Matryoshka

TITLE: Matryoshka

AUTHOR: K.A. Vandlyn

Seventy-five.

Mikhail Gavrilenkov could remember every wrinkle on their face, every dilated pupil pleading back at him, begging for mercy. An unfortunate situation— a rule-following agent too loyal to his agency and a crook whose crimes have finally caught up with them.

It was funny though how one stray bullet could end it all. It would have been a grander story to tell if it was intentional. He was fighting off a bad guy and paid the cost for protecting the agency. But no, instead it was the bullet of a nameless minion that put Matryoshka officially off commission. A humiliating end to a successful career. 

And now, instead of spending his retirement days with a coconut cocktail in his hands relaxing on a pearly white beach, he was resorted to this. 

“Can I press the button?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long suffering sigh as the annoying voice kept breaking through the static of the radio. 

A glorified babysitter. That’s what he was.

“Matryoshka?” the agent asked. “You there?”

“Sparrow. Step away from the buttons.”

“Hmph. Grouchy old man,” Sparrow muttered. 

Mikhail pressed down a button and switched the channel.

“Lizard. Indigo. Report progress.”

“West side, clear,” Indigo said.

Static. 

“Lizard? Report progress.”

Static.

Sometimes Mikhail wished that the fateful bullet hit closer to hit one of his arteries. Slouched over, he pressed his hand against his eyes.

“…Candy Lizard?”

“I hear you loud and clear. East side, clear!” the smug little bastard answered.

When he was first offered the position, he took it without much thought. What’s the worst that could happen? Knowing what he knows now, he should have sat down and thought about it a bit longer.

On paper, the fledgling agents were perfect. But for some reason, in practice, they stumbled around and knocked knees like children.

Sparrow was a genius undercover agent. The man could dress up as a pumpkin and everyone would believe him. Lizard had the most potential in combat with one hell of a punch. And Indigo’s mind worked at a speed like none other. 

Their flaws?

Sparrow couldn’t lay a single solid punch and was sent kneeling to the ground with one kick. Lizard couldn’t for the life of him think two steps ahead of the enemy. And Indigo? His own pride and intelligence was his downfall.

That wasn’t even mentioning their clashing personalities.

An alarm screamed in the background. 

Mikhail straightened in his seat, switching the channel.

“Sparrow!”

“I didn’t press it! It-“

“Sorry.” Another voice came in. “That would be my fault.“ Indigo said, in between breaths, the sound of his running footsteps echoing in the background. “I tried to unlock a door. Wrong code.”

Sparrow snorted. “What level of IQ did you have again? 182?”

“Sparrow, stay out of other agent’s files.” He reconnected the other agent to the main channel. “Mission compromised. Report back.”

“But Matryoshka—“ the two agents complained. 

Sparrow continued, “But my cover wasn’t discovered! I can still—“

“Get out,” Mikhail said. 

He tapped his fingers against the desk. He only heard two responses.

“Lizard. Candy Lizard. What is your position?”

Static.

“I found the files!” Candy Lizard whispered. “In the upstairs council room.”

Mikhail frowned. Impressive— an improvement from last time. But time was ticking. The security must be surrounding the building as they speak.

“Get them and leave though the fastest point. The security should be on look out. Avoid cameras. Do not attempt the windows. They have no support. There should be a stairway and exit left down the hallway—“

“I can’t,” the agent interrupted. “I don’t literally have the files in my hands.. There’s a safe here. I bet they’re in here.”

“Open the safe then and check,” Indigo said. 

“I can’t. Already tried. It’s coded too good.”

He set his hand over his chin. What are the chances a high security safe— with sensitive documents hidden inside— would alert the entire system? That meant that it wasn’t Indigo who set off the alarm, it was…

“You set off the alarm!” Indigo said, coming to the same conclusion. “Hah. My IQ remains superior. Candy Lizard, I am on my way.”

“No!” Mikhail said. “Get out. The test mission is over. You are not official agents yet and—“

“The point of a mission is to complete it,” Indigo said, doors shutting behind him. “That’s what we’re doing.”

