A CRIMINAL OFFENSE
“I beg to differ, Praporshchik Stanislav, I thought the Minsk Tractor Works was the superior tractor factory.”
“Nonsense Alexei, the Chelyabinsk Tractor Plant fulfilled each and every Five-Year Plan and then some!”
Perhaps there’s more interesting conversations to be had, but not if you’re Ivan Stanislav and Alexei Ruslan. This debate between them has been going on for decades. The two Russian’s approach the rear entrance of the Footprint Center and continue this debate with one another. The sun has since dipped beneath the horizon, and nightfall begins to envelop Arizona.
But by the time the two men get to within forty feet of the door, all hell breaks loose.
Sirens.
Running footsteps.
Lights.
Two Arizona State Police cars bathe Ivan and Alexei in light as they screech to a halt on either side of them and about eight police officers surround them. The door to the back entrance of the building opens and Lindsay Troy, with arms crossed over her chest, emerges and watches from afar. She says nothing, but the police have plenty to say as one officer approaches the stunned foreigners.
Policeman: Which one of you is Alexei Ruslan?
Ruslan looks at Ivan, and then at the officer.
Alexei Ruslan: My name is Karpov.
The officer looks back at Troy for a moment, and she nods, and he looks back at Alexei. Ivan growls.
Ivan Stanislav: What is the meaning of this? We have work to do…
Two police officers point tasers at Stanislav, who seems unconcerned but remains silent.
Policeman: Alexei Ruslan. Does the name Sopov Yaroslavovich mean anything to you?
Ruslan shrugs.
Alexei Ruslan: Nope.
Policeman: Do you know it’s a felony to slash ambulance tires? That includes putting someone else up to it.
Alexei Ruslan: Nope. But if I ever wish to take up tire-tread carving, that is good to know. Are we done here?
The officer shakes his head.
Policeman: ‘Fraid not. Our friends in New Mexico have some questions for you. So we can do this one of two ways: You can come with us peacefully, or we can drag you with us. The choice is yours.
Stanislav bellows over the officers at Troy and hollers to her in Russian.
Ivan Stanislav: Иди сюда и прекрати это, Трой, пока я не начал бросать полицейских! (Get over here and stop this, Troy, before I start yeeting police officers!)
Lindsay Troy: (shrugging) Go ahead, Ivan. I’m sure no harm will come to you whatsoever if you do.
Ivan sets his jaw and curses under his breath. He clenches his fists as the officers brace themselves for a worst-case scenario. But it’s Alexei who grips Stanislav’s forearm and squeezes.
Alexei Ruslan: Let them take me, Praporshchik. This is all bullshit, you know it, but I look forward to making horses-asses out of all of them.
Stanislav speaks loudly for all the officers to hear.
Ivan Stanislav: You will all pay for treating a foreign dignitary with such disrespect!
The officer ignores Stanislav and addresses Alexei again.
Policeman: Do you have any weapons on you before we take you into custody?
Ruslan speaks immediately.
Alexei Ruslan: Nope.
Ivan stares at Alexei. Hard. Ruslan relents after a moment and with a flurry, removes a multitude of items and hands them to an officer.
A baton, handcuffs, taser, zip ties, duct tape, a bottle of chloroform, a razor blade, a switchblade knife, piano wire… he finally pauses and looks at Ivan.
Alexei Ruslan: We could be here for a while. Praporshchik, you go on ahead. I’ll talk to you afterwards, okay?
Stanislav frowns and nods.
Ivan Stanislav: I see you soon, Alexei Gregorovich. At least this night cannot get any worse, right? (gazing up beyond the guards towards the entrance with a growl) And as for you, Lindsay Troy…
But she’s gone. He grunts and pushes through the officers, leaving his friend behind and entering the arena.
Surely this night couldn’t get any worse for Ivan Stanislav…
….could it?