Post by alexei bogdanovich petrov on Dec 7, 2010 0:34:55 GMT -5
‘ALEXEI BOGDANOVICH PETROV’
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LEXI , TWENTY SIX , CITIZEN , WOAH
"Olga, don't stand so close to the edge..." It had been a softly spoken reprimand from Maksim, grabbing onto his sister's arm and slowly drawing her away from the edge of the little cliff, below which the seals were barking and splashing each other. The climate of Russia depended entirely upon the zone and season the person was located- there were volcanoes and deserts, snowy mountains and vast, icy tundras. With eleven different timezones across six different regions- it was the largest country on earth. Maksim just called it home. At the time, his father had taken some of his business partners to this cliffside to see the seals and sip vodka while they chatted away about things Maksim did not yet fully understand. "Maxy, I'm not gonna fall-"
"You might."
Olga actually giggled at this, tilting her head as a breeze swept across them, causing her blond hair to wave across her cheeks, her sweet grinning face. "How can I? You're always here to catch me."
"And if I'm not?" This thought seemed to amuse Olga just as much as the last, causing her to laugh quietly at him, shaking her head and looking back out across the waters and down at the seals. "Why? Do you plan on going anywhere?" This time, however- her words were a little sharper, a little less patient for her brothers doting protectiveness. "No, but-"
"Then shutup and look at the seals, ah?" With an unhappy expression, Maksim slowly crept towards the edge, peering over with his sister until a strong had closed around his shoulder. That hand was wide, big-knuckled, callused. The finger-nails were relatively short, but still clean. Dark hair was a soft splash across the back of the hand, as well as the digits directly below the knuckles. "Time to go."
The abnormally tall man glanced away from the small, man-made pond he had been staring into; dark eyes shifting to settle on a much shorter fellow, one who, judging by his posture and the frantic gesticulations, was not pleased with the situation.
”HeLLO! Earth to dumbass! The sign says “keep off the grass”, can’t you read?!” Maksim shifted his eyes to the sign the man pointed at, stern facial expression not changing in the slightest. What was the point of having grass, if not to enjoy it…? Keeping the thought to himself, Maksim merely dipped his head, nodding slowly before he turned about on his heels, walking away as quietly as he had come. It was year five in America; exactly one thousand nine hundred and sixty four days since he had been ‘picked up’ out of a simple Russian street.
If having several men lunging out from behind the corners, leaping from cars, and shoving a bag over his head as well as handcuffing him was what Americans called being ‘picked up’. Maksim’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head, a large hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose as his gaze swept the area, hardly registering the honking horns and the smog that had become such a familiar part of his life.
Trudging along the streets with his broad shoulders hunched, the giant of a man made his way quietly back to the apartment he had been assigned to, speaking to absolutely no one on the way there. For someone who had spent more than five years in The Program, Maksim was still incredibly wary. Getting to his room was not such a difficult thing, and after stooping so that his 6’9” frame could fit through the doorway, the large man turned about and pinched the lock, turning it slowly, listening to the satisfying click. Solitude… It was comforting, but it wasn’t supposed to be this way…
The seven year old boy writhed in the bed, sweat poring down his face, causing the sheets to stick to his abnormally long body. The pain was unbearable, and the smallest of movements caused a new lance to shoot up his spine; the edges of his vision throbbing with a red hue as the blood pooled in his knees, the pale skin of his legs mottled with leaking bruises.
“How long until he can walk again, doctor?” The voice seemed so distant through the haze of pain, and the boy simply clenched his jaw tightly to keep from screaming, head tilted back until his forehead pressed against the headboard of the bed. A simple game had turned into this… Such a stupid, stupid game… And yet, Maksim could still feel the exhilaration of zooming down the stairs on that cake pan. It had all gone perfectly well, until the sharper curve of the stairs- at which point the boy had tumbled, bashing his knees against the stairs and rolling the rest of the way down. As a hemophiliac, it had been a potentially fatal accident. In fact, there was still a chance of death. Dying… It was something most children never had to think about; and yet Maksim thought about it every day, wondered what it felt like…
“He won’t be down too long, Ivan…” There was the distinct tinking sound of metal against metal, and then the boy felt an even sharper pain in his knee, followed by a swift draining sensation as pools of blood rushed into the chamber of the large needle, seeking an escape from the prison that was the boy’s body. It had been some time since lancing a joint had been necessary, thankfully it was rarer than bleeds… Nevertheless, it left the tall child shivering and letting out strained whimpers, trying not to move as the sensation continued to get steadily more severe. How he hated doctors…
Maksim didn’t recall exactly when he had walked over to his bed, though apparently at some point during his mental escape- he had wandered over and sat down upon it, thick fingers drifting over the sheets in an absent manner. It had been years since that incident had even crossed his mind… The large man closed his eyes tightly, thin lips pursing as his jaw clenched, teeth grinding together even as his shoulders drooped. Five years…
The ringing of the phone startled him, causing him to jerk to his feet, placing his back quickly against the wall and peering out from behind the doorway. Every shadow shifted and morphed, moving as a human might have, playing games with his mind. Night time already… Drawing in a deep breath, Maksim slowly made his way to the phone, picking it up and pressing a tiny button with the edge of his finger.
”dObriy vEcher…” The dark-haired man already knew who was calling; no one else knew of the number. As far as the world was concerned, he did not technically exist… It was safer.
”Ah, Alexei. This is David- I’m calling to see how that television is working for you.”
There was no television in Maksim’s apartment. The only furniture he possessed was a bed, a small bedside table, a fridge, stove, and a table with a chair. Books were piled up in a corner, clothes neatly folded and left on the floor. He preferred it this way- either that, or he was too afraid to settle in, too scared to leave any real sort of mark upon a place. Everything before had turned out so horribly…
” tAk sibe, Devid.” Maksim’s voice was quieter than one would have expected for someone of his stature, though it was deep and smooth, somehow demanding attention as well as rejecting it. There was, however, the issue of the accent. Even when he spoke English- it was difficult to understand him.
”Still working on the English, eh? And it’s Day-vid. Not deh-vid, day-vid. Say it with me…” A joke. Maksim was in no mood to joke… Five years had passed since The Incident, and it still haunted him… Without saying anything more, the Russian man pressed at another tiny button, setting the phone quietly back into the dusty coffee mug in exactly the same position it had been in before… Low impact, paranoia- it could have been called either of the two.
Turning slowly around, the giant took in a deeper breath through his nose, silently moving back to his bed and laying down, wincing at the creaking of the frame as the mattress sagged under his weight, shadows dancing across the walls. Perhaps things would seem better if he could just… rest…
