Red Dead Redemption

I’m going to be honest with you, Rose. Ever since our conversation weeks ago, I’ve been frightened. Even behind the protective borders of my beloved Russia, I find myself looking over my shoulder. I bet you’d be amused. But let me tell you the truth, Rose.

You’re in big trouble.

I’ve been by Ivan’s side for three years and I feel I’ve learned more about that man than most have in a lifetime.

You do yourself a disservice, boiling down a man as great as Ivan to a mere thug. You’re blind to the facts and naïve to the truth: Ivan Stanislav is a man who wants to do what’s right.

And I have seen, through so much archival footage and personal experience, that while Ivan may have learned to speak your language, your kind doesn’t listen.

Don’t fret. Ivan knows a universal language and it translates very well in the wrestling ring.

No, Rose, I cannot fight you. But I know a man who most certainly can.

Before we get to that, however, allow me to tell you the triumphant tale of Ivan’s final march to redemption.

—

Rage boiled Alexei Ruslan’s blood. His voice ricocheted off his office walls while he seethed beside Arina. “Can you believe this bullshit?!” he barked, his fists clenching by his sides.

Despite his outburst, Arina was still trying to get over the fact that Alexei was tan. An outsider might not have noticed, but in Russia he had certainly given up a certain degree of pallor.

She tore her eyes away from his skin and took in the office. It was a mix of nostalgia and modern, with shelves lined with books on Russian history and espionage, natural light streaming in through large windows, and the monitor hanging next to a Soviet flag. One black and white photo caught her eye: a young man in a hat smiling next to an impossibly large man in suspenders.

He paused the footage on a frame that captured an angry-looking Rose, which could have been any frame in the video. With the distraction halted, Ruslan turned his attention to Arina. “This has all gone to shit! Where was Kael?!” He winced with frustration.

Arina stood next to him and swallowed quietly. “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Ruslan.”

Alexei stared at her and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you getting at?”

Her gaze was uncharacteristically intense as she stared into his icy eyes. “I don’t know why Wilhelm wasn’t there.” Ruslan scoffed as she continued. “The Kulikov’s need to be freed. Ivan is unfocused and, I’m afraid, Rose is going to capitalize on that.” She looked sheepish. “I convinced him to wrestle her, and now she might take The Red Army. You need to help us!”

“Why should I help him?” Ruslan chuckled, “I’m the one who put that family behind bars, remember?”

“Because you’re his friend!” Arina snapped. “And… I can’t do it. I can’t possibly sneak a husband and wife out of two separate prisons and flee Russia. It has to be you.”

Alexei reveled in the sense of importance. His eyes bore into her own and, like a spider toying with food, he made her squirm. “I’m sorry, Arina. Be they innocent or not, it is a bridge too far.”

Her heart sank. “Very well. Thank you for your time.”

As she moved to the door, Alexei’s chair creaked ominously as he settled into it. She reached for the doorknob and grasped it, squeezed it, and then tore herself away from the door. She faced him with newfound determination.

She pinned Alexei with a surprisingly steely gaze. She wasn’t leaving this office until Ruslan listened.

—

Ivan Stanislav was a rare visitor to the Museum of Soviet Arcade Machines in Moscow, but when he did come, it was with a sense of nostalgia and longing. He relished the opportunity to indulge in his love for classic video games without the distractions of the outside world.

His bulky frame eclipsed the arcade cabinet, which housed one of his favorite games: Gorodki. The game’s objective was simple yet challenging: throw a whirling baseball bat at objects on the screen. Memories of late nights spent competing with friends in dimly lit bars flooded back to him. He didn’t need the Multiverse to try to travel in time. He had Gorodki, which seamlessly transported him back to carefree days.

“Starshy Praporshchik?” said the female voice from behind him. He turned to face the voice, wincing at unseen injuries courtesy of Rose. The game released a forlorn tone of unaccompanied failure. Arina blushed, “I am sorry, I can give you a kopek…” she dug through her simple purse.

Ivan shook his head, “Do not worry, Arina. But what are you doing here?”

She sucked in her crimson painted lips and failed to hide the blush in her cheeks. “I want to show you something.”

—

He saw it from a mile away. It was only a feeling he would have on December Fifth: An empty room. Clean. No-one to be seen. He bristled, but said nothing as he looked at Arina and waited for the inevitable.