Mikhail clutched the radio in his hand as he closed his eyes. Simple instructions. Simple directions. What was so hard to follow? Did they not understand risk? This wasn’t an establishment for a mafia boss, but that didn’t stop other types of criminals from trying to shoot down trespassers.

“Did he just— he told Matryoshka to shut up! Are you going to take that, Matryoshka?” Sparrow asked. “Guess I’m the responsible one this time around, eh?” He paused. 

Another voice appeared in the background of Sparrow’s audio.

“Miss Elizaveta? Did you hear the alarms? We need to leave. Wait— what are you doing here?”

A worker. Not good.

“Sparrow, leave the conversation without attracting extra attention,” Mikhail said into the radio.

“I was just finishing some work,” Sparrow said, the pitch of his voice higher and the syllables of his words softened. “You know, before the weekend.”

“But I just saw you out? We had—“

Something thumped to the floor. 

“Did Sparrow kill someone?” Candy Lizard asked. 

Indigo was busy punching the numbers in the keypad for the safe..

“Oh god, is he alive?” Fabric shuffled. “Still alive! You guys said that I’m bad at fighting. One high heel to the face and oh— there’s more coming!”

Mikhail could hear the thundering footsteps.

“Retreat. Run down the hall and—“

He was interrupted by the sudden shattering of glass. The moron jumped out the window of a multi-story building. A thump followed, followed by a long chain of curses. In French.  

“Ugh. All good!” Sparrow said. “I’m heading to the car.”

“Okay, we got the files!” Indigo’s voice came through. “We’re heading out.”

Mikhail gripped the radio. “Run down the hall and—“

More glass shattered followed by more thumps.

At this point, the entire block must have heard. It was as if all his advice about being subtle and discreet went in one ear and left out the other.

Biting down the lecture for later, he continued, “Are you all out?”

“Yes,” they chorused. 

“Right by the car,” Sparrow said. “Indigo, where are you?”

“Sparrow, why don’t you have keys?”

“Indigo took them away from me.”

“Because you and your idiot brain nearly drove into a fire extinguisher on the way here!”

“Indigo. Insults,” Mikhail said. “Be fast.”

“We’re here!” Candy Lizard said. 

Mikhail heard the telltale signs of the keys being turned into the car and the doors shutting as they all entered. He leaned back in his seat, feeling a migraine building up behind his eyes. At least, they were all out and more or less, not injured.

“Dammit— move you big dummy.”

Mikhail gazed up at the ceiling. “Indigo, again, we do not insult other agents.”

“No, I meant this stupid car. It’s not starting up.”

He could hear the car sputtering in the background.

Indigo complained, “Sparrow, did you forget to turn off the headlights?”

Sparrow wisely stayed quiet.

“You’re an idiot. You’re actually an idiot.”

Glass shattered and Mikhail recognized the familiar buzz of a bullet flying through window panes. They found them.

“Every agent for himself!” Candy Lizard yelled, his voice growing distant. 

A car door slammed shut. Followed by two more slams. 

He listlessly listened as the trainees ran off the property like headless chickens, dodging bullets, climbing up trees—

And all Matroyshka could do was hold the radio in his hands and tell advice that no one would bother to listen to. 

Like he said, he was demoted to a glorified babysitter.

Mikhail had sat around the bar with many men, men that didn’t even know that they were buying drinks for an assassin. Men that lived completely ordinary lives. Most of them had a wife who baked them blueberry muffins and kissed them on their cheeks before they went to work and children who were the cause of the one or two of the drinks those men drank that night. 

Sure, he could sympathize with them, pat them on their backs, and encourage them to have patience and love, but he never could understand them. He had listened to their stories as if he were standing behind a wall that separated them and him.

Is that what being a father felt like?

Terrifying. 

He felt for those men doubly so and he swore that next time he’ll buy them an extra drink as the agents lost the criminals and reconvened together by a laundromat.

“Ow!”

Laughter burst from the radio. 

“Ya idiots. Stop laughing— it really hurts.”

“Matryoshka. Matryoshka. Sparrow walked into a street lantern. Hey birdie, get your ass to the eye doctor.”

“Shut up!”

Mikhail turned down the radio as the yells and laughter intensified. 

Lord help the agency.

He needed a drink.