September 7th, 2017
Metronome flashes danced against the blue lenses that shielded his eyes.
Incoming call from Yaroslav.
An inferno filled his lungs with a deep drag on the posh cigarette and as he exhaled he tapped the green button and leaned over the railing overlooking the somber tide. Quarter past 3 the LEDs glared in the twilight of night. Overhead the dim halogen flickered and hummed- he had replaced the lights of old that were amber in hue and most likely gaslit. Security was more important now on the urbanized pier he was constructing.
"Как оно?" He asked between the compounded killing treat.
Pacing up and down the renovated concrete he crushed the fallen soldiers while the voice on the other line, Yaroslav, brought him up to date with the progression. Syringes, vials and of course the various bottles cracked under his steps before he came to the end and snapped his fingers at the three enjoying some leisure time. One communal groan was the response before the began sweeping up the poor decor that lined the sleek dock.
"Я готов здесь. Как долго это будет?" His impatience was getting the better of him.
The pieces were beginning to fit together. There was plenty of land available for lease so it was easy finding a warehouse. Shipping lanes while congested were consolidated and the late nights served as the perfect guise for the operation, what with the rolling fog that seemed to come in on its own clockwork. He didn't ask, he was just pleased to have some additional cover.
"А картины" Это необычно." His tone shifted with the weight of his shoulders as he plucked the next in the procession of cylinders but he paused at what he heard after the half-minute silence.
The LEDs on the phone were now dancing on their way to 5 and over the horizon he could begin to see lighter shades of blue creeping along. Before he could even light the next one he froze.
"Yuri....don't you think it's time you visited—" Before Yaroslav could continue he was quick to cut him off with the stern interjection.
"Don't call me that."
A sigh could be heard on the other side of the line with a drag.
"How long are you going to do this to yourself?"
They sat in silence for the next five minutes. The laps of the waves against the pier spoke all that he wished.
"Отправить при готовности." The switch back to business was machine-like and he slipped the unlit soldier back into the pack. The same he always had, Sobranie.
"Понимал." Yaroslav replied.
The light blues bled into a romantic scene, pinks and oranges and red starting to blossom into a tapestry of cotton candy. Yaroslav bid farewell but was only answered by the tides. He knew what it meant, he nodded to himself as the call ended. Standing there on the pier he had set the stage for how he'd move his life forward. Lucrative, bold and daring; he was stepping out from the shadows of Moscow finally. Even on the cusp of something much bigger, decades later, he still reacted the same way. It was a spell that Yaroslav uttered, one that never failed and always brought the best results. Blue tears behind blue lenses gathered. He didn't wipe them away.
Metronome flashes danced against the blue lenses that shielded his eyes.
Incoming call from Yaroslav.
An inferno filled his lungs with a deep drag on the posh cigarette and as he exhaled he tapped the green button and leaned over the railing overlooking the somber tide. Quarter past 3 the LEDs glared in the twilight of night. Overhead the dim halogen flickered and hummed- he had replaced the lights of old that were amber in hue and most likely gaslit. Security was more important now on the urbanized pier he was constructing.
"Как оно?" He asked between the compounded killing treat.
Pacing up and down the renovated concrete he crushed the fallen soldiers while the voice on the other line, Yaroslav, brought him up to date with the progression. Syringes, vials and of course the various bottles cracked under his steps before he came to the end and snapped his fingers at the three enjoying some leisure time. One communal groan was the response before the began sweeping up the poor decor that lined the sleek dock.
"Я готов здесь. Как долго это будет?" His impatience was getting the better of him.
The pieces were beginning to fit together. There was plenty of land available for lease so it was easy finding a warehouse. Shipping lanes while congested were consolidated and the late nights served as the perfect guise for the operation, what with the rolling fog that seemed to come in on its own clockwork. He didn't ask, he was just pleased to have some additional cover.
"А картины" Это необычно." His tone shifted with the weight of his shoulders as he plucked the next in the procession of cylinders but he paused at what he heard after the half-minute silence.
The LEDs on the phone were now dancing on their way to 5 and over the horizon he could begin to see lighter shades of blue creeping along. Before he could even light the next one he froze.
"Yuri....don't you think it's time you visited—" Before Yaroslav could continue he was quick to cut him off with the stern interjection.
"Don't call me that."
A sigh could be heard on the other side of the line with a drag.
"How long are you going to do this to yourself?"
They sat in silence for the next five minutes. The laps of the waves against the pier spoke all that he wished.
"Отправить при готовности." The switch back to business was machine-like and he slipped the unlit soldier back into the pack. The same he always had, Sobranie.
"Понимал." Yaroslav replied.
The light blues bled into a romantic scene, pinks and oranges and red starting to blossom into a tapestry of cotton candy. Yaroslav bid farewell but was only answered by the tides. He knew what it meant, he nodded to himself as the call ended. Standing there on the pier he had set the stage for how he'd move his life forward. Lucrative, bold and daring; he was stepping out from the shadows of Moscow finally. Even on the cusp of something much bigger, decades later, he still reacted the same way. It was a spell that Yaroslav uttered, one that never failed and always brought the best results. Blue tears behind blue lenses gathered. He didn't wipe them away.