Russian Roulette

She sipped the dark liquid, enjoying the way it seemed to warm up her entire body as it burned down her throat. With the exception of her face, her entire body was covered in clothes, her desperate attempt to keep warm from the frill winter cold. Her winter hat proudly displayed her home country’s logo for all to see as she made her way through the crowded streets, trying to remember the directions she had previously been given. Her gloved hands tightly clutched the hot coffee, knowing she needed the caffeine to stay awake for the excitement that was soon to unravel.

Finally she reached the large arena she was looking for. She should have realized it wouldn’t be too difficult to find, after all, it was where everyone was going.

She handed the older man with the salt-and-pepper hair her ticket allowing her to enter the event. She was supposed to meet her parents at their seats, having split up a few hours earlier when she decided to explore the Olympic Village.

Fingering the pass in her pocket, she decided to head down to the locker rooms and wish her big brother good luck for his game started that evening. She seemed to be fighting against the crowd as she made her way down the hallways to the stairway.

As she reached the basement floor she stopped, realizing she had no idea where to go from there.

“Um, excuse me,” she spoke, her accent very prominent, tapping a young man gently on the shoulder.

The man turned around, his curly brunette hair popped out from beneath his Canada baseball cap. “Yes?” he greeted, smiling politely, his own Canadian accent noticeable immediately.

She knew who he was the moment he turned around, although who in the hockey world wouldn’t? He was the cover boy for the National Hockey League and Team Canada; he was the kid who could do no wrong and who lead his NHL team to a Stanley Cup in 2009.

Trying to play it cool, she simply smiled back, before asking, “Do you know where the home team’s locker room is?” She attempted to Americanize her accent, but she knew she failed dramatically.

He adjusted the heavy bag that was dangling from his shoulder, pausing to think momentarily. “Umm, it’s just down that hallway,” he spoke, gesturing with his hands, “And then you take a right. It’s got big double doors; you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” She turned to go in the direction he pointed, but his voice stopped her.

“Is that… Is that an Eastern European accent you’ve got there?” he questioned, curiously, cocking his near perfect head to the side.

She laughed lightly at his cuteness, nodding her head. “Da.”

He shook his head, knowing it was silly to even bring it up. “Sorry, I just got a couple of teammates from over there and I just recognized the accent,” he explained. “I’m Sidney, by the way, Sidney Crosby,” he introduced himself, though she was pretty sure every single person in the building all ready knew that. He held out his large paw.

“Anastasia,” she replied back, sliding her hand into his. His chocolate brown eyes meet her own steel gray ones.

“So what brings you here?” Sidney spoke, attempting to make conversation.

“Um, to watch Olympics?” she laughed.

“Sid!” A new, heavily accented voice called out, making the two young adults shift their gaze away from each other.

“Geno!’ Sidney greeted his Penguins teammate, patting Evgeni Malkin on the back as he stopped in front of the two of them. But Geno’s attention was not focused on his NHL teammate, but rather the blonde haired, grey-eyed girl in front of him.

“Anya, Почему вы здесь?” Geno questioned, leaving a very confused Sidney Crosby, his jaw dropping slightly as he looked back in forth between the two, attempting to discover their connection.

Anastasia rolled her eyes at the silly question. “Наблюдать мою игру брата, очевидно, Evgeni.”

Evgeni shook his head at her words. “Да но почему вы говорите к ему?” he spoke, gesturing to Sidney.

“So, uh, how do you two know each other?” Sidney asked, stepping back into the conversation. He looked back in forth between the two of them, again.

Evgeni started to open his mouth, but Anastasia cut him off.

“We knew each other back in Russia,” she switched back to English, her Russian accent bolder than before. She shared a look with Evgeni before glancing over at the clock on the wall. “I must get going,” Anastasia excused herself, giving Geno a peck on the kiss and Sidney a big smile.

Sidney’s eyes followed her back as she walked down the hallway and disappeared when she turned to the right. “So, uh, how exactly do you know Anastasia?” he questioned his good friend.

Geno debated internally for several long seconds. Shrugging his shoulders, “Anya friend back in Russia.”

With a wave to his friend, he followed the direction Anastasia went.

--

Anastasia smiled as she reached her destination. The Russian flag was temporarily adorned on the door for the game that would be starting in roughly an hour. The guard nearby eyed her, but saw the pass in her hands and nodded for her to go on in.

Upon opening the double doors, she was greeted by the strong smell of sweat and a cool draft. Glancing around the lavish room, she instantly recognized several of the Russian hockey players.

“Ilya!” she called out, running over to greet her longtime friend. “How’s the family?” she spoke in Russian.

He smiled upon recognizing her and pulled her into a hug. “Excellent, thanks,” he answered in his native tongue. “Your brother has been wondering when you were going to show up.”

She smiled at the thought that her brother missed her as she glanced around the locker room in search for him, but came up blank, though she did spot his two Washington teammates, Alexander Semin and Semyon Varlamov, and Evgeni Malkin.

Deciding she wanted to catch up with Evgeni a little bit more, she gave Ilya a peck on the cheek and a ‘goodbye and good luck!’, before heading over to the Penguin.

Evgeni gave her a look when she stopped in front of him. “Are you trying to make your brother mad?” he questioned her, his Russians words more tired than anything else.

Anastasia played with the strings on her jacket. “Relax, Evgeni, I was just asking for directions. That’s it,” she informed him. “As it if really matters, anyways.”

Evgeni reached behind him, getting some of his gear ready for the game. “Your brother doesn’t need another reason to spark that damn rivalry with Sid.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes, again. She could careless about the stupid rivalry that was always being reported between her brother and Sidney Crosby. She was glad that it was much more rare to hear about it in Russia, the reporters always seemed to just go on and on about what a wonderful player and person her big brother was, instead.

“It’s no big deal,” Anastasia assured him again, softly.

“What’s no big deal?” she heard the familiar voice from behind her. Anastasia smiled, turning around and throwing her long, thin arms around her big brother.

“Sasha,” she cooed.

Despite his faults, Anastasia loved her brother more than anyone else in the world. It had been several months since she really had gotten to spend time with him and although she knew he would be busy over the next two weeks, she was looking forward to catching up with him.

“Nothing,” she muttered as he kissed her cheek. “I just came to wish you luck!”

He shook his head back in forth. “Don’t need luck. But thanks, Anya. I’m glad you came.”

Running her head through the earlier events, Anastasia hoped by the end of the two weeks, Sasha would still feel the same way.