The Russian Gunman

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Cut out the middleman. That’s what she said - and that’s what she believed. It would take a lot for Elizabeth to bother looking at anyone as a friend now. Silva wasn’t a friend. Sergei wasn’t. No one on the island was a friend… For now. And even with their lips touching and skin against skin, her relationship with Sergei wasn’t going to change; at least not in her mind. Not yet.

What was she afraid of? Here, Silva. He had power over her: what she did, if she lived or died. Literally everything about her life was in his hand due to his skillset. And to be honest it didn’t frighten her before; she didn’t have a life. She was officially dead, just wandering around aimlessly picking up jobs. But with on the island, she had goals. She had a real job. There were people she lived with. Maybe she did have friends. Maybe that’s why she was becoming concerned with death.

Or she was just realising she didn’t want to die after all. The kiss made her heart skip a beat, not expecting another. But she parted her lips slightly, nipping his lower lip. A hand rested on his arm, turning herself even more to face him properly, closing her eyes as she took in the passion and let it take over her.

#lizziwalters #aye aye captain! ;)#lol sorry

Sergei moans a little as Elizabeth nibbles his lip. The soldier is happy to be able to share something physical with another of his Rank at last. Silva’s rules concerning fraternisation amongst dwellers on his Island were certainly restrictive. But they made sense, in an odd sort of way. To only be allowed to bed those who carried the same number of bars to their name… It was a challenge. A challenge with the promise of some small relief at the end.

The Russian gunman reaches out and cups his hand around the back of Elizabeth’s head, the long blond hair spilling between his fingers. The kissing continues as the two Captains allow themselves to be more acquainted with one another. Bedtime kisses, quick fucks… Sergei isn’t sure what form of affection their new-found physical relationship will take, but he honestly doesn’t care much. There’s a woman in his arms, a woman with the same fighting spirit that motivated the ex-KGB agent to do what he does.

He kisses her softly once more as she draws away from him, so close as to almost be sitting in his lap now on the bed. He strokes her arm gently. The warm buzz of vodka in his veins flushes his cheeks and other parts of his anatomy besides.

“Stay with me tonight, Elizabeth.” He draws back a little from her, pulling the covers back on his bed roll. “Please. I want some company.”

Liz / Sergei

Доверяй, но проверяй // Trust but Verify

#lizziwalters #((I like this))#images

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Sergei presses his lips together tightly, confused in all honesty by the look in Elizabeth’s eye. He was a simple man, really. With simple desires. Emotions were felt but not closely analysed, at least not by a soldier. You received orders, you executed orders. To be a true follower, you happily gave up the right to ask why.

“I don’t know.” An honest reply. Sergei’s gaze lowers over the woman’s hands clasped together in her lap. She’s missing a few fingers. The Russian frowns.

“I’ve never fully understood women and their ways. I only know that I would do my utmost to protect them, if they needed it.”

He looks back up at the blonde. Her green eyes are so wide, twin pools of emotion. Are they green for envy? The alcohol must be talking surely. Sergei sighs. “The Boss shares only so much with me. As I’m sure he does with you.”

He shifts a little on the bed, so that he’s facing her properly. “I cannot say I understand entirely why he’s brought this woman back from Spain with him… but I’ve learnt long ago not to question his judgement.”

He reaches out, unsure. Finally placing the pads of his fingers gently on her throat. “Elizabeth. I… I think sometimes… we must trust. If we don’t, surely… we would only go mad?”

The Russian bites his lip. “If all we do is simply fear and hate, we fall into a never-ending cycle. A trap. How can we expect to ever be free again?”

He leans forward before finally, gently, pressing a kiss on her lips.

‘I don’t know’, ‘I don’t understand women’. She scoffed at the answer. That wasn’t what she was looking for. Not that she expected him to lie for her benefit, but she at least hoped he felt the same way she did. Looking down at her lap, Elizabeth glared intensely. Perhaps she was old hat after all. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

“He shares nothing with me now.” though there wasn’t much chance these days. But as he spoke, she relaxed a little against the pillow, and his body. “Sometimes trust is what makes us fall apart.” she murmured, looking at him as he asked her a question.

She thought on it, but before she could reply she felt him kiss her on the lips. It was gentle - like a question, like he was doubtful. She let him stay there but did not return the kiss as she leaned back. Her watchful eyes stayed on him, unblinking before leaning forward and kissing him again, with a bit more force and acceptance. “And if people break trust, it breeds hate. Is it not better to cut out the middle man?” she whispered after she leaned back, her lips inches from his.

