Many years earlier... Sergey's Boxing Arena, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon...
Blood splattered across the white mat, as wounded boxer in the arena continued to drool with red spit. The wounded boxer fell to his gloved hands, as Mykola stepped over him with blue gloves covered in the other boxer's blood. Mykola laughed, as he grabbed the boxer by the shoulder and threw him into one of the four pins of the box. The boxer waved his hands, covering his face as Mykola reached down and offered help to the boxer.
The boxer cowered before spotting the hand given by Mykola, seemingly questioning it as Mykola spoke: «Come on, you daft fuck! Let me help you up!»
The boxer weakly offered Mykola his hand, as Mykola grabbed it and helped the boxer up. The boxer shivered, as Mykola shoved him to the exit as the boxer collapsed against it and groaned in pain. Mykola replied, «That is why fucking featherweights don't fight fucking heavyweight, even for a few thousand Uryurov's... get the fuck out!»
The featherweight opened the gate, letting himself out as he took a towel from another Oymyakonian to pad his bloody face. Mykola removed his boxing gloves, tossing them to the floor as he smiled. He didn't even bother putting in a mouth guard for this match, because there was no chance that the fucking featherweight wouldn't even be able to throw a decent hit. Mykola spotted the similar shape of Sergey moving through towards the ring, hopping over the bars as the club owner approached Mykola.
«A fucking featherweight?» Sergey asked, «You let a fucking featherweight box you?»
«Offered 17,000 Uryurov's, of course I would fucking break his face in! Took four fucking jabs!» Mykola replied, pulling back his coat resting on the bars as he pulled it over his thermal shirt.
«The fucker said you did it for free when he passed!» Sergey said, as he looked over the bars as he cried out: «Igor! Get your ass up and fetch that fucking shit!»
The sleeping Oymyakonian perked up, as he looked desperately around towards Sergey as he looked inquisitively at the club owner. «You useless fuck! Get that kid that is trying to fucking run out of here!»
Igor popped to his feet, looking towards the locker room door as he ran towards it instantly. Sergey turned back to Mykola looking back over the bars as he fetched a towel from the Oymyakonian standing there. He handed it to Mykola, as Mykola took it at tossed it against the bar.
«You fucking serious? Didn't even break a fucking sweat!» Mykola replied, as Sergey shook his head, «Don't give a shit! Take the fucking towel! My prized boxer!»
«Yes, yes... your prized boxer! Still don't need a fucking towel!» Mykola responded, walking towards the gates as he pushed out. Sergey shrugged, «What the fuck are you going to dry off with?»
«Dry off what?»
«From the fucking shower you animal!»
Mykola turned back and stared at Sergey, looking at the club owner as he shook his head and called out: «Segery the showers haven't had fucking running water for three fucking months!»
Sergey shrugged again, picking up the towel as he stepped out of the ring as well to approached Mykola. Mykola opened his locker of belongings, pulling out his bag as he started packing the things he still had out. Sergey tossed Mykola the towel again, as he looked up with fire in his eyes at the club owner. Sergey waved his hand once, saying: «Look, I will get that fucking water running! I'll even let you keep the towel until I get it running!»
«Sergey, I have twenty or so of these fucking towels! I don't need another one!» Mykola shot back, as Sergey replied: «Then you can take twenty showers!»
«A towel is reusable, Sergey!»
«Then make a fucking bed, Mykola!»
Mykola shook his head, «Yes, I will make a fucking bed!»
The Oymyakonian holding the towels started laughing, as Sergey turned back as he yelled at the Oymyakonian: «It isn't in your job description to laugh! So shut the fuck up or I will throw your ass in the cold!»
«Mykola, what the fuck will I do without you! When you get off this fucking ice planet, there is going to be no other rising galaxy boxers! Not fucking here, at least!» Sergey said, as Mykola pulled out of a water canister.
Mykola opened the water canister, drinking out of it as he then tilted his head to one side as he replied, «I wouldn't be too sure, that one fucking featherweight might have a chance!»
«Yes, if you fucking knock him into space!» Sergey replied, as he took the water canister from Mykola's possession and sniffed it. «Good, still not drinking fucking alcohol I see!»
«I don't see why the fuck you put me on prohibition! Everyone on this fucking planet drinks! Even you fucking drink!» Mykola replied, snatching back the water canister as he closed it.
«Yes, but you are the only one fucking here that can become an actual fighter! And there is no drinking during competition seasons, it is a fucking penalty! You also blow money on it more than a fucking whore would blow you!» Sergey replied, «You still staying away from that fucking shithole?»
Mykola shook his head, as he pulled over his heavy thermal jacket as he also pulled over his bag as Sergey waved a finger at the heavyweight, «You stay away from that place! Not a single fucking Uryurov!»
«Yes, yes... Not a single fucking Uryurov.» Mykola replied, as the sound of a person struggling was heard down the corridor. There was crying, as the bloody faced featherweight was pulled in by Igor to to boxing room in front of Sergey and Mykola. Mykola rolled his shoulders, looking at the featherweight as he cried: «No! Please no!»
