Angels And Magicians

Before the war, this was a small park just behind one of the many apartment blocks for the Red October workers. Heavily shelled and used as a battleground, it's now a destroyed wreck.

Trees that once grew here are ruined, lying broken and twisted a thick layer of mud, broken concrete, and a gruesome carpet of Soviet and German corpses. The air here is thick and acrid, gray smoke that clogs the lungs with each breath.

It is currently dusk.

Yevgenich bangs the door behind him as he trots down the stairs. He's his hands dirty and there's a smear over the front of his coat. He turns his head away when he gets to the bottom of the steps, even if the air outside is full of smoke and cordite it's better than this. A peer around to see if anyone's awake, the two random guys following him go off to their own Comrades. They're mucky and a little bloody too.

Poor Yev. Novikova is awake. She was keeping near Elise under a blanket to keep warm. She smiles at him. "Hello Comrade," She offers. "It's good to see you," She offers quietly.

Yevgenich smiles, "Evening Comrade," He eyes the leg, "Has your bandage come off?" He doesn't seem to bad today, but phew it stinks. He lays a few half empty flasks on the ground and pulls out a peice of paper folded over all of two cigarettes. "Been quiet down here?"

"Da," Novikova smiles. "It's nice," She admits. Someone squirmy like her pinned down with an injury - it wears on her. "How are you?" She tilts her head at him, perhaps either growing used to the smell or too polite to comment. "Mostly. I was keeping Elise warm since I wasn't being called up. Hopefully things are quietish for you too?"

Yevgenich "That's good." He murmurs, plopping down beside the two headed creature with the blanket. "Well I got out of this cellar." He says, shrugging "And we didn't run into any Germans on the job." He roots around in his bag, sewing kit, about half a days worth of rations. Frown, he puts the needle and thread back and peers at the tin, something German. "Can you read this?" He asks.

Novikova looks to Yev and smiles. She doesn't move much from Elise. "I hope my jacket fits alright. I'm kind of tall," She blushes. A shrug at that. She's watching him quietly. "That's good. The no Fascists part anyway," She's careful to avoid the German tag. A peer over. "I can try." Nod.

Yevgenich hands the tin over, it's obviously some sort of food. He looks down, "No problem, I did get some." Pause, "Dirt on it. Though everything's always dirty." He'll wave his carelessness away, that's a smear of brown blood on his chest. "Not getting shot at is always a perk." He comments "Well?" He asks of the can, it would be nice for it to be food.

A shrug. Novikova doesn't seem to mind too much. "It's inevitable here, I think," She admits quietly. It's impossible to blame Yev for the dirt around here. She hmms and looks over the tin. She has to squint a moment. "I think it's corned beef." She nods and hands it back. "Canned meat. Good find," She seems to admire his scavenging ability.

Yevgenich nods, then grunts taking the can back, "Dead men don't need to eat." He mutters. "Though they don't seem to smoke all that much either." Damn Hitler and his health freakiness! A look down at Elise, subject change. "Is Comrade Elise well?" He asks.

Novikova just nods at that. Novikova looks to her cousin, "She said she had a cold - so I'm sticking with her when I can." Novi'll probably be infected eventually anyway. "She's healing slowly, but-" Slow is better than getting worse, right? "She'll get there." Smile. "Try not to let too many people know I can speak German though… I try not to be too open about it," She then admits more softly.

Yevgenich looks at Elise sleeping, "Her too then." He grunts, "Well as long as it doesn't stop her from her work." A concerned glance to Novi, he settles for a nuetral, "I'd rather the whole squad didn't catch cold." He tells her. A nod at that, can't really say more, he's no doctor either. "You are being the sensible one for once." He admits but loads of people speak German, "And I should really talk to people about shouting. German while fighting, can't understand a word they're saying, could be anything." He makes himself a little more comfortable and sets his gun down.

"So far, no," Novikova replies. And she shrugs. "I doubt we'll get it all at once. But it's better for us to stay warm and get colds than her get pneumonia," She'll take a few sniffles. She smiles and laughs softly. "I'm gonna remember that," She winks. "And you probably should. I think it can get confusing in battle too. Like if I hear a strange voice in German behind me, it's kind of scary." She frowns and looks to poor Elise. "And mostly it's been insults, trust me." Sigh. "I'm glad to see you though."

Yevgenich shrugs, "Winters not even really here yet." He mutters darkly, though hunger probably doesn't help. "I'd give her an extra ration but we don't have any." Grunt. "That'll get done sometime." He adds it to the list, "I think as far as insults go killing the bastards is enough." He grins, "We live in a cellar, it's pretty hard to avoid you." He supposes he best be doing something useful so he starts taking the gun apart, pulling a candle a little closer.

