A/N.
Bold is for important info/highlighted words that stand out.
Italics are thoughts or just there for some reason.
Somewhere in Russia...
Its snowing again.
I look out of my cockpit window and gaze at the endless expanse of bleak white which covers everything and anything. I swear it never stops snowing, somehow the weather here is programmed to do nothing but snow all the fucking time. Seriously, nothing survives in this part of Russia, the Arctic can’t compare to the death trap here, but at least I'm nice and warm.
I perform my 20 minute radio check again, since its the last time I will ever fly the MI-24 ever again.
"Communication check, Akula seven over". I report and wait for the confirmation that all is good and I can continue flying on my last patrol.
The MI-24 is a good helicopter, its basically a flying tank. The "Hind" has over a hundred deadly rockets in four pods, anti tank missiles and a twin barrelled GSh-23 auto cannon that cuts through steel easily, and it fires pretty fast too. A very lethal combination in any helicopter, but the " Krokodil" makes the said weapon combination even more lethal, its fast: capable of 208 miles per hour in a straight line. Carries enough armour to resist .50 rounds in the cockpit glass and even the main rotors are hard to break. It is indeed a flying tank, the stubby little wings that poke out and bristle with armaments, a pair of turboshaft engines sit on top and the double bubble cockpit all serve to inspire fear in the enemy.
If you ever see one of those flying in your direction then run.
"Akula seven, Major Akresa has left early, this is his second in command. Stand by and wait for orders. Your patrol route has been disband and we have a situation that needs checking, copy and wait for new orders". The radio crackles and I listen in.
New orders? I can never be left in peace...
"Da, Akula seven copies. Where am I needed?". I speak calmly and firmly, intending to get this "mission" over with and be back at base for a hot meal.
"If you haven't heard there are Meteors flying everywhere, hitting Chelyabinsk, however we have reports of a unidentified flying object that has exited orbit and is landing in your vicinity. We want you to check it out, report and wait for instructions, coordinates are seven-eight-nine, copy". Are you serious? There are meteors flying about and I've got to check out something that ISN’T one?. Do you expect that aliens are going to fly out and ask for a Vodka or something?.
"Akula seven copies, flying to coordinates, will be there in the hour". I acknowledge my new orders, turn the flying tank around and head to the area.
This better be over quick. Besides why am I even going? Nothing survives out here, I bet that this "UFO" will be frozen stiff by the time I get there.
Two hours later...
A "brief" amount of time later, I spot a large heat signature on the thermals and its big...veeerrrry big, so huge it covers the thermal imaging with nothing but white imaged heat, and the weird thing is that the "object" isn't on the thermals at all, this is its crater zone.
Since my gunner decided to stand in the middle of the road yesterday, I've been sent on patrol..on my own. And being stuck in a cockpit with no one to talk to can get...frustrating.
"FINALLY, WITHOUT A GUNNER TO TALK TO BECAUSE HE DECIDED TO GET RUN OVER, I'VE HAD NO ONE TO TALK TO AND THE ONLY THING I'VE BEEN ABLE TO DO IS STARE AT SNOW, LOADS OF FUCKING SNOW". I punch the cockpit glass in anger (which is thicker than my face) and regret it as my thumb starts bleeding.
"Oowowowowow, stupid idiot stupid idiot". I curse myself and kiss my thumb to make it feel better, unsurprisingly it doesn't work and said extension of the hand still hurts.
And then the thermals overload because the target area is too hot, seriously the little glass panel in front of me has just combusted...great, any more bad news?.
"Might as well get this shit over and done with". I talk to myself and decide to take a look at the "UFO". At once I pull back the flight stick, levelling the MI-24, take my feet off the pedals and engage hover mode by pulling a little stick to my left and flicking three red switches.
Having stopped in mid air, I shift my head and look for the supposedly huge-UFO-which-broke-the-thermal-imaging.
"Not there, not there, not there, not there. Check all four directions and the rear mirrors don't show anything?". I question why I'm even here, is this thing supposed to be invisible?
Wait, idiot check.
Its not to my left.
Its not to my front.
Its not to my right.
