Vladimir and Sons was generally known as the best plumber firm in town, town being the small town of Kurusk with only around 50,000 inhabitants, a few kilometers outside of the second largest town in Polatsk, Gogilev. Especially during cold winters like these, pipes had a tendency to crack or otherwise go defunct, and old Vladimir and his sons had been the most reliable and cheap plumbers for generations. Of course it also helped that Vladimir and the major of the town, Gregori, shared one or the other vodka every Friday, but that was of course not the reason that basically all major contracts of the town went to Vladimir. “They are the cheapest and best”, is what the town administration said, and thus there was no questioning of that.
The blue van was driving along the road, way too fast than officially allowed, bumping into the odd hole in the road every once in a while or having to break sharply when one of the cars, as was usually the case, completely ignored the red traffic lights. Recently, the “desu” meme had become popular amongst netaholics in Polatsk, showing a character from an Oikawan anime show with red and green eyes in various traffic –related issues, poking light fun on a practice that demanded the lives of hundreds every year, with the authorities either unable or unwilling to do something about it. Almost everyone agreed that they were neither able to, nor willing.
“Switch the station. I have been hearing that song at least five times in the last two days”, one of the blue-collared men in the van said to the driver, who just had to break to avoid colliding with a red car that had been randomly speeding up and rapidly breaking for the last five minutes. The plastic cube attached to the ceiling of the van shook violently. “Yeah, yeah”, the man said and reached for the button.
“And now the weather. Dwina -7 Degree Celcius, Gogilev..”
“Oh great, the weather. Just what I wanted to hear”, another, more bulky man in the back of the van complained.
“Shut up Dimitri, we are almost there anyway.”
The driver pulled the van over to a gated entrance at the side of the main road. Over the gate there was a sign:
Kurusk International Integrated School
“You stay inside. I’ll tell them Vladimir and Sons have arrived to fix that nasty problem they got with their school toilets”, the driver said as he left in one fluid motion – he hadn’t closed his seat belt – , leaving the door open. With quick pace he was walking towards a guard booth, and after a quick exchange of words and display of some documents on the driver’s behalf, the guard nodded and the driver returned to the van.
“Everything solved, they let us in.”
The engine roared as the vehicle pushed through the snow mud and into the yard of the school. Some pupils were sitting around outside, throwing snowballs or chatting with each another.
“The guy said that there is a parking lot on the other side of the building, so I guess that suits our purpose just perfectly.”
The van pulled into the parking lot. By now, the sun was standing high up in the sky and as it was an almost cloudless day, the snow that was lying everywhere was illuminated in a bright light.
“Dimitri, the installation gear”, the driver said as he pulled the handbrake and turned off the engine.
“Got it right here”, a muffled voice from the back said as the man pulled over a large blue bag. Untying the robe around it, he reached inside. He pulled his hand out and retrieved a semi-automatic pistol, passing it on to one of the plumbers, proceeding to do so till all five plumbers had a pistol. Next he handed out cartridges, before giving a frag grenade to each of the men. Finally, he pulled out another small tiny back, untied it as well and spilled its content on the ground. Within minutes, all men had assembled their assault rifles and then pulled their balaclavas over their heads.
“For Holy Mother Rus, for the liberation of our people and the death of the oppressors.”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
The driver turned the key, loosened the handbrake and pulled out of the parking lot again. With high tempo, the van was rushing back onto the yard. A few children were building a snowman. The driver increased his speed.
With a slamming sound, the vehicle crushed the snowman as the children got mangled under the wheels of the car. The van left a short red track as it proceeded to the entrance, before coming to a stop.
“Go Go Go!”
The backdoor of the van opened and the men stormed outside and into the main entrance of the building. As they opened the door, they encountered a group of girls that was giggling and chatting with each another. A few pulls of the trigger downed them all.
“We part here and clear the school. We stay in contact over radio. When you are done, gather the survivors you can get and bring them to the assembly hall.”
Dmitri took a corridor to the left. Storming up the stairways, he noticed some paintings and photos on the walls, apparently by former graduates of the school. He gave his watch a quick glance. The lesson still lasted twelve minutes, more than enough time to get them all.
As he reached the first floor, he silenced his moves and pressed his ear on one of the doors. No voices. He moved to the next door. This time, the faint noise of a talking teacher could be heard through the thin door. Opening the door, he saw a class of elementary age pupils, busy doodling with crayons. On the blackboard, the topic of the lesson could be seen: “We draw our friends and family”. For a moment, Dimitri paused as he looked into the surprised face of the teacher. She was young, in her mid-twenties, not older, with beautiful long blond hair that was falling over her shoulders. She had blue eyes and a petite nose and was dressed in a beautiful dress with flowers on it. Had he met her in a café on the weekend, he would have approached her for a potential date. Now, he could only put a bullet into her breast, splattering blood across the blackboard. The children began to scream, but Dimitri reached for the grenade launcher attached to the barrel of his assault rifle. A deafening explosion filled the room and silenced many of the voices as smoke made it impossible to see in the small room. The man fired a few random bursts into the room. He wanted to go on, when a small white paper splattered with blood drops and and a few strokes apparently representing “mama” landed on his black combat boot. He shook it off and quickly stormed out of the room.
