Winter was not a pleasant time to walk in the streets of Sulschek. In fact, there was never a pleasant time to be walking in the streets of Sulschek, according to the CEO. Countless laws had been put in place restricting even the noble citizens from using unnecessary movement. Movement causes discovery. Discovery causes ideas. Ideas cause revolutions. The capital of the world didn’t get its reputation by letting people think whatever they wanted, after all.

But this did not stop Vasily Weitztov. He made his way hurriedly but silently through the red ruins of Old Moscow to the Inner City of Sulschek. At least, that’s where he thought he was heading. He couldn’t be certain, but the man he was following was wearing an almost flawless black suit. Nobody wore suits in Old Moscow. Nobody.

On an ordinary day, the suit in question would have been flawless. If you worked in the city, or if you worked at all for that matter, you were flawless. But this man’s suit was not flawless. It was torn, wrinkled, and stained, all because of a slight mistake in his actions. A great mistake, thought Vasily, a great one indeed.

Vasily, like everyone else in the world, only knew a life of poverty and darkness. But at least everyone else had friends. Vasily’s mother forced him into secretly studying Government and Politics of Modern Society, and no one wants to be friends with a businessman. Businessmen, after all, were the reason for poverty and darkness. Vasily suffered through life much more than anyone else on the planet. And that’s saying something.

Vasily’s father never wanted a wife, a child, or a family. He only did what he needed to do in order to survive. Vasily never knew who his father was, but his Mother, the gracious Guianna Weitztov, always knew. “Just like your Papa,” she would say, all too often. Vasily never understood why he was praised for being like his father. His father had ruined their lives. What was there to be grateful for?

And now Guianna was dead. She was the reason for Vasily’s illegal excursion. Guianna was, literally, Vasily’s life. Without his mother, there was no more life worth living. And so, with nothing more than a makeshift knife in hand, Vasily continued on through the poverty stricken alleyways of Old Moscow.

Whispers filled cold, dry air as the mysterious man walked past. Even louder were the whispers as Vasily passed. The man showed no signs of slowing. He briskly turned the corner and continued in the dark. He continued, that is, until a woman threw an empty bottle at Vasily’s face and screamed, “Traitor!” The alley went silent. There were no whispers, no footsteps; the only sounds heard were the painful shrieks of the wind. Vasily froze to find the nearly infallible man approaching him. His head was bowed, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He raised his right hand and his head at the same time. As he did this, Vasily realized two things about the strange man he had followed. Poised in the man’s right hand was a gun. It was no ordinary gun, though, and Vasily recognized it immediately. It was the infamous Series I Softnose, the most powerful weapon of the age, and there was only one in the world.

But more than anything Vasily saw something odd about the man’s face. It was something beyond his complexion, his features, or his expression. Vasily recognized the man, not as the CEO, not as an assassin, but as someone all too familiar for Vasily to pass by. “He is just like me,” his last thoughts, as his father pulled the trigger for the second time that day.

Needless to say, Vasily never avenged his mother’s death. But at least he was safe with her.

Anonymous