Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

27. White Knights, Explosions, and Contemplations

The Bolshoi Theater was an extravagant, well structured building made entirely from glowing, white marble, dark oak doors lining the front entrance. A small crowd had formed in front of the doors, idly chatting amongst themselves, as the play came to an intermission.

Carter, Ray, and Leonard hid themselves amongst them, searching for Vostok. They each wore similar tuxedos. It wasn’t something Carter would have worn on his own accord. The fabric was made entirely from wool, he guessed, and it was far too itchy. (At least it fared against the harsh, cold wind, he supposed.)

A woman walked out of the theater, following behind a young couple who were walking arm and arm. The woman was dressed in a long, backless red gown with a low V neck that showed off her cleavage; the gown fit her form very well, accenting all the curves of her body as she absently strutted down the red carpet in front of the theater, like she was some sort of super star. A diamond necklace hung around her neck, the jewels sparkling as the lights caught against them.

Her hair was done up in a firm bun, leaving small, twisting strands to fall at her cheeks, which were rosy with blush makeup; and her eyes, covered in dark eye shadow, were downcast, as she fiddled with her theater ticket and play pamphlet before placing the items in the hand bag she swung on her wrist.

Even without the fancy get up, it would have been easy to spot her. This was the woman of the hour. Valentina Vostok. The scientist walked right past the three men, taking a cigarette from her purse as she went by. Evidently, she had no idea three men were watching her from afar. (Which sounded extremely creepy out of context, Carter realized.)

“We've got eyes on Vostok,” Leonard said into the comms.

Stein, who was working the comms back on the Waverider, since apparently Rip had run off on a little adventure of his own by the time Carter and the others were ready to go, replied with, “Everything looks good on my end, gentle men. I’d say it’s safe for you to proceed.”

Leonard glanced at Ray, letting a small smirk form on his face. “You heard the professor. You’re up, lover boy!” With that, he shoved Ray forward, sending him stumbling right into Vostok. She jumped, turning and glaring at poor Ray, who just grinned awkwardly back at her, muttering apologizes.

Leonard snorted. “This is going to be a disaster.” Carter thought he looked a bit too happy about that. And when he questioned the thief about it, he just said, “Other people’s failure is hilarious.”

Ray sighed from where he and Vostok stood. “Miss Vostok.” He held his hand out to her, flashing her a friendly smile to which she only looked vaguely interested in. “Simon Huntsberger, university of Moscow in the physics department.” Carter wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the fake name from, and he was questioning the reason for even needing one, but he figured it probably didn’t matter.

Vostok took a long drag from her cigarette, eyeing Ray like he was a can full of garbage that someone had left out for too long, and Ray lowered his hand awkwardly. “I’m not interested in talking to students.” Her voice carried a thick, Russian accent – obviously – and she was speaking English, thanks to those ingestible translators Rip had given everyone. (Though to her it probably sounded as though Ray were speaking her native langue.) “If you want lecture, come by office hours.”

She started to turn away, but Ray stopped her before she went anywhere. “Actually, I’m a fellow scientist. I read your paper on applied physics and nuclear fission. Perhaps, if you allowed me to take you to dinner, we can discuss in detail.”

Vostok rolled her eyes, swiftly turning on her heeled feet and strutting away smoothly without another word. Carter cringed. What an awkward exchange…