Arina smiled knowingly, “The first one was melancholy, and I feel the second one was far too extravagant, so this one will be simple.” She straightened her blue uniform. “Happy Birthday, Starshy Praporshchik Stanislav.”

Ivan nodded silently. Nobody his age liked birthdays, regardless of the sentiment.

Arina was tenacious, however. “I have two small gifts for you, and no protesting!” She said as she, for once, waggled a finger at the looming Russian Bear. “But first, please, sit.”

He sat on the nearby cafeteria bench, with his back to the table and nothing between them. She fumbled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, red membership card and offered it to him. He held it at arms length in order to read without his glasses.

Arina couldn’t resist. “I have joined the Communist Party!”

Ivan’s smile faded as he stared at the card and narrowed his eyes. “I see…” he murmured, handing the card back.

Her excitement wavered. “I thought you would be happy?”

He studied her eyes, full of innocence and honesty, and chose his words carefully. “Arina, communism is an outdated ideal for… outdated men with nothing left. You are young, smart, and kind-hearted. It… is dangerous.”

She stared at him with a mix of betrayal and sadness, but also frustration. “What is it that you want from me?”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. He quickly stood and towered over her, and yet despite his imposing figure, there was gentleness in his voice. “Arina…”

“I give my all for you, for the cause,” she said with a trembling voice. “But when I take steps forward, you stop me.”

Ivan shook his head. “It is not that I’m unhappy. I… just wish to protect you…”

She thought about her abusive father and how Ivan was everything he wasn’t. How he was strong, controlled, and protective. Ivan had shown that he was capable of love and compassion. She wanted to yell in his face that she wished he was her father, but lacked the courage to tell him.

Instead, she threw the card to the floor. It slipped across the tile and caught under Stanislav’s boot. “Alexei would have been happy.”

The words splattered against Ivan like cold water. “Alexei?” He said, his eyes narrowing.

Every permutation of this moment had Ivan happy and proud of her, not disappointed, and the shock and sadness sent her thoughts flying in random, impulsive directions. “You were right, you know? At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought you were just another old bully, picking on those weaker than you.”

Ivan blinked. Rarely did anyone mouth off like that in his presence and not go into orbit, but Arina was different.

“I wanted to believe that they were right and you were wrong. Sykes, Colton, Rose, even Troy. But they’re all liars. They are all selfish and hateful. I’ve seen it. Forklifts and chairs and baseball bats. You’re not a bully. You’re a deliverer of justice to those who hate you.”

She said everything Ivan preached week in and week out, and yet he frowned.

“And not just you. They hate Russians. They… they hate me…” It hurt. “Smiling faces with dagger teeth. And why? Because we’re different? What have we done to them?”

Ivan spoke softly. “Arina.”

She continued. “I believe they are scared. Of you! Of what you can do to them. Because they deserve it!” She spoke to herself. “I am ashamed that I didn’t listen to you for so long…”

He watched her innocence erode before his eyes and tried to save her. “Lindsay Troy sent you flowers after Marx’s Tomb…”

“False platitudes from hateful, mean people!” she barked through tears and rubbed the horrific scar upon her cheek. “I’m not strong enough to protect you from the wicked. Kenny and Wilhelm have been absent when you needed them most. But he would have been there for you.”

Ivan breathed hard. “I don’t want to talk about Alexei, Arina. I am not ready for that.”

She nearly collapsed and pulled herself together, exhaling with a huff to calm her nerves. Embarrassment enveloped her. “I’m sorry, Ivan, I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

“You have not, Arina,” Ivan said with an understanding smile, “I appreciate your honesty and bravery.” He placed a finger under her chin and compelled her to look into his face. She became lost.

How many nights did she hide from her abusive father in the Stanislav Archive and watch him instead? How many times did she see him stand tall in defiance of all the evils in the world and fight back with strength and vigor? However, heroes don’t emerge unscathed.

She had seen the man endure unimaginable pain over decades of a life. He had been battered, bludgeoned, stabbed, burned, electrocuted, insulted, humiliated, taunted, and desecrated. He had endured it all without faltering and still he had more battles to fight. She wanted to help him.

She needed to help him.

“The release of the Kulikovs will occur next week.” She said softly and felt Ivan’s finger pull away from her. He looked shocked.

“It will?”

She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Yes, Starshy Praporshchik.”

Ivan smiled.

