'Red'

Day 7, Month 1

Erin Tanili

Makarov's Terrorist Group

Siberian Region

The night slips past unnoticed by Ivan, Langley and I as we get lost in conversations. A lazy sun peeks out from the horizon, casting a warm light across the land. Anatoly peeks out of the open patio door at us, confusion playing in his light green eyes. "You guys are already up?" he questions, causing us to exchange a look with each other before looking back at him.

Ivan shoots him a sheepishly grin, scratching the back of his head. "We've been up-for a while. If you catch my drift." He replies, searching the older man's face for understanding.

Anatoly blinks before shaking his head distastefully. A small smile lies on his face, though. "So it would seem. Breakfast is going to be ready in a few minutes." He said before disappearing back inside the house.


Having had enough of outside, I disappear inside. Anatoly is just placing plates of food on the cleared off fold out table. I raise an eyebrow as I quietly observe his actions. "Hey, is there anything I can do?" I finally ask.

Anatoly jumps slightly, nearly loosing a plate of odd looking pancakes. But he recovers, setting the near lost pancake plate on the table. He smiles warmly at me. "That's very nice of you, but every thing's pretty much set." He states, busying himself by checking on a pot of coffee.

I shrug, my eyes glancing over the amble amount of food set out on the table. How the hell did he make all this so fast? I thought, questionably.

After calling the others for breakfast, I watch as Ivan and Langley stare at the food keenly. Even Viktor has abandoned his usual dark glare, instead choosing to set his eyes on some sort of sandwich mound. Makarov strolls into the room, his eyes glued to the newspaper in his hand, as he grabs a cup of coffee. With that, he backs away from the table. Anatoly pulls me back from the table slowly. "You might want to back up. They tend to go a little 'crazy' whenever I make breakfast." He warns quietly.

I raise an eyebrow at him. That sounds like you're blowing this really out of proportion- But when Anatoly snaps his fingers, the three guys literally attack the food table. My eyes blink in shock confusion. Well, I stand corrected. The group move away from the table with their plates piled high with what looks to be about everything. "So, uh, what's left?" I ask plainly, glancing at Anatoly.

"Usually the bread, pancakes and kasha." He replies calmly, shrugging his shoulders, "They're more, meat eaters than anything really." The way he said this tells me this happens-a lot.

We approach the table, the once amble amount of food now dwindle down to only a few choices. I pause, suddenly realizing I have no idea what kasha is. "Wait, what's kasha?" I inquire.

Anatoly smiles slightly, as he points to a porridge like food substance. "That's kasha. It's buckwheat porridge." He reveals, spooning a glop onto his plate. I blink, stifling a laugh. Please sir, may I have some more porridge? I thought jokingly. Though the kasha looks 'interesting', I decide to play it safe and go with the pancakes.

Seeing how Ivan and Langley are devouring their breakfast blindly, I decide to avoid them while they're in this state. I stand by Anatoly, who's eating by himself, and shine him a smile. "So, Anatoly. How are you?" I ask blankly, taking a bite out of my pancake.

He looks up and nods. "I'm good, and your self?" he replies back, happiness dancing in his green eyes.

"Well, I'm just peachy." I state contentedly. A pause sits over us as we eat our different breakfasts. I look up at him, a question sitting on my mind. My eyes glance from Anatoly to over to Makarov who's in his own little anti-social world of reading. How did a guy like Anatoly end up with such a jerk like Makarov? I gaze back at Anatoly, swallowing a piece of my pancake. "How'd you end up with these guys, anyway?" I whisper quietly, so no one else over hears.

Anatoly stops chewing and swallows a lump of porridge abruptly. He looks at me. "I had met Makarov while I was studying for my major." He explains, stirring his spoon through his grainy cereal.

"And what, exactly, were you guys studying?" I question, raising an eyebrow in question. Seeing how confident and smooth Makarov is, I wonder if he studied business-

Anatoly smiles sheepishly, "I was studying nuclear engineering while Makarov was studying psychology and sociology." He answers.

I blink, taking the last bit of my pancake and chewing it slowly. Well, THAT figures…Having finished my breakfast, I decide to help Anatoly with the dishes. Some how, I end up next to the one person who hates me more than Wisconsin hates Favre. Viktor grunts disapprovingly as I stand in between of him and Anatoly. Anatoly washes the dishes while I dry and Viktor puts them away. While drying a particularly sharp knife, I scoot over to Anatoly. Fear escalates in me, not wanting to give Viktor any sharp objects. Observing how Viktor is, I don't want to run the chance of him 'slipping' with the knife and having it get lodged into my chest cavity. "Hey Anatoly, you want to put his knife away…FAR from Viktor please?" I hiss under my breath.

Anatoly gives me a weird look before shrugging and taking the knife from me. I give a quiet sigh of relief. "I don't need a knife to kill you. I have other ways." Viktor murmurs darkly, as Anatoly walks out of ear shot. I tense up with the sound of this threat. Viktor is about to name off the ways but luckily Anatoly comes back. I let out a nervous pent up breath. Silently, I remind myself to stay away from Viktor. Just in case he might want to 'show' me the other ways to kill someone.


