Collaboration with @silmarilz1701
Svetlana knew how to play the game. She'd been caught in the political drama of Stalin's inner circle since birth. The only child of one of Stalin's closest friends, she grew up in the limelight, scrutinized by frie...
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The air split at the sound of the bullet. Still silence, broken by a sharp, visceral bang as the Mosin-Nagant recoiled. Sveta took a deep breath, lungs heaving against the dirt as she recovered. It had been months since she'd done this sort of practice, lying in the grass like a snake.
She needed the breather. The Americans had started their training for redeployment, and Sveta knew she would need to be ready. For what, she still didn't know. Some tiny part of her thought maybe, maybe she could try with Sink one more time.
The Americans claimed to be better than Stalin, more reasonable, more free. Surely if any nation could help her escape, it was the land of the American Dream. Even now they prepared to bring freedom to the world in the Pacific.
Or so they said. Sveta found herself skeptical. But as she readied her rifle at the targets nearly 500 meters away, she just hissed out a breath. They were her last hope.
She braced her body. Another crack split the air. Then two more, the shiny shell casings rolling out of her rifle and onto the dirt. Grass tickled her cheeks as she set the rifle down for a moment, letting the wind cool her off in the summer Austrian air. Out here it felt almost peaceful.
But she couldn't have peace. Not right now. Not while the spy lurked somewhere and the threat of returning to Russia hung over her head. Her terror had cooled, leaving behind a bitter anger. She didn't direct it at anyone in particular, though Nixon's words came to mind every so often and she sometimes imagined him at the other end of her rifle barrel. Another crack split the air.
As the sound lingered, Sveta rolled over and sat up. Bits of grass stuck to her uniform. She stood and brushed them off. She had work to do, a few documents to sign for Sink and the war correspondent Sophie Connors had asked for another interview. The blonde was really beginning to get on her nerves, but Sink liked her to participate. She just hoped she could get out of it, as the sun had already started to go down.
By the time Sveta's jeep rolled in from the shooting range to the buildings occupied as Headquarters, the sun had disappeared. Deep blues speckled by pale stars shone above her, a moon giving her just enough light as she dropped off her vehicle. First the papers, then find some food.
Her heavy boots pounded against the hotel stairs. Two flights up, past a handful of nervous replacements, and she found her room, dark and lonely. Sveta placed her Mosin-Nagant down on the dresser before the mirror, deciding to clean it later. For now she had other business to attend to.
It didn't take long to read through the paperwork. With the balcony door open, Sveta just relished in the low lights and clean air. Clouds had covered the sky by the time she finished, and she closed the windows hoping rain would hold off until she'd gotten the paperwork handed in.
Side arm at her hip and face cleaned up, Sveta set off to deliver it. She slipped it into his inbox on the first floor conference room. Apparently he'd gone to bed. Otherwise Sink had thrown another party. Sveta figure she'd have heard about that though; she had to attend all of them, mingling with Americans, French, and the occasional Soviets alike. Soviet officers treated her with respect, at least. Better than Soviet enlisted had.
