Who: Ilya and Stalina What: breaking Stalina out Where: Albania When: A long time ago
It was late on a Thursday night, Ilya was standing outside of the theatre where the dancing bears were to perform, he’d chosen this place, because it was easy to get into and easy to get out of. The people running the show would not be able to brandish weapons if they wished the authorities to take them in the slightest way seriously, and yet he, yes he could. He had paid the police well to turn a blind eye, well he’d paid them enough that they would not respond for at least twenty minutes after the first call came. He watched as people began to filter out, growled to himself as he heard children giggle and talk about the silly white bear with only one front paw. Hatred was something that clung to Ilya, hatred for all but that one puny bear they were all laughing about, and if he hadn’t had a goal he wished to achieve this evening, the Russian standard issue machine gun, he had hiding beneath the leather trench coat he was wearing, would have been aimed at those children’s parents, and those children’s parents would have been dead and the sick twisted little children would be told just why their parents were dead.
Yes Ilya had no time for anyone, all these people deserved to die, and if he had had enough money and knew enough about explosives, then he would have set a bomb off, only he did not, and whilst he knew enough people that did, they would have wanted to be paid, and they would have wanted to know just why he was wasting his time causing trouble for merely a dancing bear troop. Everyone thought that was all that bears were good for, and whilst he could laugh and pretend to agree with them, he hated them all, each and every last one of them. Probably just as they hated him, here it didn’t pay to trust, it only paid to hate, and to hate bigger and better than the person next to you.
Stalina drunk as usual as all they gave her was alcohol in her drinking dish in her tiny cage with no light. She hated the taste, hated the way it made her feel, and hate that it made her even more clumsy as she already was with only one paw. It had been five years since she had been separated from her brother, and she had pretty much lost everything.
She was the last time he had seen her a big heavy female bear, of formidable size and weight much bigger then he had been at that time, now she was small, even scrawny from the lack of proper nutrition she had got under the care of this Troupe. They led her off to her prison that was just big enough for her maybe to turn around in, and lay down in, it was completely inclosed with no windows, or bars. She had stayed in here ever since she attacked the owner to try to get free even with just one paw that they had removed from her body just the year before and she had just recovered from being sick from terrible infection. Four years with hardly any, light only those from the stage when she was out performing, no space to move accept when she was dancing, and nothing to drink but the alcohol they placed in her water bowl, and the few berries and bread they fed her to keep her weak.
When he would finally open the door of her confinement, she at first would not recognize him half drunk, weak, and tired from dancing on little to no food. Her head barely lifting in curiosity why her cage would be being opened, knowing that not nearly enough time had gone by between shows to have her come out again. Then a menacing growl as she didn't recognize the face at first, as soon as she would happiness would shoot through her and great pleasure that her little brother had grown and was strong. Weak gestures of acknowledgment and recognition would be made on her part, but he would probably have to carry her out as she would not have the strength to move of her own volition for being beat for a bad performance from the owner.
Ilya was not really under any kind of misguided thoughts of a warm brother - sister reunion, he knew how badly they treated her, and it galled him that he had had to wait so long before he could break her out, set her free, and look after her, as she had looked after him. They may well have only had one year together, but it was all that Ilya had, it was all that he could remember. He had memories of the Moscow Circus, he had the knowledge of how to perform for that was all he did, train, perform, train, perform. He’d ran away, he’d found her then, and he’d found her this time, and this time, neither heaven nor hell was going to separate them again. He would rather die, than allow such to happen and he would more than willingly kill any that tried to prevent him on his mission. She was his happy memories, she was all he had, and he knew that he was all she had, even if the way she’d been forced to live had made her forget, even if when he broke in there, she would not recognize his scent. He didn’t care, because he knew, that in time, no matter how much time it would take, she would remember, and they could rebuild some form of life, have some things even if small things to once more learn to smile about. No matter how long. Time was a thing that had passed by until this moment, without any meaning, so how much of it was taken nursing Stalina back to health, helping her remember him, it mattered little, they had as long as they both lived, if that was what it would take.
The last of those that had watched the show left, and he entered, the man at the door, having his jaw broken and then just to make sure he didn’t try to warn anyone, his throat was slit with a knife, there was no need to go in guns blazing just yet. Bloody footprints trailed up the hallway, led to the manager’s office, where those inside were gunned down, they were not given a chance to talk, they were not asked if they had anything to do with the Dancing Bear Troupe, he didn’t need to ask, he’d been watching them all for the past three months, making his plans getting ready for this very day. They didn’t know why they were killed, and no one else truly would for what was the worth of one small female polar bear? One that was so poorly treated it would not have even sold for one hundred communist marks, let alone cover the cost of the bullets used on those that were murdered that night. He worked his way through the building, only one person was kept alive, and there was a purpose behind such, as Ilya never did anything without a reason behind it.