#lizziwalters #((ok so Sergei = Felix))#((he's a soldier who will react on instinct and feeling alone))#((he doesn't have the intellect of Tiago/Silva))#((but at least you should know he won't play games on you))

He doesn’t kiss her for long, because it becomes apparent from her stillness that she’s not interested in him. Sergei closes his eyes, sighing quietly as she leans back. He is unaware of Elizabeth’s unblinking stare on his face.

Then she leans forward and kisses him again.

The bed creaks slightly as the blonde pushes ahead with more force. She’s a strong woman. Made that way by time and circumstance. The Russian Captain is wholly unprepared for it. Oh, he’s seen a lot of brutality in his time, watched how the Kremlin dealt with political dissidents and betrayers to the Motherland. Reluctantly, he’d been involved in some of the torture himself. A soldier did not ask questions...

Liz’s question however, hissed against his lips, causes Sergei to tremble a bit.

“Cut out the middleman? You mean... lose all faith. No longer trust at all?”

A haunted look fills the assassin’s eyes. An old Russian proverb springs to mind out of nowhere. Доверяй, но проверяй.

His hands find their way on Elizabeth’s arms. Once more he looks at his fellow Captain, questioningly. Although this time with far more confidence. He gazes once more at her lips. “What are you afraid of?”

The question hangs in the air between them. Then Sergei makes up his mind. Leaning forward, he kisses the blonde back with the same force she showed him - lips attacking hers - tongue seeking entry.

The Japanese Captain watching in the corner rolls her eyes. Time for bed.

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Elizabeth sat with her legs crossed, waiting for his reply. However he offered her a place to sit instead. She immediately looked suspicious, not letting the alcohol waver her trust issues. She studied the bed, as if it were going to be some sort of trap. What kind of trap, she didn’t know. Sergei could do nothing to her.

Well, that was probably a lie. But she felt invincible, therefore she was. With this newfound thought in her head, she got up and moved to the edge of the bed to sit, body seated in a way that her back was away from him, though it did mean her front was angled towards him more. She relaxed back, taking the bottle from him as he seemed to be done with his turn, taking another swig.

“She isn’t to be trusted, of course.” Liz replied with no hesitance this time. She didn’t trust Vivian. She wasn’t telling the truth, Elizabeth felt. But she never believed in that nonsense. But some of this was coming from an anxious, envious part of her. She remembered when she was the shiny new toy. The beautiful woman. Even despite her physical disfigurements.

“Do you trust her?” she turned her head to look at him, eyes reflecting how she felt. Liz was feeling more and more vulnerable and open, but there was something in her that didn’t bother putting back up the protective walls.

#lizziwalters #((all my charas seem to be philosophers sorry))

“I don’t know.” An honest reply. Sergei’s gaze lowers over the woman’s hands clasped together in her lap. She’s missing a few fingers. The Russian frowns.

“I’ve never fully understood women and their ways. I only know that I would do my utmost to protect them, if they needed it.”

He shifts a little on the bed, so that he’s facing her properly. “I cannot say I understand entirely why he’s brought this woman back from Spain with him... but I’ve learnt long ago not to question his judgement.”

He reaches out, unsure. Finally placing the pads of his fingers gently on her throat. “Elizabeth. I... I think sometimes... we must trust. If we don’t, surely... we would only go mad?”

The Russian bites his lip. “If all we do is simply fear and hate, we fall into a never-ending cycle. A trap. How can we expect to ever be free again?”

He leans forward before finally, gently, pressing a kiss on her lips.

Sergei and dogs....

Although, the Soviet Army bred Russian Black Terriers in the late 1940s/early 50s, for use as a military dog. So really his dog would look more like the one in the second photo. Not the Labrador in the first pic.

#Sergei #The Russian Gunman #Russian Black Terrier #images

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

She didn’t really care of she put more doubt in his mind. If he cared so much about her sister, it would be there already. She snorted, moving to her own cupboard and taking out a bottle of the same stuff. Must’ve been a crate load drop off some time ago. She smirked, removing the cap and drinking again.

“If someone else can find a use for her, Silva can too.” she answered, watching as he stated that Silva got him, rather proudly. Hm. Silva did seem to get what he wanted, on a silver platter. He’d probably get everything on a diamond one if he tried hard enough.

“Not that I’m trying to keep you up at night.” she moved to offer him the newly opened bottle, sitting herself down between their beds. It was definitely getting to her. The fact she rarely drank vodka to begin with didn’t help; and vodka by itself was just a stupid decision. But she was too far into her decision to turn back. Her smirk turned into a smile, which didn’t suit the topic of her next sentence.

