Dissonance

ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ɪʟʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴘᴀɪɴ, ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏ, ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ, ʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏʀʀɪᴅ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ᴏʀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀʙᴏʟɪꜱʜ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴘʟᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅꜱᴇᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪᴛꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.

. . .

"And where's Pushkin?" You asked.

Nikolai beamed and pointed at the warehouse. "He's sitting on the floor, depressed."

Poor, poor man. You sighed, fully aware you couldn't do anything for him.

"Shall we then," Fyodor said, his tone more of an order than a suggestion. Nikolai squealed a "yes" while you gave him a nod. Your car was positioned not too far away, parked among other cars, standing out with its sheer quality. Nikolai hopped back to the warehouse to snatch Alexander, and you patiently waited for him, your silence shared with Fyodor.

He was perhaps the Russian who you liked the most out of the bunch - no, who you felt the most comfortable with. The other two, although you had just met them... were strange, in a manner that didn't really suit you.

Fyodor too was weird, and it was the kind of weird that didn't truly scare you. Every single ability user had something wrong about them, you had realized long before your father taught you. That much was evident.

Some time later, the four of you were on your way to the railway station. Fyodor told you you would travel to Siberia by train - yes, the grand Trans-Siberian railway. Your mouth went agape - you knew that this would prove to be a one in a lifetime experience. Nikolai cheered along you, while Alexander huffed, arms crossed. Yes, his hands were free now, but as Fyodor said, if he made one wrong move, he'd die the very moment. "If you prove to be a stubborn subordinate, so stupid and shortsighted, I'll have no choice but to end you." You hid your sudden laugh with your hand - the event was encouraged by this sudden annoyance in Fyodor's voice. The dark haired Russian didn't acknowledge your outburst, and in fact, didn't talk to you during the ride.

Somehow, you were in a good mood. Somehow, after all that happened, you managed to smile. An ability user you were - and just like them, there was something wrong about you. Just what exactly... you didn't know, you didn't care. As long as it brought you this irrational joy, you wouldn't question it.

But you haven't traveled in a while. This trip alone was enough to spark excitement, a solid amount of it. It came out as glee, and the glee gave you something to look forward to, for once.

Minutes after, you were at the grand, crowded station. The noise was petrifying to your ears - mild chatter could be bearable, however, there was so much more present. The trains moving around, horns and whistles blowing, and the shouting, the shouting that would sometimes startle you to death. Everything was far too lively, and you had to admit, you didn't enjoy it.

Fyodor took Nikolai with him to solve some business, as he said. So, you were left alone with the last one. Although he was significantly older than you, because of his height and overall silly appearance, you couldn't help but feel a bit superior. You had Nikolai and Fyodor on one hand, both tall and terrifying in their own ways - and then, on the other hand... Alexander, poor Alexander. Physically and mentally demoted for no reason at all.

You understood that Alexander had this great ability that Fyodor needed. You understood that Alexander was ready to get his hands dirty, unlike most people. But what you did not understand was how Fyodor managed to handle him, because, good lord - this was a one unpleasant man.

However, a nice word can go a long way. Maybe getting on his good side would prove to be useful in the future - oh, not to mention he knew a bit about that annoying bounty! So, yes, you had to strike up a conversation, all nice and sweet - and use that forsaken, bright mood of yours.

"Mister Pushkin, we haven't officially met." You were unsure if you sounded too fake.

"Mister Pushkin? Don't flatter me, miss (L/N)." He snorted, crossing his arms. "Are you trying gain my favor? Not gonna happen."

How incredibly rude. "I'm just being polite, jeez, no need to yell at me." At the station! Among all these people.

"How would I know? You're suspiciously close to Fyodor. Heck, he probably wants you to spy on me."

He's being paranoid rightfully. You too were rather suspicious of Fyodor - weren't everyone?

"Well, sorry to break it to you, but he didn't ask anything of me."

