#taxi service near Crick

[jojotier]

Strings for Prisoners

(Svetlana character study fic ahead)

Prison life at the most brutal institution in Russia was… dull. It was a realization that Svetlana regarded with a great deal of disappointment, using one hand to pin her wildly flying braid up. One would think that life after holding one’s equally boring tax collector of a husband at gunpoint and committing a few counts of grand larceny would land her someplace that didn’t want to make her pluck her eyes out and gently lay them in the drift ice, and yet...

It was the same monotonous routine, day in and day out. They awoke, they ate, they were scolded for things that Svetlana didn’t really care to pay attention to, they worked. They had some free time with frequent warden checks. A guard tried to court her, or maybe it was multiple (she didn’t care about men either) and they offered the same dull prize. She slept.

And now Svetlana had to deal with being slung over the shoulder of a female revolutionary after Svetlana may or may not have murdered several guards. Admittedly, she hadn’t the time to check her work.

Ah, wait. Spotting a few men getting closer, Svetlana snapped back into the present. Svetlana had been so distracted for a moment, scanning the white backdrop of the snow with Akou rising in the snow-sheeted distance, that she’d started thinking about her life story instead. This prison break was actually getting to be a little fun.

So Svetlana had tried to shoot a guard or two. Or five. Would you blame her?

“Is now the time to be doing your hair, kid?” Sofia admonished, but Svetlana could hear that cheeky damn smile in her voice. As if this biddy wasn’t having a grand old time causing mayhem- it seemed like the sort of thing the dame was suited for, strong-arming enemies and goons alike into dancing just the way she wanted. Even a novice to prison life like Svetlana could see how much of an iron grip Sofia had on the place.

“Is now the time to be running your mouth?” Svetlana shot back, raising her stolen pistol with her free hand. Since she’d only been inside of the prison for a few months now, some of the more persistent guards still hadn’t quite gotten the memo about her total lack of fucks for them. It wasn’t as if Svetlana made any effort to appear even passingly interested, but when it came to idiots, even the slightest inclination of tolerance was seen as a victory. On especially persistent guard was the one who took her silence as “tolerance”- as “warming up” to him- which made it far too easy to just grab a gun and aim for the heart.

Sofia had the gall to laugh at that, tossing her head back with a raucous uproar. “Big words, from the brat whose ass I’m saving!”

“And I’m not covering yours, too?” Svetlana took aim at the nearest of the encroaching targets, closing one eye against the stinging winter wind. She couldn’t make out much from this distance, but she thought she saw a facial scar of some kind, covering most of his indistinct face. It was possibly Yakov. Svetlana really hoped it was Yakov. She’d been itching to pop that bastard in the jaw for weeks. Never in her life had she been so singularly annoyed by a man who didn’t want to get into her skirts.

But soon the figure of their pursuer was fading back into the distance, and Svetlana had no choice but to let up on her aim. Bullets were a commodity that came in precious few bursts. If she blew everything all at once, however, would she have any left for the return trip?

There was a moment of silence as the menacing exterior of their drab prison raised in the distance. Nothing met them but the crunch of snow under thin shoes and the errant squeal of a wheel here and there. Honestly, with how fast Sofia could run with those powerful legs of hers, Svetlana had all but forgotten that she was still technically chained up to that wheelbarrow.

Fingers getting cold around the cold metal of the gun, Svetlana casually let it drop from her hand, watching it disappear into the stream of white that suddenly blew past. She didn’t need to see, thankfully- the solid clunk of metal on metal told her it had made it into its intended target.

Sofia, who apparently couldn’t stand to go five minutes without opening that mammoth trap, continued speaking, even as she slowed. “Now then, my poor degenerate, where exactly are you taking me for this little trip?”

“Who said you could slow down?” Svetlana groused quietly, eyebrows furrowing as she looked towards the ground. “Pedal while it's safe.”

“These old bones, that’s who,” Sofia complained, but it wasn’t in any genuine way. How did the crone always seem so carefree? Seemed exhausting as hell, especially at her age. “I’m not as young or spry as I used to be, you know! Those jackasses have been fattening me up all these years by giving me such light work… You can’t blame me for needing a break.” The way that Sofia took that prison work lightly, as if her being able to carry as much as many of the men there was such lazy work, got on Svetlana’s nerves. Not that Svetlana’s nerves weren’t already perpetually being trampled on by the woman and her wicked grin and her damn laugh.

“...” Svetlana oftentimes didn’t feel the need to say anything, but that desire to stay silent in the face of the verbal onslaught of Sofia’s personality would have won over her tongue even if she did want to open her mouth.

Sofia caught her breath quicker than anything else as she stopped, glancing down over the town. “If we stay around here, we’ll be caught. I suggest starting with the directions if you’d like to skip the whipping.”

“...” Svetlana sighed. “Will you at least put me down first?”

