The Historical Slavic Tale

Part 4 - A Step Towards Victory

      ,,Anton, are you writing it down?" Boris asked. He was squatting on what seemed like a demolished, high-rised building. Holding a telescope in his hands, he observed something through it. However, one couldn't tell what of an interesting anomaly it was.
    ,,Yes." Anton nodded, holding a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other, glove-clothed hand. His voice sounded raspy due to the needed gas mask.
     ,,Good, good." Boris frowned seriously, obviously zooming in with the telescope. ,,Write it, Anton. I, the Slav Superstar, am currently observing a group of rare black chickens. They're acting quite suspicious and sometimes I can see them stare into the telescope. Oh--one of them is pulling off the ground and flying away... no, no, wait! So does the rest of them. I'm tilting my telescope to see where they fly. Oh... they're oddly near. No, what!" He threw his telescope away and fell backwards from his squat, landing onto his back. ,,Hide Anton! They're flying at us, it's an assasination!" He shouted, covering his head as he saw the pigeons fly right above him. When they passed, all he could see were blinding grey clouds. Those animals really nearly hit him and it would make him upset that a group of rare black chickens could possibly take him down.
   ,,Oh Boris... those were just pigeons, they would most likely avoid you." Anton raised his eyebrows, letting out a disappointed sigh above the Slav Superstar's childish behaviour. He stood up and offered Boris a hand, which was followed by him accepting the offer and standing up with a little help of his friend.
   ,,Pigeons? What do you mean?" Boris lifted down his sunglasses a little to reveal the angry and confidental expression in his eyes. ,,Those were clearly the rare black  chickens of Chernobyl. I still don't know how come that you don't believe in them." Putting his sunglasses back at the place where they belong to, he turned around to walk towards a ladder which would lead them back down to the ground.
  ,,It's a rumour." Rolling his eyes with an annoyed facial expression, Anton followed Boris. They climbed down the ladder together.
  ,,A rumour? How can you say it's a rumour when you just saw them?" Boris pointed out a fact, putting it as a question. He glanced down at Anton and shook his head--why are people such huge nonbelievers?
 ,,Maybe because those weren't any r-"
 ,,Shut up, Anton! Of course they were, blin!" Boris cussed innocently, looking up as he tried not to shout too loudly at Anton. It would attract the attention of others and he didn't want to start up a drama. As soon as these two stepped outside ruins of the building, Albin hit Boris up, beginning to talk straight away.
 ,,Boris! So it's done, there are extreme defenses at the borders and not only for Poland." He smiled, being proud of himself. His inside jumped up and down with success when he noticed Boris gesturing Anton to leave them alone--and he did so. They made their way back to the fireplace. Actually, it was Albin who began walking in that direction, maybe because most of the team was still there.
   ,,I'm very glad to hear that. I suspect the others did it too, so what is currently going on?" He smiled calmly under his mask, however, it wasn't able to be seen. On the outside he still looked like a serious and mighty man.
   ,,You're right, they've obtained everything just at the point." Albin nodded, his voice full of excitement. ,,Jurko and Artem came up with a pretty nice-soudning strategy. I'm not going to quote them, you have to hear it by yourself." He fastened up his steps, and so did Boris.
   ,,Alright. I'm hyped to hear what you've came up with." He smirked. After a while they've made it to the fireplace. Boris got greeted nicely and offered a squatting place, which he didn't hesitate to take. He could see how Jurko with Artem were sweating nervously. They were both pretty insecure about if the Slav Superstar is going to like their idea or not.
   ,,So I've heard you've got another strategy," Boris brought up, patting his knees. ,,I'd be happy to hear it."
    ,,Well," Jurko gulped, starting the explanation. He tried his best to look into Boris' sunglasses, but his nervousity was so high. It could also be told by the stuttering he was doing all the time while talking. ,,me and Artem, it was mostly our idea. We've decided to use the art of the..." He stopped for a while before finishing his sentence. ,,...sneeki breeki." Jurko said in a strangely deep voice, looking down. Everyone stared at him with a shocked, yet blank expression since he didn't mention that before. The thing was, sneeki breeki wasn't just a regular thing. When it came to sneeki breeki, everyone knew that shit was going hundred percent serious and there's no time to joke about it. It was one of the most complicated Slavic kind of strategies, ever. So even Boris seemed quite surprised, yet each of them were dead silent. ,,We figured out that sneeki breeki is the only way to immediatly stop Western spies from making mess. So first of all, we need to make a safe zone for all the citizens. I suggest having this zone in the back o Russia, so we can fit there as many people as possible--no one shall get hurt. If we have to go along with the war, then let's make it as harmless as possible to all the innocent people." Jurko was strictly scanning everyone with the glance of his green eyes. ,,Second of all. I've already hired a Slavic spy to invade the house of Western spies. The one where they come up with their plans, it's something like The Place for us. They'll contact us later and take down two members of the Western spy government which is responsible for war strategy. But they are going to do that under one condition." Jurko breathed out nervously, making everyone uptight above the condition. They were all so curious, however, still afraid of what was comming.
  ,,What's that?" Mikaelovitch looked up, his eyes ticking insecurely.
  ,,We need two people from us to volunteer to replace them, so they could spy on all the actions and report them to us. It's going to make it so much easier, plus if they lure Western spies to do something which would come in our will." He looked down. ,,I'm sorry, I know it's risky." Apologizing right after, the speech was followed by deadly silence. Everyone was collecting the guts to say something, but they just couldn't. Until someone broke the silence.
   ,,We volunteer." A female voice could be heard. Everyone looked up at the source, as one of the 'we' stood up. She was usnurely followed by her partner, who didn't seem to be expecting this at all. But she would follow her friend through anything, that was the promise.
   ,,Sasha! You fool, you're not going anywhere!" Mikaelovitch growled, almost shouting. He stood up, hands balled into fists. He wasn't willing to sacrifice his soulmate for such a risky move. ,,I'll go instead!" He said, quickly glancing at Boris who only shook his head.
   ,,Mikealovitch, comrade, I'm sorry." Boris said in a deep voice. ,,Sending a female is less suspicious... I'm sorry." He stood up as well. ,,I'll get all the stuff ready." Announcing the final decision, Boris began walking away. He raised his hand to motion everyone else to follow him, and they've done so--except for Sasha and Mikaelovitch. These two decided to stay behind on their own, because there were many things to say.  
  He stood there, blank expression. Sasha was speechless, she knew she hurt him badly when noticing how his eyes were getting all glassy. His body began to shake and his mind kept refusing to accept the reality. 

