Status: this is an au and i will definitely make a non au
Metro.
Chapter 1.
“Why did I move to Moscow? Why did it have to be Moscow?” you poured a nice hot cup of coffee and sipped after it cooled all the while gazing out the window of your partner’s apartment. As usual, it was a gloomy day, streets wet with snow as winter had finally settled in.
Turning towards the bed you smiled and sat in his long t-shirt. You stroked his dark hair from his face as it lay serene. It wasn’t half as bad idea anyway, Moscow had some distinguishable designers, if not that then down right idiosyncratic. But it was good that way, allowed a wide range for shoot. And that was your main occupation, well at least it took up most you time anyway, searching for suitable shoots for each designer. Today was Masha Efremenko’s headpieces and where would they look good. Luckily you had the perfect place in mind.
Muromtzevo Mansion, sure the outside architecture didn’t fit the designers criteria, but the surrounding garden and interior were beyond perfect. So there you were, at 5:30 am getting dressed and heading toward Moscow train station to sit yourself down for a whole five hours to get there. It wasn’t the best day either as you were already freezing when you entered the lobby, and it didn’t get any better by the time you made it outside, but ou endured it anyway as you were getting aid nice lump sum, well more than your night-time job bartending anyway.
***
“<Pavel! You lazy piece of shit, GET UP!>;” Pavel, stirred awake after all the yelling and rustling happening beyond his closed eyes, when he finally opened them he was in two worlds of pain, his eyes stung as if someone poured vodka in them and what he guessed was his pack, had been thrown, in which he guessed was thrown by Artyom, and landed harshly on his side. “<ok, ok, I’m up … Stupid Blyadj>”
As the rest of the troops headed out, Pavel rubbed his neck from the pain he managed las night of getting into a brawl whilst getting drunk. Again. “<BLYADJ>” he hissed one last time before getting into uniform.
There was always one good thing with the middle of winter rolling around, he got to return to his more favourable job in his shitty, government paid for apartment. It was easy money, well for him anyway. He’d get people to pay him to record somethings, sometimes it was nasty shit, sometimes it was pleasing shit, and other times it was boring bullshit for insurance and what not, but that was rare.
All the guys in his squadron loved getting the leftovers for a cheap price, leftovers meaning, if it was good or fucked up enough, Pavel would make a copy for the boys. Except Artyom, he never gave two shits about Pavel’s other profession, but he did lecture Pavel on how it was wrong, but at least it was extra money in his pocket, Artyom couldn’t argue with that.
Geared up and ready to enjoy his life style, he headed toward the Moscow bus, readying to line up near Artyom, until the pain in the ass General Miller called after him. Of course it would be Pavel he had to hold back. Pavel hissed in a deep breath, wiped off his grimaced face and slapped a sarcastic smile and spun around and faced the general with a bubbly attitude, one in which miller detested “<Yes! General. What can I do to appease you?>”
The general, as always had a stern demeanor, his face, his eyes, even the way his arms folded over his chest. Hell! He could almost be mistaken for a marble statue of Hades look the way he did.
He pointed at Pavel harshly and spoke with a matching tone “<First, I want you to wipe that smart ass tone off yourself. SECONDLY. I want you to head to Muromtzevo Mansion to make sure there are no shithead teenagers running amuck and gaffitying there>”. Pavel groaned in his mind, because if he did groan in front of the General, he would never get that promotion he is sure to get, or so he keeps telling himself.
However, he did protest against the order. “<But General Miller, It’s way out in the country, why would kids come all the way from the city-->” but there’s no arguing with a reincarnation of Hades himself. “<Enough! The mansion is a military outpost all the same. If you don’t want to head to Muromtzevo, I can keep you here and get you to scrub the floors with a toothbrush. Do I make myself clear Morozov?>”
Although Pavel Didn’t like either of the options he chose the wisest nonetheless. “<Yes General Miller>”. The General eased and nodded approvingly and headed off “<Thank you General Miller!>;” Pavel shouted sarcastically after his superior with a bit of spite, and Miller had sensed this, “<don’t give me that bullshit>” he shouted in reply.
