NERVES OF STEEL

CHAPTER 3- RETURNING HOME

Evening was approaching and Diane had started to worry after her father didn't return since that afternoon. Some of her colleagues were already leaving and it was just her standing outside the vicinity with a few others inside. She tried calling him several times but got no response.

"You alright there, Major?"
She turned around to Sergeant Mark's voice.
"Yes. I...I'm waiting for my dad. He seems to be running late."
"Doesn't sound like the Colonel."
"Yes and I'm worried."
"Have you tried calling him?" He asked.
"Several times but he isn't returning any of my calls."
"Let me try." He offered, taking out his phone. He reached out to the Colonel but equally got no response. "Where did he say he was going?"
"The General called for him."
"How about we both go look for him?"
"Yes, yes, immediately." Diane said.
"Get in." Mark said, opening the door to his car for her.

They both drove around for awhile, both looking out the window, hoping to see his car or something before they caught a glimpse of him inside of the bar.

"Dad?" Diane called out as she got in. "Why are you here?" He asked with a frown.
"Dad...what is all this?" She scolded. "It's not like you to get drunk and mom won't like the sound of this any less than I do."
"I'm not drunk, child."
"What did the General say?"
"That I'll never know what it feels like to have a son."
She felt....hurt.
Damn him! She would like to see his face when that trophy son of his dies in battle and never comes back home.

Diane tried to hide the expression on her face but not tonight. Not with being made to realize once again that she was a disappointment to her own father. Even the General thinks so. This was why he didn't bother coming back to the training facility.

"We gotta go." She said, finally finding her voice.

Ignoring her, Warner got to his feet and walked out of the bar. Diane got to her feet, and followed him outside. He had already gotten inside his car and she went in after him. It was going to be one long silent driver. When they got home, a delicious hot meal was waiting on the dining table and a woman welcomed them both at the door. Tanya Alvarin; Warner's wife and Diane's mother.

"How was training today, honey?" She asked, gracing her husband with a kiss.
"Like I always say, it only gets better." He smiled.
"And you, darling?" She asked, turning to her daughter.
"I'm getting better." Replied Diane, absentmindedly.
"What's that, honey? You don't seem okay." Tanya asked, worried.
"I'm..."
"She's fine, dear. Probably just tired." Warner cut in.
"Are you sure?" Tanya asked.
"Sure mom. I need a shower. I'll be down in a sec." Diane said, pecking her mother on the cheeks before disappearing upstairs.
"Did you too have a fight?"
"Why would we? You know girls and their mood swings."
"Where are you heading at, Warner?" She frowned.
He only shrugged. "I think I'll take a shower also. Dinner smells heavenly."
Tanya smiled, flattered. "It tastes better also."
"I'd better not waste anymore time." He said, making his way towards the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The hum of the Jet's engines filled the luxurious cabin as Russo Fedorcenko reclined in his leather seat, his cold yet sharp gaze fixed on the dark skies outside. The soft glow of the private cabin reflected off the sleek surfaces, casting a golden hue over the space.

Yet, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of duty. Outside, the night stretched endlessly but inside, Russo's mind was far from the peaceful quiet of the flight. His thoughts churned with constant burden of command.

He was a Man in his thirties, black hair and icy blue eyes. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black shirt, the top few buttons undone, the Man exuded an effortless authority. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the fork muscles of his forearms. His body was sculpted by years of military discipline and combat. His hand rested casually on the armrest, but there was nothing relaxed about him.

He was mid way through his meeting with the American President when he was informed that his father had ordered that he came back home. His sharp jawline set in concentration and his dark blue eyes, always calculating, hinted at the battles he fought not just in the field but in his mind.

A soft knock at the door of the cabin snapped him from his thoughts. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Enter." Came his low, commanding voice.

The door opened and a middle aged staff officer stepped in cautiously, Russo was a Man that was feared and his subjects dared not look him in the eye unless given permission. The officer was holding a leather-bound folder. His posture was stiff with nerves but his respect for his Commander was evident.

"Sir, a briefing from your father, the and developments that require your attention.

Russo's eyes flicked to the folder, he sat up, took it without a word and began flipping the pages and scanning the first few pages. His expression remained cold and unreadable but his silence weighed heavy. Trust his Father to get him engaged as soon as possible. He wouldn't even allow him have a safe landing first.

"Anything critical, I should know before reading this?" He asked.
"Yes, Commander."
"Well then, speak." Russo said, not bothering to look up from the file in his hand.
"There has been an escalation in the northern region," the officer explained. "Insurgent activity has spiked. The people are....protesting."
"Be specific, there's no need to hide anything."
"They've started to express their displeasure with your government, sir."
"And what do the people say?"
"Well sir..." The officer trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"Go on."
"They say that you don't treat them well. That you neglect them."
Russo rolled his eyes in disgust. "I give them security. What more do they want?"
"The crime rates hasn't changed much."
"What crime? If I remember correctly, our crime rate has drastically declined to the barest minimum."
"Not kidnapping, Commander."
"What else are they complaining about?"
"Food. The military has taken over most of the land which should have been used for farming."
"And has my Father done anything about this situation?"
"Yes, General Marco has authorized a rapid deployment of Special Forces. He wanted you to be informed as soon as possible, Commander."
Fuck! Russo cussed. His hands fisted on the papers, his jaw tightened, though his face remained steeled and controlled.
"Ofcourse he did." He muttered under his breath.

His father never missed a beat but still, the northern region was his responsibility to manage. Why does his Father always bypass him like a little kid.

"Tell me, Lieutenant," Russo continued, now looking directly at the officer, who kept his eyes down. "Has the unit mobilized?"
"Well..."
"Look At Me!" He barked.
"Forgive me, Commander." The officer apologized as he straightened, nervous but holding his boss's intense gaze. "Yes sir. They're on standby. Ready for immediate action."
"Have they received any further intel?"
"Not yet, sir. We're waiting on confirmation from our reconnaissance teams but the situation is volatile. Your father suggested a swift response to avoid further escalation.
Russo's lips curved into a humorless smile.
"My Father always wants swift action but sometimes, patience wins the battle. Tell them to hold position. No one moves until I say so."
"Understood, sir. I'll relay the message immediately."
"I won't be giving any orders until I land."
"Understood, Commander."
"One more thing."
"Yes, sir?"
"When my Father sends another one of these...," Russo said, tapping the folder with a finger, "....tell him I'll decide when the right time to act is. Not him."
"I'll deliver the message, sir." The officer nodded.
"You may leave."
With a curt salute, the officer left the cabin, the door clicking shut behind him.

Russo stared at the locked door for a few seconds. He put aside the folder and reached out for the glass of whiskey sitting on the table near him. Raising it to his lips, he took a sip and stared outside the window, contemplating. His Father had sent him away to the States five years ago and just months after he became Commander-in-Chief.

Marcov had said it was for the purpose of further intensive training and no doubt, he had been training but Russo couldn't help but feel his Father didn't trust him enough to take over just yet. As he watched the clouds float by in the night skies, he couldn't help but anticipate what would happen throughout his current stay this time.

Life kept....no! His father kept tossing him around and here he was, on his way back to his motherland, back to the great nation; Russia. Reclining back to the leather seat, Russo shut his eyes and let out a sigh. Trying hard to relax the tension in his muscles. Matters about the military always did that to him.

"I'm coming home. Please grant me a safe landing." He muttered, softly.