   ,,Hey... this world situation is fucked up," Sasha said, sitting next to her friend on a pavement. ,,so if anything happens, I want you to know that you're one of the people who make the best blins, okay?" She tilted her head sideways to glance at Mikael.
   ,,Yeah." He said, being prepared at the fact that this isn't the end of Sasha's speech. Mikael was ready for the feels and manly slav tears to come.
  ,,If we ever get separated from each other because of an invasion or whatever. You gotta remember that I frickin' love your blins... seriously. As mate's, as friend's. So never forget that, if literally anything is about to happen. If we're squatting during war, I'm squatting by your side. If we're about to squat to death, then," She muted herself for a moment. ,,I'm still squatting by your side."

   ,,What have you done, blyat?!" He shouted as he pulled her into a tight hug. Mikaelovitch would squeeze the soul out of her if that was even possible. Who will eat his blins now? Who will give him self-confidence? Burrying his forehead into her shoulder even if he was way taller than his friend, he began feeling slav tears of vodka running down his cheeks. Mikaelovitch could swear he was prepared for anything, even for a burned shashlik, but not for this. Sasha fully realized what was going on in his face and mind, and she hugged him back. ,,You can't leave! You just can't... Why did you volunteer when you know you have my blins here?!" His voice was getting high-pitched and broken. 
   ,,I did it for all of you. Rather me eating and drinking all the Western bullshit now than later you." She said, trying her best not to cry beer. It would be a shame to come in front of the Slav Superstar with red eyes. Sasha didn't want anyone to see her like that for possibly the last time ever. But admitting it, she was way too pessimistic.
   ,,It could have been anyone else! No one appreciates my blins and shashliks as much as you do." He complained. With every word, Mikaelovitch's body shook unslettlingly.
   ,,I... I promise I'm going to take care and think about blins." She looked down, which made her inhale her friend's smell. She would always remember and recognize that one, no matter about the situation--sharp, piercing smell of vodka and mayonnaise. The original Slavic parfume it was. ,,I swear to the Slav Superstar himself I'm going to get back safely, okay? Just tell me that you trust me." Sasha patted Mikaelovitch's shoulder roughly, slightly nudging him. ,,Please."
 ,,Sasha, you need to pack your stuff! Hurry!" Artem shouted from the distance. This signaled Mikaelovitch that it was really the time to let go and shake hands with the fate itself.
  ,,I trust you... so don't you even think about shattering that. About shattering the essence of my blins." Mikaelovitch said. His voice somehow manned up as he pulled away and frowned, patting her shoulder in the same way as she did. ,,Now, go. Go and make my blins proud." He pointed over in the direction to where the others walked. She nodded, completely understanding his order as she moved on. Sasha didn't even know if she was realizing the risk of the whole thing at all. Only the feeling of protect being her duty, at whatever cost. That was the only thought filling her mind right now. She can start overthinking in the airplane, because that's when she just can't take anything back.
  ,,Are you sure you really want to do this?" Boris said, placing his hands on each one's shoulder after like an hour of waiting and sitting in painful silence ,,You can change your mind even if the plane is already here." He looked at both of them proudly. It continued with Sasha and Yoshka shaking their heads in disagreement, almost like twins. Boris nodded respecfully and shook hands with both of them, later gesturing to turn around to where their personal air plane was.
   ,,Boris," Sasha said before actually doing so and walking up the stairs inside the plain. ,,It's an honor to work by your side. Remember I would never betray the Slavic Union and heels-to-the-ground squatting, even if I didn't come back and had to fall." She smirked at him, moving her backpack on her shoulder slightly.
  ,,I would never think so. But it's  time to go." He reminded.
   Saying their very last goodbyes, the airplane door shut closed. Sasha could swear that her last glance was at Mikaelovitch--and she's never seen him look so manly before. Yoshka let out a sigh as she stood next to her.
 ,,Maybe we should take a seat and just rest, and eat the mayonnaise from Boris." She pointed out, being glad she could leave The Place alongside Sasha. ,,You did it for them. Just don't feel guilty if anything."

    Yet that evening at The Place, the sounds of multiple airplanes landing on the ground could be heard. Mikaelovitch, being slightly annoyed by his current existence, looked up--about five or six black, war air forces. When he looked closer, it seemed that the pilot seats were empty, except for one.
   A black-haired man stepped outside the plane. Shoes heavy and body decorated with many, many weapons. His jaw almost dropped on the ground--it wasn't a Western spy. This badass man was wearing an adidas tracksuit.
   ,,Greetings, stranger." He looked down at Mikaelovitch and moved his sunglasses, grinning. ,,You can call me Letro."