Sofia grinned. “Nope!”

~~~

It was at an evergreen tree near the outskirts of the town, down a path that almost always remained untrodden. When Svetlana had lived with her husband, he told her a story on one of the rare nights when he had gone sailing away.

She hadn’t been listening all that intently- she never wanted to, when he was so insistent on leaving her with empty promises to come and take her sailing to new and exotic places. But she caught the gist of it.

When a girl went under that tree, professing their love, that love would come true.

When he teasingly asked her if she had a love to confess, she gave a non-answer, vaguely insinuating that she might confess for him.

It was a lie. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know, though- Alexander was perceptive.

It wasn’t as if she particularly cared either way if his eyes shined with a little bit of hurt.

It was probably relief in any case- she didn’t particularly want a man, and the man she had didn’t want her. That suited her fine.

~~~

Sofia set her down onto the soft snow and Svetlana took a moment to stretch her arms up and out. Who knew that being slung for several hours over someone’s broad shoulder could create such a crick? She was going to throw her damn back out at this rate.

“Alright, here we are,” Sofia announced to no one in particular. Or probably to Svetlana. Svetlana had decided not to pay attention to her glorified taxi service for the afternoon, so she didn’t really care to differentiate. “So now, what’s the plan, then?”

“Quiet.” Svetlana ordered, pulling her bandana off her head and laying it on the icy ground. “Be useful and keep watch.”

Sofia raised her hands up in a mockery of placation, laughter coating her voice as she mockingly said, “Well, that’s just as well then- you’re the boss.”

The corner of Svetlana’s mouth ticked down as she looked over her shoulder to give Sofia a look. The look was hopefully enough to get across that she didn’t much appreciate being patronized. Sofia, looking wholly unaffected, simply lowered herself into the wheelbarrow she had spent the last few hours carting around and made herself comfortable.

Huffing a small breath out her nose, Svetlana knelt down and tilted her head so that her braid was flipped over her shoulder. Starting from the bottom, she began to pull her hair loose, gritting her teeth against the knots that had formed. It was slow and methodical work, slowly untangling her hair, because of all the little things that she had hidden inside of it.

There were strands of straw-yellow hair wrapped around little cogs and gears. There were knots tied to the bits of triggers and scrapped muzzle fragments. Working up the braid yielded larger pieces- a clockwork hammer and a dull screwdriver, a miniature wrench. Lead weights. Paperweights. And as she ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out, the last bits to fall were 7 meticulously counted bullets, harmlessly touching down against the snow.

It would have been too obvious if she carried everything in her dress pockets, shallow as they were. The apron she wore when working at some municipal politician’s house was thoroughly searched if she so much as went outside to fetch water.

There were a few girls there who had almost blown her cover by getting a little too handsy, begging to just play with her hair, but a couple of others had managed to fend them off.

(Donka was a shrewd older woman who didn’t take kindly to younger staff horseplaying, so Svetlana had expected to be able to use her as an excuse- but it had been surprising when Milica had distracted the girls the second time, begging for her own hair to be done instead. The girl was at least a decade younger than Svetlana, so it was surprising to see she was actually rather capable when reading the room.)

From her seat, Sofia whistled lowly, eyebrows shooting up. “Well, looks like someone’s got a teensy little hoarding habit.”

Svetlana decided not to answer that obvious provocation and instead focused on trying to find the trowel she managed to hook to one of her stockings. In the dead of winter, the ground was hard, but it wasn’t as if she had much choice in the manner. She couldn’t very well tie everything up in a neat bow and stash it in a few tree branches.

It might have seemed counterintuitive, she thought as she stabbed the hard ground a few times to make an indent, to bury her little stash here, but it was the safest place. The superstitious teenagers looking for love treated this tree as holy ground, never to be consecrated. The older people in town tended to go about their business and hide their secrets in a thousand and one other myriads of places, while the elderly tended not to take the difficult road to make it here. Thus far, no one had found it.

After making a sizable indent in the soil, she reached beside herself and struck a match. The flame flickered slightly before bursting into full force, providing a small fire that licked at the tips of her fingers. The burn brought her back to the present moment. Gritting her teeth slightly against it, she held it up to the metal end of the trowel and waited.

Sofia clicked her tongue loudly and started up yet again. “Whatever your plan is, it must be going off well- there’s not a damn thing for me to do here!”

“Mm.” Svetlana hummed noncommittally.

“You’re the young’in here,” Sofia said encouragingly, leaning forward. That wheelbarrow could not have been comfortable, and yet Sofia sat in it as if it was made of the finest silks, legs crossed daintily as she rested her elbows against her knees. “There must be something else I can do for you here.”

“Not at all.” Svetlana bluntly said, flicking the match into the snow. With the trowel sufficiently heated up, she stabbed it into the indent in the soil and slowly started to dig.

“Do you even know what to do with all those little… gadgets?” Sofia pressed.

