tRoublED WAteRs

The room was quiet, except for the slow hum of the monitors. A map glowed across the table, its green light washing over the massive form of Ivan Stanislav. He stood with his hands behind his back, his reflection fractured in the glass surface creating a dozen versions of the same immovable man.

Across from him, Hessian stood calm and statuesque. Tony Gamble leaned against a steel support beam, no smile on his lips, but the scar carved across his cheek grinned all the same.

Ivan brought his arms behind his back and his uniform stretched, medals glinting in the light. “I want to thank you both,” he said with a measured tone. “What you have accomplished. How you have aided The Red Army. And now this?” Ivan cocked his head slightly. “It does not go unnoticed.”

Hessian nodded once, deliberately, while Gamble adjusted his jacket.

Stanislav rounded the table with one hand behind his back. “Let us make something clear,” he continued. “This place, what we will build here, will not just be base of operations.” Ivan straightened his back. “It will be symbol.” He looked from Hessian to Gamble. “Statement.”

The lights flickered once, and somewhere beyond the walls a low groan of steel echoed through the floors. None of the trio reacted, though the sound lingered in the air.

Ivan looked beyond the two Bandits-Turned-Red towards a bulkhead door. “Now then,” he said, voice low, “Why don’t you give me a tour before we discuss trios match, eh?”

He turned, with the others falling in step behind him. When Ivan threw open the heavy door, the sound of the sea rushed in and the reveal unfurled before them.

The deck of the USS Octane stretched wide under the gray Arkhangelsk daylight, gulls circling in the salty air. Red Army and Soviet banners fluttered from the mast. Technicians and soldiers in brown and crimson uniforms moved in tight order. Kenny Freeman carried cargo while Randall Schwartz spotted him. Bryan Dawkins stood with his son, Nico, and turned just in time to see Kenny drop the box on Randall’s foot.

For a moment, even the sea seemed to pause at the spectacle.

Ivan strode the deck, the wind catching his coat. His stony eyes noted the absences. Arina was aboard but had made herself scarce. And Speedy, the heart of this family, the man who carried the sun with him from Havana, lay in a hospital bed half a world away. The clouds seemed to know it. The family felt incomplete.

He narrowed his eyes. Rose was missing.

Near the doorway, Alexei adjusted his hat. Ivan pressed his hand to the metal railing, his voice a low echo. “Comrades, behold the SFS Svet Fanyi. May she dance across the sea.”

Even Tony Gamble fell silent.

Ivan drew a slow breath. “Why not you show me my ship?”

Before anyone could answer, a sharp voice cut through the sea breeze.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Rose emerged from the stairwell, eyes blazing. She marched straight up to Ivan, grabbed a fistful of his coat, and yanked him back into the War Room.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Alexei, Hessian, and Gamble in a long, uneasy silence.

Gamble broke it first with a low whistle. “So,” he said, glancing at Hessian. “Think that's going to be quick?”

Alexei adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. The bulkhead door did little to mask the raised voices in the War Room. “Why don’t we… just start the tour and Ivan can catch up…”

With that he clasped his hands behind his back, straightened up and marched off. Hessian furrowed his brow while Tony tilted his head, both in confusion.

“Shouldn’t…he be following us?” he asked, to which his partner shrugged.

“You’d think-”

“I am not unfamiliar with layout of aircraft carrier,” Alexei called back, interrupting Hessian. “I only require details of how the таракан Jiles misused its valuable space. Come along now.”

Hessian clapped his hands against his sides. “Well, there’s your answer.”

A half grin crept up the side of Gamble’s face. “Let's give him what he wants,” he replied, nudging Hessian and nodding after Alexei. The giant’s eyes wandered for a moment before he caught his partner’s meaning and reciprocated a gleeful nod. Together they took off after Alexei as he headed for the stairs.

“Shouldn’t we start at the Bridge?” Hessian asked over the thud of footfalls on the metal steps as they descended.

“Why? What business did разношерстная группа борцов have in superstructure?” Alexei replied.

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Hessian grumbled, referencing Alexei’s Russian.

Ruslan snapped back. “That’s the point!”

“Coral knew how to drive the boat,” Tony chimed in. “But we had a skeleton crew on site to manage things. Had a couple strat sessions up there when we wanted to enjoy the view, but that's about it. Except, well, maybe that Cancer and Vickie spent a bunch of time up there…I don’t think either of them knew how to work the controls though.”

Alexei reached the next landing and slowed to a stop in front of a sturdy-looking door.