"No, it's probably mostly stress. I get sick more when I worry," Novikova admits. She smiles at him. "That's very sweet of you. I think she'd appreciate the thought. I'll try not to get a cold but-" Well, that's not really her call to make is it? She smiles at his grin. "It's true." She watches him then considers something, "Is it very different from a rifle?"

Yevgenich has the mecahnism apart. "Well no one can help with stress." He points out. And you just be careful. Especially with the water." With that he'll sling her a half full German canteen. Back to the gun. "Shorter barrel, automatic firing system, it is like your gun. Which pulls the bolt for you, only this one does it faster." Not quite the in depth explanation of the gun, but that's what he makes of it.

A nod at Yev, "It's just how it is." She smiles at him. "I will thank you." Novikova catches it carefully. "I'll keep whatever is in hand safe," She promises. Novikova looks back over to Yev. "Really? That's pretty handy. I mean - I think it is anyway," But Novi's a speed demon by comparison. Or at least very squirmy. "Makes sense though." Then something hits her, and she stifles a giggle. "It's a sensible gun for a sensible man," Beam. Da da~ "I never thought I'd even -use- these things. You know after all this, we're going to need buckets of paper to write it all down."

Yevgenich nods at that. "Don't you bother." He's got three more with varying amounts of water. he grunts, "Wasteful." He replies, probably having counted every bullet in his possession. "Though if the army thinks the squad needs a submachine gun they are probably right." Shrug, he doesn't know about sensible, excessively violent maybe. He turns his eyes on Novi at the last comment, his hands still cleaning the individual bits, he's gooten fairly good at that. "You should never have had to." He replies, sadly. "And it is in your right to forget this once it is over, put it behind you." He knows that's a long way off yet, "It is an unfair burden on a young woman, especially one who didn't ask for it." His voice is lower now, barely a whisper.

A shrug at that, "Not wasteful if it does its job. Wasteful is shooting all day and not hitting a darn thing," Novikova points out. She smiles at him. She shrugs, meeting his eyes. "Most of us shouldn't have had to. All of us maybe," She looks around. Her voice is more quiet and solemn. "It's an unfair burden on all of us I think. Nobody wants to have to fight for their home," She's not unsympathetic to him in turn. She smiles sadly at him. "But I think it's kind of you to say it'd be okay to forget. I'm not sure that's my choice though." She goes quiet for a long moment. It's a sobering thought. She eventually takes a deep breath. "I count myself lucky - if that sort of thing exists - that I've got you and the others though." She's sure of this. Light of hope at the end of the tunnel.

Yevgenich shrugs, "Maybe, but they are only so many bullets." He replies. "No, some of us are warlike, some of us are even trained soldiers. At the very least we have been prepared to fight." He lumps himself in with the soldiers." A shrug at the home comment, "Think about it Zoya, look at the Comrade Doctor, sometimes he lets his memories haunt him." The gun clicks back into place, "He had his choice." Funny it seems like he thinks you can /choose/ to forget this stuff. A grunt to her last comment, and a noncomital, "We all do." None of them are dead yet, then things will change.

"I know," Novikova murmurs. "And it's true, but that doesn't mean you deserve this sort of thing," She points out. Home is home. She tilts her head at him. "Comrade Doctor's a kind person, I think it troubles him because it's the opposite of what he ever wanted. He heals people, not puts holes in them," She notes. "You know?" She thinks that'd have a factor in it. "But I guess you're probably a lot wiser than me on that." She's not really witnessed as much as Yev or Maschenko. She takes a deep breath. "Da, we do. I'll work hard to get better and stay safe," She promises. "What's the saying? I am on your back? At your back? Have your back?"

Yevgenich shrugs, "And what if you wanted it? Do you deserve it then?" He nods to that, "He is kind." He concedes, "And perhaps he doesn't want it, but he remembers Kiev." He spits the word out as if he didn't want to know it, "And what good as that done him, he is still here?" He shrugs again, "Why would that be?" He snorts, not that he's trying to betray her confidence in him, it seems that when get's agnsty he's going to bounce it all off Novi. He nods, "Good. Just as long as you stay behind." He grumbles, dismissing the musings on the saying.

"I guess," Novikova considers. She winces at the word Kiev. She looks to him. "I don't know." She admits. Poor Yev. Heehee. She smiles at his dismissing her saying and she doesn't seem to mind the angst. Poor guy's a sergeant. "There's … lots of questions with no real proper answers. I guess that's the ugly side of people. At least, one ugly side," She considers. "I can't answer those truthfully." She shrugs. "But he's here with us, he does his best and I think I'm happy for that. Especially when we get hurt." She's happy for a Yev.