“Of course I do.” Svetlana half-lied. She mostly knew how they worked- back home when she was especially bored, her father found her little odd jobs to work around the lighthouse. Sometimes it meant sliding into places he couldn’t reach, and other times it meant correcting little inaccuracies in the clockwork he liked to build.

“You know, my little lovely,” Her elderly father had told her once, smiling as she bent over a mainspring and the metal ribbon torsion spring that was wound a little too tight, “if you had been born a little sooner, I could have sent you to Saint Petersburg with this- they had a marvelous little school…”

Never mind the fact that Svetlana could have never attended, even if that school- nothing but a little no-name workshop, really, and not a full-fledged school- were still around. When she didn’t say anything all he said was, “I’m just glad that we have you here now, in any case.”

Svetlana stabbed the tool a little harder into the ground on the next dig, knuckles curled white around it.

“- and you should have seen him with his little toys,” Sofia was saying. Looks like Svetlana had instinctively tuned her out. Whoops.

Svetlana said pleasantly, “Interesting. You can go now.”

For once, that actually seemed to catch Sofia off guard. The look Svetlana received was taken aback and then, incredibly bemused. “You’ll need a way back, isn’t that right?”

“No. I’ve decided to go now.” Svetlana said, hearing a little thunk where the trowel hit wood. Jackpot.

“With so little?” Sofia said, and damn her, she was teasing.

“It’s not little at all.” Svetlana said, mildly peeved. She dug a little harder and faster than necessary and, finally, she was able to unearth a little chest.

There wasn’t much room inside, but Svetlana knew that it was the quality of the goods that mattered, rather than the sheer amount. It had been imparted to her by her mother, teaching her the mundane aspects of keeping kitchen and house; it had been imparted by her father, testing everything for working order; and it had been taught to her by her merchant husband, showing off all sorts of little trinkets he’d gotten in exchange for nothing at all.

Her guns were still there, almost as pearly and new as the day she stole them from her husband’s competitor.

Sofia finally got up from her seat, stretching out like a cat and glancing over Svetlana’s shoulder. The amusement in her voice had quieted somewhat. “And what do you expect to do with this?”

“Easy.” Svetlana said, loading the intact one with the bullets she’d pilfered. “I’m getting off this island.”

“That answers literally nothing.” Sofia said.

“It answers everything.” Svetlana insisted.

“Okay then, answer me this.” Sofia pressed, the smile slowly slipping off of her face. “How are you going to get off the island. Do you have men stationed somewhere nearby? A point you know you can stow away on?”

“I’ll find somewhere.” Svetlana said vaguely. She had mapped out plenty of routes with Alexander beforehand, and he told her all the best ships to hide in- so surely, if she could just find one of the vessels he’d pointed out to her, it’d be easy sailing. “It’ll be easy, with this.”

“With a gun and nothing else?” Sofia remained unconvinced.

“No, two guns and all these little bits I found,” Svetlana said with absolute certainty.

“And what do you think you’ll get for all those ‘little bits�� exactly.”

Svetlana opened her mouth to answer, glanced at the little pile of cogs and gears to fix her other pistol with, and closed her mouth. Lips pursing, she deflected from the question entirely. “That’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important- where the hell are you getting funds?” Sofia demanded, “Who’s going to be convinced of the sincerity of a lone girl with a couple of guns, exactly? A lone girl who’s already been convicted of robbery once, mind you. Will you be prepared to take an entire crew on if you stowaway? If you steal a boat, do you even know how to use it? Where-”

The questions just kept piling up, each one more biting than the last. Every single question needled at Svetlana’s carefully constructed plan, with no room for any sensible answers such as, “I’ll make it work,” to get in edgewise. It was absolutely maddening.

“Well, since you’re so knowledgeable,” Svetlana holstered her gun against her hip and slammed the lid on the chest down, cutting Sofia’s tirade short, “why haven’t you left then, hm?”

“I haven’t made all my preparations yet,” was all Sofia said, but before she could continue her lecture, Svetlana cut in again.

“Oh, bullshit,” Svetlana said curtly, head snapping back to glare at the woman hovering over her shoulder. “You think I haven’t realized how everyone treats you in that prison? Even the guards don’t like to whip you! You could have gotten out at any time- what kind of fool do you take me for?”

Sofia’s eyes narrowed at her, smile gone from her face. Finally. “A reckless little fool who hasn’t thought anything over except for the barest inkling. That’s the sort of fool you’re making yourself.”

“Of course I’ve thought it over. I’ve thought it enough .” Svetlana finally stood, hoisting the chest under one arm. “If you want to stay paralyzed planning everything down to the second, I won’t stop you. Do as you please, Sofia Golden Hand.”

“... That’s all well and good for you, then, if you can somehow miraculously pull this off without getting yourself killed.” Sofia said, looming over Svetlana’s head with a fierce look in her eye and, damnably, a little grin to her gnarled lips. Curse this damn woman- and, more importantly, curse her ability to piss Svetlana off. “You won’t make it five steps.”

