15 May 2012 @ 02:46 am
[[ Private to Ivan Raikov ]]

Don't come into the bathroom. Until I say so.

- Y.B.V.
[City, meet giant Communist, who is cautiously out on a stroll to meet up with his lover, eat Spanish appetizers, and potentially be drawn while eating these said appetizers and perhaps partaking in other interesting activities that involve holding very still. Very likely he would be simply holding still. And Raikov would eat all the appetizers.

That isn't too bad. He doesn't mind watching the streets and the people of this place minding their own business and doing their ordinary things. Or so he would think. Certainly wasn't what he would like to think; he had done plenty of other business under the guise of "ordinary" back "home".

Of course, when he is out and about, he finds himself snugly crushing a passerby in his very terrifyingly large arms. The woman, who likely does not appreciate being suddenly and seemingly confrontationally approached by very giant seven-foot muscular beast-men in the first place, struggles and screams and gasps as she is pulled against that big broad chest of his.

Volgin had never seen a woman run so damn fast in his life either when his crushing grip finally loosens up. She has enough breath to start screaming again by the time she's out of sight.

This whole venture is potentially a bad idea.]

((OOC: If you want to bump into him on the street, you can let hug him you at your own risk. His big gorillaman arms can embrace many things.))
22 April 2012 @ 09:21 pm
[Just as Volgin was starting to swallow Raikov's assurances and nonsense, an ominous wind blew a photo against their apartment window.

Unfortunately, Volgin found it first.

Raikov, are you familiar with the phrase "One step forward, two steps back"?

For the most of the day, regardless of whatever Raikov had to say (as he was brainwashed by this City thing as far as he could tell, sexual performance aside) Volgin was out and furiously hunting for any further evidence of his country's former enemy. He knew the Nazis had something to do with this whole affair.

Something of Raikov's explaining did stick: The Network. Why didn't he think of that before all the sweating and puffing and fruitless hunting for fascists? Maybe they will come right to him. Everyone else wanting his head seemed to do that these days.]

Nazi scum, I know you're there. I know you're behind all this. And I am not falling for it. You have taken the wrong man for whatever you want to do.

I will see to it that you, each of you, are disposed of appropriately. Killed slowly.

I will find you.

[There. He felt better already.]

((OOC: A bit late, sorry about that. I work weekends and nights. It's about as good for my Circadian Rhythm as you think it is.))