And its not behind me.
I am a fucking idiot sometimes because its right below me: I am flying above a crater which is HUGE and the object that has doubtlessly caused it has just ploughed itself into the earth, well done idiot.
And there I was not looking below me...
Need coffee.
Some time later
So after some time of figuring out where to land, I put the helicopter down. It almost sank into the snow, the stuff was that thick so I had to keep the rotor going so I could hop back on board and fly off quickly in the event of an alien attacking me and using his/her's/it's anal probe, which I am NOT a fan of.
"Brrrr, cold". As I checked the temperature on my phone, it was minus 24, above average for this place and a little hot, but still very very cold.
Good job I had my jacket on though, I wasn't planning to stay for long. Nothing survives here. Nothing.
I trudged my way through the snow, it threatened to make my shoes sink into their depths and never be found, but I didn't stay for long. Each footfall was quick and soon I was making progress to the centre of the crater, I didn't need to worry about sinking into the ground as the place was hot and had burnt everything around it.
"Help, anypony, help!". A faint voice, scattered across the winds broke the silence, a voice speaking English....
Good job for taking that course, at least it came useful for something!. I thought to myself and grinned, I had previously taken an English speaking course at college because I failed at everything else besides engineering and of course;flying.
"Where are you?!. SHOUT!". In an attempt to narrow down my search, I shouted and tried to tell whoever was calling for help that I was on the way.
"OVER HERE!". I identified the voice as female and soon worked out where it was coming from, abandoning my previous slow attempt at plodding through the landscape, I ran as fast as I could.
"Hurry up please! I'm freezing". The female shouted again.
And then I saw her. A naked female with orange hair lying in the snow, just casually lying there, shivering. Unaware of what to do.
What the hell have I been drinking?.
I bent down next to her, she wasn't talking, I could see that she was knocked out by the sheer cold. Of course being naked didn't help at all.
"Hello? can you hear me?". I try to rouse her voice, to ask her what she has been doing.
"Dammit, I'm not going to be responsible for this". I trace a finger down her hand and arm, searching for a vein.
I find one, its still beating and there is warmth.
I hesitate, unsure of what to do?. Should I leave her to die in the cold?. Or should I try to save this woman?.
Don't just stand there, put some clothes on the girl and get the fuck out of this place before you both freeze to death.
I obey.
I take my warm jacket off and wrap the girl in it, next I take off my trousers and shove her legs in it. Next I pick her up in my arms. I then run as fast as I can, sprinting through the snow in my underwear.
I search desperately for the MI-24, its getting colder. I feel a tingle of frostbite begin to creep its way up my bare legs. I won't survive much longer and neither will the girl, I consider dumping her as I continue running desperately, panting heavily with every step.
*Thrum thrum thrum*.
The distinct tell-tale sign of moving rotors attacks my ears and I head off in the that direction, with the cold assaulting my body, the weight of the girl taking its toll, I stumble slightly but I don't fall over.
The girls hair smells nice.
Not the time, or the place.
I soon reach it my only form of transportation out of this death trap.
First I go to the front, the gunners seat. I open the window and heave the girl in, then I disable the controls there so if she wakes up: she doesn't shoot anything, last I tighten my jacket around her bare chest to keep her warm, and...I try not to look at her breasts, breasts are distracting.
I trace a hand down her face, its soft and.....very soft, girls aren't this soft. Reminds me of hairless skin or when a dog or cat's fur has been shaved off they feel this soft.
Weird.
*Thurshm*
A blast of the freezing snow slams against the side of the cockpit and knocks me forwards into the girls lap, being this close to her, I uh...blush and stay motionless for a few seconds.
"When did I ever get so distracted?". I ask myself before deciding that the both of us need to get out here before the next storm knocks the MI-24 over.
In less than a minute, either scared or just wanting to go, I exit the gunner's cockpit, close the door, enter the pilot’s cockpit and flick various buttons and switches and put my flight helmet on.
"Main rotor torque is good, stability is fine, engines are primed and good to go, I’m getting the hell out of here". I sigh in relief and bug out of the steadily increasing snow storm, using all my grip on the flight stick, I slowly exit the ground and begin to gain altitude at an increasing rate.