“Is that a threat?” Svetlana asked, eyes narrowing in turn.

“Nah- I don’t have time to waste on petty nonsense like that. Actions over words- it’ll do you good to remember that.” Sofia said, as carefree as ever before. “It’s just me giving a little friendly advice.”

“Tch.” Svetlana huffed, turning on her heel and starting to walk. Friendly advice, her ass- all Sofia seemed to like is getting under people’s skins. She didn’t have time to waste on

Svetlana didn’t walk three steps before a bullet grazed her ear.

The shot stunned her into paralysis, muscles locking with the sharp pain that erupted in the left side of her head and hand raised partway to her holster before stopping, equally as frozen. For a few long, agonizing moments- or minutes, hours even- the world slowed and narrowed down, the blood rushing through her ears acting as the only thing keeping things from being as silent as the snow.

Underneath the thrum of her heart pounding in her eardrums, Svetlana heard Sofia give an annoyed grunt and another gunshot. This time, no bullet grazed by Svetlana; only a shadow hovering protectively at her back.

Slowly turning her head, out of the corner of her eye, Svetlana caught Sofia’s stare. The grin was still on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She stared down at Svetlana with an intense stare that bore into her bones. If she’d been religious, Svetlana might have mistaken the fire in that stare as hot enough to burn God.

“Hey kid,” Sofia said in a hushed whisper, “now’s a good time to stop dreaming.”

“Sofia Golden Hand!” A male voice barked out authoritatively. The red slowly leaking through the shoulder of Sofia’s dress told the whole story. “Svetlana Zima! You’re coming back with me.”

Svetlana’s mouth opened slightly, but any questions- did you know this was going to happen? why did you let them follow? why did You follow?- dried as a lump in her throat. Tilting her face down, Sofia whispered, “Keep shaking like that and play along- you can still get out of this.”

Suddenly, Sofia’s uninjured arm was thrown around Svetlana’s neck, pulling her suddenly into her side as Sofia turned on her heel. Her box fell from her hands and was kicked out of the way by the force of Sofia’s kick, and with her face smushed underneath Sofia’s armpit, she couldn’t see where it’d been kicked off to behind them. Svetlana felt the cold muzzle of a gun press against the underside of her chin. With a taunt in her words, Sofia called back, “How much do you really want to do any more of that, guard Baranov?”

Yakov- and of course the guard that just so happened to catch up with them had to be fucking Yakov, of all the dozens of guards in Akou- balked for a mere half a second, icy blue eyes widening just a fraction before he remembered himself and took steady aim. “Why, of course- how kind of you to give me the option when you’re at such a disadvantage yourself. Resorting to using that girl as a shield… that’s far lower than what I would have expected of you.”

“Oho, is it now?” Sofia got out through gritted teeth and an insincere grin, taking a shuffling step back. Yakov tensed, muzzle aimed towards Sofia’s head- and Svetlana could see his finger twitching against the trigger. “And what’s stopping me from taking my new protege and running?”

Yakov’s brow furrowed in response, eyes narrowing into pinpricks. There was an angry twist to his mouth as he spat, “Protege… As if I’d allow you to get that far! Every moment you spend monologuing, that’s another moment we stall for reinforcements. No innocents will be taken.”

Innocent? Svetlana wondered with some offense. She had, in fact, robbed some people. It was kind of insulting to be put in this damsel situation when she was the one who landed herself in prison in the first place.

“As if I’d spend time monologuing just to prolong anything,” Sofia said, continuing to monologue to prolong everything. “The second you try anything, I’ll be blowing this girl’s brains out. Even if I lose out on one protege, there are a thousand and one others who I have the allegiance of, right on this island.”

“Telling me this as if I don’t already know it?” Yakov countered, a sweltering grin coming onto his own face. Now that the talking had started, the adrenaline in Svetlana’s veins- the feeling of the gun muzzle against her, the warmth of being pressed against Sofia’s body, the pain in her ear- was all swirling together and coming down to a fine point in the tips of each of her fingers. She knew that Yakov loved to talk (by God. Did she know. And she wasn’t exactly happy about knowing) and she had a feeling Sofia was a similar way.

Her nerves jittered under her skin. She wanted this to be over already. She wanted to either be running to the other side of the island or taken in chains. Anticipation was going to kill her.

So without a second thought, she pulled her pistol and shot Yakov through his left ear.

As the man grit his teeth, springing into action and charging forward, Sofia pulled both of them out the way, hissing to Svetlana, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“... I hate monologues.” was the only answer Svetlana could come up with.

After all, what else could she have done? Wouldn’t anyone else have done the same?

