Chapter 2: You're Going Down!
Huzzah for updates!
The entire flight was nerve wracking, my fingers drumming along the arm of the seat as my phone sat, blinking on the charger beside me. I swallowed and bit at my lip, contemplating my thoughts on how to fix this incident. Before I had left, I checked the website anxiously for an update, translating the Russian text beneath the picture out. (This, by the way, was no easy feat.) It was Ivan, he had Alfred, and he had taken him because of a stupid comment Alfred made to Ivan about Belarus.
Honestly, the git deserved a bonk on the head for that one... everyone knows it's never a decent idea to irk Ivan. But, I digress. Before I had left my home, I had refreshed the page for an update. What I saw chilled me to the bone.
In Alfred's (admittedly sub-par sentence structuring) journal section of his page, there was a rushed message. I had read it over and over again, memorizing the text and having the small letters burn into my retinas. Now, the journal was repeating in my mind. "I don't have much time," I murmured, tracing the grain patterns in the faux wood and reciting Alfred's journal to myself. "I tipped over a cabinet of dishes and he's gone to see what the sound was."
My fingernail snagged on a splinter of the dirty arm rest, but I paid it no mind, continuing my recitation and going over it in my mind. I had to make sure I had this right, that I was making the right choice by taking the Red Eye to Russia. "And now I'm going to type this real fast, Russia showed up at my place last night and got the jump on me. He didn't beat me but he got me while I was getting ready for bed, and I couldn't see a thing without my glasses. I still can't see, actually, cause he..."
I frowned slightly, wondering why he was stupid enough to get to the computer if it was such a dire situation. "Russia... Took them- Ah, I think I hear him coming back I gotta hurry. If he catches me here, I can't imagine what he'll do with that pipe this time..."
I imagined him shuddering and I mirrored it, closing my eyes and silently thanking the fact that I was the only person on this flight. "I don't know where I am but it's pretty cold, and I was out a long time, he said, so mayb--"
The journal had cut off at that point, revealing Russian text. It had declared Alfred was a bad boy and would not go unpunished. I shuddered once more, thinking this. He also said that we would never find Alfred and that he was one with Russia now.... and how he was off to teach him a lesson. I silently urged the plane to go faster; only having been on for about half an hour but the stretch of time seeming as if it were eons.
I needed off this plane, and I needed into Russia now. I knew that the Red Eyes and the Grapevines were the fastest passenger planes in existence, but the knowledge of a guaranteed half hour more just ate at my gut. I turned on my music player to distract myself, though every song that came on simply twisted me more.
I shut it off and opted staring worriedly out the window towards where the clouds hid the bird's eye view of the earth, chewing on my lip worriedly. There was nothing I could do, but wait. Wait, and pray that Alfred could hang in there long enough for me to come and rescue him.
I could feel sweat beading on my brow as I waited impatiently, legs shaking with the need to stand up and pace, though I was securely belted into the seat and I'd be damned if I were standing with even the slightest possibility of turbulence. Human beings were not meant to fly, and I had always said so, though I tolerated planes in the direst of circumstances. And, as far as I was concerned, this was a pretty dire fucking circumstance.
It took entirely too long in my opinion for the okane to touch down in Moscow, yet it did. When I got out, the first thing I did was call Francis. Of course the bloody frog hit ignore, and I know this because it only rang once before the tosser's voicemail began to play. "Listen, Francis, I'm about to do something incredibly stupid so don't hate me. Just promise me you'll keep anyone from mobilising troops and don't fucking forget that I'm ruddy England, and nobody tops a Brit military or otherwise!"
Keeping my wits about me, I hid my phone on my person, turning it off to conserve the battery. Without a second thought, I set out to search for the former Soviet. I had already began mobilising my troops, planning ofr an all out bloody massacre. The Russian was going down, no matter what it took from me.
"Ivan!" I screamed into Moscow's chilly evening.
This meant war.
I apologize for the length of this chapter. The next one will be longer, but there was no way to cut it off past this point without it feeling awkward.
R+R appreciated.
~SadoMasochist