«Where is his fucking Uryurov's?» Sergey asked, hitting the bloody faced featherweight as he cried even more. «I don't have it!» He gasped, «I don't fucking have it!»
«They why make the fucking bet?» Sergey demanded.
The featherweight fell silent, as Sergey looked back towards Mykola as he went through the coat of the featherweight as he pulled out whatever he could. The featherweight tried to struggle, but couldn't as he was being held back by Igor. Sergey pulled back a roll of 550 Uryurov's, as he looked down to the featherweight and spat in his face.
«Can't fucking believe you!» Sergey replied, as he handed the Uryurov's to Mykola. Mykola took the roll of paper, pocketing it as he looked back down to the featherweight. «That is my money for food!» The featherweight cried.
«Well, you shouldn't have made this fucking mistake then!» Sergey cried, as he motioned to Mykola, «This is a fucking man! A man that has a fucking future unlike you! You do not wrong a man like this! You fucking understand me?»
The featherweight cried, shaking his head as Sergey motioned to Mykola as he said: «Fucking knock this shit out!»
«No! Please no!» The featherweight cried, as he tried again to struggle against Igor as Mykola as he shook his head. «No, he has had fucking enough.» Mykola replied, as he looked down to the featherweight, «I've already wasted enough time with this fucking shit.»
Sergey looked surprised at first, but suddenly the club owners expression changed as he thought he understood Mykola was acting this way to appear to be greater that the featherweight. «You have it, champion!» Sergey said, «You have had a long day! I will find that fucking money for you! Even if it means he fucking dies!»
The featherweight whimpered, as Mykola stepped out towards the exit as he retrieved his thermal mask and pulled it over his head. Behind him, he could hear the featherweight scream as he stopped. He waited for a minute, before pushing through the door as he he headed out into the snow.
Forty-two minutes later... UEG Administration Office, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon...
The heavy blizzard set in towards the entrance of the UEG administration, as Mykola pushed against the the blizzard as he made his way to the entrance. The Oymyakonian stepped towards the door, hitting a release button as the door slid open and he stepped in completely covered in snow. Mykola quickly closed the door behind him, as the heat blasted against his being as the snow melted. Mykola pulled off his thermal mask, as he beat off the snow on his bag as he approached the doors that allowed them into the facility.
Mykola opened the doors, as he stepped through as a security line was established. There was a metal detector and an x-ray machine set up, as one of the two Oymyamonian officers guarding the equipment were asleep. The first waved Mykola through, as he tried to set his bag through the x-ray machine. The officer stopped him, before saying: «No need! This is advanced metal detector!»
«Sounds like fucking bullshit.» Mykola replied, as the officer nodded his head. Mykola stepped through the metal detector, as it lit up immediately and flashed. The first officer woke up, before spotting it was just the metal detector before leaning back as he tried to fall back to sleep.
The second officer shrugged, before saying: «You are good!»
The secretary looked across, lowering her glasses as her face reddened completely as she yelled: "What are you doing?! He tripped the alarm! Search him!"
The second officer turned off the alarm, rolling his eyes as he muttered to Mykola: «Fucking bullshit!»
Mykola tilted his head down before shaking it, as the officer removed his personal metal detector—not even bothering to turn on the device as he ran it around Mykola's figure before giving a thumbs up to the secretary. She groaned as she placed her hand against her forehead, shaking her head as Mykola approached her.
«What can I help you with?» She asked, looking up to Mykola as he replied in English: "Yes, my English good?"
"Yes, it is good." The secretary replied, "What can I help you with?"
"Yes, I want translate Uryurov's in Credits." Mykola said, smiling as he said it.
The secretary looked at him with a straight face, before asking: "You want to, transfer Uryurov's to Credits. It's not translate, or in."
"Yes, want I."
The secretary looked down, typing something on her computer before she looked back up at Mykola. She looked around him, before she asked: "May I have your identification and your local currency card?"
Mykola looked at the secretary oddly, as he started removing Uryurov's from his bag as he tried to offer it to the secretary. She shook her head immediately, before replying in Oymyakonian: «Stop! Identification and local currency card, please!»
Mykola nodded his head, before removing his identification card and local currency card. He then handed it to the secretary, as she placed them through a scanner as she then looked at the bag he had. «Please don't tell me it's all paper.» She said.
«I like paper.» Mykola replied, as he removed rolls of thousands of Uryurov's. The secretary groaned, muttering something in English that Mykola didn't quite understand.
«Just give it to me!» She said, as she took the bag from off the counter as she stood up and walked to a backroom. Mykola muttered, «Fucking whore.»
He stood there, waiting for several minutes before the secretary returned—handing back the bag that used to be full of Uryurov's as she then scanned the local currency card once more as she handed it back to Mykola with his identification.
«I've transferred your Uryurov's to Credits. You have received 1,742 Credits from the transaction.» The secretary flatly said, as she turned away from them. Mykola stared oddly at the secretary, shaking his head before he said: «No, this must be wrong! It should be 17,000 or so Credits for 1,700,000 Uryurov's! You must have made a mistake!»