Despite the fact that they ran immediately after, they were apprehended almost immediately. Svetlana still wasn’t sure where her box had gone- only that, when she looked back, it had disappeared without a trace.

~~~

Three months ago, on the day she was arrested, she held her “husband” at gunpoint and “forced” him into robbery. Except, Alexander wasn’t legally able to marry her, so they weren’t actually married. And Alexander had been the one to come up with the robbery.

She’d read the scene in book, back when she lived in the lighthouse, sitting on the stairwell and letting the lantern light dust across the pages of her book. Once, there was a couple who committed crimes together, and for the husband to save his wife from jail, he made it seem as if she had been an unwilling accomplice the entire time.

(He had also impregnated her, but Svetlana couldn’t very well do that, and it was really a very shitty book anyway.)

But Svetlana had a gun and, even with her fingers trembling, a lot of gumption.

Being on the other end of it and finding it absolutely insufferable, Svetlana thought that she should apologize to Alexander the next time they met. If they ever saw each other again.

The thought left a pang in her heart as she was carted back to Akou, eyes searching the endless vast white. It wasn’t as if she loved Alexander- and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried, again and again, and failed, because no romantic interest could ever really take root- but she cared for him. He’d been kind to her and seemed content to just have her, even if she couldn’t love him.

Svetlana never heard from Alexander again.

~~~

The feeling in her chest persisted, took root and grew as she waited with Sofia in front of the chamber where they were scheduled to be whipped. Inside, one poor sod by the name of Nikivorov was being whipped half to death, after he actually managed to kill three guards on his way out.

Svetlana was no longer feeling too good about her possible body count, and not just because Nikivorov was screaming so loudly that the glass panel in the door was shaking with his cries to God, to mercy, to anyone to help him, please for the love of anything-

“You really were damn frisky with that gun, hm?” Sofia said contemplatively, breaking the atmosphere in the worst possible way. “Didn’t pin you as the trigger happy type.”

Gurgles filtered into the room as Svetlana stared steadfastly down at her open palms resting on her lap. First, Nikivirov was scheduled to be taken to death’s doorstep. Then Sofia would enter with her unflappable attitude, and after the flogger grew tired of her flippant remarks, it would be Svetlana’s turn. There was the flutter of fabric against leg restraints, gentle choking silencing another scream of terror upon utterance.

Sofia continued as if nothing at all was wrong. “Then again, I never pinned Nikki as the masochistic type, but here he’s killing guards to have reason to get his rocks off.”

Svetlana’s head snapped up to look at Sofia in alarm and she gave a laugh so voracious that it nearly covered the wet coughs on the other side of the door. “Hah! Got you to look! The look on your face, little one, is far too much- I may just die before the whipping’s got a chance to do me in!”

The guard sitting across from Sofia looked hopeful, for just the smallest moment. She was still sporting the bullet wound in her shoulder- no doubt, he likely took it as a chance to inflict enough pain to get a rise out of her. Svetlana wanted nothing more than to punch that smug look off of his face for even daring to look in their direction. As if Sofia would ever yield to a scrawny little shitheel like that…

The struggles on the other side of the door stopped. The guard on the other side opened the door and poked his head in, dispassionately saying, “‘ey, boss? I think he’s dead.”

The scrawny jackass- Svetlana probably learned his name, but she didn’t care to remember- sighed. “Again? Jesus, that’s the second one this year.”

Svetlana felt all the blood drain away from her body. At least like that, perhaps, the inability to draw blood would make her punisher lose interest. Or else, it might make him want to lash her more- pull more lacerations out of her back until even a drop of red could be spared, seeping out of her pores, wrung out as near and dear as poison.

“... Least he died doing what he loved, eh?” Sofia tried to joke, but the smile on her lips was strained. When Svetlana didn’t respond, instead of leaving it like the usual, she paused, leaning close to whisper. “Svetlana. I really do need you to speak to me right now.”

Svetlana wet her cracking lips and just murmured, “... Why.”

“Just to make sure.” Sofia didn’t elaborate on what she was making sure of. She just laid a hand in one of Svetlana’s and squeezed, pressing into her. “Hey, don’t be too worried about these guards- since it's your first time, it’ll hurt like hell… but after this, everything comes easy.”

Svetlana didn’t want it to come easier after. She wanted it to be easy right then- because, she should have been strong enough for it not to mean anything, surely. She’d put bullets into people without a thought just earlier that day. Svetlana hadn’t even been weak when in that damsel situation, once the initial shock wore off- because that was surely simply. Shock.

… But who was she kidding, really?

After the body was carelessly handled out of the room, thrown over two shoulders and hitting into several doorframes, Sofia shed her shirt and swaggered into the torture chamber with a pep in her step. Svetlana was left alone in the room outside, hearing the crack of the whip against bare skin and Sofia’s jeering.

The arrogance in her tone had only grown. Svetlana heard a few passing guards comment on how Sofia was being more of a handful than usual.

