The Historical Slavic Tale

Chapter 1 - How it all began, aka The day of endless phone calls

   ,,How? How is THAT even possible?!" Watching his very great leader growl in rage, Mr. Anton Laar stood upright in front of Boris' wooden desk. A map placed on top of it, Boris pulled a string which hung from the ceiling, causing the chandelier above his workplace flicker--and so be the light! Frustrated, he settled his sunglasses and placed both of his hands against the table as he kept staring down at the map. All colourful needles on the map were supposed to indicate points where Western spies managed it to break through borders of Slavic Union. ,,Tell me, Anton," The powerful figure of the Slav Superstar himself looked up at his best assistant. ,,they've made it through two spots. Poland and Ukraine. Will you correct me if I'm wrong?"
   ,,You're not wrong, my conductor." Anton coughed a little, looking away. He would give Boris more specific informations about several locations, but his ego wasn't high enough to make a single step closer to the desk. ,,I wouldn't be surprised about Poland, they've always been so heedless. But it must've been difficult to break through borders of especially Ukraine itself." Nervously sweating as he sensed Boris' anger and disappointment, he still tried to not paint the devil on the wall. However, it seemed like not working at all.
   ,,Pizdiec..." He cursed under his breath. ,,That's ridiculous! Ukraine is the second biggest power we have. So they should be armed by one of the most quality equipments that Slavic Union could ever gain." Boris rolled his hand into a fist, bashing the table. ,,Have anyone caught their faces?" He murmured, which was somehow preventing him from yelling.
  ,,One of them. They've already put his face in TVs, newspapers and various catalogs. In some cities, people even decided to hang warning posters." Being happy to give the Boris at least some positive informations, he glanced straight at Boris to make him more confident about all the news he's just said. ,,To be more specific, I'm talking about the one who was located at Ukraine's borders. He had another confederate with himself, and in such count were the Western spies captured at Poland." As he gathered more self-esteem, Anton dared to explain more and more deatils--which were very needed. 
   There was a moment of tense atmosphere, filled with the inconspicious noise of Boris' very own ceiling fan. It was also one of the things which were keeping the room more acceptable for a workplace, since it was producing a soft breeze, which was somehow comfortable.
   ,,Anton, listen carefully now," Boris started off, breaking the silence between two important roles of Slavic Union's headquarters. He pulled a mayonnaise from under his desk. Boris would pull that thing out only if really needed--the beautiful, slavic taste of homemade mayonnaise was one of the things to calm him down and make him able to think like a true slav. ,,you will go to your own office. Make a call to the Ukrainian president Mikaelovitch and gain as much information about the situation as you can. Tell him to put a special pressure on Ukrainian media and the Ministry of Defense. Right after that, call Poland with the exact same ambitions. And tell them that you're calling in the name of the Slav Superstar himself." Instructing his subordinate, Boris sat heavy into a wooden rocking chair. Putting his hands on the table, he gently stroke the map and dug his sight deep into the proper details of drawn Slavic Union countries. ,,I'll just think of several useful plans in the meantime." He added, letting out a tired sigh.
   ,,As you say." Anton obeyed, saluting. Without any more, nor any less words, he left Boris' office and quietly closed the door behind him. 
   It was calm now in the place where Boris was sitting, enjoying his mayo - but outside behind the door, a pure chaos was happening. Many ladies, properly dressed for work were running around like impetuous chickens. Stacks of papers in arms, phones somehow leaned against their shoulders which were forcing them towards the person's ear. Their steps were quick - but after all, it still had its' own system that, sadly, a newcomer wouldn't be able to discover, not even understand.

   ,,Who is that?! I have no time for unnecessary stuff!" Anton shouted desperately into the phone, rushing his orders. It was just as he stepped into his office when his old phone begun ringing. 