He tied the man to a post, a post that they used to chain the bears too, and Ilya slowly began to remove all his clothing, he watched the man with dark eyes, remaining silent as fear crept over his face, as he began to urinate and beg Ilya not to hurt him, that he only liked woman, yes trust a stupid human to believe another was becoming naked merely to rape them. Still until all of his clothing was removed Ilya said not one single word, and when all his clothing was removed, then he decided to speak.
“Today comrade I am your judge, jury and executioner, today, comrade, you get to feel some of that which you inflicted upon my sister, it is only a shame I have nowhere I could keep you, so that I could make you suffer as long as you have made her suffer.”
The man, had never been cruel to a human female, so he was confused, he burbled out he’d never harmed a single hair on another human’s head, he hadn’t he was telling the truth, but this was not about a human. Which he was soon to learn as Ilya began to change form and soon there was a huge, yes huge massive polar bear standing in front of him. He first used his jaws to clamp down firmly on the man’s hand, the same one that Stalina had lost, and he chewed and chomped until it was completely severed, the man was screaming, he was begging, but there was no one there to hear his pleas only the bear and the bear didn’t care. Ilya ate his hand, ate it right in view of the man, as surely one that trained bears, should know, that whatever a Polar bear could kill, they would eat. Mind games, as he truly had no intention of eating the man, merely making him believe he would, so that he would die, thinking his remains would end up being dissolved in a bears stomach acid.
When he’d actually eaten the hand, he ripped his other arm from his torso, and changed back into a human form.
“I’ll leave you now to die comrade.”
Ilya said no more, and began to dress, slowly casually, while smiling, knowing that the man responsible for his sister’s plight was dying due to blood loss as he did so. Now was time however, time to go to that disgusting box he had kept his beautiful sister in, now it was time to set her free, to attempt to show her, that her life no longer needed to be this way. The lid to her box was fully opened and he gazed down at her with large soft gentle eyes, that only shone with love, “you do not remember me Stalina Vadimovna Petrov, but you will, you will.” He was strong enough and able enough to haul her out of the cage in her bear form, but he hoped upon hope as he gently pulled her from her captivity that she would change forms, so he could more easily smuggle her out.
Stalina looked at her brother, and as he lifted her from her dark prison that she had known for the past four years of the five of her existence in the troupe, she licked the man that saved her, for, for now all he would think of, was him being her savior. The brother part would not come until another few days when the alcohol was completely out of her system, she was completely of all her senses, then she would know that the savior that saved her that day was the brother that had disappeared so long ago into the distance, and she would be proud of him, of what he had become. She would only know some of what he had gone through, but he would know all of what happened to her over the years.
She looked up into those dark eyes and somewhere in the bears mind some sort of recollection of those eyes being familiar came to her, but at the moment it wouldn't be clear now. Whether or not they still had their twin bond even though she didn't know him to really be her brother at this point like magic when he thought of her changing she did so, it had been so long since she had done so that it hurt her bones crunching on each other, fur changing and becoming soft silky skin, a skinny bear form changing into a bony human form.
She clung around his neck with hurt unhurt hand and whispered out weakly in russian to him, "Thank you, my savior." Then she passed out from the pain of changing into her human form and combination of the beating that she had got only a few moments ago.
He kissed her forehead gently, she would not know, she was no longer aware, how he hated what they had done to her, how he wished there were more he could hurt, more of them he could make pay. Yet there were nor more living souls in the theatre and even if there were, time was now limited. He placed her down upon the cold floor, knowing it would matter very little too her. He had came equipped, though the clothing he had brought he realized was too large to fit her tiny frame, still it mattered not. For he was going to carry her, still he dressed her tenderly, it was not much, merely enough that he could hide, and not look suspicious as he was doing so, enough that when he left the building with her, none would see another leaving with a bear or a naked woman. As such things would stand out in others minds. A long warm plain wool knit dress was all he had, but it covered her from head to foot, he had nothing to put on her feet, as shoes were expensive, and money was not something you could afford to waste on things that had no use.
Carrying her out into the night, no one really paid any attention, as no one cared. It didn’t pay to care, in this place, it only paid to be mean, to be the one doing the beating before someone else came along to beat you. Poverty was rife, it was the only thing that everyone had in common, but Ilya was doing his best to get out of that particular trap and the only way to do so, was to get yourself involved in organized crime, get yourself so deeply involved that they had to kill you before they let you out. He didn’t care though, he’d never had any kind of moral upbringing that argued with what he did, he’d never had someone to tell him that crime didn’t pay, and if anyone ever tried to tell him such, he would laugh in their faces, for the one and only thing that did pay and did pay well was crime and the more brutal it was, the more sexually orientated it was, the more it paid.