When Yakov stalked into the room and sat across from her, Svetlana was, for once, almost glad. The left side of his head was still bandaged from the wound, but otherwise, he appeared almost normal- if somewhat more guarded.

“Sorry to surprise you,” He said with a little smile, “but I’ll be taking over your punishment.”

“...” Svetlana didn’t want to deal with him or even grace him with an answer.

“... I figured it was only fair since I go easiest. This is your first time… but you’ve shot a lot of people today, Svetlana.” Yakov continued, lightly frowning as his tone became somewhat more stern. “It was all pretty bad…”

Svetlana glanced down at her hands.

“But, none of them died, even if the blood loss was a bit of a problem.” Yakov continued, a strange sheen to his eyes. “Because you shot each and every one nonfatally. On purpose, I think- am I right?”

Svetlana didn’t answer.

“You don’t need to say anything.” Actions spoke louder than words. Sofia had told her that, and now, she was on the other side of the door, speaking louder than her singular action of laying down and taking that whipping.

For a long time, there was silence.

“I have to say… You remind me of my daughter.” Yakov finally said. Svetlana wished more than anything that the bullet from before had actually ruptured her ear.

This was the bit she hated most about this man. For months, he spoke about nothing but his goddamn daughter- how she was his little radish child and how he was so proud of her and how he was so sad that she was off to be married in just a short year, all the way across the world. Svetlana generally didn’t care about a lot, but she especially didn’t care for this man’s apparent midlife crisis.

“She’s always been a little headstrong, and as she’s grown, she’s become refined and wonderful! In fact… I think you’re about the same age.” The smile that lit up his face burned Svetlana’s eyes. He laughed gently. “Of course, I don’t believe she’s ever had a rebellious phase like this one-”

“It’s a good thing,” Svetlana cut him off coldly, “that I’m not your daughter, then.”

Yakov fell silent at that. When he spoke again, there was no warmth. “Yes. It is.”

After that, Yakov didn’t speak to her.

Svetlana almost wanted to ask why he’d volunteer to whip someone who reminded him of his daughter if he loved her so very much, but there was no need to ask. Whatever comfort he tried to offer was only surface level- it didn’t stop the fact that he was willing to cut her to shreds, likeness to his beloved child or not.

Sofia was done with her whipping soon after.

~~~

When Svetlana was very little- maybe three or four, though this memory was hazy- she had gotten a hold of one of her mother’s cookbooks. It had been the one full of beautiful hand-drawn pictures of delicious food and places all over the country, with the centerpiece being the beautiful capital.

Little Svetlana had taken a look at the pierogi recipe next to an elaborate painting of Saint Petersburg and decided that she was going to cook dinner for once. She wasn’t clear on what the logic was for it, or how she even managed to find half of the ingredients at a level she could actually reach (or if they were even the right ingredients since she didn’t learn how to read until she was about twelve), but she remembered trying to pull a rough clay pot off of the counter.

Like all disasters that are bound to happen with toddlers involved, it shattered right at her feet. The sound had been enough to make her gasp, and she remembered putting her hands to her mouth to cover the sound, in case her mother had heard.

Then, even with the footsteps hurrying, Svetlana had childishly decided that she could still clean and fix it. She immediately cut her palm, almost to the bone, when trying to snatch an especially sharp edge.

Her mother had found her, shaking and shivering while fighting the urge to cry while red dripped from her pudgy hand.

The first words out of her mother’s mouth were, “Are you okay? Does it hurt…?” Not “what have you done,” and not “look what’s been broken-”- just a question as she knelt beside Svetlana and took her bleeding hand in both of hers, wide-eyed fear settled over her face.

Her parents were already older. She made them worry then, and she was making them worried now.

But now, the focus was on the feeling of the leather against her back, beating away at single spots as if each new strike was forcing a shard of pottery into her flesh. It cut deeper and deeper, and Svetlana gave everything into trying nothing to cry out against it.

When she felt the bleed start to seep out, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She did her best not to cry.

~~~

“Alright. We’re done.”

“...”

“I won’t tell anyone you were crying.”

“...”