"Then he will! Later." He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," you mumbled in response. "Could you tell me one thing, though?"

"What?"

"There is in fact a bounty on me, right?"

Pushkin glared at you as if you were dumb. "Of course?"

You sighed, shaking your head. "Alright." Well, that cleared one thing. "Could you tell me more about it?"

"Why, the great master Dostoyevsky hasn't told you?" You nodded, although you knew a little already. Some more insight wouldn't hurt.

"Okay, so, a bounty was sent to the Russian mafia to look for one of their former members. Arkady (L/N), or even better, his daughter. Because apparently, he vanished."

"Nothing new," you murmured.

"And you are the only link to him, so yeah. Your head is worth just as much as his."

"How much?"

"Ehh, let me remember... 10,000 dollars?"

"That much! For a human being! For my dad!" You shook your head with much disapproval. They could have given your father more value.

"Yeah, but through you, the one who placed the bounty would be able to get your father."

"And who is that?"

"Some American... Americans... hmm, I think their organization is called the Gape?"

"The Gape," you repeated, nodding slowly. You intended to remember that name.

"Does it even matter? Dostoyevsky evidently doesn't want them to get you, so you're safe." His connotation was now strangely sad, as if he was jealous of you.

"Why, though..? Just what are his intentions?" You wondered out loud, knowing you'd probably have your question answered.

"That guy's a madman. Don't even bother." He sighed, shrugging his wide shoulders. "The best thing you could do is follow his orders and hope for the best. Going against him isn't the smartest thing to do... as you've seen."

"Ah. Definitely," you agreed with him.

He didn't keep the conversation going - instead, you noticed, he stared at some random point in the distance. Out of sheer curiosity, you followed it, and oh, no surprise. He was focused on Nikolai who was jumping by the railway. His happy shrieks were heard, barely, but loud enough to reach your ears.

You raised your eyebrows, unsure what to think about Kolya who was clearly having fun, like a kid, after a murder spree. But, Alexander wasn't too bad... he actually responded to your questions, and attempted to even aid you.

So maybe, you could go a step further. "Are you okay?"

"Me?"

"Who else?" You groaned.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because Nikolai."

Alexander's laughter was short lived. "He? Oh, so you've heard him do the butchering."

"How couldn't I -"

"It's nothing," he interrupted you. "Sure, it wasn't pleasant to watch, but he didn't harm me. And that's important."

Oh, really. So Fyodor was right to say Pushkin was vain. His response struck you with disbelief nevertheless. It couldn't be possible that this Russian was that egocentric. Or was he just masking his fear? Or, was it just that he... was used to it -

Either way, he spoke with some arrogant confidence that didn't go unnoticed.

"Alright then. If you say so." Maybe you should have finished the conversation right there. You showed him care, he didn't take it the right way - your job was done.

In the end, Alexander Pushkin wasn't too unpleasant. You had to consider using him in the future, because, although he was incredibly cautious, his fear could be used, his pride even more so. To add to that, another thing that you sensed, and were glad to have noticed: Alexander was a simple man.

He held that spirit of the ordinary Russian folk. It guided him to survive, and sadly, it never really could be satisfied with life itself. Although his goal was to keep his life going, it was, above all, what he hated the most. He never could be happy! The mediocre Russian, making his way through existence. Not too clever to find some higher meaning, but with a heart too big, that caused him much suffering.

With this man right next to you, it was easy to notice his inferiority. Alexander had even this primitive face that gave him away, and that cowardly behavior with no dignity - no, all the dignity he did have was reserved for proving he did in fact have it. He was in no way fascinating. That could be the only reason you held some sympathy for him - he truly was of no importance.

Sympathy? Or pity. Inside your head, the line wasn't strictly defined.

Either way, there was a man more significant than Alexander, and he was approaching you. Nikolai was this lovely fellow, and with a couple of energetic waves, he ushered you to come to the train. "It's a lovely cabin, and we're lucky to get it," the blond had to praise.