Pavel spun back and headed towards the military vehicles, bag and all, and hissed under his breath “blyadj…”
***
You arrived at the mansion around 11:00 am. You noticed the gates were closed and thought if it was a bad idea to head in. You pushed the gate and luckily it buckled open. ‘Well at least it’s not locked so I guess it’s not illegal?’. You made your way inside cautiously. Your feet crushing the snow loudly as there were no other signs of life around besides the overgrowth of foliage.
You gazed around before you went any further you noticed a red sign with Russian writing, It was vandalised and scratched. So not only were you bad at reading Russian but the state the sign was in didn’t help either. The only part you could make out were useless anyway <<__не пустить____из пост>>, Which absolutely told you nothing so you tried shouting for someone “Hello?”. You waited a minute and thought maybe they don’t know English? “<hello? Anyone there?> again you waited only longer this time. Still no reply, could be that your Russian was poor but even then.
So you continued on. You started with the garden, taking photos of the small ponds, then made our way inside. The inside was bright enough from the snows reflection and it was so peaceful inside, just the eerie sound of the wind making its way through the old halls. You snapped a few more shots. You noticed the lens was getting a bit of “frost bite” from the cold air, and so you decided to change lenses.
As you had just taken the camera strap off from around your neck you heard a loud car door slam and you dropped you $2000 camera. “Fuck!” you hissed.
The lenses and camera were the two largest pieces, but you were more worried about the two smaller pieces that lay between them. As you started picking them up you heard a deep voice shout from outside. You heard heavy footsteps in the snow get closer and closer and began to panic ‘Shit! I can’t go to a jail! Not after this shit happens! Not in fucking Russia!’
You hurriedly grabbed your things and rushed out towards the back. Just before passing around a corner of a hallway you heard the voice shout again, as if it was right behind you, and foot falls following.
***
A half hour away, he turned down his music to really sneak up on these teens if there were any. As he pulled up to the gate he noticed it was ajar and muttered under his breath “<…blyadj>”. Pavel exited the jeep and slammed the door to get these kids scattering. He looked at the warning sign and tried to wipe the residue snow from it. “<Mat’ ublyhdok…>”. Annoyed and frustrated, he shouted out the suspecting violators “<Get out here you little shits!>”
After no reply he stomped his way to the mansion and spotted a woman, who appeared to be gathering something in a flurry. She began in a spring and Pavel, Annoyed, pissed off and not in the mood for this shit followed after he and called out. He noticed she had forgotten her lens cap and snatched it before chasing after her.
Turning towards the bed you smiled and sat in his long t-shirt. You stroked his dark hair from his face as it lay serene. It wasn’t half as bad idea anyway, Moscow had some distinguishable designers, if not that then down right idiosyncratic. But it was good that way, allowed a wide range for shoot. And that was your main occupation, well at least it took up most you time anyway, searching for suitable shoots for each designer. Today was Masha Efremenko’s headpieces and where would they look good. Luckily you had the perfect place in mind.
Muromtzevo Mansion, sure the outside architecture didn’t fit the designers criteria, but the surrounding garden and interior were beyond perfect. So there you were, at 5:30 am getting dressed and heading toward Moscow train station to sit yourself down for a whole five hours to get there. It wasn’t the best day either as you were already freezing when you entered the lobby, and it didn’t get any better by the time you made it outside, but ou endured it anyway as you were getting aid nice lump sum, well more than your night-time job bartending anyway.
***
“<Pavel! You lazy piece of shit, GET UP!>;” Pavel, stirred awake after all the yelling and rustling happening beyond his closed eyes, when he finally opened them he was in two worlds of pain, his eyes stung as if someone poured vodka in them and what he guessed was his pack, had been thrown, in which he guessed was thrown by Artyom, and landed harshly on his side. “<ok, ok, I’m up … Stupid Blyadj>”
As the rest of the troops headed out, Pavel rubbed his neck from the pain he managed las night of getting into a brawl whilst getting drunk. Again. “<BLYADJ>” he hissed one last time before getting into uniform.
There was always one good thing with the middle of winter rolling around, he got to return to his more favourable job in his shitty, government paid for apartment. It was easy money, well for him anyway. He’d get people to pay him to record somethings, sometimes it was nasty shit, sometimes it was pleasing shit, and other times it was boring bullshit for insurance and what not, but that was rare.