“He’s got you. And when he finds someone better? Remember what happened to Severine? Now we have the witch woman on his arm instead. We’re pawns,” her smile fell as she stared at the flickering flame now too.

Sergei glances up at the woman now hovering over him and his bed. The new bottle of vodka is probably not a good idea, but what’s interesting is that it’s now Elizabeth herself who is offering him a drink.

Sergei frowns a little, tempted to laugh, but he holds that thought. Instead, he slides his legs out from under the covers, sitting upright on the bed. Taking the bottle he chugs down a new amount, feeling the burn fully this time. Noticing the woman sitting cross-legged on the floor between their beds, he tuts. Then he pats the empty space next to him.

“Why sit there. Sit with me?”

He raises his eyebrows. Oh, Silva had never introduced Sergei to Felix Cortez. And it was a good thing the cyberterrorist hadn’t. Because then the Russian Gunman might have known precisely who it was that the assassin was replacing.

The soldier sighs. “Pawns then. That’s you, as well as me.”

Sergei’s eyes follow the line of her shoulder. Elizabeth’s back is neatly covered by her tank top, long legs covered by some baggy cargo trousers. A tomboy then. Wearing precisely the same get-up as Sergei himself. The Russian smiles slightly. The world had made them both tough cookies.

“What do you think about her then? This Witch Woman... is she going to be a good influence on the Boss do you think or not?”

The man waits for Liz to join her on his bed.

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

She listened. KGB. Putin. Snorts escaped her now and then and she would look away - always listening, but never looking. Another drink of the bottle, and Elizabeth looked over at him finally when he mentioned Silva not following any Queen or King or what have you. She huffed, taking another drink and staring pointedly at him.

“You ever think the reason he doesn’t answer to anyone is because he considers himself the leader, much like any Queen or politician?” she countered. She did, at least. He gave off that air of owning everyone, and it was true. At least the Queen didn’t try and brand everyone so that they could be recognised. Sex traders branded. Terrorists branded.

Well the latter comparison didn’t matter, considering Silva literally does call himself a cyberterrorist. But the thought that Silva was somehow better than everyone else - just because he decided to spare Sergei’s sister on a whim - did not make him a worthy man. Even he would probably agree.

“He will use your sister, you know.” Elizabeth warned, ignoring the question about the vodka - because, hell, she had. Not like she didn’t have more stashed away though. She gestured to her bedside table for him to search, “When he has to. Or wants to. Maybe he is right now, and you don’t know it because you’ve laid all this trust in him.”

#lizziwalters #((oh Silva is a massive puppet player - Liz is right))#((however even bad guys can sometimes inadvertently do a good thing))

Sergei blinks, a little baffled by the hostility in Elizabeth’s reaction. The now empty bottle of vodka on the floorboards indicates she’s drunk her fill. The Russian sighs, somewhat disappointed.

“Don’t. I don’t need more doubt in my mind, Liz. I’ve had enough of broken promises from previous employers. At the end of the day, all I care about is actions. And Silva saved my sister.”

Sergei laughs, although it sounds a little off. “That’s all I know.”

A soldier’s determination flickers in his eyes. “That’s all I need to know.”

He tuts at Elizabeth’s comment about using Elena. “She’s 8 years old. Боже мой. What does he need her for?”

The gunman slides off the chair, making his way towards his bed roll. Plumping up the cushion and pulling back the army grade blankets, he slides himself under the covers, eyes on the flickering candle near the edge of the balcony with the banister.

“Anyway, haven’t you already worked it out? Silva got what he was after all along in the transaction. He got me.”

There is no shame in Sergei’s voice.

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, thinking on the branding. His tracing fingers brought back her own memories. Linking her fingers together, she rested her chin on her knuckles, staring at the ground. The stench, the burning sensation that haunted her for days after. She hated taking any medication, bar what was in their drinks that night.

Brought out of her thoughts by the offer of drink, she stared at him - a silent warning - before taking it and taking a chug. Vodka never had a good taste to it, but when it was the only thing available, it would need to do. She shook her head, offering it back to him.

“You certainly have a bleeding heart, don’t you.” Elizabeth pointed out, tone not suggesting that it was a good or bad thing. He just came off as wanting to help. What happened? Her eyes fell on him, washing over with doubt and, momentarily, fear. A forgotten fear that nestled in the pit of her stomach instead, waiting to come back out.