"Cabin?! We're all sleeping together?!" Alexander almost screamed.

"No, no, we've booked two cabins with two beds each. First class."

"And then I thought the organization was broke..." the short man could only huff and puff in protest, all in vain.

You remained silent as the realization sank in. Two beds per room - that'd mean you'll most probably end up with Alexander, since Nikolai and Fyodor were close friends. And that fact, right there... you didn't really like it.

"Come, come, let's get ready!" Nikolai grabbed your and Alexander's hand and lead you towards the train - you didn't protest, whereas the other Russian did. God, he was so grumpy. How dare he - he didn't carry anything, while you were dragging too much luggage with you. Horrible, just horrible.

With Fyodor accompanying you, you got on the wagon, and a staff member helped you find your cabins. Alexander ran into the first one, and to your surprise, Nikolai dashed right after him into the room - which meant only one thing.

"We're sharing the cabin," you shouted at Fyodor who was at the far end of the wagon, checking out the schedule pinned to the wall. He lifted his hand, thus informing you that he heard you. The worker then guided you to your cabin - and a couple of moments later, Fyodor too was at the door.

But once you entered the wagon, you understood what first class meant. The cabin was incredibly small. It could easily cause claustrophobia to those who suffered from it. Yet everything inside reminded you of a fancy apartment, modern and shiny, and glimmering with its polish - and absolutely aesthetically comforting. The cool tones overrun each other and emphasized the clean interior so.

But you, however, were smiling for other reasons - memories of some better times resurfaced.

Was it the luxury, this short prestige of the trip? Added with the anticipation and the ever so loving presence of the Sun. And the very fact you were travelling! Yes, all of these aspects would be worthless on their own. But together, they formed a marvelous atmosphere, and you were feeling absolutely great.

This nostalgia manifested as an absent smile, blissful for no apparent reason. Peace swept over your face and brought a veil of serenity to your stressed self - and wouldn't you look at that, even on the inside, you were better.

But nobody questioned your solace. Neither Fyodor, neither the worker who checked on you and soon left.

You soon redirected your wandering focus on unpacking your luggage and sorting it. It took you a while due to the strange arrangement of the shelves and drawers - some were above the door, some were underneath the bed, and some above the bed, behind the blue plush.

"There are towels underneath this one," Fyodor informed you all of a sudden, and you let out a silent "oh" in response. You turned around to see him lift one of those lids where two small towels were found.

That was unusually caring of him, and to your surprise, he didn't stop there. He had no reason to remain polite towards you now that you couldn't go against his will. Also, as you had the opportunity to notice until now, having seen Fyodor communicate with people other than you: he wasn't the most pleasant man to talk to. He appeared cold, detached, rude even. Yet...

He offered to help you with your stuff, asked where to put the object at hand, all very thoughtful of him. You were weirded out for sure, but allowed him to do as he wanted. He was useful after all.

And as  you worked, at one point, the train began moving.

With his aid, you were done with unpacking. And right now, something else attracted you. It was the window, through which you simply had to look, and see the numerous fleeting images. Houses, buildings, a splotch of green here and there. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary, but to you... something that could only be described as beautiful.

"Oh God," you mumbled at the scenery, sitting down to view it properly. The last time you were on a trip like this was more than a couple of years ago - excluding Moscow, that was a minor excursion, nothing special.

But to go on a train, with someone, for once! To be on the Trans-Siberian railway! Memorable, incredible. And of course, many of the past trips with your dad were invoked in your mind.

You suddenly got aware of your smile. Those were good times indeed, and the present appeared better as well.

"Your childhood was pleasant," Fyodor suddenly spoke up, as if he was triggered by that single statement of yours. You looked at him, and he too was looking at you, hands forming a triangle that hid the most of his face. He suggested something quite bold, and you would make it backfire.

"Yours, on the contrary, wasn't," you immediately shot back.

"Tragic," he commented.

"Exaggerated," you corrected him.