All the guys in his squadron loved getting the leftovers for a cheap price, leftovers meaning, if it was good or fucked up enough, Pavel would make a copy for the boys. Except Artyom, he never gave two shits about Pavel’s other profession, but he did lecture Pavel on how it was wrong, but at least it was extra money in his pocket, Artyom couldn’t argue with that.
Geared up and ready to enjoy his life style, he headed toward the Moscow bus, readying to line up near Artyom, until the pain in the ass General Miller called after him. Of course it would be Pavel he had to hold back. Pavel hissed in a deep breath, wiped off his grimaced face and slapped a sarcastic smile and spun around and faced the general with a bubbly attitude, one in which miller detested “<Yes! General. What can I do to appease you?>”
The general, as always had a stern demeanor, his face, his eyes, even the way his arms folded over his chest. Hell! He could almost be mistaken for a marble statue of Hades look the way he did.
He pointed at Pavel harshly and spoke with a matching tone “<First, I want you to wipe that smart ass tone off yourself. SECONDLY. I want you to head to Muromtzevo Mansion to make sure there are no shithead teenagers running amuck and gaffitying there>”. Pavel groaned in his mind, because if he did groan in front of the General, he would never get that promotion he is sure to get, or so he keeps telling himself.
However, he did protest against the order. “<But General Miller, It’s way out in the country, why would kids come all the way from the city-->” but there’s no arguing with a reincarnation of Hades himself. “<Enough! The mansion is a military outpost all the same. If you don’t want to head to Muromtzevo, I can keep you here and get you to scrub the floors with a toothbrush. Do I make myself clear Morozov?>”
Although Pavel Didn’t like either of the options he chose the wisest nonetheless. “<Yes General Miller>”. The General eased and nodded approvingly and headed off “<Thank you General Miller!>;” Pavel shouted sarcastically after his superior with a bit of spite, and Miller had sensed this, “<don’t give me that bullshit>” he shouted in reply.
Pavel spun back and headed towards the military vehicles, bag and all, and hissed under his breath “blyadj…”
***
You arrived at the mansion around 11:00 am. You noticed the gates were closed and thought if it was a bad idea to head in. You pushed the gate and luckily it buckled open. ‘Well at least it’s not locked so I guess it’s not illegal?’. You made your way inside cautiously. Your feet crushing the snow loudly as there were no other signs of life around besides the overgrowth of foliage.
You gazed around before you went any further you noticed a red sign with Russian writing, It was vandalised and scratched. So not only were you bad at reading Russian but the state the sign was in didn’t help either. The only part you could make out were useless anyway <<__не пустить____из пост>>, Which absolutely told you nothing so you tried shouting for someone “Hello?”. You waited a minute and thought maybe they don’t know English? “<hello? Anyone there?> again you waited only longer this time. Still no reply, could be that your Russian was poor but even then.
So you continued on. You started with the garden, taking photos of the small ponds, then made our way inside. The inside was bright enough from the snows reflection and it was so peaceful inside, just the eerie sound of the wind making its way through the old halls. You snapped a few more shots. You noticed the lens was getting a bit of “frost bite” from the cold air, and so you decided to change lenses.
As you had just taken the camera strap off from around your neck you heard a loud car door slam and you dropped you $2000 camera. “Fuck!” you hissed.
The lenses and camera were the two largest pieces, but you were more worried about the two smaller pieces that lay between them. As you started picking them up you heard a deep voice shout from outside. You heard heavy footsteps in the snow get closer and closer and began to panic ‘Shit! I can’t go to a jail! Not after this shit happens! Not in fucking Russia!’
You hurriedly grabbed your things and rushed out towards the back. Just before passing around a corner of a hallway you heard the voice shout again, as if it was right behind you, and foot falls following.
***
A half hour away, he turned down his music to really sneak up on these teens if there were any. As he pulled up to the gate he noticed it was ajar and muttered under his breath “<…blyadj>”. Pavel exited the jeep and slammed the door to get these kids scattering. He looked at the warning sign and tried to wipe the residue snow from it. “<Mat’ ublyhdok…>”. Annoyed and frustrated, he shouted out the suspecting violators “<Get out here you little shits!>”
After no reply he stomped his way to the mansion and spotted a woman, who appeared to be gathering something in a flurry. She began in a spring and Pavel, Annoyed, pissed off and not in the mood for this shit followed after he and called out. He noticed she had forgotten her lens cap and snatched it before chasing after her.