“I need to be dead before I talk about it.” she responded, adding condescendingly, “But your deduction skills cannot be trifled with.” Without hesitating she suddenly gestured with her hand that she wanted the bottle back for another drink. “What happened to you? What did Silva do that made you owe him your life?”

Sergei passes the bottle over to her willingly. It’s good to talk. Actually, it’s good to find any sort of kindred spirit in this world of paranoia and fear, where everyone seemed too scared to wag a tongue in case it got sliced off.

“My heart... it was bought and sold years ago.”

Now Sergei smiles. The memories of her face come flooding back. Little cheeks he could pinch. An innocence that needed protection. His Elena.

“Silva saved the only family I knew. The only family I had left.” The words tumble out of the assassin’s mouth, no doubt helped along by the vodka. The Russian sighs. “My little sister. She was captured by terrorists in Morocco, back when I was working for the KGB. Oh, I was such a good agent. I had political connections...”

The gunman wags a finger, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Never work for a politician or for a country, дорогая моя. For then you have to play their game. Follow their rules.”

Sergei sneers. “The Kremlin had been financing this particular Arab terrorist cell for several months. It was important you see, in order to further the geopolitical destabilization they had planned in the region. They would not rescue my sister.”

The Russian shakes his head, closes his eyes. But the memories just don’t stop coming. Sergei grits his teeth.

“-I begged my superiors, I even had a word with the assistant to the President. Nothing. My sister was nothing more than collateral damage, as far as Mr Putin was concerned. And so, I had to find an independent authority...”

A spark of hope in the gunman’s eyes as he opens them.

“A man like Silva... he doesn’t answer to the likes of them. Not to Queen and Country, nor to other organisations, masquerading as multinational businesses or Governments. He’s his own man. His own force. And he was the only one who gave a damn.”

Sergei looks across at Elizabeth at last.

“He paid the ransom off on my sister the first time I asked him. Did something on his laptop that drew some money out somebody’s account in one place, and put it into the terrorists’ account elsewhere. I had my little sister freed and once more in my arms before the sun set.”

Silence.

Eventually, Sergei stirs. “Have you really finished all of the vodka, Lizzy?”

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Her shoes were put under her bed, and she rolled her neck as she took the bobble out of her hair. Strands fell over her shoulder. There was no embarrassment or privacy here. However Liz used her time better to change when people weren’t around, or already asleep. She looked at Sergei when he spoke about Silva, nodding as she understood the issues. But when he continued talking, she scoffed.

“It’s not what he says,” she snapped, interrupting him. Hesitating, she shrugged and removed her socks, stuffing them in her boots, “I stay here because there’s no where else to go by now.” she casually gestured to the brand on her chest that matched his.

Without hesitating, she undid her bra beneath her tank top and threw it into the beside table, cracking her neck as she groaned. “Silva doesn’t upset me. Not anymore.”

#lizziwalters #((you could just tell him to piss off and go to sleep))#((your call))

Sergei pauses. Perhaps Elizabeth has a point. The Russian gunman lifts a hand under his T-shirt, absent-mindedly running fingers over the red mark burnt into his flesh. The skull and insignia, and three bars beneath it. That denoted him as a killer. One of Silva’s best. There was only one rank higher than the one Liz and he bore within the madman’s hierarchy.

The Russian clenches his jaw in memory. He remembers the Doctor, the branding irons and that night when the metal pressed into his skin. The silent man that followed the cyberterrorist around like a little lost puppy. Everyone on the Island knew Dysraeli loved Silva, in his own, confused way. Sergei smiles awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dispel the images from his mind.

“To be honest, I can’t remember the last time he did speak to me. Oh… yes. Well, he did ask me to watch out for a certain girl of his to return to the Island.” Sergei turns to Elizabeth once more. Pauses as he watches her throw her bra down. A moment of indecision amid confusing cues cartwheels through the assassin’s head. Finally, he picks up the bottle of vodka lying next to his bed roll.

“Why don’t you drink this?” Sergei pauses. “Or have you lost your taste completely for Mother Russia?” He lowers the bottle slightly. “You speak the language as well as me. Which means you must have spent a considerable time in Russia, or at least, around Russian speakers…”

Like a dog with a bone, is this boy. Perhaps that was why Silva saw such promise in him. In all fairness, Sergei simply wants to get to know his fellow Captain better.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, Elizabeth? Or do you need to be drunk first?”

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Elizabeth paid no attention to the other Captains. She had to hand it to Silva, no one could complain that his ‘company’ weren’t diverse in race. It was nice, though. Being the ‘British’ one of the group was highly entertaining. However the Italian and Sergei usually rubbed her the wrong way. All of them managed to, one way or another. But those two especially.

