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_The sun beams through the clouds. The ground is covered in three-day old snow. The worst day. It's there, but it's hard and melting. It's gross. Mud has mixed with the white and it makes you feel like it should be warm outside, yet the wind is freezing your nipples off through your leather coat. My undersized biker jacket is zipped up, belted, and the collar up to cover my neck up. I wear my Ray Ban Wayfarers over my eyes, a scarf over my mouth and nose, and a bowler hat resting on my skull.
_Citizens could look at me and tell I wasn't from around here, though, in fact, I have Russian in me and was born in White Russia, leaving at two and returning at fifteen only to leave again at seventeen. My parents never could agree whether to keep me with my alchoholic father who didn't want me, but wanted to piss of the junkie mother who lived in Russia and did want me. Somehow my father always came out on top and had me.
_The church could be seen off in the distance now. I'm not religious, in fact, I'm very agnostic. The whole reason for coming here is to meet an old friend who hunts wild game for fun in many countries. He had a gift for me, so I took a trip to Russia. I had no idea what this gift was, but I had my ideas since I was always envious of his many things. Nearly at the church, I figure I should not go too close to it, nor inside. After all, I was fifteen minutes early. This was time for a cigarette. Putting one in my mouth, I light it up and take a nice drag, releasing the smoke to dissipate into the air. The cold bit at my throat as I smoked the cigarette, so now I take a seat on a bench and try to warm myself.
_I see him coming. He stops walking far enough off to where it would be hard to tell he was motioning to me, but close enough that I could tell that it was him and that he was motioning to me. I stand and straighten my jacket, pulling my hands from my pockets with some fingerless, leather biker gloves. He walks off and I follow, but not too close, simultaneously fitting my gloves onto my hands. He walks for nearly ten minutes before he goes off into an empty alleyway. I stop to light a cigarette before going in to make things less obvious. A few drags do me good and I make my way to the alley. As I enter the alley, I realize I've lost him. "Sean," I wisper as I look up, down, and around. No response is made. I say his name again, this time louder, "Sean." Still no response. One last time, this time with a near shout, "Sean!" "SHHH!" he exits a back door to a business long ago shut down. He must have picked the lock. "Not so loud," he wispers to me, "In here. I got a couple things for you." Entering the building after looking down both ends of the alley, I am greeted with a big hug, "I haven't seen you in so long OP!" With a smile, I reply, "Yeah. it's been way too long."
"Indeed it has."
"I'm greatful that you have something to give me, and I don't want to sound pushy, but I'm actually leaving Moscow soon. Very soon. Like in a couple hours."
"Didn't you just get here this morning?"
"Yes. By plane. I'm driving out of here to tour a bit and catch a train to Europe, then, yet, another drive into Italy where I will be meeting someone."
"I see. Well...I think I know what you're getting into. Never got over your childish dreams."
"Not so. I did, yet now it's just something I need to do, not as much want."
"Ahh, well, what I have for you is just the perfect gift."
"Oh. Is that so?"
Sean pulls a sheet off of a table a few weapons and boxes of ammo. There lies an Enfield Jungle Carbine, flash supressor and all. Next lies a Smith & Wesson M4506 . He hands me a baseball "batbag" and I load it all in there. I thank him greatly and ask the quickest way out. He said to exit the opposite end of the alley that we came from and walk three blocks, go left and cut through the grass to the parking garage where I had parked. It was a quick escape. I had liked it. I didn't have to walk all day. I thank him once more and head on my way.
REQUESTS:
- {(1)} Enfield Jungle Carbine (bolt-action)
- {(1)} Smith & Wesson M4506
- {(100)} Rounds of M4506 AMMO
- {(100)} Rounds of Enfield AMMO
_________________
Otis Philip "OP" Kiliman
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