The front doors to Durakov Prison slid open. The general's walk was brisk and determined as he enterred the prison. A guard stopped him on his way inside.
"Halt, sir, please identify yourself."
General Dmitri crossed his arms impatiently and gave the guard an equally impatient glare. "...Do I REALLY need to identify myself?" The general was wearing a long, black overcoat and a black ushanka covering his balding head. His thick black mustache hung over his lip, and his tired eyes stared daggers through anyone he spoke to.
"Sorry, sir. Protocol."
The general sighed. "Grigori Dmitri, General of the Russian Army. Now may I proceed?"
"Yes, sir. Welcome to the prison."
Dmitri straightened his coat before continuing into the prison, but the guard stopped him again.
"W-Wait, sir...What are you doing at this prison?"
Dmitri turned back to him. "I received a notification about an escaped American prisoner running around. I was nearby dealing with the Rezalus counterstrike against the English Moon attacks, so I decided to drop by personally to assess the situation. You'd be surprised how dragged out and boring battling the moon with a space laser can be."
"But, sir...you're armed..."
Dmitri looked down at his hip. Strapped to his belt was a somewhat large leather sheath. A black handle with a dial on it stuck out from the end. Dmitri chuckled. "What, you mean ol' Ognivo?" He patted the sheath at his side. "Well, just a precaution. And besides...I DID say I was bored."
General Dmitri stepped through lobby doors and into the prison area, where all the guards were in dissaray. It seemed that the escape had caused mass chaos in the area. Dmitri calmly walked in and rolled his eyes. He stopped with a stomp of his boot and shouted, "WARDEN!"
The prison warden stepped up and saluted him. "General, sir!"
Dmitri glared at him expectantly. "Explain."
The warden cleared his throat. "A young American soldier was captured near our Austrian post and was brought here for imprisonment. He quickly escaped his cell and is most likely finding his way to an exit."
Dmitri thought for a moment. "How young is he?"
"Um...around 13 to 15?"
"And...how did he escape?"
"Um...a guard showed him the floorplans..."
"And...why haven't you stopped him?"
"Well...h-he subdued me...and it was a slow day so we gave most of the armed guards the day off..."
Dmitri rubbed the bridge of his nose stressfully. "...You realize you aren't helping your prison's already poor reputation, yes?"
"I'm...well aware, sir..."
Dmitri sighed and crossed his arms. "Alright, where is he now?"
"He's headed towards the hangar, sir."
"And let me guess, you couldn't stop him because you're awaiting your shipment of ammo, huh?"
"I'm...so sorry, si-"
Dmitri put his hand to the warden's mouth. "Save it. I'll handle this boy myself. Ol' Ognivo could use a workout, anyway."
The General made his way to the hangar quickly, his hand on the handle of his sheathed weapon the whole time. He made his way through the sliding doors of the hangar and looked around. It seemed he had beaten the prisoner there, so he stopped in the middle of the room and took out a cigarette.
"Tch, I need to get the staff here replaced...full of bumbling fools. How could the Motherland bring out soldiers like Strutsnov or Matryoshka yet be the home of Durakov? It's almost hilarious..." A puff of smoke came out from under his stache. "Well, at least I'm out of that office. Feels like all I do nowadays is call Matryoshka, get yelled at by the President, and shoot the moon. General's life is a boring one."
He heard the doors open behind him, and he tossed the cigarette to the , crushing it beneath his boot. He turned to the door and saw a young man in a soldier's uniform with spiky brown hair and a pair of glasses. He didn't seem particularly dangerous at first glance, but Dmitri kept a hand ready to draw Ognivo just in case.
"So," he called out, his voice echoing in the hangar, "you're that American boy that's causing all this mayhem, da? I'm surprised how young you are for someone able to fool an entire Russian prison staff...though Durakov isn't exactly known for its competence. I, however, am. You don't become General for nothing, after all. Now..." He stood with his arms behind his back and his head tilted up, looking down on the boy as he walked in. "...I suggest you surrender here if you know what's good for you."
I'll post as Lawrence and Sam once Gom decides to post. Squid's officially out for the subplot, so I'll work around the Anika sisters.