A Game of Chess

Moscow, Russia

December 3, 1950

5:12 PM

Today was rather pleasant in Ivan's opinion. This morning had a nice lightly salted egg and the butler had finally brewed the right temperature for his daily tea. On most winter days you'd expect in early 1950's Soviet Russia, it was snowing, much more snow than he'd usually receive. He glanced out the window, watching the small clumps make their way down onto the infested ground of pure white. Not even buildings or neighboring pine trees were able to stand out in its white camouflage. He hummed contently as the greyness in the sky started to grow dimmer, night slowly putting an end to the day.

Yes, today truly was a day that lady luck smiled upon. Was what he thought till his phone rang.

*Ring!

Ivan kept his feet crossed on the table as he read through a book he had bought the day before, not even sparing a glance at the phone. Anyone foolish enough to call him on a day where he had been promised a break would only be ignored.

*Ring!

His eyes shot up, glaring at the small grey phone on his table. If it were an accident, the person would have hung up by now. But by the third ring, that could only mean that it would be intentional. Of course only a person with a death wish would-

*Ring!

Slamming down his book, the entire table shook as he gripped the phone end tightly. "Pray for your own sake that whatever you're about to say is an emergency." He scowled, etching his fingernails into the thin cover of the book. The cup he was drinking from fell, staining the majority of his paperwork he prepared, and spilt on his nice rug. Normally, this would have enraged him even more, but what the voice on the end of the line had just told him was more important than some dirtied desk.

"They've what?" He yelled, his voice bellowing throughout the building.

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Moscow, Russia

December 3, 1950

5:44 PM

A black car screeched in front of the tall grey building, a metal bar gate that usually guarded its entrance wide open. Surrounding them was the whistling of a furious snowstorm, which seemed to envelop the surrounding area in a globe of white. To the extent where the roof wasn't even visible and the snow was falling in handfuls, this was not ideal weather for driving. The side door of the car opened, the large ash-blond Russian man with a long winding scarf emerging from it, a dark military hat covering a pair of wrathful violet eyes. His matted boots fell through the thick snow, the very same snow that made it so difficult to get here sooner. It didn't help that it was soon to be nightfall.

He was visibly angry, much angrier than he often was and it didn't take a well trained eye to notice that. The two guards standing in front of the gates who froze up, seeing that pale peach scarf writhing in the wind quickly approaching them. "Where is Lieutenant Orlov?" Ivan yelled, the sound of his voice startling the soldiers.

"Sir! He's currently in the control unit. It's been in chaos, thank god you-" The left soldier stammered, gasping in his breath when the Russian turned to look at him. An immediate feeling of doom overwhelmed him as he stiffened at his gaze and straightened his back, returning to his original position. Ivan let out an annoyed grunt, marching onwards as his eyes set dead straight on the building ahead. He was not in the mood for the rambling antics of a soldier who didn't know when to shut his mouth, let alone an ongoing attack.