*100 feet, 200 feet, 300 feet*. The altimeter counts but I know that isn't enough, even with the specially adapted winter gear, this helicopter has been in the snow for far too long.
I pulled harder on the stick and engaged more power into the engines, they flared up and the turbo chargers kicked in, I could hear the rotors swinging faster and faster, like a beating heart that keeps going and going.
"Come on come on come on!". I screamed in a desperate attempt to gain more altitude, my hands shook the flight stick faster and then.
No more clouds, no more snowstorms. I was above the layer and it was only 1500 feet, I guess the cloud layer was REALLY low on the ground today.
Time to radio in.
"Akula seven to base". I speak into the "mic" in my helmet.
Reply quickly please...
"Akula seven, this is base. Report on your findings".
I didn't find anything, just the girl...
"I found a female, naked and she only speaks English at the crash site. I've got her with me and am heading back to base, there wasn't anything at the crash site, repeat there was nothing at the crash site". I report.
"Da roger that, I'll have a medical team standing by for the girl, do you have any injuries?". The guy on the other end of the radio asked.
No idea, lets have a look.
I wiggle my toes, they seem fine and fit , next I stretch each arm and leg carefully in order to test their strength, they felt good too.
I then glanced down at my left hand which was working a throttle control, each finger was white and normal.
Ouch, that doesn't feel good.
I grimaced in pain as I flexed my right hand, without looking I wiggled each finger and two felt..different.
I took my right hand off the flight stick and held it up to my face; right there before my eyes were two perfectly fine fingers and a functional thumb.
However, my index finger and middle finger wouldn't budge when I flexed them, they were both not responding and showed a much stranger red colour down their veins.
Shit I've got frostbite.
"Control, I have frostbite on my right hand, the uh index and middle finger, will proceed back to base as planned, have a doctor there with you". I report calmly, messing up reports is not the way to go.
Only when I closed the channel did I scream in pain.
One hour later.
I stared at the empty spaces on my right hand, at the start of today I came out with eight fingers and two thumbs, now in the later stages of the day I now have just six fingers and two thumbs left. I remember landing on the helipad, getting out and being tackled to the floor.
I can recall the scariest guy I have ever seen in my life come up to me, he had a knife the size of a missile in his hands, then he cut my two frostbite fingers off, I remember screaming in agony and then just looking at the two stumps that remained.
Life’s a bitch.
I looked at the bright white door that stood in front of me as I sat in the waiting room: I had been motionless and staring at my battered hand for the last 10 minutes, having been told by the Captain to see the girl that I had rescued.
The door then opened as a nurse stepped out.
I looked at her and she motioned at me to follow her.
"Corridors this way". She says and I follow her down into the corridor, I pass numerous exits and hallways that branch off from this section, the base having been left over from the Cold War and not many people know what went on in the sections that are off limits.
"Hows your hand leytenánt?". She makes casual conversation as we continue walking down.
"Still getting used to it, having two fingers and a thumb on my right hand is different than before and will have consequences". I grunt in acknowledgement, having not forgiven the doctor for not finding a different solution to my hand situation.
She said nothing and continued walking until we reached a unmarked door, she stopped and gestured for me to listen.
"I have given the girl a full analysis, she appears to be stable. However she refuses to do anything else and doesn't respond when called. I guess that she does only speak English, and since you saved her, you’re our best guess to get something out of the woman. Moskva is investigating why you only found her and not anything else, we want answers leytenánt, good luck and don't fuck things up".
"Why does the Kremli.... gone already". Thinking nothing of it, I then move to open the door knob with my right hand. However I couldn't open the door with said hand because the fingers that I use are gone.
Cursing my stupidity I used my other hand instead and opened the door, I then stepped in and was greeted unexpectedly.
By the lights being turned off.
"Hello?". I call out in Russian.
No answer.
The girl doesn't answer to Russian, speak English"
"Hello?". I move closer into the room and trace my hand across the wall in a search for the light switch.
I find it and turn it on.