"Meaningful."

"Overthought."

"Desperate."

"Boring."

He grinned. "Just the right one." And you grinned back.

However, that bright expression of yours soon faded away. You began blinking rapidly, your focus wandering to anywhere else but Fyodor. The triumph you felt was alleviating indeed, but you got too carried away. All of this that happened was so... intuitive, like a reflex. You had no control of it - as if it didn't even happen. What was it? What had gotten into you?

Whatever it was... you disliked it, and you eyed Fyodor with much internal repugnance. Be it because of your confusion, or your vulnerability once again being exposed. You plopped down onto the bed, the soft mattress denting underneath you. You'd lay down if Fyodor wasn't there. What a bother.

And, oh, then, something odd happened. The man before you changed - there was the slightest shift in his expression. His eyebrows whose corners twitched just a bit. The surprise found in his attentive gaze. Could it be, even his lips moved - or was it the clenched jaw whose movement you barely noticed?

What was so special about this instant that made him react? You simply sat down onto the... bed. Onto the bed...! Yes, perhaps that was what irked him. So you gambled with the assumption:

"You don't like soft mattresses?"

You lured out another grin from Fyodor, and a satisfied one, by the looks of it. "They're uncomfortable, yes."

"Not like you'd sleep anyway."

"Good point," he admitted with a nod. A sigh followed, and he took off his ushanka. He sat in front of you, and you simply swung your head sideways, curiosity peaking. Maybe he wasn't too opposed to conversing with you, and maybe you too wished to speak with him.

"Fedya."

"Ah, you still call me that way," he grumbled, sitting back in his seat.

"Always." You chuckled. "Anyway, Fedya, would you tell me something about The Gape?"

"The Gape?" He played dumb.

"The Gape, the American organization that's after my father."

Fyodor's eyes widened, and you thought that you shocked him with this knowledge. However, a second or two later, and he chuckled. "You mean The Guild?"

"No. I was told that the name was The Gape."

"...Alexander," Fyodor muttered. "That man is dyslexic, I swear to God," he began rubbing his temples. You laughed at the sight, and he lifted his gaze to you, amusement once again overtaking his sickly visage.

"Either way, I congratulate you for finding out. The Guild is after your father because he tricked them, and got away with a solid sum of money."

"Oh?" You felt your lips curl into a proud smile. Your dad had done it again.

"Yes, which is why The Guild sent a bounty here, to Russia, and to me, since I'm one of the more... notable gifted, so to speak."

"Yet I've never heard of you, although my dad too had some gifted in his ranks."

"That's the key word. Had," Fyodor pointed out. "Your dad's organization flourished during the Communist era, because it was something unique and unbeatable in Soviet Russia. Later on, you know what happened."

"Of course I do. Everything collapsed, and my dad became a scammer."

"A great one at that, even I have to admit."

"I thank you in his name."

"No need." Fyodor tapped his fingers against his thigh, suddenly silent as he searched his thoughts for what to tell you. "It's well known that your father still has plenty of allies in Russia, and our motherland is large. He could be anywhere."

"Oh, don't mind me asking then," you interrupted him, "you need me to get him?"

"No, I was looking for someone to recruit, because I heard your father Arkady had a daughter who was... probably an ability user." A scoff, and a smile from Fyodor. "I dug a bit deeper, and was pleasantly surprised."

What followed could be deemed a compliment, as it did in fact warm your heart. "Let me express myself the simplest way possible: I hit jackpot."

"Why, thank you." You had to smile, although in a bittersweet fashion - you remembered that time when Fyodor told you that you were his type... you had to chase the memory away, yet you failed. Instead, you managed to display your dissatisfaction of sorts. "But then again, all of these compliments, and this care, all of it could be fake."

"I agree," Fyodor told you and laid down onto the plush, his face directed to the ceiling. Surprised by his aloof behavior, you decided to do the same, only a bit later.

"Then again, you possibly don't care."

"I agree."

