Mission Five: Chapter 5b - “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near me..."

Forty eight hours was a long time to be on a train. Especially a train you were trying to hide on. Especially when you were trying to find someone kidnapped by the Russian mafia. Especially if you were Face.

 

Murdock and BA seemed content to lie back on a bunk together, staring at the landscape as it flashed by the window and just talking about everything and nothing and enjoying the peace. Face however, could not. He paced up and down the corridors, leaning out of any window he could get to open, stalking right up to the Platzkart class carriages, BA’s economy, and back again, cold eyes boring into every face, wondering of any one of them knew anything about Hannibal or the Morozovs.

 

 

He saw plenty of Uri, it almost seemed if he was stalking Face, and he always had this really leery smile cut into his face. Creepy honestly didn’t begin to cover it. Face tried to stay away from the Provodnik’s cabin as every time he walked past it, Uri was there with the door open, watching him. It sent shivers down Face’s spine every damn time.

 

Unfortunately, trains being as they are, Face found it impossible to take an alternative route, and so needed to pass Uri every time he needed a piss or he wanted to go to the sorry excuse for a restaurant car, which was far more often than he would have liked.

 

It was late afternoon on the second day, they were only mere hours out of Irkutsk and Face was allowing his thoughts to slip onto the next stage of their journey and the flight to Magadan and the fake passports he had acquired and whether or not they would even need to produce them on an internal flight and how long Hannibal had already been in Magadan and whether he was-  when he suddenly stopped short as Uri’s bulk filled the whole of the corridor in front of him.

 

Face looked up into those empty black eyes and forced out a smile, “Excuse me,” he muttered in Russian, trying to slide past the Provodnik.

 

Uri, however, was having none of it. “Where are you rushing off to my American friend?” he slurred in Russian and Face’s heart sank; the guy was obviously pissed as a fart. Again Face tried to brush past, but Uri stopped him, one hand going around Face’s neck and slamming him against the wall of the carriage, Face clenched his fists but held onto his anger, beating Uri to death here would not help them to remain inconspicuous. “I want you to pay the rest of your bill now,” Uri slurred into Face’s ear, “Right now, over the desk in my cabin. Understand?”

 

That wave of anger rose up again, but Face harnessed only enough of it to wrench Uri’s hands off his neck and push himself back off the wall. “No deal,” he hissed. “We agreed on Rubles and Rubles it is, so fuck off. You will get nothing else from me.” Staggering back from the force of Face’s push, Uri crashed into the opposite wall, his face contorting in anger as Face stepped out of his reach. “And if you try another stunt like this, Uri, so help me I will pound your ugly face into the wall. You understand that?”

 

Uri didn’t reply, he just glared at Face through narrowed eyes, and watching his back carefully, Face turned and retreated back along the corridor, vowing to remain in the relative safety of the cabin until they arrived in Irkutsk.

 

It wasn’t to be though. Face made it about an hour to arrival in Irkutsk when the train shuddered to a halt. That in itself was nothing unusual, the train had been stopping and starting all journey long and Face had long ago given up getting paranoid about the stops. But now, when they were so close to their next stop, a flight onto Magadan and possibly Hannibal waiting for them... Face could only last twenty minutes in the cabin before he slid out and made his way along to see Uri.

 

“Hey,” he announced himself as he slid the door open and fixed Uri with a hard stare, “What’s going on?”

 

Uri was laid back in his chair, feet on the desk, half empty vodka bottle next to his boots. He looked dirty and dishevelled and more than a little drunk and Face frowned, wondering if this had been such a good idea.

 

“American...” Uri leered at him, “I was wondering if I would see you again before we arrived in Irkutsk. Lucky for you I have.”

 

Face frowned, “Lucky for me?”

 

“Yes,” Uri swung his legs down and planted his boots back onto the floor with a dull thud, “Lucky for you because now I can warn you.”

 

Face’s heart started up thumping loudly in his chest, “Warn me about what?”

 

Uri slowly rose to his feet, “The Militsiya waiting for you at the station...”

 

“What?!” Face couldn’t believe this, so close to the next part of his plan, and now this? “How?” his brain couldn’t come up with anything more succinct right now.

 

Uri leered at him, taking a step closer in, “I called them,” he answered simply, “I told you how I wanted the rest of your bill paying, and you ignored me.”

 

Face narrowed his eyes, hatred spilling over from them, “Well, you’ve just forfeit the whole thing, Uri, ‘cause now you get no Rubles either!”

 

“Let me fuck you and I will call them off.” The words were out of Uri’s mouth in a garbled rush and Face just looked at him, cold pity in his eyes.

 

“This the only way you can get laid, Uri?” he hissed, “Threats and blackmail? Well, forget it. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near me. You got that? I’d rather take my chances with the Militsiya any day!”

 

Face turned on his heel, mind already rushing ahead to the change in plans. He wondered if they could jump out here, make their way into Irkutsk on foot. He’d have to check the lie of the land around them , see how much cover there was, and he’d need to check the flight times, if they were walking in, it would put them about a day further back than they were. Did they have enough time for that? If the mafia did have Hannibal, then they wouldn’t be relying on ancient Russian public transport, they would have access to helicopters, jets even, might already be where ever they were going. And who is to say that was even Magadan? What if they spent so long getting out there to the arse end of the world just to find a dead end, where would they go then? How long did Hannibal even have left? What if they- and suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a solid thump to the back of the neck and he went down, ears ringing their own alarm and fireworks cracking and flashing behind his eyes.