In front of me is a sink, a cupboard and a small bed with the woman I saved before, she stares at me. I can see that while having orange hair, she also has orange eyes.
And they burn at me, I can see her fear, the desire to escape. The fact that she knows no-one here.
"Hello?". I repeat myself and her eyes widen in recognition and she sits up with difficulty.
Difficulty? Likes she's never sat up before.
"Hi.....are you here to do some weird test on me?, you monkey". The orange haired girl speaks softly, I was expecting a harsh reply..not this.
"No why would I do that?, and monkey?, I'm a human being, you're a human being, doesn't make sense". I let slip of my emotions and get angry.
"You gonna beat me then? hurry up then".
I......
No.
"No, sorry. I've had a long day". I admit and show her my injured hand.
"How did you do that?". I sense a sense of sympathy coming from the woman and I decide to tell her.
I’m guessing that she has forgotten everything.
"I was sent to identify a U-F-O, but instead of finding one in the snow, I found you instead in the snow naked, so I did the best thing I could do and brought you back. However I have lost two fingers because of you, getting frostbite isn't a good idea for pilot like me". I sum up the story in the shortest way I can think of.
"But your...a monkey, monkeys can’t fly silly. I’m a pony..ha". I look at her with confusion.
What the fuck?, she thinks she is pony?. One of us is on drugs and it isn’t me.
"Monkey?...you think you’re a pony?". I ask and move closer so I stand over her.
"Yeah..Equestria? ever heard of it?".
"No, you’re a human like me".
"No I'm not... I'm a pony, I am a pegasus, names Spitfire and I have wings. I can fly!". She tries to stand up like a dog but fails and falls down.
I sigh and pick her up, our faces are now level and I stare into her eyes.
I shift my gaze downwards.
Instead of getting into a argument, I grab her hands and place them on my lap.
"Do these look like hooves to you?". I ask her.
She says nothing, her face is blank and the fire in those orange eyes are gone;they are replaced by nothing.
I decide to go further and break her mind of this silly "pony" crap.
"I’m sorry, but if you were a flying pony then you would have wings". I feel her back and find nothing of the so called wings that she has been telling me about.
"You do not have a snout either, you have two legs and two arms". I keep going and find more faults with her flaws, I speak faster and with more conviction than before.
"You are almost the same size as me, you have breasts, horses do not have breasts". I point to her chest and indicate the large pair of tits that she has.
"And if you were a pony, you would not be speaking English!". I almost shout and drop her hands.
She looks at me with sadness, she has not been speaking the entire time during my little rant.
"I....I...I...thought". The girl stammers and trips on her own words.
She looks at her hands, realises that they are not horse feet like she said.
I do not wait for her to make her mind up, I am a pilot. I have work to do.
"You thought nothing, I can say that you were knocked out and had your memory screwed, after that the first thing you saw after you woke up was a horse, you begin to think that you are horse. End of story". I hit the side of the wall next to me with a coiled fist, get up and make to leave.
"If you wish to carry on with this stupidity then by all means do, when the FSB gets here...well good luck..Spitfire". I make leave to close the door and forever leave the girl on her own.
"WAIT... don't leave me ...please". I hear her choke on her words.
I’ve broken her mentally.
I would have left anyone like this by now.
I guess that I can stay for a little while.
I turn back round and smile softly.
"Ok I won’t, but I want to hear everything".
She gives me a slight smile back and I make my way back across the room.
"I remember falling out of the sky and seeing so much snow in front of me, it was freezing, I could feel the coldness attack my bare skin, I remember shivering in the snow, feeling like I was dying, I called out in desperation for anypony to save me...but they never came and I blacked out.
And then, I woke up here and this female in white wrestled with me as I tried to escape, I cried out a lot and she was speaking this funny language, the one you were speaking when you came in; but then you switched to the one I know". She concludes her story and breathes heavily.
"Ok, well that's a different story, but there's a lot of seeming fiction in that". I answer, not sure to what to make of what she has said, its just...weird.
"What is your name?". I turn to face her and see that she is already looking at me, we smile at each other to break the silence.
"Spitfire". Spitfire answers and moves closer to me as we sit together on the bed side by side.