"And it is also likely that you simply want to make this week on the train as peaceful as possible."

"I agree."

"The least likely option is that you do in fact sincerely care," you sneered.

"I agree."

"You won't tell me which one is the truth."

"I agree."

"Therefore, I'll tell you what I'd think is the truth. You, for one, don't have any specific feelings. You're mostly indifferent. Then, as I said, you want to make this trip bearable. And that's all."

You heard him let out a faint chuckle, which once again attracted your attention. There, you saw him smirk, eyes still darted upwards. You made him react, and that alone delighted you. The question remained: was your accusation right? "I agree."

So it was! Another victory, and your heart was bursting with joy. You would squeal, but you still had some self control - you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him after all. So a grin was all you showed.

"Now, my turn," Fyodor spoke up, and you clapped your hands together in approval. The anticipation! He would certainly pick the most peculiar of assumptions, statements even you couldn't respond with conviction. But you too laid down on your own plush, and you waited.

"You're intelligent, but it takes more than intelligence to act so. You lack this something in some crucial moments. Let's explore why."

"Let's," you said, a single word that held all of your hopes and expectations, and as such, it resonated with life.

"You often seek acceptance from others." His voice, however, was drained of it - again, it was somewhat tired, somewhat without interest.

"I agree."

"You didn't have that many friends at first due to your family business."

"I agree."

"You were lonely. You wanted to fix that. You learned how to get people to like you quickly."

"I agree."

"And as you developed that aspect, your intellect deteriorated."

"...I agree." Where was he going with this?

"In that case, it's safe to assume that you're frustrated and depend on others."

And how would you know that? How would you come to the conclusion; yes, you created a facade for people, yes, you turned blind to your mental cravings - but didn't everyone? In order to survive, you had to form bonds with people, for one purpose or another. And to have friends, a wide range of people at that, it was useful. Your experience with that approach to life was fruitful. Although the recent period didn't allow you to meet with these people... you still knew what it took to charm. You may had stopped reading a bit, hell, you may had stopped watching documentaries and similar content - but your life didn't become worse. On the contrary!

"I agree," you told him, as he was correct.

"Your empathy is ruining you. You rely on your heart too much."

"You speak with no sympathy. Is that a bad thing, that I let emotions guide me?"

"In your case, certainly."

"I'll prove otherwise," your voice boomed with passion. "I'll prove that the heart is useful as much as, even more than the brain."

"My brain against your heart," he announced theatrically, "this is a great way to start a journey.'

And if the next week would be spent in you two arguing... oh, the journey would be interesting indeed.

Because, you couldn't help but sense, and you couldn't help but rejoice as the realization revealed itself - in private, when with you, Fyodor was much more talkative. And now, you two would be forced to spend days with each other, stranded in this little cabin. He'd talk, you were sure of it, and you'd get closer with him.

The notion excited you. Your chest was already full with happiness, and you let it come in with arms spread wide. You would do something useful for yourself, and you'd soon call Fyodor a friend of yours. A close friend of yours, perhaps. To befriend a God! That's what you would do. A feat no man before had accomplished.

But you caught yourself before it was too late. Your hopes had to be killed, and you managed to end their misery. A pale smile on your face was all that remained of your previously elated self.

That which you felt was anxiety. You mistook the rapid beating of your heart to signify joy, when it fact, it was merely adrenaline induced. And this adrenaline, it originated from excitement, the fear and anticipation for the unknown. Fyodor, after all, did not care, and you? You convinced yourself the same.

. . .

A/N: This chapter was tough to write - I spent hours on plain research. I hope you like it! Also! 3k reads, already?! Thank you so much, everyone! Your lovely comments make writing this stupid story a pleasant work, and I always give it my maximum before publishing. Because I do this for you! For you, it's all a pleasure. Thank you again!

Also yes I hate this chapter lmao I finished it at 3 AM and it's by far the worst one. Please message me if you spot any mistakes! Thank you in advance!