Yevgenich shrugs, "For us he might as well be an angel." He agrees, it's good to have a resident doctor. "But our fortune isn't his." Still he's a doctor. he wraps his head around what Novi's trying to say. "I don't expect you to answer them, just think what use these memories will be to you in fifteen years." Here's hoping she makes it that long, he takes a sip of water. "Though there's one thing to be sure of. I'm not any wiser than you." And sometimes Novi's not very wise.

"Nah, he's not naked or glowing," Novi counters. "Or really muscley like in those art books." Pause. "Is he?" Headtilt. BAD NOVI. She smiles at him. "I know. But he's a good person." Or at least she thinks so. And Novi hopefully should make that long, provided she doesn't get blown up, create a Seymour in the green house or get eaten by a passing bear. "I think you're just modest." Smile.

Yevgenich lets out an amused grunt, "I think there is more to angels than pictures." He muses, though now he thinks of it he did just compare the Doctor to a naked flying guy. "Though I think we can agree that he is good." A shrug and a slightly less amused grunt on the modesty. She'll find out soon enough.

Hee. "I'm sure there is, otherwise we'd have lightbulbs with wings," She points out. Novikova is amused. Some how the mental image of a naked flying glowing Maschenko is giggleworthy and she's trying to stifle it. She bites her lower lip. "Da," Nodnod. She tilts her head at the next grunt. Hmmm. Perhaps. "it's probably better he doesn't hear we debated this though."

Yevgenich takes one look at Novi's face and sighs. "Don't worry, I am not about to tell the man who stiches eveyone up that he is misguided." He's sitting by Novi, who's under a blanket with Elise. Chatting the night away. He seems to be slightly happier for it though.

Maschenko certainly isn't hearing any of it. He's off somewhere, having been summoned out of the cellar and southward after a group of militia took heavy fire in another apartment block area. Rada is here though, lucky Yevgenich. Coming back from the depths of the cellar from some talk with the men there, she thumps into a chair and pulls her rifle across her knees, checking the bolt. Not that they have much ammo, but this militia's proven there are plenty of other ways to kill a German.

Novikova looks over. It's a Rada. She smiles and bobs her head. "Hello Comrade," She greets the woman warmly and sneezes. Uh oh. Snifft. "Pardon me," She murmurs. Then a smile at Yev.. Silly Yev. "I promise," She nods. She stays contentedly under her blanket and peers again to Rada, perhaps cautiously curious.

Yevgenich spots Rada and turns aside to Novi, "I have some busines." He excuses himself and stands up, drawing a makeshift packet containing two, count them, two ragged german cigarettes. It's a matter of steps before he has to bend down to be level with her, "Comrade Oleneva. A word if you may." He's trying to speak quietly, some sort of half privacy would be nice. The cigarettes are offered to Rada.

Rada's not a tall woman to start with, so the sitting doesn't help. Her sleek black hair is mess of knots, dirt, and someone's clotted blood. Maybe hers, maybe…you don't want to think about it. She looks up from her rifle, almond black eyes on Yevgenich. "Of course, comrade sergeant." Standing up, the Uzbek (if that is what she is) gives Novikova a tiny smile and then waits for Yevgenich's lead.

Novi smiles back at that. "I'm going to check on some things then." She slips out from under the blanket, and tucks it around Elise for a burrito-cocoon. She will fetch her rifle. "I'm up for patrol or scouting soon anyway," She offers quietly. With that, Novikova will sneak out.

Yevgenich is pratically squating. He just keeps the cigarette hand there, starting off with pauses between each word. "We have a plan to take the apartments." He begins, "Going in from the south with sniper cover. But we lack the man power for one small, /vital/ task. And I wandered if you could spare some Comrades for the task?" Great he's left alone with bloody Rada.

Rada's black brows twitch. She notices the cigarettes sometime after Yevgenich has spoken, and she plucks them away from him before they can vanish. Neither goes in her mouth though, just palmed as she follows. "And what task for the Red Army is worth two whole cigarettes, my comrade?" In contrast to their uniforms she's still in her factory dress that she was no doubt wearing up to the second they were driven into this mess, a drab ensemble of dun shirt and mannish coveralls with a mismatched jacket that's a size too big for her. The left lapel has a red star on it, the outline embroided messily in thin thread and the inside fingerpainted. With someone's blood.

