Paper Airplanes

Chapter 1

Ivan tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his captain to bring him the American. He placed his head in his hands lost in thought. He had already eaten his meal of hot beef stew with assorted vegetables and bread with real butter. He was hoping to eat in front of the American to remind him how life for him would be from now on. The clock that was propped up against a wood wedged clicked and turned slowly as if it was mocking Ivan. How long has it been now? Twenty minutes? An hour? Ivan's cold, violet eye glanced up at the clock. It had been an hour and a half since the captain informed Ivan about their unexpected guest. Thoughts rushed through Ivan's head like a hurricane hitting the shore. He expected the worst. The American must of escaped. Ivan sighed slowly sitting up and drinking the rest of his water. Condensation stuck to the outside of the glass and ran down the sides cooling Ivan's hands. He would find the American if it was the last thing he did.

Just as Ivan was about to leave the tiny, clean kempt tent, a couple of soldiers dragged in a fighting American. Even though he was handcuffed and almost completely immobile, the fighter pilot screamed and yelled kicking against his captors. It almost made Ivan laugh. This American was so pathetic. There was no way he would escape; there were five of them and only one of him. The captain came in behind them and kicked the back of the pilot's knees making him fall onto the ground. The American groaned and glared at the captain. The captain smirked and lifted his chin taking off the American's glasses.

"Let me go, asshole! And, give those back! You have no right! You're lucky I don-" He was interrupted by a firm slap to the face. The American's head whipped to the left. Ivan hummed and raised an eyebrow. Usually, when soldiers were unruly, they were slapped as a warning to back down, submit as quickly as possible. Except, this one didn't. He continued to glare at the captain with even more fire and hatred than he had before. The captain roughly grabbed his chin and brought it closer to his face.

"I don't think I heard you right, American." He taunted with a teasing tone in his voice. Americans were supposed to be proud, strong. They weren't supposed to submit to anyone, especially the Russians. To the captain, the slap put Alfred in his place. He was no longer an American, he wasn't even human. To them, the pilot was a prisoner, a savage animal that needed training. The American was now a common stray dog that searched the streets of St.Petersburg for scraps of meat, and he just got caught by animal control. "Say it one more time for me?" He purred coaxing him by running a finger down his jawline.

The American looked towards the floor and didn't speak. The captain smiled pleased.

"That's what I thought." He glanced up towards his astounded men and smirked. "See even the most undisciplined dog can be tr-" A glob of blood was shot into his eyes and he groaned in pain falling backward. He rubbed the contents out of his eyes with his uniform sleeve. The American began to laugh. A small trail of blood was running down his chin and dripped onto the dirt below. It was clear to everyone that he spit in his eyes while he was distracted.

"I said, fuck off and give me back my glasses." The American spat out resulting in a swift kick to the stomach. The Russian captain growled and grabbed him by his hair pulling him up into the air. The pilot hid the pain in his eyes with a hardened glare and a numb look. Ivan was surprised. This clearly wasn't the first time the American was a POW. He knew by the numb look; that look was the look of someone who had survived prison camps before. It was a survival mechanism for humans that were treated like animals. If they went numb, the superior officers had nothing to gain, but they also had nothing to lose. The commander sat down and leaned forward getting a better view. If this American wasn't broken yet, he would feel honored to be the one to finally do it.

"Wait until Commander Braginski gets his hands on you! He'll make you pay for what you did, fucking capitalist pig!" The captain yelled raising his fist to the American.

Ivan raised his hand and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. The commander had a lazy smile on his face, lost in the deepest darkest crevices of his own mind that no one had dared to see. Ivan enjoyed this place where wonder and mischief ran amuck. There were no rules, no regulation, just the preciously innocent dark ideas Ivan wished were reality. For now, the American seemed to be the subject matter of the night. Even so, everyone waited for Ivan to collect his thoughts. The only sound that could be heard in the tiny tent was the sound of the American breathing. Everyone else held their breath and waited. Ivan stood up towering over everyone by at least a foot.

"I believe your orders were to bring the American to me, Captain."

The captain nodded, "And we did sir."

Ivan smiled stepping forward forcing the Captain to take a step back. "You did well." He closed his eyes and hummed for a moment. "But, did I command you hurt him?"