He got his sister to the small apartment he rented and he laid her on the bed, once more the clothing he had dressed her in was removed and he went and fetched a bowl, where the last remains of the warm water he had was placed and slowly and carefully, he washed her, so that when she woke, she would at least feel some comfort that the grime that had coated her body was now removed, and that she was lying on clean fresh linen, even if it were the cheapest kind, and she would be covered in a warm blanket, and there would be fire in the grate.
When she did roust from her unconscious state of being from a moment again a moan escaped her lips as she was aware once again of the bruises that were aching on her body. She looked around her and saw she was in a different place then she had before, and she was under a soft warm blanket, and she felt warm for the first time in a long while. However, it was only a partial comfort to her as now she recalled a tall, handsome, dark eyed man picking her up from her cage, and her calling him her savior. Had that really happened? And now what was going to happen, would he hurt her? Was he really her savior or just another sort of captor?
She became curious and got up from the first soft surface she had laid on in five years, wrapped the blanket around her and padded weakly into the living room, and jumped when she saw and smelled a presence in the room. Her eyes got big as all she saw was the dark hair of the back of the person's head. As now she was more aware, the person in human form smelled like a were though, and that comforted her, as she didn't like humans anymore for their constant mistreatment of her.
In the same weak voice she asked softly from half way into the living room from the bedroom she had left. "WHo... Who... are you my savior, and why rescue a lone weak, crippled snow-bear like myself?" She walked a bit closer, but kept her distance, her stomach growled loudly, and she blushed at the noise, hoping that this stranger had not heard. Then again maybe if he had he would feed her?
He had merely been waiting for her to waken, unfortunately she had done so, when he was no longer sat beside the bed, he’d lain her in. His head turned, and his eyes shone brightly as they met hers. “Maybe my name should wait Stalina,” moved swiftly to give her support, assuming her legs would be too weak to hold her up right for all too long “Come take my chair and I will tell you more, but first, Stalina Vadimovna I think you need to eat.” Food was yet again something that cost vast amounts of money, though it was easy enough to steal if you knew where to go. He didn’t have much but there was a watery beef stew already warmed, and waiting for her to eat. He had intended to bring it into the bedroom to her, already dished up and sitting on a tray. The room was pretty barren, just one past its days of glory old armchair, a small wood burning cooker, and another fire, the apartment only had three rooms, this one, the bedroom and a small disgusting bathroom, but it was far superior to a lot of other places and cost far more in rent than anyone living else where on the planet would willingly pay for such.
He led her softly to the chair, and there beneath it were large moth eaten looking slippers, he pulled them out and gently slipped them onto her feet, they were too large, and they were only the second pair of shoe like belongings he possessed but it would stop her feet from becoming injured on the rough bare wooden floors.
Getting back up, he went and dished out some of the stew, he only owned one dish, and they would have to share it until he got another, but he was not interested in feeding himself, he wanted to see that she could eat, that the moment something passed her mouth she would not vomit and be violently ill. Of course what he was feeding her was little more than coloured water with a few bits and pieces added bones had been used to give it the beef like quality and a few of them may or may not have had meagre amounts of meat upon them, so hopefully it would not cause her shrunken stomach too much damage. After he had dished up the food, he still placed it on the small tray, a thing of luxury, but he had planned on taking care of her, so it had been important to him to own such. Bringing it to her, he placed it lightly over the arms of the chair, before he squat himself down beside it.
“My name is Ilya Vadimovich,” he said lightly, he gave his real name, for he was sure as of yet it would mean little to her, “and I intend to nurse you back to health, to make sure no other ever mistreats you, so eat the broth and then talk if you feel you have the strength.”
Her eyes almost glazed with excitement at what he called a mere watery stew with little of no substance looked to her like the biggest ham dinner with the trimmings. She ate like she hadn't in a few months, the food they had given the bears had got worse and worse as food got more expensive in the area. They got the few rotten left overs from their plates, and the left over treats that they sold to the people watching the shows.
She ate too fast, choked a few times, but everything stayed down. They were fed on a regular basis just not a lot, at least not enough to keep a healthy bear looking healthy. As she ate she blinked at him trying to place why his eyes and scent smelled familiar, but she couldn't remember. Her mind was still to fuzzy from all the drink that was surging through her veins and had been constant for the last three years as they liked to keep her unaware knowing what she was, so she wouldn't change and the weaker they had her they better. If left to her own thoughts she had constantly thought of her brother, and wanted to escape so they numbed that with the alcohol that they forced fed her practically as it was the only water source they would give her.