"I'll just say this... I'm sorry."

~~~

Sofia was the one to tend to Svetlana’s wounds instead of the rough nurse with the contempt for female prisoners that usually did it. Someone’s arm had to have been twisted for that to happen, but Svetlana didn’t really care to dwell on it.

For someone so callous and rough around the edges, Sofia’s large hands were surprisingly gentle and precise. Blood was wiped in clean strokes, replaced with a stinging antiseptic that Svetlana grit her teeth against. It stung, still, and fresh tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes, but Svetlana swallowed them down. Loathe as she was to admit it, Sofia had been right. It hurt like hell, but afterward, it was easier.

When Sofia finally spoke, it wasn’t to tease or taunt. She just asked, “Was this your first time ever being hit like that?”

Svetlana nodded.

Her parents had never done more than smack her hands. Even on the road, she had been handled delicately by those she came across, and the most she’d gotten were bruises and stubbed toes. Other than the bullet by her ear and the chafing of manacles in the prison, this was her first time being tortured, and it was certainly the first time she’d been hurt this badly.

“You did well for yourself,” Sofia said, reaching for the bandages.

Svetlana choked on a quiet sob.

She wasn’t sure why that was what did her in, in the end. During the course of her beating, only a few stray tears were squeezed out of her eyes. Even during her most turbulent fights with that man, when they’d screamed at each other until they were hoarse and she felt she was never going to find any way to advance forward, she never cried from frustration. Even when she stayed up late on her most homesick nights, nostalgic and nauseous because she was afraid that the further she moved away the more she would forget her parents’ faces, she never wept.

But having Sofia gently press cool gauze into her aching back, smoothing a hand gently over the tender skin, Svetlana was the closest she’d ever been to breaking down. Sofia had such genuine words for her, and then Svetlana turned out to be too weak to deserve them.

Pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle herself, eyes blurring against the onslaught, she tried to keep herself quiet. Tried to ignore the little, bare hints of a whine slipping out and tried to keep from trembling and making Sofia’s job any harder than it must have already been.

“You asked why I stayed earlier, even though I could leave at any time,” Sofia said, and Svetlana bit into the meat of her palm, cutting off a pained gasp when Sofia applied the bandage around an especially sore spot. She still wanted to quiet herself- but, she also wanted to listen, now that Sofia was actually speaking to her. Not in riddles or jests or nagging- but really speaking to her.

“You know the men around me need me- not the wardens and guards, but the prisoners,” Sofia said, pulling and ripping more bandages. Svetlana was facing away, but from the sound of that rip, it was likely being pulled by the woman’s teeth. Even now, she could be a damn animal.

Sofia paused for a moment as if attempting to choose her words carefully. Then she said, “The prisoners here know that they need me, and know that I could leave them at any time- but because I want to, I stay right where they need me. Women like me… there is no happiness in womanhood, for those like me. You still have a chance-”

Svetlana couldn’t help the near-hysterical laugh that bubbled out of her. “Happiness as a woman? What the hell would I need that for?”

“It’s not about if you need it,” Sofia said patiently, voice tinged with something strange and nostalgic that Svetlana couldn’t even begin to place. “It’s about if you want it.”

When Svetlana didn’t say anything, Sofia continued. “If you don’t want it, people act all kinds of ways about it. A lot of men don’t know how to handle a woman like that if they think they can still have power over her.”

“Where…” Svetlana’s voice cracked slightly, and she cleared her throat before starting again, “Where is this going, exactly?”

“It’s going to the easiest answer imaginable,” Sofia said, a smile creeping back into her voice. “I’m here because I want to be by my men’s side, so we can fight on the day we all can escape. I only go where I want to- and I only want to be where I’m needed as myself.”

“... Only what you want, huh…” Svetlana said and, thankfully, it seemed her tears had finally dried. She turned to face Sofia and Sofia, mischief glinting in her eye, took out a handkerchief for Svetlana to take. Wiping away her own tears, Svetlana said, “I don’t know how that’s supposed to be any kind of lesson. I was going to do that anyway.”

“Oh, I know- you’re a brash little shit, I’ll give you that.” Sofia snorted, eyes crinkling at the corners. “All I’m saying is, we’re not so different, you and I…”

“Ew.” Svetlana deadpanned, self consciously covering her chest. “I’d rather that not be the case, thank you.”

“No respect! I swear.” Sofia huffed, but it was with more amusement than anything. Honestly… out of everything that had happened that day, even with her own spectacular failure, Svetlana felt a lot better than she had in a long time.

So before Sofia could get up and start putting things away, Svetlana hazarded a question. “... what are you needed for here?”

Sofia’s eyes twinkled with some pleasant surprise as she leaned forward, looking as youthful as any girl Svetlana had seen working as a servant out in the town. “Now there’s an interesting question- you see, there’s a war going on out there that you don’t even know about…”

Sofia spoke, fire bleeding into her words and passion sparking in her eyes.

Svetlana listened.

[compasscabsrugby]

Top Five Benefits of Hiring a Taxi Service near Crick

A taxi is one of the most cost-effective and convenient modes of a point to point transport. The honour of starting world’s first motorized taxi company is duly credited to a Stuttgart entrepreneur known as Friedrich Greiner.

The various advantages provided by a taxi service near Crick are discussed below in brief.

Round the clock availability

Almost all the taxis and cabs to Crick offer ply 24*7 (twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week) in present times, no matter when and no matter where a cab is just a phone call away and will reach you in no time. All you are required to do is to initiate a booking from your mobile application, which is smart enough to send your present location to the nearest cab so that it can reach you as soon as possible.