—

How did I come to this point in my heart? Ivan was not perfect, I knew this. Yes, Viktor Timofeyevna set a very low bar. But Ivan doesn’t beat me black and blue or hurl insults my way. I’ll never forget what he did for me after Marx’s Tomb. Hours in a hospital, holding my hand. A voice of comfort in the nightmarish darkness.

I’m learning that he only hurts those who deserve it. And is that a bad thing? Is that a reason to demonize him?

This man was on the verge of releasing three innocent Russians at great personal risk.

I don’t think anyone else in PRIME has done such a thing. I know you haven’t, Rose.

Ivan’s struggle had somehow become my own. But there was more to it.

Selfishly, I wanted Ivan to be proud of me. I wanted to stop being the faceless cog in this great Russian wheel and actually make a difference.

I just want to be special, Rose.

I wanted to be more to Ivan Stanislav, in a way that he had become so much more to me.

Have you ever felt that way?

As Ivan drove towards Stefan’s prison, I watched from the office window with bated breath.

Just a few more steps, Starshy Praporshchik, and you too will be free.

—

Stefan Kulikov inhaled as he breathed fresh air for the first time in over a year. He couldn’t believe that he was a free man! Thanks to Ivan Stanislav, it was now a reality. He stared in awe at his savior as they drove away from the prison towards an unnamed airfield. Stefan was barely recognizable, the once muscular young man was now gaunt and malnourished thanks to the harsh prison conditions.

His thoughts immediately turned to his family. His wife was still imprisoned and his infant son was in an orphanage somewhere. He couldn’t fully enjoy his freedom until all were reunited.

“You’re going to get my wife and son out too, right?” Stefan asked Ivan, his voice filled with hope and desperation.

Ivan’s notoriously bad driving went unnoticed by Stefan as he looked over at the young man, “Of course.” He replied simply.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Stefan felt a wave of relief. There would be a long road ahead of him to begin rebuilding their lives, but for now, just being out of prison and in the care of someone who knew he was innocent lifted his spirits.

Ivan’s Tigr bullied the other cars off the road as he drove. “Your wife will be picked up after you and sent to a separate plane, and the two of you will be reunited in an undisclosed location. Your little one will take more time but we’ll take care of him.” Ivan nodded as he ran a stop sign. “I promise.”

In a desperate attempt to reconnect with the outside world, Stefan tried to talk to the living legend at his side. “Are you still competing?”

Ivan looked over at him for far too long while driving. “Yes, I wrestle a girl named Rose,” he said with disdain while showing him the bruise on his cheek. “Baseball bat. It is always the same.”

Soon enough, they arrived at an empty airfield where a private plane waited. As they exited the truck, Stefan smiled through tears as he gazed up at Stanislav.

“You saved my life,” he said softly and hugged the man who, at one time, had hospitalized him in a match. “Thank you.”

Ivan embraced him and pulled back, squeezing his shoulder. “I will make sure my match is sent to your location, cheer for me!”

Stefan nodded. “I will have my little one send you a picture!”

Ivan beamed and showed his teeth. “Have a safe trip, Stefan.”

Ivan watched the man board the plane and the weight melted from his shoulders.

How had Arina done it?

—

Arina shut the door and faced Alexei. She wouldn’t allow him to hide behind his pride and stubbornness. Suddenly, it all made sense. Ivan’s march to redemption wasn’t just about him.

It was about both men, and Alexei had a role to play and a chance to save himself.

“You told Ivan you would kill 1,000 infants if it meant helping him.” She said forcefully. “Could you save three lives instead?”

It took several moments of painstaking silence, but Arina watched the man in brown relent and nod.

“Yes, Arina Rakhila, I can.”

—

I found it ironic that Ivan’s journey towards redemption relied on Alexei, despite their painful fallout. They both were listless and lost without one another. Alexei held the key to the Kulikovs’ release, but lacked the guilt and empathy to act upon it. Ivan longed to free them but lacked the means to do so alone. Once again, they needed one another.

Together, in their shared pain, they unknowingly worked towards achieving their goal and in doing so, became better men. Ivan, by risking his entire life’s work, and Alexei by using his powers for good.

We were all so close.

—

Stefan’s breath fogged the small window of the plane as he peered out, his eyes scanning the ground below. He spotted Ivan sitting in the Tigr military vehicle. A wave of emotion washed over him and tears welled up in his eyes. In a few hours he’d hold his wife in his arms and eventually hear his son’s heartbeat again.

