Written for @hail-gail's prompt swap challenge! Big thanks to @urfriendlywriter for a fun prompt!
Prompt #4 is the one I used for the following fic:
The feeling is unmistakable. Heart pounding, blood racing, butterflies in the stomach. Even the thought of that special person makes you break out in a stupid grin. Every thought is of them; every song is their tune. You would do anything to spend just one more second with them. You would die for them; kill for them. This is, of course, the feeling of having a nemesis.
“This is a very impressive palace you bought,” said Oleg Volkov, Sergey Razumovsky’s best friend and confidant, glancing anxiously at the gilded walls. “Very grand. Not a single bullet hole anywhere to be seen. I sure hope you keep it that way.”
Sergey, who was sprawled on a purple velvet chaise lounge, laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot you this time. I will set up a variety of death traps, but I’m going to tell you where all of them are, so if you fall into one that’s on you.”
“That’s very generous of you,” said Oleg dryly.
“I think you’re going to like my new Garden of Sinners. It now has traps based on all seven deadly sins PLUS two more that I made up that SHOULD be deadly sins. Everything is all ready. Now we wait. Do you want to play chess?”
“NO,” choked Oleg, immediately going into fight-or-flight mode, his pupils dilating. He clutched his chest, feeling the five scars there.
“Do you think Major Grom wants to play chess?” asked Sergey, kicking his legs in the air.
“I suspect he wants to play chess even less than I do.”
“Why? We had so much fun last time!”
“You killed all his friends.”
“Yes, and it was so much fun!” Sergey grinned beatifically.
Sergey pulled out his phone. “I sent Major Grom the latest puzzle ten minutes ago! Why hasn’t he answered?”
“He’s probably busy trying to stop everything from exploding again,” said Oleg. “Which I believe was the point of the puzzle.”
“Oh. Right.” Sergey put down his phone. “I’m bored. I guess I’ll just read something until he shows up.”
Oleg left, trying to find somewhere in the palace where he was least likely to become collateral damage.
About two hours later, Major Grom showed up, slightly singed.
He dodged about two thirds of Sergey’s traps, barely escaping with his life from the other third.
“Razumovsky,” he gasped upon reaching Sergey. “This time I’ll end you. I swear it.”
Sergey put down his book. “Hey, remember when we were both the avatars of gods, and we fought, and you forgave me for everything and then exploded? Because that was great. Definitely in the top ten Razgrom moments.”
Major Grom narrowed his eyes, but he did not fall for the bait of asking what Razgrom was.
“So…do you want me to hit you in the head with a shovel for old time’s sake, or should I use knock-out gas? The Garden of Sinners is waiting for you and it is so much better than last time,” said Sergey.
“I am not running naked through your murder garden again,” said Major Grom.
“It’s not really optional.”
Major Grom drew himself up to his full height. “Razumovsky, this has gone on long enough. You have been a blight upon St. Petersburg for much too long. At first I thought it would be enough to lock you away. I should have known better. You’re a cockroach. You’re a rabid cat, always clawing its way back to haunt me…but you’re on your last life.”
“That is a LOT of metaphor mixing,” said Sergey, picking up his book again and angling the cover towards Major Grom.
“You don’t take anything seriously! Do lives mean nothing to you? Do you have not the slightest spark of goodness left in you? I can’t escape from you…every time I dream you’re the ringmaster of my nightmares.”
“Be mine,” blurted Sergey.
“Is that a line from the book you’re reading?” asked Major Grom, taken aback, monologue forgotten.
“What? No, this is Dostoyevsky. Remember, you asked me before if I’d read Dostoyevsky? I’ve got to say, Raskolnikov spent a whole lot of time whining about nothing. What I want is for you to be my nemesis. I cannot resist your abject stupidity. You foil all my most ingenious schemes by running at them screaming with a blunt object. You track me down to the ends of the earth when everyone else has assumed me dead.”
Major Grom looked at him for a long moment. “To hell with this. I’m leaving. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I am not taking part in it.” He turned around and started to leave.
Sergey sighed and picked up a shovel from under his chaise lounge. He bounded over to Major Grom and smacked him in the head with the blade.
“You are the bane of my existence,” whispered Major Grom, right before he fell unconscious.
“Music to my ears,” said Sergey. “Oleg! Help me get him into the Garden of Sinners.”
Oleg cautiously emerged from the wings. “I don’t understand why you don’t just kill him,” he said, poking Major Grom with his foot.
“I’m trying! That’s the beauty of it. There’s no way he’ll make it out of the Garden this time.”
Sergey started to drag Major Grom away.
Oleg went to check how much money was in Sergey’s ‘get Sergey out of prison’ fund. He suspected they’d need it.
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