   ,,It's not unnecessary, Mr. Laar. This is Mikaelovitch, Ukraine." Ukrainian president introduced himself to Anton. He knew exactly to who he was speaking - interactions between the biggest source of power and its' main follower was on their daily basics. ,,I need to speak to Boris, it's important and urgent." He explained, claiming the state of yet unknown situation. 
  ,,And what is so urgent about the whole thing?" Anton caustically lashed out. ,,Boris is busy."
  ,,We're talking about an assasination, Anton." Mikaelovitch, as slowly loosing his nerves with over-protective Boris' assistant, spit out a somehow stunning answer. Anton already had suspects, from the first second he's heard the word 'assasination',--he knew Western spies were behind this. Without saying a word, he grabbed his phone and rushed back into Boris' office, slamming the door shut behind him. He was making such a rattle-headed impression, it even made some busy people look over their shoulders to see at least who it was. The lucky ones who recognized Anton correctly could have thought that something went terribly wrong, because he had a really phlegmathic personality after all. As soon as he got over to his target, he kicked the door even without knocking - his hands were full by holding the old-stylish phone, and Anton surely wasn't going to knock on the door with his crooked nose. 
   ,,It's Mikaelovitch," He explained from the first moment of catching Boris' attention. ,,saying the situation is urgent. He needs to talk to you." Catching his breath, almost feeling his heartbeat up inside the back of his head, Anton sprinted towards his leader. He handed the phone to Boris, reaching his hands forward. Fortunately, it didn't take Boris too long to react and he immediately grabbed the phone, placing it on his desk. 
   ,,Greetings, comrade." Boris greeted, trying to sound nice - which was sadly, in a situation like this, helpless. ,,What's the matter?" He asked.
   ,,My great lord," Mikaelovitch spoke up, stuttering a little. He always carried a huge respect towards Boris. Just like all the people below him did. ,,we need your help, quickly. Western spies... they, they've assasinated one of our biggest cities." He was really settled by the incident. Anyone could tell that by just listening to his voice. Boris stared at his wall blankly--if Mikealovitch was dead serious, it would mean only one thing. He sat down again, gesturing at Anton to leave he room. Anton did as Boris wanted. 
   ,,What city?" Boris answered, looking down at the map. His voice became more silent, so no one from outside could hear it. Not even if all the people behind the wall were dead silent, ears pinned to the door as their thirst for informations about details would grow. With silence, a specific amount of seriousness was added as well. 
   ,,Kharkiv," Mikaelovitch sighed out. Boris could hear a pencil tapping on the other side's table as Mikaelovitch held a moment of silence before continuing the sentence. ,,we couldn't do anything. They seemed like normal slavs, some people reported that even their squats weren't suspicious. But all of sudden, they pulled out guns and started shooting people around. We've spoken with survivors... and what they claimed is the worst part, Boris." 
   ,,What's that?" Boris squeezed the grip of Anton's cellphone, as he prepared himself for whatever was coming. Nervousity and stress buckled up in his mind when it automatically begun creating horrible scenarios of pessimism. 
   ,,Before one of men took them down with his own pistol, one of them yelled something like this--" Mikaelovitch explained, making it possible to hear as he pulled out a paper out of his drawer. He then started reading what was most likely to be written down on the paper. ,,We're bringing war--and we are going to take over, fools!" Mikaelovitch finished reading, waiting for Boris' judgement about the situation. 
   ,,I'll contact them and see if we can talk it off." Boris said, almost mumbling. ,,If I don't call you in the next twenty-four hours, you bring presidents from following countries: Serbia, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, and Belarus--including you as Ukrine. Tell them to take some strategists with them and that this is a very important consulation. None of them is allowed to miss it, in the name of mine. Do it especially early in the tommorow's morning. I want to see you all come to our... You know where. The place." He explained, speaking fluently so Mikaelovitch could catch his words properly and not miss anything out. Not a single thing. ,,Did you understand me?" He assured himself for the last time before saying their goodbyes and hanging up. 