"Thats a unusual name". Is all I can say, I feel like a idiot now.
"What’s your name anyway?, we have been talking about me for a long time now, and I think we should talk about you now...if you don't mind". Spitfire chuckles nervously and tousles some of her hair.
"Well my names Vladimir, I am a leytenánt in the Russian air force, I learnt to speak English at college and did mechanics and engineering too, I am currently assigned to the MI-24 helicopter gunship/transport helicopter but I will be transferred to the new MI-28 which is a dedicated attack helicopter". I finish my life story shortly and relax, my shoulders go down and I lie against the wall which the bed is propped up.
"Is there anything else you would like to know?". I ask and she nods her head.
"How did this "country" start". She answers, clearly confused on how she got here, and why Russia is a country.
"Well we are in the year 2013, in 1945 a great war ended and Russia pretty much won the war itself, we took the brunt of the enemy and never got recognised for it, but Russia back then was called the Soviet Union and was comprised of many countries in a big..alliance". I tell her the short history.
"But if it was called the Soviet Union then, why is it Russia now? Did something happen?".
Thats a good question actually.
"Well, the world was comprised of many countries, some thought the same as we did, others didn't. After 1945, the world was divided into two big alliances, one led by yours truly, and the other led by the United States of America. After a few years, both sides were gunning for war and in some cases we came close to it".
"So why didn’t the two sides go to war then?". She comes even closer and I can smell her breath and see deep into her eyes, they are actually quite beautiful.
Get with the game and stop fantasising.
"It was called the "Cold War" since it never went hot, both sides had thousand of weapons, called nukes at their command, each was a deadly weapon and combined, we had enough power to destroy all life on Earth, thankfully they were never launched. Eventually the Soviet Union peacefully broke up as we realised that we were in the wrong, and then we come to today with Russia as the sleeping superpower". I explained a brief history of the cold war and the Russia of today, Spitfire said nothing as I continued telling her about the oil prices, how we are literally standing on the edge of World War 3 because a fat Korean bastard can’t take no for answer.
"So if World War 3 happens and someone loses then...everyone dies?". She unexpectedly announced.
You know that's pretty much true, how lovely that people live everyday ignorantly as they never realises how close we are to nuking over-selves and bring the hard work of evolution to a giant end.
"Pretty much". I answer as I feel my phone vibrate, I take it out of my trouser pocket and unlock the screen before answering the phone.
"What’s that?". Spitfire asks but I ignore her, I was distracted looking at WHO was calling me.
Shit its the major...wait how did he get my number?.
"Vladimir here, am I late for something?". I answer the phone in Russian because no one else on the base apart from me speaks English.
(BOLD for the Major).
Leytenánt what the fuck are you doing?, do you have a report right now? THE KREMLIN IS BREATHING DOWN MY NECK.
"I am talking to the girl right now and am investigating why she.....uh can’t remember, why is Moscow calling anyway Sir?, I thought they were busy calming down conspiracy theorists with the meteors".
Niet, the bastards are coming here in three days, I want to know everything the girl knows. So we need you to be her friend and find out everything Leytenánt, if you fail then the FSB will decide that we are "hiding things" and I don’t need to tell you about the consequence for such an action.
"Yes sir, I am aware of what will happen". I answer emotionally, my good mood having been smashed by the implications....of failure.
Good, I am giving you one shot at this Leytenánt, the doctor recommends you try a bonding relationship with the girl, you have two days to get to know her, I want everything about her on a report, do I make myself clear?.
"Yes sir".
Good, don’t fuck it up. Or you'll suffer.
The major hung up and made his intent clear.
What have I got myself into?.
I sighed and put my head in my hands.
Dammit, if only I was transferred earlier...I would be flying that MI-28 right now, I wouldn't have had to lose two fingers.
"Hey whats up?". I felt a hand grip my shoulder and I look up to see Spitfire standing before me.
"Eh nothing much, I’m just tired". I lie, not wanting to reveal why I'm being nice with her.
They want me to be friends with Spitfire, so I guess some simple exercises to make sure that she is fine would do good.