“What would Vickie and Jiles be doing there if they did not know how to work controls?”

Alexei stared at the Former Bandits.

The Former Bandits stared back.

Ha!

Ruslan turned away and shuddered. Tony breezed past to find him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut.

“You alright there, comrade?” He asked with a wry smile.

Alexei waved Tony off while he purged a cursed image from his mind, then reached into his trenchcoat and produced a two-way radio.

“Уборщики, пожалуйста, явитесь. Мост требует полной дезинфекции и отбеливания. Приём.”

The radio emitted a burst of static followed by the immediate reply of “Понял, сэр.”

The Bandits, clearly unaware of what was said, stared expectantly.

“Hazmat team,” Ruslan replied. “With flamethrowers.”

With a sigh, Hessian lumbered past him while Tony rapped his knuckles against the door.

“Hangar Deck. I don’t think any of us ever stepped foot in there,” he said before following his partner down the next flight.

“A small mercy,” Alexei muttered back.

“I’m sure you’ll make better use of it,” Tony continued.

“We stayed below decks for the most part,” Hessian added.

The Grin snickered and said, “So did Cancer.”

The Bandits carried on down the stairs, chuckling away. Alexei lingered, eyes narrowing as he raised the radio to his lips.

He spoke a single sentence in Russian. A request that sounded less like a report and more like a plea for survival.

The War Room door slammed hard enough to rattle the steel bulkhead.

Rose stalked across the floor, boots striking metal, the sound ringing through the confined space. Ivan barely moved. He stood near the operations table, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back, a granite monolith under the cold fluorescent light.

“Why did you make Arina do that?” Rose’s voice cracked against the walls. “That’s not her role; she’s not like Alexei or you or me. Why?”

Ivan’s brow knit, but his tone stayed level. “She needed to learn. If she broke then, she would have broken when I wasn’t there.”

Rose shoved a finger into his chest. “She was breaking in front of you! Could you not see that?”

“Revolutions push us all to breaking point,” he said. “We are forged through fire. Jared tried to kill me. Should I have shown mercy? Should she?”

Rose paced away like a caged tigress, and then back again, her breathing ragged. “This is not about Jared! You could have handled him yourself. You didn’t need her. Hell, I would have done it! I’ve done everything else you asked for.” Rose shook her head, beside herself. “You broke her.”

Finally, his temper began to surface. “I have Lindsay Troy breathing down my neck, Vae Victis yapping at my heels, rings exploding beneath my feet. Every day they test me, Rose. Every damned day. And they will do the same to her if she is not ready.”

“Don’t you dare turn this into a lesson.” She stepped close, so near that her head barely reached his chest. “She trusts you, and you abused that. No one is going after her. Now you’ve put a target on her back.”

He leaned down slightly, his shadow covering her. “How many have you maimed without hesitation? Why is this different?”

Her words exploded louder than any derelict ordnance on the Octane. “I signed up for this! She’s not you!” The words lanced through him, and for a second, there was only the low thrum of the engine beneath them. Rose realized how close she was, inches from his face, staring into eyes that didn’t flinch. “And you stand here, defending yourself.”

Ivan straightened, the movement forcing her to step back. “You are overreacting, Rose. You take this too personally.”

“Too personally?” she laughed once, sharp and exhausted. “You think this is about me?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you have forgotten what it means to serve something greater.”

Her fists clenched. She wanted to shake him, strike him. Anything to make him understand. Instead, she bit the side of her cheek until she tasted copper. The room felt smaller with every heartbeat.

“You will see in time. Pain is how we grow.”

“If that’s how you think, it’s a good thing you didn’t have children.”

The silence between them felt heavier than shouting. The ship groaned beneath them, metal expanding and contracting in the sea’s slow rhythm. Then the radio on Ivan’s hip crackled to life.

A burst of Russian crackled through the speakers. Alexei. Something about replacing furniture.

Ivan didn’t look away from Rose. He unclipped the radio and pressed the button.

“Approved.”

The static cut. Rose's chest lifted and fell fast.

Neither of them moved.

“The common room,” Hessian said, opening a door and gesturing inside. “This is where we strategized, watched tape, and what-have-you.”

A crinkling sound accompanied the head that peeked in under the giant’s arm. Hessian stifled a laugh as Alexei entered the room, now fully clad in a paper suit with the hood cinched tight around his head. His face was entirely obscured by an N95 mask and thick safety goggles. Rubber boots and nitrile gloves completed the ensemble.

“It will serve us well,” he said, his words muffled by the mask. “After we make a few changes.”

