Stalker | ThirdUnion

4: Bitter

Soviet puffed out some smoke from his cigar, watching the other man. He breathed deeply. Anger running through his veins.

He was pissed.

All he wanted to do was watch his loved one. He had already seen him at work today, sure, even if the other hadn't seen him, he was still watching. And now he had followed him to this old bar. Watching every person that even glanced at his dear.

And now his rage was at its peak.

How dare this degenerate even cross paths with his beloved. How dare he. How dare he even have the guts to make his love listen to his disgusting voice.

Soviet stood up, he had had enough of this. His dear was already gone. But that was fine, he would check up on him as soon as he was finished.

Soviet stomped over to the other man. Who had banged his fist onto the table a couple of times. Mad that Reich had ignored him, but the Russian had a much greater anger than him.

The man noticed the Russian's power walk to him. The much taller man's wrathful glare made the smaller guy flinch a bit but he stood his ground.

"What do you want you red guy?" He spat.

Soviet glared at him even more, if that was even possible. But he had to play it cool if he wanted to get what he wanted. "What where you doing messing with these guy?"

"Why would that ever concern you!? Get out of my face you Elmo lookin-" the man was pushed back by Soviet. He wasn't getting away easily, especially if Soviet had a say in it.

The guy glared at him. "The hell? Get out of my way you freak. Unless you wanna take this outside you beggar!" The man pointed a finger at the Russian face.

Soviet stared at the finger, then at him. He struggled not to punch the guy in the face right there. "Fine. Let's take this outside."

-----

Soviet pulled a bottle out from the back of his truck. Shaking it around a bit before popping the lid and taking a drink. He loved his vodka almost as much as he loved his Reich.

Once he finished his sip. His eyes landed on the man in front of him. His arms tied to two separate trees, beaten and bleeding and on his knees. Soviet laughed quietly, it was more than easy for the Russian to do this. And it made him even more happy that he was doing it all for his sweet Reich.

He eyed his already half empty bottle and then eyed the man. He walked over to him and dumped the rest of the vodka on him. The guy shook from the cold liquid, almost as cold as the snow on the ground.

He spat some blood, and glared up at the Russian. "You gunna kill me or what." He coughed. Soviet laughed again. Pouring a second bottle over him.

The man growled at him. Soviet put the bottles back in his truck and walked back to the man. Squatting in front of him. It was all quiet besides the noises of the forest around them. Soviet smiled.

"Do you know why your here?.."

The man looked at him and tilted his head in pain as he glared. Soviet tilted his head as well, mocking the man in front of him.

"It is because you decided to talk to something that is mine."

Soviet reached into his wallet, pulling out an old photo. He showed the man the photo, who was only able to see it thanks to the truck's head lights.

A young man was in the photo. His skin was a rosy red with a white circle in the middle. Some strange black X was sitting in the circle. He was smiling a great smile, full of razor sharp teeth. His big beautiful blue eyes and high cheekbones were very noticeable. His skin looked soft to touch and smooth. His hair was white and longer than it was now. He had red hair now, and Soviet loved ever bit of it. The Russian smiled just having the photo out. Just thinking of that small German.

"L-listen man- if I knew he was with you or somethin' then I would of never gone near him.." Soviet glared at the man, he had interrupted his daydreaming of the Reich. "I swear-r dude. I-I didn't mean no' harm, I-"

Soviet shushed him, putting his gloved finger to the man's lips. "It's too late for that now." He whispered.

The Russian stood up, opened his passenger door and grabbed a cloth. The man tried to speak again, but Soviet got behind him and tied the fabric around his mouth. Once Soviet was sure it was tight enough so the man couldn't speak, he walked back in front of him.

The Russian gave him one last smile, and pulled out a packed of matches. He lit one, and stared into the scared man's eye. Soviet waved goodbye to him and dropped the match.