"Spitfire".
"Yes?".
"Describe my appearance".
"Ok". She replies as she takes a hard look at me, I see her eyes flicker from my chest to my to eyes.
"You have..grey hair but you’re not old, you have blue eyes with black spots under them, you are slightly taller than me with bigger arms but thinner legs". She describes me perfectly.
"Is this a game or something, because I want you to describe me!". Spitfire flashes her best grin and I can’t help myself but smile too like idiot.
This "bonding" exercise is going well.
Shit.
How do I describe a woman without pissing her off?.
Author's Note
So I decided to do something differently for once, seeing all of the one where a person meets one of the Mane six is starting to get boring, so I decided to do one where its Spitfire instead.
Anyway leave a comment, say why you liked it/didnt like it, I wont be able to become a better author without those critical comments!.
"You have grey hair but you’re not old"
Really Spitfire?
My name is Vladimir and I am 53 years old, I served as a boy pilot in my MI-24 during the war in Afghanistan, and all other Russian conflicts in between then, and now she knows nothing, our age difference is incredible , she could be as young as 30 and yet I am talking to her.
We talked for hours together, one of us told the other about their time in the academy when they had to dump a recruit because they almost killed a number of civilians , and then when they stopped, the other told of how he had to fly in a snow storm with half a cockpit blown out and only one engine. I can say that I did have fun, I felt my affection growing for Spitfire as we sat together on her bed, shifting closer and closer until our heads were practically bumping, until I realized that I would never see Spitfire again, in a few days she would be gone forever because when the KG....the FSB get their hands on her....., so. I guess that in the unlikely event of myself being attached to this woman, it would be worthless.
The next day....2013
The next day always brings something new, like instead of car accident on highway it is truck accident, thats what I love about the next day, it changes and shifts everywhere and anywhere.
But the FSB is coming to see my report in two days, I have today and tomorrow to find out what Spitfire is hiding, but I don’t know about today, I need to see my children……..
Well they arnt children, my daughter Alina who is 15 , and my son Mike who is 16 and looks after house for me, I guess we should go there and eat noodles or something....I like noodles.
I still dont know where we should go....
So after waking up, getting dressed in five minutes and pulling my underwear on while brushing my teeth, I eventually met up with Spitfire by banging on her door and picking her up while throwing my ex wifes clothes at her, and after a short tour around the base which was full of men looking at her, we eventually got into my car, which is surprisingly a Nissan GT-R , I got it with a years pay and had it shipped over. Its a fantastic car with a massive engine and suits me well, although it only holds 2 people. But I love it, and I modified it as well, its not as fast as it used to be because I reinforced the chassis , put steel plating on the weak areas to cope with the Russia of today.
Unfortunately Spitfire didn't trust the look of it and it took minutes to convince the girl that the car was not a flesh eating machine. Even then she still wouldn't get in, so I resorted to pushing her in, slamming the door and going pedal to the metal.
That was the most fun I had in a long time to note.
Anyway, eventually we hit the main road.
And the conversation turned to me.
"So, your old enough to have served for a "number" of years right?". Spitfire asked as we stopped again in a traffic jam.
"Da, 39 years, ever since I was.... 15, I was recruited at a early age and did pilot training while in college". I answer while remembering those days as a horny teenager, who got a erection at every single word hinting to sex.
"So your...53?, you look older than that Vladimir, the lines on your face say so". Spitfire notes with suprise, her face deep in concentration as I let her study my own face, I can see where she is coming from though, I do have some noticeable marks near my mouth and cheeks.
"But you seemed so much younger yesterday?, what happened to you over night?" She inquires and I respond by simply not looking at her, these memories will pass away in time, I am quite sure of that.
"Did you ever see combat?". She asks suddenly inquisitively, just as the truck ahead of us starts its engines and the red lights on the indicators flicker off, I ignore her comment and instead drive forwards.
I spot a narrow gap and hurtle the car through it, overtaking the truck and putting us in a better position than before.
"Did you ever see combat?". Spitfire puts a hand on my leg and asks again, for some strange reason I blush, AND I feel compelled to tell her about my experiences.