She drank what she couldn't spoon out and then even licked the bowl of whatever was left after that. Light brownish green eyes met his, and he could see the gratefulness, but still the wariness of wondering when he would start to treat her like some freak show, commodity, or something to show off on the stage as really that was all she had known except for the year they had been free.
She cocked her head, and something registered in her clouded mind. "Are we family? You have the same Patrynomic name." She was trying to make since of all this. Why would this were take care of her? Why would he want to feed her and make sure she was safe? She was useless as she only had one hand, and even in bear form she still really hadn't got used to having the one foot less, she still just hobbled.
Then she realized that he had been saying her name the whole time. "How do you know my name? Do I know you? I am sorry that I do not remember you if I am supposed to. They filled me with poison drink, that was all I was to drink. My mind is always cloudy, they didn't want me to be able to think straight. I think that if my mind clears I will be able to remember more, maybe."
He nodded his head lightly at her words, but felt it unwise to tell her exactly who he was, yes his heart ached for him to do so, but he believed she had been through enough for him to just blurt out he was her brother. Time, it would take time, and he would rather he knew that she would be happy to find out he still lived, than to tell her only for her to wish he had died. Yes he felt guilt, he knew that both their plights had been his fault, yet he was young and he was less than aware of what following one’s nose could do. Now he was different, now he followed nothing. He cared for nothing and he wanted only to free his sister, and now he had, well he merely wanted to see her strong, and when that was accomplished he would want something different. “We are family, and I hope that in time your mind will clear and allow you to remember who I am, but it is a long time since we have seen one another.” They were all the family each other had, or all he remembered, there was somewhere before the Moscow state circus, but without Stalina for some many years to talk about such, he’d near on forgotten that part of their life.
“More food?” He asked as he pulled himself up into a standing position, again the brother she remembered was so very small, the eyes hadn’t changed a whole lot, and his scent had merely matured, but other than that, there was not a lot about Ilya that was recognizable. He’d merely been four foot tall, when last they’d seen each other, four foot tall and sickly, his breathing uneven and awkward as his lungs had not formed fully, his skin pale and to the point of being near on translucent at times due to the way he breathed. Now Ilya was strong, he still had breathing problems, but he stole asthma pumps which aided whatever illness it was that struck him. You couldn’t notice though, and he would not for a good long time feel comfortable enough to show this weakness in front of even his beloved sister.
“Memories of you have always been with me,” he said softly as he lifted the tray, waiting to find out if she wanted more, “remember that as you heal, not one day passed that I did not think of you, and wish to be with you.”
She nodded slowly in response to his questions and what he said, her eyes still blinking slowly at him. Her mind still having a hard time wrapping around why he would seemingly be nice to her. However she still was not sure a beating, or some sort of performing wasn't in her future, maybe this man had stolen her from her previous place and just liked there performers better looking? She shook her head. Her head was so cloudy. She just wanted a clear thought.
When he came back into the room with the new dish of food, he would see that it was his turn to eat possibly, as she had fallen fast in sleep in the old but very soft and comfortable chair to her from what she was used to.
Ilya, didn’t eat. He went and poured the food back into the pan as it would last for a few more days. He could steal something when he had to go out, but Stalina would for the next few days, or however long she required be stuck in there. He would need to get her more clothing, and he had a destination in mind to steal her a nice warm winter coat, and hopefully shoes, but again shoes were rare and in much demand. You could get enough to eat for a week, if you managed to find a good pair of shoes. It was such a strange notion really, for any that lived elsewhere to comprehend. Shoes were more valuable than a great many other things, no body owned more than one pair, only the rich people and they were few. Those were the ones you stole from, because if you stole too much from those in the same plight as you yourself were in, then you were likely to become a target and end up with your throat slit, which seemed to be a common way of killing folk.
He didn’t leave her in the chair though, and as soon as he’d finished replacing the stew into the pot, he gathered her up once more and laid her softly on the bed, this time, he made sure to get another blanket, but to leave the dress in view so she could dress herself if she so wished. For a good long while he sat beside the bed, watched her in her uneasy sleep and hummed the tune of a lullaby that she herself, had used to hum continually to him. It was a soft lilting tune, and it held many memories for him, it was probably the only tune he actually knew and knew well enough to hum anyway, he could no longer remember the words, and he could not remember if she had ever actually sang any, but the tune, that remained.
All he could wish for, was that he was as able of taking care of her, as she had been of him, and with that notion in his head, it was not much longer till he dozed off into a light sleep, his body on the floor, his head rested lightly against the same pillow as Stalina’s lay.