The space looked the most lived-in that Alexei had seen so far. Aside from occasional furniture strewn with leftover personal effects, the room was dominated by two large pushed-together L-shaped fabric settees. Each cushion featured a slight depression where a Bandit had been seated, except for two that were completely concave. Alexei guessed those spots had been frequented by Hessian and Bobby Dean, especially given the dusting of crumbs under the worse-for-wear of one of them.

A large, glass coffee table sat in front of the settees, peppered with detritus and marred with various stains from coffee cup rings to quadrangular grease marks left by takeaway and fast food containers. Beyond that, mounted on the near wall, a 65” TV. Alexei regarded it all with repulsion, then produced a newly acquired blacklight torch and scanned the full area. Just to be sure.

“All of it must go,” he said eventually. “Such decadence will not be tolerated. It is no wonder you eGG Bandits accomplished so little!”

“You mean the eGG Bandits who won the Manhunt match at Culture Shock? Swept the board at ReVival 61? Claimed more main events than anyone else? Produced a Universal title run that few will ever replicate? Those eGG Bandits?”

The paper suit crinkled ominously as Alexei slowly turned around, his indignation evident, to find Tony Gamble shooting him a judgmental look.

“So too this must go,” Alexei waved the torch in a slow circle that encompassed both Bandits. “This illusion that you achieved success as a group. You boast of teamwork, but all we ever heard was names of Coral Avalon and Cancer Jiles. What have you achieved? You were a means to their end!”

He pointed first at Tony, whose face soured, then at Hessian, whose shoulders sagged. Neither answered, and behind the N95 mask Alexei smiled.

You cannot even bring yourselves to say you’re champions,” he went on, pacing before them. “Because you know you earned those titles the communist way! If not for the grace of the Red Army, you’d still be empty-handed.”

Tony drew breath to reply, but Alexei raised a gloved finger.

“And yet,” he said, voice swelling, “Starshy Praporshchik Stanislav allowed you in. Let the benevolence of the Russian Bear never be questioned! Were it up to me, you’d still be sealed in that dumpster and buried under concrete. But, that is where Ivan and I differ. Troyism spreads, and we need every soldier to fight the disease.”

Tony glanced over at Hessian, “Does he… stop to breathe?”

Hessian shrugged as Alexei struck the torch against the settee with a satisfying whump!

“Once this ship is clean,” Alexei roared, “once the stench of Jiles is burned away, we begin your rebirth! You will defend the honor of The Red Army, those tag titles, and against all those who stand before you. Starting with trios match against Vae Victis! With Ivan all is possible! No longer in shadow. Now, in glory!”

He raised his arms defiantly, chest heaving, goggles fogging up. The Bandits stared around the room apathetically, until Alexei snapped his head forward, the paper suit crinkling sharply, drawing their attention once more.

“Now,” he said after his breathing had calmed, “any more smart ass remarks?”

Tony felt Hessian's arm on his shoulder before he had a chance to reply, leaving the words caught in the back of his throat like bile as the two shook their heads.

Alexei’s posture softened entirely, the fog clearing from his goggles to reveal gentle eyes. “Then, please, let us continue tour of this fine vessel.”

As he went to leave a figure appeared in the doorway suddenly, startling him.

“Bruh…” Bryan Dawkins exclaimed, staring into the room with relief before pushing past the trio and flopping down onto the settees. Sighing with exhaustion, he said, “Finally, a seat that’s not just cold steel. No wonder Jiles was so wound up all the time, there’s nowhere on this boat for a guy to take a load off.”

A peculiar hiss escaped beneath Alexei’s mask. He turned sharply, snatched up his radio, and barked a few frantic words in Russian.

Judging by his tone, the Bolshevik Bleach Battalion was being mobilized.

The argument had never really stopped; it had only gone quiet long enough for their footsteps to echo beyond the door. Rose stood by the rounded window, looking out at the gray sea. In the background, Ivan faced her from across the table. Their reflections hovered in the glass; looming as large as one another despite their physical size difference.

“She’s not like us, Ivan,” she said. Her voice was lower now, colder, the kind that cut without rising. “This is going to haunt her, not make her thank you.”

“I took a life when I was younger than her, Rose.” Ivan resumed his soldier’s posture. “She will understand one day.”

“You taking a life was your choice. With Jared, you took that choice from her. What makes you so certain she will understand one day? Because she came to me afterward.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She turned away, too late to take them back. “She was catatonic.”

The statements hit home, and Ivan blinked as his armor wavered. “You have become quite protective of Arina Rakhila lately…”

She hit back from across the room. “Someone has to be.”