 

He didn’t slip into unconsciousness but stayed in some weird half way state where he was aware of his body being manhandled about, but couldn’t open his eyes or hear properly or even move successfully on his own. But his sixth sense for danger, that was working just fine and was screaming at him to Move! Wake up! Get up, damn you! Open your eyes! It took a while but eventually he managed, dragging his uncooperative eyelids up off his eyes, ignoring the continued fireworks and forcing his foggy eyes to focus. He didn’t like what he saw. He was flat on his back in Uri’s cabin, Uri’s not insubstantial weight pinning him to the floor as the Provodnik straddled his chest, but worse than any of that was the livid red cock that was straining towards his mouth.

 

Reacting instinctively, Face tried to pull back, turning his mouth away, but Uri’s impossibly long legs were there before him, jamming into the sides of his head, keeping him facing upright. “Ah, ah, ah...” Uri breathed, the arousal clear in his voice, “You want to get off this train in one piece? You open up like a good boy and suck...”

 

Face felt as if someone had thrown a pail of iced water over him; could he do this? If this is what it took to get one step closer to Hannibal? Could he let this be stolen from him in this way? To give it away, well, that was one choice he could make, had made, but to allow it to be taken, well, that was something else altogether. He’d had things taken from him before, too many times to even remember. There was a time once when he’d thought that’s all there was for him, but all of that was before Hannibal. Eight years they had been together now, lovers for seven of them, and if there was one thing that Hannibal had gone out of his way to drum into Face over all those years, is that he was worth more than that. That no one had the right to take what he wasn’t willing to give. And those words and lessons had paid off; Hannibal still hated the fact that Face was willing to use himself as a commodity, would trade favours to get what he needed, but he was content in the knowledge that no longer would his boy allow himself to be used as a toy by those with power over him.

 

Until now.

 

Face looked up into Uri’s flushed face as he leaned forward edging his stinking, sweaty cock closer and closer and knew they didn’t have time to walk the last leg of the journey into Irkutsk, knew that they needed to be on that morning flight to Magadan, knew that Hannibal did not have the time to give Face the luxury of choices here. Uri’s hand was on his balls, squeezing harder and harder on his bare flesh, the pain building into something indescribable, and Face made his decision. He tried to stop breathing so he could no longer smell the filth on the man’s skin, Jesus, hadn’t he ever heard of soap and water? and opened his mouth, allowing Uri to push he head of his cock in past his reluctant lips.

 

He wanted to close his eyes, pretend that he wasn’t here, try and convince himself that he was anywhere rather than here, but that was something else he didn’t have the luxury for today. He fixed his eyes on Uri’s hated face as he ran his tongue round the edge of the corona, flicking the sensitive underside, reaching down to trace up the vein and then suck on the head, sealing his lips around the smooth flesh and hollowing his cheeks.

 

Bingo.

 

Uri’s eyes closed and he fell forward, trying to shove himself right into Face’s mouth, both his hands flush on the wall above Face’s head, holding him up as he moaned in ecstasy. As soon as the pressure on his balls was gone, as soon as Uri’s guard was lowered, Face struck. He bit down with everything he had, Uri’s scream of agony cut short by the fist that smashed into the right side of his head, knocking him into the wall and Face moved, flipping out from underneath his weight, spitting foul blood from his mouth before he threw up and grabbing hold of the Provodnik’s head, smashing it again and again into the wall, the desire to just pound something into dust far too strong to ignore.

 

Everything he’d lived through in these last few days, Hannibal, BA, Leon, those damn farmer’s kids in the forest, Uri, that punk who’d tried to rob him in Omsk, everything, just rose up like a huge black wave and consumed him, wanting him to kill something. Anything would do, but this bastard, who had tried to take something that wasn’t his, would never be his, was perfect. It was like Face could see himself on a screen, like he was watching with detached interest as Uri lost consciousness and blood appeared on the wall, and there was blood in Uri’s hair and then, ‘Face! Stand down!’

 

Face froze. He wasn’t that far gone that he thought Hannibal was there with him, but, Jesus... that voice had been so real, so close, so desperately needed that he stopped anyway, looking with fresh eyes at the horror scene he had created. What would Hannibal think if he had seen him here, just now? Face knew the answer and it made him want to throw up, god, why was he such a constant failure?

 

He ran a shaking hand over his face, backing off, dragging Uri into the recovery position, finding a pulse, hauling a blanket off the bed, wiping off the blood, trying to make it look like he’d just passed out with all the vodka, yeah, right, Peck, and accidently banged his own head repeatedly against the wall? Who the fuck is gonna believe that?, getting rid of his prints, tucking himself back in, fastening up his trousers, trying to make himself look less guilty. Then he got to his feet, feeling the moving train beneath him, wondering when it had started up again, how far they were from Irkutsk now, knowing there was no way to get rid of the Militsiya without Uri’s cooperation, knowing he had to get to the others, get them ready, get them out... As he slipped out of the cabin and down the corridor, the pressure was almost cracking him in two.         

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