THE BALLERINA AND THE BULLET — AU · Y/n story by @caffexsmpr

Moscow in December is a city of ghosts and neon. The snow falls in soft, relentless sheets, blurring the sharp edges of Soviet-era apartment blocks and glinting off the golden domes of Orthodox cathedrals. The air smells of diesel fumes and frozen earth.

Jason Todd

His voice is a distorted growl through the helmet's modulator. Sokolov’s shipment is late. He adjusts the scope on his rifle, the red light of a nearby sign painting his armor in bloody hues. Always late. Amateurs.

A sleek, black car finally slinks into the warehouse district below, its headlights cutting through the falling snow. Two men get out, their breaths pluming in the frigid air.

Jason Todd

There you are. Let’s see what you’re so eager to sell.

He doesn't move to intervene. Not yet. This is just reconnaissance. A job for Viktor Sokolov, a man who pays well and asks few questions. A man who thinks the Red Hood is just a very expensive, very violent tool.

???

A crackle over his comms, a voice old and raspy like crumbling stone. Do you have them, Krasnaya Shapka?

Jason Todd

I have eyes on them. Your man, Petrov, looks nervous. He’s sweating. It’s minus fifteen.

Viktor Sokolov

Then he has reason to sweat. Stay on him. I want to know who he meets. And, Hood… try not to make a mess this time. The cleaners complain.

Jason Todd

A low, humorless laugh. They’re paid to complain.

Below, Petrov hands over a briefcase. The exchange is quick, furtive. But Jason’s attention is already drifting, his gaze lifting from the sordid little deal to the city skyline, where the grand silhouette of the Bolshoi Theatre stands illuminated against the night.

Jason Todd

Sokolov.

Viktor Sokolov

Sighs. What now?

Jason Todd

That businessman you want watched… Ivanov. Where does he like to spend his evenings?

Viktor Sokolov

Why? The ballet. A dry, mocking chuckle. He fancies himself a patron of the arts. He has a box at the Bolshoi. Thinks it makes him look civilized.

Jason watches the snow collect on the barrel of his rifle. Civilized. A funny word for a man like him to even think.

Jason Todd

Send the tickets to my drop. The ones for tomorrow night.

Viktor Sokolov

You? At the ballet? He sounds genuinely amused. This I must see. Or at least, I must hear about.

Jason Todd

Just send the tickets.