   However, Boris still couldn't make himself a place to think. He had to do as he promised - after enjoying last few minutes of silence, he picked up his phone and started calling the number. The one that he wished to never ever use.

    ,,Mr. Mikaelovitch?" A lady with a sort of deep voice picked up the call. She was assuming it was him, because any other people barely called into her office ever. 
   ,,Oh, Yoshka! Nice to hear you again," Mikaelovitch formally greeted her, yet hiding the true reason behind why he has called. ,,Sasha is not answering the call again. I need to speak with her, could you connect us... somehow?" He asked nicely, curling the cellphone wire around his finger, as still accepting the fact that Boris hasn't called. He must've sounded like if he was shy to speak to a lady. After a month of isolation inside of his workplace, signing various papers and ocassionally  passing out because of tiredness, he wasn't used to talk to people very often. 
   ,,Yeah, sure. Just hold on while I carry my phone up to her office." Yoshka answered, standing up, making her way upstairs - just where Sasha was supposed to be. As she was getting closer, one could hear the beat of hard bass music getting louder. Mikaelovitch didn't have to be at the place to know that the hard bass was coming out of Sasha's office--he knew her way too perfectly to think anything else. After a short moment, he heard the door opening, so the music got uncomfortably loud. ,,Sasha, you should turn the hard bass down. You've missed another call." Yoshka frowned as she placed the cellphone in front of Sasha, who was sitting in her chair, legs up on the table. She rolled her eyes and reached her hand under her desk, where the main reproductor was. With a single move, she turned the music down and the room became silent. As Sasha picked up the phone, her friendly strategist left the room without even asking. She was used to leave her alone when there was a call from someone, however, Yoshka sensed something strange in the air. Mikaelovitch didn't seem as calm as usual when she heard him. 
   ,,Hello? Who's there?" Sasha spoke to the phone, putting her legs down from the table. She straightened up in her chair, ready to reach for any source of informations - a map, papers, some important documments. She always wanted to make a swift impression on whoever was calling. 
   ,,It's me, Mikaelovitch... or Frantischkov, as you love to call me for fun." He smirked. The voice of his unsuspecting friend was completely calm and heedless, as always. 
   ,,Okay, okay!" Sasha bursted out laughing, smashing the desk a little. ,,Anyways, Frantischkov. What's the reason behind your call?" 
   ,,You'll stop laughing as soon as you know." Assuring her with such an unpleasant fact, he leaned into his chair. ,,Right now, I'm about to pack my stuff and drive towards The place. And you should do that as well." He claimed, tapping on his table.
   ,,Huh? Why's that?" She answered--he was right about her smile disappearing. The last time they've used The place was during various conflicts between them and Western spies. What could have been worse than that? Sasha was feared to know the answer.
   ,,Don't worry about it yet. But you HAVE to come there, Boris said it himself when I've spoken with him yesterday. Pull off whenever you want, but your deadline is two days from now--and you don't want to let our Slav Superstar wait, or do you?" Mikaelovitch giggled as he tempted Sasha to do her best, he felt like it was needed. ,,It would also be great if you could bring Yoshka with yourself."  
   ,,O-okay." Sasha stuttered, instinctively pulling a bottle of vodka out of her drawer. She knew that once Boris himself was included in the situation, it wasn't anything to wave her hand above. ,,Anything else, comrade?" She asked, opening the bottle after days of not touching it.
   ,,No, not really. I'm going to pack and pull off. See you there!" Mikaelovitch hung up, not even letting her answer back. He let out a sigh, hoping that he didn't sound too depressing for her. Standing up and walking over to the corner of his office, he reached for an universal backpack. It was huge and old, but many useful stuff could've been put in--knives, countless bottles of water, or in their case, alcohol, and for example even an entire semi-automatic gun. But that would be too risky, it was always better to strap your weapon on your back. 
   Meanwhile, just about to start packing stuff up and telling Yoshka, Sasha took a long gulp of vodka. Just to make the nervousity float away...