The glint of metal caught his eye as the wire slipped around his neck, tightening with a cold and merciless grip. As the sharp pain seared through his flesh, he let out a strangled cry, but it was no match for the force of the wire cutting off his air. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony as he struggled against the unseen attacker, desperate for relief from their cruel grasp.

The veins in his eyes bulged and pulsed as a sadistic, hateful voice filled his ear. “No one escapes Mother Russia alive, you piece of shit,” Alexei spat, his words laced with venom. The metal wire, twisted and sharp, dug deeper into Stefan’s flesh, drawing thin lines of blood down his chest.

Frantic and desperate for escape, Stefan’s fists pounded relentlessly against the unyielding window. His vision blurred, but he could see Ivan in the Tigr. Alexei’s mocking laughter filled the air. “Before you meet your end, know that your beloved wife will be next! I will use the same wire!”

He thrashed and hit Ruslan, but his grip didn’t wane. Alexei pushed his knee into the back of Stefan’s seat and pulled with all his might, laughing with glee. “Do not fret! You’ll see her soon in Hell!”

The sharp wire tore viciously through flesh and muscle, the jagged edges sawing through Kulikov’s neck. His eyes widened as blood gushed from the wound, suddenly cascading down his body in a crimson waterfall. His thoughts turned to his doomed wife and child until darkness consumed him.

—

I am so proud of you, Ivan. And Alexei.

Ivan’s eyes tracked the sleek plane as it gracefully lifted off the ground and into the endless blue sky. As it disappeared from sight, the door to the Tigr swung open, breaking his reverie and bringing him back to reality.

You've both proven that you can do the right thing. You defend the weak.

Alexei fell into the seat next to Ivan, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood speckled his thick mustache and a fresh break in his nose caused it to glisten red. In a hurried motion, he wiped away the blood with a shaky, gloved hand, leaving smears across his face before slamming the door shut. His labored breaths filled the space between them.

You let me help save these innocent lives. Thank you, Ivan.

Ivan looked over at Alexei, and his old comrade looked back. They didn’t say a word, but just watched one another.

And thank you, Alexei.

Alexei nodded.

I was finally useful.

Ivan nodded back and started the engine.

—

Arina’s heart raced as she anxiously waited for Ivan to return. Every moment felt like an eternity, her hands tightly clasped together in anticipation. When Ivan finally strode through the door she leapt to her feet.

“How did it go?” She asked, her voice trembling with hope.

Ivan’s distant expression gave her pause, but then a smile slowly spread across his face. “The Kulikovs are free. We did it.” Ivan nodded. “You did it, Arina.”

She blushed as her heart swelled with pride, but was surprised Ivan walked past her, towards the door. She turned and called after him.

“How do you feel?” She asked.

Ivan faltered at the door and turned to face her.

His gaze fell upon her innocent eyes, and he found himself drowning in their depths. He became lost in them, mesmerized by their purity while the seconds ticked by unnoticed. She spoke, but he was deaf. She repeated herself.

“Redemption, Starshy Praporshchik?” She asked expectantly. “How does it feel?”

He failed to escape her beautiful eyes and then, with great exertion, he smiled. “Good.” He nodded more. “It feels good.”

She didn’t see him produce it, but as she looked down he was offering her the Party membership card she had dropped the other day. She gripped the card and pulled and, for a moment, he held fast before releasing.

His heart broke, reformed, and hardened.

“Welcome to the Party. Comrade Timofeyevna.”

—

There was something special about Ivan handing the card back to me. I think he was trying to tell me that I belong. That because I helped to free the Kulikovs, that maybe, just maybe, we share something so much greater than before.

A new sense of purpose has ignited within me, fueled by the knowledge that I played a part in something greater than myself. I feel a rush of excitement, knowing that I am capable of so much more. Does this make sense, Rose?

It scares me, but I think I’m going to relish the thought of your inevitable defeat at Ivan’s hands. He’ll put you in your place and destroy KING in the process. You are nothing in the shadow of such a powerful and compassionate man.

Maybe when you’re in The Red Army and you see the true Ivan Stanislav, you too will wish your own father had been more like him?

Ivan’s redemption was over. An innocent family was freed. I can sleep knowing the world was a better place.

I hope to deliver him a crimson Rose for his bravery.