He took a slow step toward her. “I did not realize you two had become such… friends.”

Rose laughed under her breath, humorless. “You forced us together, nature happened.”

Ivan studied her face. “You carry much weight, Rose. The death of your husband. Your child. The world makes heavy demands.” His tone, surprisingly, softened. But you are strong woman. Sometimes too strong. Strength hides pain.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Spare me.”

He paused, considering her as though solving an equation. Then his expression changed, certainty dawning where confusion had been. His words were a sledgehammer.

“I know what you are hiding from me.”

Rose froze. Her pulse slammed in her throat. That fucker, Alexei.

Ivan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know what is going on.”

“You do?” She tried to let her voice sound confident and strong.

“Yes,” he said, nodding almost gently. “You are alone.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “...What?”

“You are widow,” he continued, tone soft, almost paternal. “Single mother. You carry burden by yourself. No husband to share it. Loss of father. You work, you fight, you protect. And when you saw Arina forced into violence, it reminded you of your own struggle. Your loss.” He gestured vaguely. “This is why you are so protective. It is natural.”

The words hit her like water from the sea.

“That’s what you think this is about?”

“It is plain as day.”

Rose gave a sound that was neither laugh nor sob. A beat of silence hung between them, thick and suffocating. “Oh, to be you.”

“There is no shame in it,” he said. “You have been through much. You see Arina and perhaps you see your daughter, or yourself. It explains why you…”

“Stop.”

The word came out like a blade. She took a step forward, shaking her head slowly. “You have no idea. No fucking idea.”

“Rose…”

“This has nothing to do with my husband.” Her voice had gone quiet. “Nothing to do with being lonely. It has everything to do with what you did to her. The fact that you stand there and psychoanalyze me instead of seeing that?”

She pointed at him.

“That tells me everything I need to know.”

He stared, baffled. “I am trying to understand.”

“I’ve been explaining, and you still can’t see it!”

He narrowed his eyes slightly as his expression turned stormy. “If you cannot accept what must be done in Red Army, then you can leave.”

She stared at him, and the words fell out of her mouth. “Really?”

“You are free to go,” he said. “But I will not give this opportunity again.”

For half a second, she saw it. The exit. Freedom. Her daughter waiting at home. But as she considered Arina alone, the image dissolved like smoke.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t trust you to do the right thing.”

He nodded with finality. “Very well. But I will administer Arina. Your opinion is irrelevant.”

Her words came out flat and cold. “Next time you want to ‘teach’ her something? Don’t. I was there to help you secure the Universal Title. I did what you asked and made sure Hessian and Gamble won the Tag Titles. Just use me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Rose was already storming out the door. Ivan stood there for a while, listening to the hum of the ship and the faint creak of the sea against the hull.

He had no idea that he had never been more wrong in his life.

Having observed the Galley, gymnasium and sleeping quarters, and scheduled their subsequent fumigation, Alexei pushed further into the bowels of the ship with the Bandits in tow.

“Typical,” he muttered, noting patches of rust, damp, mold, and spiderwebs along their path. “Trust Americans to neglect upkeep of core systems.”

“Settle down,” Gamble sniped, patting the wall, “this old girl crossed the Pacific just fine.”

“It is catastrophe waiting to happen,” Ruslan spat, then noticed a dark corridor. Something about it made his skin crawl upon examination.

“What is that?” He nodded towards a rather large and particularly grimy bulkhead door at the far end, hesitant to investigate further.

A telltale heavy tread echoed behind him then, heralding the arrival, at last, of a grumpy Ivan Stanislav.

“Reactor. Generator. Turbines,” Ivan growled, gesturing to the doors along the passage. Noticing the dark corridor, he unfolded a schematic and adjusted his glasses. “This does not belong.”

Tony smirked. “Hey, look who finally caught up.”

Hessian approached the grimy door without hesitation, but the Russians dared not move. “Well don’t just stand there. You coming?”

Ruslan snatched the map from Ivan. “Impossible. This should not exist.”

“Suit yourself.” Hessian regarded the door curiously. “Be right back, I need to check something.”

He disappeared into the darkness while Ivan grumped. “I keep a tight schedule. Hessian is making our tour start late!”

Tony glanced at the door, then up at Stanislav. “We can start here then, Ivan. That door leads to the Gallows. If the Bandits have a problem with you, usually we take care of it in the ring. But if you really screw up?”

He nodded ominously towards the darkness.

For once, Ivan and Alexei were speechless.