Affordable

Intense competition in this segment has brought down the rates and virtually every other player including taxi service near Crick is trying to retain their present base of customers and lure the new ones as well with a myriad of mouth-watering deals and irresistible promotions. Market saturation has compelled the companies to devise innovative market outreach strategies like 1R1CT (one referral one complimentary trip).

Time-saving

Hiring taxis and cabs to Crick save a great amount of time and energy for you. For instance, if you plan to use the public transports, then you are required to bear the hassles of walking to the bus or tube station and waiting to board the next vehicle or train available. And if you are thinking to drive, then the pressing issue of finding a suitable parking space in the bustling urban spaces does start to make you anxious.

Hassle-free and comfortable journey

Taxi companies employ experienced and skillful drivers only, who know all the city, state, and national highway routes as well as traffic patterns better than you know your palm. Hiring a cab for your journey means that your ride will be comfortable, safe, and trouble-free. These drivers are very reliable and punctual, and they also have to adhere to strict codes of conduct like no smoking in the cab and no use of cell phone while driving.

Dynamic and adaptable

In sharp contrast to public transports, cab services are wonderfully flexible enough to accommodate your requirements. As they do not stop frequently like buses and the tube, you will reach your destination pretty fast and without any worries at all.

[compasscabsrugby]

Smart Tips To Hire The Best Taxi Service Near Crick

Have you repented for hiring a particular taxi service? Is that a common experience for you? Then it is time you change your hiring strategy. Yes, you must take care of a few things while looking for a taxi hire service and stick to it to ensure that you hire the best taxi service near Crick. After all, hiring a bad taxi service is simply not worth your hard-earned money.

Tips Hire Best Taxi Service Near Crick

Taxi services are one of the most valued and highly demanded services in the recent times. It is a highly lucrative business and this has been attracting many taxi operators in the business. However, not all are quality taxi services. So before hiring one, make sure you are putting your money on worthy services. Here are some of the most practical tips to hire the best taxi service.

Company reputation: Reputation speaks; this is absolutely true for hiring taxi services. Since taxi services are quite a common and highly demanded utility in Crick, so a company offering quality services easily become popular or gain a positive reputation. So when it comes to hiring a taxi service near Crick, make sure to hire a highly reputed company.

Service quality: You are only paying for the service of a taxi service provider. So nothing else, other than its service quality, should be the deciding factor for a taxi service. Observe the way chauffer greets you or its punctuality to have an understanding of its service quality. You can also check the ratings on its website for the same.

Co-efficient services: Often due to high demand, taxi services demand a heavy fare. You must not simply agree to it. Check whether the services are cost-efficient or not – whether the demanded fare justifies its service or not. Only then should you process to agree with it and hire it.  

Taxi conditions: If possible, pay a visit to the company, physically. Try to check the condition of the taxis that are used for offering a ride to passengers. You can also spot them on roads, but there you won’t have the opportunity to inspect its condition. However, check the condition of the cars before hiring one.

The promising business aspects of taxi services have been encouraging taxi service providers in the market. Equal response from customers further strengthens the prospect. But make sure to hire the best taxi service in Crick, using these tips.

[compasscabsrugby]

Top Four Reasons to Opt for a Taxi Service over Ola and Uber

Most of us are familiar with the names of Ola and Uber and have availed their services as well. However, there are many benefits of preferring a local cab operator to these two and for a number of valid reasons.

Price

Ola and Uber were launched by implementing a management strategy that is technically known as market disruptive pricing to grab a large share of the pie. However, over the years their services had had become more expensive than that of the local taxi companies. When it comes to getting the sweetest deal, no one can beat a trusted local taxi service near Crick or anywhere that you may require.

Reliability

You should never think twice before seeking a trustworthy, local taxi service near Crick or any other place because of the reason that they recruit professional and well-trained chauffeurs only. On the contrary, a number of the drivers worked for Ola and Uber were found to be involved in crimes and harassments, as reported by the print and digital media. Additionally, it is pretty much a standard practice for them to rely on their smart-phones for navigation, not being familiar with the local routes and offering a less-than-satisfactory ride. However, your local cab driver possesses enough knowledge to navigate and drive through every little alley or bylane, and thus, ensuring you a safe, comfortable, and hassle-free journey.

Airport travel

The chauffeurs who are employed by Ola and Uber are not allowed by many airport authorities to pick up their passenger at the pickup bay. However, a reputed, local taxi service near Crick or any other location does not face any such issues.

Surge pricing

During strikes, rush hours, or festive seasons the base fares of Ola and Uber increase exponentially due to the economics of demand and supply.  Such grossly inflated prices are intentionally done by these large corporations to motivate every driver to take charge of the steering wheel. However, by seeking the service of a well-known, local taxi service near Crick or elsewhere, does help you to totally eliminate the odds of occurring any such nasty surprises. It is no surprise that the local cab service industry has been steadily running for many decades, which can be attributed to their unmatchable customer service and unbeatable performance, and the new players like Ola and Uber have failed miserably to even create a small dent.