Once the dishes are done, Makarov calls all of our attention to him. I slip away from Viktor, standing by Ivan as we listen to what Makarov has to say. His blue and green eyes pan the group. "Alright, tonight we're going to the city of Irkustk. I expect you all to show the most highest form of dignity at the place we're going." He states sharply, setting his harden glare on Ivan and Langley who cringe at the look.

I blink, looking from the two screw balls to Makarov. "What do you mean by that?" I ask, wondering where the hell we're going.

He glance at me once before looking at the whole group. "We're going to a gentlemen's club-to work out a deal. If any of you do ANYTHING that could draw attention to us, I will personally end you." He growls darkly in his Russian accent.

Ivan and Langley gulp nervously, stuttering out a 'yes boss'. Makarov eyes sweep over the group once more before waving us off. He's about to vanish down the hall but stops. Glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes set on me. "I suggest you wear the red one. It suits you better." He comments, off handily before walking down the hall.

I stand there in utter confusion, my eyebrow raised. "'The red one'? What the fuck does that mean?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips as I glare after him.

Anatoly clears his throat, "In the closet in your room, is a red dress. That's what he means." He answers me before turning to speak to the whole group, "OK you guys. We leave at two. That gives you all four hours to get ready. Usual protocol, light weaponry. Got it?" he states, his once timid nature doing a complete 180.

Viktor grumbles something incoherent under his breath as he pulls six different hand guns, two full scale rifles and some grenades off of his persons. He picks up two of the hand guns, checking the full clip before cocking it. He checks the sight, looking purposely at me. I gulp, inching out of his sight. Remind me to not get caught in his line of fire. I'm pretty damn sure it won't be 'friendly' fire then…Three Hours till departure


Once I'm done showering, I slip into some clean clothes. Before I exit my room, I go to inspect the dress. When I open my closet door, a few different items hang in there. But a blood red dress is what jumps out at me. It's got a halter top that ends in a hand kerchief cut bottom hem. Light glitter speckles the dress. It's a real beautiful dress and I can't help but try it on. The dress sits on me comfortably, flattering my curves. I check my self in the mirror in the bathroom, fluffing my hair. Suddenly I stop myself. What am I doing? This is not the time to be playing dress up! Though I agree with this though, there isn't much I can do about this. With a sigh, I exit my room.

Two hours till departure

With boredom toying with my mind slightly, I decide to see where Ivan and Langley have disappeared to. I venture down the hall, intending to go down the stairs. But the sound of a voice from a room in the hall catches my attention. I press myself up against the side of the wall by the open door. Carefully, I lean to see in. Makarov stands alone in the small un-decorated room with his back to me. He's fiddling over the ham radio, working to clear the static up. Finally a male British laced voice drifts out clearing from the radio. "…I know you can hear me on this channel Makarov. You and I both know you won't last a week." Drawls the voice.

He sounds oddly familiar but I can't place my finger on where I've heard that voice from. Makarov tightens his grip on the receiver, anger causing his shoulders to tense up. "And neither will you." He spat sharply.

"Makarov, you now the old saying…the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" the voice questions.

Makarov clenches his jaw. "Price, one day you're going to find that cuts both ways." He grumbles, opening a manila folder, "Shepard is using site hotel Bravo. You know where it is. I'll see you in hell."

My eyes light up. Price? That's the old guy Mactavish rescued. Why the hell is in interested to know where Shepard is? A bad feeling dawns on me as I wonder what's happened. I'm so lost in my thoughts; I barely hear Price's reply. "Looking forward to it. Give my regards to Zakhaev if you get there first." Price replies lightly, signing off.

Makarov glowers down at the radio for a moment before throwing the receiver at the poor thing. I wince, this action drawing me from my clouded thoughts. Seeing on angry Makarov is, I decide now would not be the best time to be caught eavesdropping. I slip back into the living room and decide to wait there till we depart.

Bob appears out of the wall, cocking his head to the side as a Cheshire cat smile sits on his face. "My, my! Don't you look pretty." He comments.

My dark eyes cast him a look that just screams, 'shut up before I throw some holy water on your ass.' But it dissolves into a confused expression. Normally Bob only shows up to taunt me with horrible dreams. Seeing him now would have to be the first time I've seen him in day light since the day I killed him. I lean back on the chair I sit, looking at Bob puzzled. "OK, so why the hell are you haunting me-in the day time?" I question in hushed tones.

This causes a smirk to be fall Bob's face as he sits on the folded table in front of me. "Well, if I don't haunt you every waking moment-which for you is all the time-I'll miss out on seeing you die." He states, smiling at me innocently.

I sigh, placing a hand over my eyes as I shake my head defeated. "Wonderful…" I mumble. With the knowledge of Bob's ever lasting presence a not so welcome thing.


Author's note: Oh wow, I haven't updated in so long. Like almost two weeks! Crap, I'm sorry people-who-still-read-this. But band camp has really turned everything around and upside down. I personally don't like how this chapter turned out, I think its just-blah. But I do have some good news; next chapter will pick up the plot. These past couple of chapters has just been sorta 'filler' chapters.

So expect some interesting stuff. Oh and also note that these chapters have tiny bits of information that will come back in later chapters. In other words, I didn't just write these for no reason!

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