One of the classroom doors was opening and two small girls emerged. A precise burst let their small bodies slump to the side. Running to the door they came from, Dimitri sprayed his magazine across the room. He ran to the next door, even though he had noticed that covered under tables and chairs there were still crying and screaming children. He had no time to waste.
It would be a long night in Kurusk, not only for Vladimir and his sons that used to be the best plumbers in town until the arrival of five strange men.
The blue van was driving along the road, way too fast than officially allowed, bumping into the odd hole in the road every once in a while or having to break sharply when one of the cars, as was usually the case, completely ignored the red traffic lights. Recently, the “desu” meme had become popular amongst netaholics in Polatsk, showing a character from an Oikawan anime show with red and green eyes in various traffic –related issues, poking light fun on a practice that demanded the lives of hundreds every year, with the authorities either unable or unwilling to do something about it. Almost everyone agreed that they were neither able to, nor willing.
“Switch the station. I have been hearing that song at least five times in the last two days”, one of the blue-collared men in the van said to the driver, who just had to break to avoid colliding with a red car that had been randomly speeding up and rapidly breaking for the last five minutes. The plastic cube attached to the ceiling of the van shook violently. “Yeah, yeah”, the man said and reached for the button.
“And now the weather. Dwina -7 Degree Celcius, Gogilev..”
“Oh great, the weather. Just what I wanted to hear”, another, more bulky man in the back of the van complained.
“Shut up Dimitri, we are almost there anyway.”
The driver pulled the van over to a gated entrance at the side of the main road. Over the gate there was a sign:
Kurusk International Integrated School
“You stay inside. I’ll tell them Vladimir and Sons have arrived to fix that nasty problem they got with their school toilets”, the driver said as he left in one fluid motion – he hadn’t closed his seat belt – , leaving the door open. With quick pace he was walking towards a guard booth, and after a quick exchange of words and display of some documents on the driver’s behalf, the guard nodded and the driver returned to the van.
“Everything solved, they let us in.”
The engine roared as the vehicle pushed through the snow mud and into the yard of the school. Some pupils were sitting around outside, throwing snowballs or chatting with each another.
“The guy said that there is a parking lot on the other side of the building, so I guess that suits our purpose just perfectly.”
The van pulled into the parking lot. By now, the sun was standing high up in the sky and as it was an almost cloudless day, the snow that was lying everywhere was illuminated in a bright light.
“Dimitri, the installation gear”, the driver said as he pulled the handbrake and turned off the engine.
“Got it right here”, a muffled voice from the back said as the man pulled over a large blue bag. Untying the robe around it, he reached inside. He pulled his hand out and retrieved a semi-automatic pistol, passing it on to one of the plumbers, proceeding to do so till all five plumbers had a pistol. Next he handed out cartridges, before giving a frag grenade to each of the men. Finally, he pulled out another small tiny back, untied it as well and spilled its content on the ground. Within minutes, all men had assembled their assault rifles and then pulled their balaclavas over their heads.
“For Holy Mother Rus, for the liberation of our people and the death of the oppressors.”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
“For Holy Mother Rus!”
The driver turned the key, loosened the handbrake and pulled out of the parking lot again. With high tempo, the van was rushing back onto the yard. A few children were building a snowman. The driver increased his speed.
With a slamming sound, the vehicle crushed the snowman as the children got mangled under the wheels of the car. The van left a short red track as it proceeded to the entrance, before coming to a stop.
“Go Go Go!”
The backdoor of the van opened and the men stormed outside and into the main entrance of the building. As they opened the door, they encountered a group of girls that was giggling and chatting with each another. A few pulls of the trigger downed them all.
“We part here and clear the school. We stay in contact over radio. When you are done, gather the survivors you can get and bring them to the assembly hall.”
Dmitri took a corridor to the left. Storming up the stairways, he noticed some paintings and photos on the walls, apparently by former graduates of the school. He gave his watch a quick glance. The lesson still lasted twelve minutes, more than enough time to get them all.
As he reached the first floor, he silenced his moves and pressed his ear on one of the doors. No voices. He moved to the next door. This time, the faint noise of a talking teacher could be heard through the thin door. Opening the door, he saw a class of elementary age pupils, busy doodling with crayons. On the blackboard, the topic of the lesson could be seen: “We draw our friends and family”. For a moment, Dimitri paused as he looked into the surprised face of the teacher. She was young, in her mid-twenties, not older, with beautiful long blond hair that was falling over her shoulders. She had blue eyes and a petite nose and was dressed in a beautiful dress with flowers on it. Had he met her in a café on the weekend, he would have approached her for a potential date. Now, he could only put a bullet into her breast, splattering blood across the blackboard. The children began to scream, but Dimitri reached for the grenade launcher attached to the barrel of his assault rifle. A deafening explosion filled the room and silenced many of the voices as smoke made it impossible to see in the small room. The man fired a few random bursts into the room. He wanted to go on, when a small white paper splattered with blood drops and and a few strokes apparently representing “mama” landed on his black combat boot. He shook it off and quickly stormed out of the room.
One of the classroom doors was opening and two small girls emerged. A precise burst let their small bodies slump to the side. Running to the door they came from, Dimitri sprayed his magazine across the room. He ran to the next door, even though he had noticed that covered under tables and chairs there were still crying and screaming children. He had no time to waste.
It would be a long night in Kurusk, not only for Vladimir and his sons that used to be the best plumbers in town until the arrival of five strange men.
