Post by Sabretooth on Apr 4, 2007 9:57:09 GMT -5
A huge man, wearing a business suit, his face almost-shaved clean and his long hair tied back, approached the ticket counter at the Moscow International Airport.
"Dobry vecher, sir.* How are you today?" the bright eyed counter attendant greeted him.
The man set down a thick black bag, almost as large as he was, by his feet. "My name is Vlad Creomsky. Here is my ticket."
The young woman subtely balked at his rudeness, but didn't find it completely unusual. This was an airport, after all.
She quickly checked his photo ID, passport, and plane ticket, finding them all to be in order. While the man certainly didn't look Russian, his identification claimed him to be so. Well, what say had she in what bastard children some Russian women might make?
She passed him back his papers and he snatched them from her, then turned to leave.
"Um, Mister Creomsky?" the woman asked from behind him.
The huge man paused, his free fist curling up. He slowly turned and scowled down at her. "What?"
"Your bag is too large to be taken aboard the plane with you. You're going to have to check it here."
"The bag stays with me."
"I respect your wish to keep your property with you, sir, but you will not be allowed on the flight with that bag." The young lady put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes up at him.
The man wanted nothing more at this moment than to slash out and send this little woman's head tumbling into the crowds, but then all his hard work up North - not to mention the mental effort it took to "clean himself up" - would be a waste.
He shoved the bag at her, and its weight almost knocked her over. She caught it in both arms, then let it slide to the ground.
"Have a nice trip," she said to him as he turned his back on her again.
"Asshole," she muttered as he stomped away.
Victor Creed heard the woman's insult well, and made himself a promise to return to Russia very soon.
*translated from Russian
"Dobry vecher, sir.* How are you today?" the bright eyed counter attendant greeted him.
The man set down a thick black bag, almost as large as he was, by his feet. "My name is Vlad Creomsky. Here is my ticket."
The young woman subtely balked at his rudeness, but didn't find it completely unusual. This was an airport, after all.
She quickly checked his photo ID, passport, and plane ticket, finding them all to be in order. While the man certainly didn't look Russian, his identification claimed him to be so. Well, what say had she in what bastard children some Russian women might make?
She passed him back his papers and he snatched them from her, then turned to leave.
"Um, Mister Creomsky?" the woman asked from behind him.
The huge man paused, his free fist curling up. He slowly turned and scowled down at her. "What?"
"Your bag is too large to be taken aboard the plane with you. You're going to have to check it here."
"The bag stays with me."
"I respect your wish to keep your property with you, sir, but you will not be allowed on the flight with that bag." The young lady put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes up at him.
The man wanted nothing more at this moment than to slash out and send this little woman's head tumbling into the crowds, but then all his hard work up North - not to mention the mental effort it took to "clean himself up" - would be a waste.
He shoved the bag at her, and its weight almost knocked her over. She caught it in both arms, then let it slide to the ground.
"Have a nice trip," she said to him as he turned his back on her again.
"Asshole," she muttered as he stomped away.
Victor Creed heard the woman's insult well, and made himself a promise to return to Russia very soon.
*translated from Russian
