The silence was delicious. I let it stretch, savoring the discomfort on their faces. Then I flicked my cigarette into the ashtray, leaning back in my chair, letting them stew as I collected my thoughts.
"The country we're dealing with here," I continued, "is Istok—small, but clever, with enough resources to be dangerous. They've ramped up air defenses and put mobile anti-aircraft systems along our shared border. Now, I'm no ground force man, but it's clear to anyone with a working brain that Istok's preparing to ambush us from the sky. They think we won't risk our air assets."
Kovalchuk's mouth was set in a hard line, clearly wanting to interrupt, but I didn't give him the chance.
"Here's the solution." I tapped my fingers on the table, letting each word land like a gunshot. "We launch a decoy operation—give them exactly what they want. We send a mock fleet of outdated fighter planes up, something disposable, and lure their defenses out. While their systems are engaged with our decoy, we send our main squadron through on a low-level route along the western cliffs. By the time they realize it, our fighters will be in their airspace, and Istok will have nothing left to shoot us down with."
They exchanged glances, silent. It was a good plan. They knew it. And the best part was that they wouldn't dare admit it had come from me.
Just as Kovalchuk opened his mouth to say something—no doubt another backhanded comment—the door creaked open, and in walked Alexei, my closest friend and the only one in this room I could tolerate. He was second youngest here, but that still put him nearly a decade older than me. Alexei was a tank division general, and a damn good one. He had a lopsided grin and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth as he strolled in, unfazed by the glares thrown his way.
"Apologies, gentlemen," he drawled, sliding into the seat beside me. "Traffic was murder." He glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I'm sure Volkov's already come up with some bright idea. Haven't you, Sergei?"
I smirked. "Just trying to keep the old guard from getting us all killed."
Alexei chuckled, lighting another cigarette as he leaned back, relaxed and unbothered. His presence annoyed the older generals almost as much as mine did, and he knew it.
"So, General Volkov," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "What's your grand plan?"
I repeated the strategy, laying out the details with the same cold confidence. Alexei nodded along, occasionally shooting amused glances at the skeptical faces around the table.
Kovalchuk finally found his voice. "You realize that if we lose those planes, it's your responsibility. Do you have any idea the cost of that kind of operation?"
I didn't flinch. "If the cost is keeping Istok in check and saving our forces from an ambush? Then yes, I'm very comfortable with it." I met his gaze, cold and unwavering. "Or are you comfortable losing hundreds of our own troops just to save a few planes, General?"
Kovalchuk scowled, but he had no comeback. He didn't need one. Everyone in this room knew what I was saying made sense. It didn't matter if they liked me. What mattered was that I knew how to win.
Alexei blew a lazy ring of smoke, clearly enjoying the tension. "Looks like Volkov's got this one covered," he said. "Now, are we here to make decisions, or just relive the good old days?"
The room settled into an uneasy silence, and finally, the head general nodded, his expression unreadable. "Very well, Volkov. You've got our approval for the plan. Don't fail."
I smiled, tapping ash from my cigarette. "I don't intend to."
Yeah, of course they did, " yes, but i need to rest for now, I have other important matters to handle." I said getting up from my chair. "Alexei you take it from here, I have a little a little lynx I have to get rid of." I said leaving .
I passed by the bar and like on is instinct —i just went down the road she usually uses —— okay I may or may not have a confession I have seen her more than that time at the bar, I have seen her more than once she always passes by that bar more than once, I just want to know who she is.
So like any logical man would do I waited— I waited for her to pass by and just like I thought, she walked by, of course she didn't see me, I wore a hood, a cap and a grey sweatpant and white air force 1s, you know the usual stalker outfit, but I'm not a fucking stalker I'm an observer,I just want to study her, I followed her around keeping enough distance between between us, she made a few stops, first she went to a small bakery and ordered some apple pie, and a bottle of fanta, I didn't like that combination at, all.
She sat at the corner table, as if she was hoping to fold herself into the wallpaper. Her small frame, around 167.64 cm and probably no more than 59.8 kilos if I had to guess, seemed almost swallowed up by the bakery's oversized chairs. She kept her head down, focusing intently on an apple pie slice in front of her. Every now and then, she would glance around nervously, a flicker of shy, awkward uncertainty crossing her face.
I couldn't help but notice—well, of course I noticed—that she'd paired the pie with a bottle of orange Fanta. Fanta. That over-sweetened, fizzy orange concoction with a beautifully flaky, cinnamon-scented apple pie. It seemed wrong, almost sacrilegious, to ruin the simplicity of a classic with soda. Yet, she didn't seem fazed by the oddity of it. Her fork delicately broke into the golden crust, pulling up tender pieces of apple, and she took small, careful bites as though savoring each one was a minor ordeal in itself.
She'd take a bite of the pie, chew thoughtfully, then chase it with a sip of Fanta. Her face flickered with an unreadable expression, as though she herself might not be convinced of the pairing.
The way she chewed and licked her lips turned me —what the fuck was I thinking, but that wasn't a bad thought. I didn't want to look like a complete creep so I ordered a slice chocolate cake — I may be an intimidating looking person but I have a sweet tooth I'm human too you know, but I kept an eye on her, with a serious look, I still kept my cold demeanor and she never noticed me looking. I left the bakery but not before paying for that beautifully made cake and left a tip for the waiter— I didn't really leave I stood outside smoking waiting for her to come out of the bakery. I sighed in disappointed, the country was about to go to war but here I was— stalking a girl I only saw a few times and didn't know me, I let out a low chuckle, "fuck me." But I continued to wait for here to get out of the bakery, I wanted to know where she lived.
Fuck I am a stalker, I said to myself.You know what fuck it, I'll follow her some more and see and memorize where she lives. I'll leave after seeing her entire the apartment building and up her flat, I patiently waited for a light to turn on and it did,she lived on the fourth floor, I saw her figure outline on the window of her apartment and God does she have ass. Ahhh God I'm acting like a fucking teenager, I should be looking for someone to hook up with but I can't get her out of my head. Why the fuck am I even stalking her?!?! I screamed in my head.
English is not my first language sorry for any mistakes I make }:‑)}:‑)8-)