“Stay still.” she mumbled as she pressed it against his wounds, watching him with a glare as he spoke Russian. Every letter sent a shudder up her spine, which she would need to suppress. Letting him take the drink, she leaned back after she was happy with the treatment.

“There, you should be fine now.” she rubbed her hands on her trousers, to get the alcohol off, but she could still smell the stench, “It’s what you get for interfering. God knows why you would.” she got to her feet, moving to sit on the edge of her little bed and starting to untie her shoelaces.

Vodka dulls his thought-processes and lowers his inhibitions. It’s also a very nice drink for warming one up. Sergei puts the now almost empty bottle down and gazes awhile at the blonde woman undoing the laces on her boots.

“Thank you.” Not spoken in Russian. “I interfered because I wanted to.” Blunt again. “I sometimes think we all have choices, you know?”

Sergei sighs suddenly. Reaching up for the collar on his shirt, he loosens it, slowly undoing the top few buttons. The heat pools in his chest. “Silva helped me once. He helped me in a way I can never truly repay him for. So I serve him instead, loyally and willingly.”

He gazes up at the British woman, eyes cloudy in thought. “But why do you stay here? You look so uncomfortable all of the time... has he said something to you to upset you, or-”

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

Sergei laughs. It’s amusing, and he’s glad at least that his fellow Captain didn’t shoot to kill the aggressive soldiers-in-training. At least not at this stage. Let the Boss decide who lives and who dies. The Russian assassin had swore loyalty to the blond cyberterrorist for many reasons, not least because - despite it all - Silva still remained a good judge of character.

“Наконец, мы видим все больше реального Лиз…” Sergei smiles. Then he winces. The pain of the bruise purple-ing his chest blossoms out from under his T-shirt. Perhaps there are some other small cuts on his body elsewhere.

“Shht , it’s nothing. Stupid countrymen-”

He puts a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, without asking. Glancing over at their quarters at the mezzanine overlooking the hall, he rolls his eyes.

“We have some vodka, yes? I want a drink…”

Elizabeth’s smirk was clear now that he was laughing. Everyone was going back to their business. The young bullied recruit was snivelling, watching the two Captains. She gestured for him to walk away to his bed, and with some hesitation he eventually did.

She wished he would stop speaking Russian, but there was only so much she could demand of people. Her eyes were on his bruising chest, and she tensed as soon as he put his hand on her. “Yes.” Liz took the chance to walk away quickly, shrugging him off and heading back up the steps.

Going into her bedside cupboard - the flimsy thing it was - and took out an already opened bottle. She turned to look at Sergei, raising her chin. “You really let him get you,” she remarked.

Sergei winces a little again as he sits down on a chair, once the two have made it back up the stairs to their quarters. A few beds away, an Austrian man is already snoring. Sergei glances around at the five Captains that make up the elite of Silva’s gunmen. There’s the Italian, Quatrocchi. Himself. Elizabeth. The Austrian and another woman, Japanese in origin. That Captain is particularly quiet. She prefers to sharpen her samurai sword in the shadows.

The Russian turns his attentions back onto Liz. The blonde retrieves a half finished bottle of Русский Стандарт, dousing some of the vodka onto a cloth, before she lifts up his shirt to begin to press the disinfectant on his wounds.

“Ahh, give me the rest of it, пожалуйста?” Sergei’s fingers grasps for the lightly frosted bottle.

Taking a straight swig of the spirit, the Russian assassin sighs raggedly. Elizabeth is quiet for a few moments, concentrating on cleaning his body. Perhaps she wonders why Sergei continues to speak to her in his mother-tongue.

Fledglings - Elizabeth & Sergei

The drunk groaned as he was kicked in the face, falling back onto a nearby chair, falling off from the force. Blood splattered the floor from his nose and he held it with his eyes closed, groaning, but seemed to be defeated for now.

Elizabeth looked at Sergei with raised eyebrows. “This isn’t my fight.” she stated, keeping her eyes on the assassin. She could see the blur of the man approaching, raising her gun and shooting over Sergei’s shoulder. Some in the crowd flinched, and the man fell back to the ground, blood trickling from his wound.

“But I’ll finish it if I have to.” she stated, turning, watching the crowd, “Do not make fools of yourselves in our presence. Do not try to show us up. It does not work.” she put her gun back in the holster, watching as two men took the bleeding drunkard away. A bullet to the head usually didn’t go down well with the body. “You’re welcome.” she stated patronisingly to Sergei, a hint of a smirk appearing.