The Historical Slavic Tale

Chapter 2 - The Place and Lots of Talking.

    ,,I, the mighty Slav Superstar, currently arrived at The Place. I'm waiting for my comrades as I squat on a huge rock, which makes me feel extremely proud. However, I'm still really frustrated and nervous about the whole situation with Western spies--some of them are still in my beloved Poland." Boris took another bite of his precious blin. Anton was squatting besides him, writing every single word of his down. The fireplace on which they've made blins was still burning a little, producing an amount of comfortable heat. Before continuing, Boris looked over Anton's shoulder to check if he's writing everything properly. ,,My comrades' deadline is 42 hours, until that time, they need to get over here. As far as I know, Mikaelovitch should be here any hour, because his housing estate is in Ukraine as well! I hope he's not going to take his time on this. The weather is, well... pretty acceptable, yet cloudy. It gives me those cheeki breeki vibes, like if any minute, there could be a bandit shouting it at me." He said, slowly running out of words for describing that place full of emptyness and empathy. Boris hasn't visited it since last three years, when the last complication with Western spies happened. No one did no harm to anyone, but it was still a terrifying experience. In such a moment, you realize there are countless of people's lives who depend on only yours and yours actions. Boris shook those memories off really quickly and let out a sigh. 
   ,,Blin... Anton, is it just me, or this place is really rotting?" He asked, staring into the distance. Destroyed buildings, abandoned playgrounds and old, rusty pavements. This city must have been such a nice locality. With many happy slavs and slav children running around with ice creams in their hands, gracefully shouting and laughing. He would rather not think about that, otherwise it would bring him feels. Boris didn't need those at the moment. ,,By the way, don't write down this question."
   ,,Well... it is logical. No one, except for us, has touched this city for dozens of years." Anton quickly came up with a smart response. As he wanted to continue, something disturbed him--a noise. It was coming from the sky. They've both quickly looked up to see a helicopter. Anton froze, the only thing he was suspecting was a Western spy invasion. ,,Hide, Slav Superstar!" He commanded, heroically standing up and stepping in front of Boris. He took off his kalaschnikov from his back, beginning to aim at the (what seemed like) enemy helicopter. However, what made Anton unsure about his actions was Boris' laughter--is this a betrayal? Is Anton mistaking? What is happening? He was asking himself internally. 
   ,,Anton! Put that barrel down." Boris laughed, patting his comrade's shoulder ironically as he stepped next to him. ,,Don't worry--that's not a Western spy. That's just Albin." He pointed up at the helicopter.
   ,,Albin? From where did Albin get a god-damn helicopter?!" Anton freaked out, putting his weapon onto his back again. He glanced over at Boris who was clearly enjoying the look at the monstrous machine floating up under the clouds.  
   ,,Well... there were some improvements over in Poland. I know about his new pet for like a year now... didn't I tell you, Anton?" Boris answered with a question, watching the helicopter slowly land onto the ground. He decided to pull off from the hilarious rock he's spent dozens of minutes squatting on, making his way towards Albin's landing spot. Expecting Anton to follow him, he proudly walked through the dusty ground of The Place. Boris waved his hand towards his comrade, not really expecting him to be first--but well, out of them all, he was the only one to use an air transport. 
   ,,You surely haven't told me, my mighty Slav Superstar..." Anton answered, walking next to Boris. But he was still kind of behind, just to be formal. His expression appeared to be somehow disappointed, because he embarassed himself by his over-protective personality. As their were getting closer to the helicopter's spinning propeller, it was making more and more agressive wind. Anton held his unzipped, white adidas jacket close to his body so it wouldn't just float around like crazy. He personaly thought it was making him look more serious.  
   ,,Hello, greetings!" Someone, who was supposed to be named Albin jumped out of the helicopter after the engines got switched down. The door of the helicopter opened so roughly that they bumped into the black lacquer of his unbelievably great pet, but he didn't seem to be worried about that. ,,I'm very, very pleased to see you again, the great Slav Superstar!" He bowed comically, grinning, after he closed the door behind him. 
   ,,Well, Albin, I wouldn't be so happy. There are Western spies over in your country, throwing scum on true slav squats, you know?" Boris said, folding his arms. He stepped closer to Albin and offered him a hand. ,,But I'm also glad to see you after those years." 
   ,,Yeah, those Western spies are pain in ass..." He rubbed the back of his head as giving his other hand to Boris, making a polite handshake. After they've finished, Boris took the spoon from his mayo he's been holding in his other hand the whole time. He took another 'bite' of it. Everytime he was about to put something into his mouth, he had to lower his mask a little--which was uncovering the hidden identity of Slav Superstar to everyone who was lucky enough to see. Not the entire face, but it's still a huge step forward in the life of a slav.
   ,,I believe, comrade. I believe." Boris stated while putting the 'bandana-like' thing, called mask, back onto his face. ,,Alright! Wanna join our squatting session while we wait for the others? We were just debating about how strangely beautiful this place is." And that's how Boris' poetical expression began to show itself again. Luckily, Albin could get just the same as him. Poor Anton, though. He hasn't been born for stuff like this--listening and writing. That was what he's been used to.