Vladimir stood nervously as he waited outside Emma Frost's office. She had not been pleased when she saw the brawl. She ordered the two teams back to their dorms while she talked to—or rather, interrogated—the people involved: first the Hellions then the Omegas. Then she telepathically summoned Vlad.
It was creepy when she did that. She reminded Vladimir of the KGB. If anything, Frost was worse for there were no secrets that could be kept from her.
"Enter." She telepathically summoned him. Vlad shuddered and opened the door. Frost didn't look particularly upset, but that was no indication of what she was feeling.
"Have a seat, Vladimir Sergeyevich." She said genially, addressing him by his first name and patronymic, as was Russian custom. He sat down, no less relaxed for Frost's politeness.
"I would like to say that while I'm not happy that my students started brawling amongst themselves, I am impressed by your performance against the Hellions."
"From the looks of it, they had already been bloodied before the fight began." Vladimir said modestly.
"They had the misfortune to tangle with the X-Men. AND the Misfits." Frost told him curtly. "But that does not take away from the fact that you and your friends beat them like a drum."
"I guess combat practice rubbed off on us." Vladimir said uneasily. All students at the Academy underwent some basic combat practice, but only the best became the Hellions. Vlad was not a Hellion and had no desire to become one.
Unfortunately, Frost seemed to have ideas of her own. "Tell me," she said. "Would you be interested in a proposition I have for you?"
"What do you mean Miss Frost?" He asked, his Marxist ethos recoiling at the capitalist sounding word "proposition."
"I shall be frank Mr. Tubarov." Frost said. "The Hellions are not succeeding as well as I'd hoped. Especially since they have to face not only Xavier's X-Men, as I anticipated, but the Misfits of GI Joe as well. You have heard of GI Joe, I take it?"
"Yes." Vladimir said tightly, clamping down at the emotional turmoil bubbling just below the surface.
"Then you've heard of Cobra too, I trust?"
Vlad nodded. "I have." He replied, wondering where she was going with this.
"That makes this simpler." Frost purred. "As I said before, I am most impressed in how you and yours handled yourselves against the Hellions. Impressed enough to believe that the time has come to have a second team of Hellions."
Vladimir felt his face go pale. He was happy as a student. He had no desire to put on a uniform and get involved in—what he considered—pointless brawls with the X-Men. Especially since the X-Men were a great deal more battle hardened than he.
"No need to worry." Frost said, not embarrassed in the least to reveal that she'd been reading his mind. "It won't be the X-Men you'll be fighting. You see, I and some associates of mine—"
Like most students Vladimir had no knowledge of the Hellfire Club and its activities and Frost felt no reason to inform him, "—Feel that the enemy of our enemy, is our friend. We want to help Cobra, at least, aid them enough to keep the Joes and Misfits out of our hair and leave the X-Men isolated. That way they can't get in our way again if we decide that we need to take care of the Purists or FOH or any other enemies of mutant-kind."
There it was. Emma Frost wanted him—and his friends—to help a terrorist organization. Vladimir felt ill.
"Oh I don't want you to actually join Cobra." Frost assured him. "Just aid them as an, shall we say, independent company. Like the Dreadnoks."
Great. Instead of a terrorist, he was going to be a mercenary working for terrorists. Vladimir hadn't thought it possible but he actually found himself feeling worse. His Marxist conscious vehemently rejected the notion of terrorism, let alone his own feelings on the subject as he remembered the massacre at Breslan.
If anything, Cobra was even worse for they were not fighting for any cause but global domination and the enrichment of the Cobra High Command clique. To have any part in that felt like he would be sullying himself, as a Marxist and as a human being.
What happened if he said no? Would Frost expel him? Deport him? And what would happen to the others? His mother? Frost had convinced Vladimir to come to the Academy in part because she promised a stipend would be sent to his home if he did. It was much more than he could've made on his own had he stayed.
Could he throw that away out of an ideological or moral objection?
Then, all of a sudden, unbidden, certain thoughts found their way to the front of Vladimir's mind. Memories, feelings, recollections of his home and what had befallen it…and who was responsible.
It all seemed so simple now. It was their fault. They were responsible.
They caused the destruction of his home, the Soviet Union.
They had condemned millions to suffer in the greatest rollback of civilization since the fall of Rome.
They let the Caucuses and Balkans collapse into fratricidal bloodbaths.
They let racism, anti-Semitism, xenophobia, and fascism sweep across the former Soviet bloc countries like the spreading epidemics of tuberculosis and AIDS.
They ruined the lives of millions in his former homeland and set the worker's movement back decades.
They caused the retrogression of conscious and the decay of political awareness among the working-class.
They tricked the working-class into believing that Marxism had failed and that there was no alternative to capitalism.
They allowed the entrenchment of capitalism and the intensification of human misery.
They were responsible for the destruction of the one counterweight to the bloodthirsty maniacs in the White House who now ran roughshod over the world, unchecked and unstoppable.
They were responsible.
They were the ones…who killed his father.
They were responsible for everything. America. The US government. The military.
GI Joe.
Vladimir's cheeks were wet with tears as he had his epiphany, but his eyes were steely cold. "What do you want me to do?" He asked in a voice he didn't recognize.
Emma Frost grinned inwardly at how easily the human mind could be…molded by a skilled telepath. "I will talk to your friends." Frost promised. "I will convince them to go with you. You will lead them against the Misfits. Use Cobra to help you. And you will make sure they never trouble the Massachusetts Academy or its activities on behalf of mutants everywhere, ever again."
"It shall be done." Vladimir promised, smiling grimly at the thought of the chance to avenge his father, his homeland and re-launch the revolutionary struggle for workers liberation. Not just to read Marx and Lenin and Trotsky in the comfort of his room, but to have the chance to fight for—and implement—their ideas…"Have no fear. When I'm through, the Misfits will never threaten the Hellions again. I swear it."
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A/N: Should have mentioned this at the start. There will be a lot of characters from various backgrounds with their own personal and cultural philosophies and politics. They are not meant to be "representative" of a certain people. I do not claim that my characters are "typical" of the nationalities and countries they come from.
In addition, the political and philosophical ideas, beliefs, views, and agendas of the characters in this story do not necessarily represent those of the author. So please don't come after me with an axe if a character sounds too pro-, anti-, or un- this or that.