Yevgenich starts to regret the cigarettes. And is somewhat puzzled by the red army thing, he's as red army as she is, though he's got a uniform. "Well we need a simultaneous attack on the north entrance, a small party to go undetected along the road and catch the attention of the guards while we fight through the building in a pincer." He tries to make it sound simple, "Then to disperse incase the Germans bring reinforcments. Of course, if we succeed we will need as many people we can to empty the building of supplies and access if it is defensable." He adds, licking his lips and staring at her face, looking for a reaction.

Novikova's meandered off by now. Mercifully there's no smoldering craters in her wake.

Rada's quiet while the sergeant talks. Her arms fold over her chest, crossing over the tattered coat lapels. "The north entrance. You mean the big hole in the wall." She smiles a little bit, though the look is far from one of mirth, and takes in a breath that she lets out slowly through her nose. Two small nods. "What are we looking at up there? Have you seen it?"

Yevgenich nods, "The one that opens up into a bathroom. The night before last they had two guards. It is possible that a machine gun could be stationed their perminantly. I suspect it is usually kept centrally." Or at least he says that, troop numbers are of course multiplied appropriately. "It is not an assault, and if more Germans come in from the north, I want your men out."

Rada's lips twitch. Her chin lifts, towards the area where Grigory's lying. "So that was a machine gun that did that." Her smile has faded away, jaw tensed now. Black eyes turn away from Yevgenich's, down the rows of people crammed onto their dirty bedrolls and crumbling alcoves. "There won't be an 'out'. You want us to run a distraction on a road pinned by the Fascists, facing a machine gun." She looks back at him, now holding his eyes directly. "Have you ever heard the story of the magician and the petrol bomb, Comrade?"

Yevgenich jerks his head to Grigory, "The machine gun that got him? That was in the rooms further south and is my problem." He says. Though he's not got much for the rest of her woes, so he just shakes his head at her question.

Rada smiles slightly, shifting her arms. "In the provinces there was once a magician. One day he put up notices all over the village. 'Come see my new act - the best act I have ever performed!'. So the villagers all came from far and wide to sit and watch. The magician took out a bottle of petrol and lifted it high, and swallowed it whole into his stomach. The rag was a long one and came trailing up out of his mouth, hanging to his chest. As the audience watched, he lit the rag and burned, burned, burned all the way into his mouth and down to his gut, where the petrol exploded. Boom." Her arms unfold, making a magical poof motion with both hands. "Into vapor he went, vanishing. Exploded. As the stunned audience stared and began to clap, his ghost rose from the ground and began to walk away. Someone called out 'It is true, comrade! It is your best trick ever!'. And his ghost looked back and said, 'Oh how true. But there is only one problem — I can only do it once.'" She pauses, licking her lips, and her dark dark eyes flicker over Yevgenich's face. "What you tell us to do for Mother Russia, we will do, my sergeant." What a voice. If she's frightened you'd never be able to tell, how much steel is there. "But do one thing for us, comrade." Her chin lifts. "Do not fail."

Yevgenich frowns along to the story. Finally there is a quick nod. "Not one step back." He mutters, wait a sec, "How many Comrades do you plan on taking?" He assumes she is going. the story has left him a little nervous. He's straightening up though still hovering near Rada.

"I'll have to see who can walk," Rada says, raising an eyebrow back at the cellar's depths. And by 'walk', she means anyone who's not literally dying in their bed. "I'll send you a hard number tonight. It may change by morning." Fact of war. The death rate goes up by the minute around here.

Yevgenich shakes his head. "If you are seen before the assualt, you will only make matters worse." He decides, it's his way of being soft and probably making things worse for himself. "Besides we need manpower to hold the place when it comes to that." Lots of rationales. "Don't smoke your last cigarette until you're done with the mission." An attempted, aborted smile as he begins to turn away.

"I don't smoke, comrade." Rada's lips make a thin smile at him. But she's keeping those cigs anyway. Bribes. "We won't be seen. We know this place better than you do. And better than they do. Don't worry about us." Down the dank little corridor they're standing in, a couple other militia soldiers are peering at the two, trying not to look like they're eavesdropping. The Uzbek doesn't intend to keep them waiting it seems, for as Yev turns away she starts to as well. That wickedly sharp spade of hers is tugged from her belt, and she bangs it loudly against the dusty stone wall as she nears a clump of her people. "Uraaa, comrades! Listen up!" Voices, voices, that turns into a muffled din.

Yevgenich replies, "I have my own worries." He returns to the corner to watch the performance, maybe he'll learn something. He could do with one of those cigs round about now. He draws up his knees to watch the woman, the dry blood shows up in the candle light. "Fine woman." He mutters to himself, and subsides into quiet.

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