know better than to send a rat after a demon"
The figure attempted to reply, quivering as his pants tuned color, indicating he had lost his bladder control.
"I'm just following orders. They were surprised to see you back in Russia, and wanted eyes kept on you. Please don't shoot! I'm not armed!"
Balalaika tightened her grip on the young man, peering directly into his eyes.
"You take a message to them then. Tell them that if they attempt this again, I'll paint the streets of Moscow red with the blood of ex-KGB and GRU incompetants."
The young man nodded, his eyes conveying immense fear. Balalaika gave a shrill of laughter and let go of the lad, who fell down with a thump.
"Smart boy, now run along and tell your so called masters"
The young man quickly ran off, leaving Balalaika alone in the alley.
"Waste of life they all are" she said to herself as she put her Stechkin away. Walking back into the street, she walked towards the train station. Buying a ticket, she got aboard the train just as it was beginning to depart, and sat herself down. Retrieving a cigar, she lit it up as the train slowly pulled out of station and into the night.