"I saw the war in Afghanistan, and every single conflict involving my unit since then, my most recent was when I was engaged heavy combat in Tskhinvali during the short war in 2008, in a pathetic country that none of us care about". I answer truthfully as small memories of watching my friends get hit by anti aircraft missile blacken my mind, my good hand grips on the wheel as I remember their dying screams as the helicopter crashed in flames.
"What did you do?". She asks, either obliviousness or not noticing.
"Kill people, marked targets for the TOS-1's and watched them level entire city blocks, I destroyed three tanks and shot down a helicopter with a anti tank missile personally". I bristle but manage to keep a level voice.
I also almost got shot down too, like one of my own helicopters.
My own squadron.
The title of Captain removed for my "misconduct" during battle.
They didnt even demote me to Stárshiy leytenánt, instead now Im just a normal fucking leytenánt, but my squadron is still mine, they only listen to me.
Stinger missles, flying everywhere and lighting up the sky, slamming into 8's helicopter and blowing it in half.
The MI-24 cockpit glass sheared in my face, my own Krokodil almost destroyed because of what I did.
Crash landing.....
I snap out of my thoughts in time to make it to the side road, I then slow down to third gear and switch highways before joining the true force of traffic that stretches for miles in either direction, its the rush to work hour and we will doubtlessly be either going at snail speed or old person walking speed.
"Are you ok Vlad?, you look like you've seen a ghost". The orange haired girl sounds concerned but I cant answer, my memory flashes back to when I was a captain, to when I was Akula 1-1.
"Ghosts do not exist Spitfire" I grunt and say nothing else, leaving her to her thoughts while I concentrate on driving...
Then again I still have no idea where we are going, home to watch movies and noodles? or somewhere. where I can get to know her?
Hmmm.
And another traffic jam, but the road to Novosibirsk is in the next intersection.
Might aswell make a decision on where to go?
"Hey Spitfire?" I ask while tapping my fingers on the wheel and braking slowly.
"Yeah?" She answers, twiddling her hair while staring out of the window at this depressing fucking country.
"Do you know what noodles are?" I ask hopefully because I really dont want to have to pay more money than I should, I would rather sit on chair and eat noodles.
"Uh...yeah? I think so...why?". Spitfire asks, confused to why I asked her such a trivial question I guess?
"We are going to my house, we will be.....I have no idea so dont ask". I tell her before concentrating on the road, because it only takes a few minutes for the mass of cars and stuff to disperse right?
Three hours later....
In the end I just turned the engine of and slouched in my car seat, I guess we are stuck here while these idiots in front of my play with their dicks and don't move....
Why am I here anyway?, I could be doing something much more useful like flying, drinking, eating noodles or seeing my children...well I am going to see my children but I would have gone later in the day to avoid all of this traffic, instead of going early in the morning I could be having a extended sleep right now....
Its her...
What about her?.
What about the woman in my car? Who is still looking out of the window, her eyes focused on something in the distance, or observing something...I dont know.
Whats the point of even trying to be friends with her, you know how this will end Vladimir...
Maybe...maybe not...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sigh heavily, Im too old for this. I should have retired five years ago, not still flying around...kidding myself that I am not past my prime...which I am. Im a old man in a job thats dominated by younger men. Who am I kidding....
I look at Spitfire and casually flicker my eyes over her appearance.
Orange hair.
Brown eyes.
Red lips.
Pretty.
Toned body.
Revealing clothes.
And much younger than me....*sigh*.
I guess I wouldnt have a chance anyway, shes too much of a pretty girl for me. I'll just find another stuck up woman my age and marry, have even more children that I'll have to donate more attention and money too, before divorcing her as she ends up being unfaithful.
Just doing the same thing, over and over again. Expecting shit to change.
But it wont, and that is how my life will be.
Because when I look at Spitfire.....
I am reminded of how beautiful she is.
How old I am in comparison and defunct.
How my life could have turned out.
I tear my eyes away from her and upon noticing that the traffic jam is moving again, I put my car keys into ignition and start the engine again.
For a brief second I look into the mirror and I see a old man.
