The Awakening

From the Story Arc: Khrushchev's Fate

Previous Story in the Arc: The Rescue by Khrushchev (Tuesday, August 31, 2004)

Next Story in the Arc: Memories by Khrushchev (Monday, September 13, 2004)

(posted Friday, September 10, 2004)

“Look me pounding on his chest is not going to help either, let’s get him back to head quarters”


 


Soviet Fire placed both hands to his side and summoned is teleport power instantly sending them to the front of CCCP headquarters in Kings Row.


 


“Ahh is good to be home” exclaimed Siberian. 


 


“You’re Serious?  This place is a dump.  I mean look at it, run down building, trash every where, bums at every corner, constant fires, and in case you haven’t noticed it is never sunny here”.


 


“Let’s just get him inside and to the medical facility”


 


“We have a medical facility?”


 


“You know if you actually stayed here instead of sleeping in the Park, or showed up for Mother Siberia’s classes once and awhile you would know a lot of things about this place”


 


“I have Asthma and the smog here bothers it if that’s ok by you!”


 


Once inside they placed him on an oversized table which creaked under his weight, and seemed to short as his legs dangled over the end.


 


“Perhaps I can fabricate a new mask, something along the line of Comrade ICBM”


 


“Or even better maybe like old Americanski show lost in space” his arms started flapping around “Dangers Will Robinson Danger, I bet the big goof would love that”  Continuing to laugh at his own acting “Danger…Dang…”


 


Khrushchev jumped up looked down at Soviet Fire, he toward over him by a couple of feet, grabbed him by his neck and picked him up to eye level.


 


Barely able to speak while be chocked “Comrade you’re alive, so nice to…”


 


Soviet Fire gulped as he was lifted off the ground, Khrushchev brought him close his teeth grinding, what was left of his face was filled with rage.


 


“Do no test my patience, you have saved my life and therefore I will spare yours” Angered, he threw Fire to the ground and left the operating room.


 


Slowly Fire sat up grasping at his neck making sure everything was still in tact.  Slow to speak, searching for air to breath cough…weaz…“God what is his problem?”


 


“You are clueless you know that.  It is obvious he tore off the mask for a reason; perhaps he feels that he does not fit in.  Your apparent lack of tact just sent him over the edge”.


 


“Hey how was I supposed to know?”  “So now what it’s not like we can just make him look normal”.


 


“That’s it”


 


“What’s it?”


 


“What you just said”


 


“Huh?”


 


“God do you have a short term memory problem?”


 


“I don’t think so, but... there was that time, oh yeah I was out with this girl, well she was out, and I was watching her from behind some bushes and the next thing…”


 


“Stop, Just stop, I don’t want to know.  I was talking about the part where you said to make him look normal.  Perhaps some sort of skin graft, but whom?  Who could perform that kind of operation?”


 


Clearing his throat, Soviet Fire lifted up the mask as to show it to Siberian.  “In case you haven’t noticed what wasn’t on his face is still stuck to this mask.”


 


Bringing the mask close to his own face Soviet Fire had to hold his breath and try to refrain from throwing up and in a mumbled voice.  “Oh God this is bad, uhhh the smell.  Here throw this away”.


 


“Give me that, maybe someone can use the DNA from his skin remnants to make a new face”


 


To be continued….