The secretary looked flatly at him, before saying: «No, I didn't make a mistake. Your currency lost value, if you even know what that means. It's become weaker.»
«But only a month ago it was this, I checked transfer rates—»
«The currency's value changes over time, you know that right? It's fluctuated because your currency isn't stable. Therefore, you get less in the transfer.»
«Fucking bullshit!» Mykola retorted, «I worked hard to earn and save this fucking money! You can't fucking do this to me!»
«I didn't do a thing!» The secretary said, her eyes burning as she continued, «It's not my problem, and not my issue! I've done what you wanted me to do, so now you may leave!»
«No, fuck this!» Mykola replied. «You either give me what I deserve or your give me back my Uryurov's!»
«Wrong, I don't need to do a thing!» The secretary snarled, «So either leave this building peacefully, or I can have these officers forcefully eject you from the premises!»
Mykola shook his head, grudgingly as he stepped towards the door towards the exit. He walked through the metal detector again, grabbing a flagpole for the UEG as he tossed it to the ground as the lights and siren flashed again. He ignored the police officers, as he opened the door to the heating chambers before he pulled his thermal mask over his head again. Ignoring the heating protocols, he kicked open the door to the outside as a dent was made in it. The wind forced it's way through the dent, carrying a cold air through as Mykola set out through the snow again.
Twenty-seven minutes later... Khvostovgrad Apartment Complex #28, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon...
Mykola burst through the front doors to the apartment complex, as Alyona awoke with a fright to the sight of her fellow Oymyakonian. Mykola batted off the snow and ice, tearing off his thermal mask as she stood up from behind her desk and approached Mykola. She offered to take his thermal mask, as he thrusted it into her possession as she looked at him oddly.
«The fuck is the matter, Mykola?» Alyona demanded, as he dropped his bag and threw off his heavy thermal coat. He looked coldly at her, as he muttered: «Fuck!»
«Mykola!» Aylona said louder, as he turned his head suddenly to her as she continued: «What the fuck is the problem?!»
«Fuck the UEG!» Mykola said, tearing off his heavy thermal coat as he threw it in Aylona's hand as she dropped it to the floor immediately: «Save it for the fucking room, Mykola! But fuck the UEG! You finally saying that shit too?»
«I've always said it!» Mykola said, as Aylona replied: «Bullshit!»
«Well what the fuck do I have now, Aylona? I can work for another three fucking years to earn another fucking fraction of the cost I need to get off this Cold-As-Fuck planet and make my way anywhere else!»
«Well fuck you too, Mykola!» Aylona responded, «You want to fucking leave us? What the fuck is the matter with you!»
«I wasn't going to fucking leave you! Or anyone else! I just wanted to get out there to box!» Mykola shot back, «Fucking punch some other fuckers faces in!»
«Yeah, so fucking leave us! Fantastic!» Aylona yelled back, «And you think they would even give you a chance to box, Mykola? They wouldn't fucking do that! They would fucking find some fucking reason to imprison you!»
«The fuck do you mean?»
«Mykola, Oymyakonian's don't fucking survive when they leave this planet! Everyone else fucking hates us! Hates us because we don't want to be a part of their fucking fascist system!»
Mykola remained silent, as Aylona continued: «That is why they didn't give you what you deserved! They despise us as a people, Mykola! They think we are fucking inferior, fucking lesser than anyone else! Why do you think these fucking Ice Bastards are prioritised over us? Because they are the fucking first class citizens everywhere else they go—because they aren't fucking Oymyakonian! It is just us against them, Mykola! Me and you, against them!»
Mykola shook his head, as Aylona approached him and pressed herself against him in an embrace. Mykola ignored this, continuing to shake his head as he pushed himself away from Aylona as he muttered to her: «Get the fuck away from me! I don't want this fucking bullshit right now, I need to fucking think!»
Aylona watched as Mykola headed for the stairs, shaking her head as she picked up his belongings and put them where they belonged. Before looked back towards Mykola as he opened and slammed his door, as she felt the vibrations as she muttered to herself as well.
Mykola headed to the roll of towels that he laid out to make some sort of bed, before he picked up a used rubber at the foot of his 'bed' and tossed it towards bin located near the door, muttering: «Fuck!» as he did so. He collapsed on the bed, turning in one direction as he turned and kicked the wall to his side. He waited a second, before he heard through the wall: «Can you two ever stop fucking?!»
Mykola shook his head, rolling back over as he stared at the door. Closing his eyes as he exhaled audibly and folded his arms. Thinking.
Present day... Central Metro Storage, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon...
There was the sound of beeping, as the light overhead flickered as there was then a sudden sound of screaming. Mykola tried rolling over, as he grunted in pain. He slowly propped himself up, looking across the way as he watched two insurrectionists drag a man in hospital garb down the hallway to an isolated room in the facility. One of the insurrectionists were holding a M6D Magnum, as the patient continued to scream. Mykola watched as the patient was forced into a room, as seconds later there was the the sound of a gunshot.
The screaming stopped, as a doctor soon walked into where Mykola was. The doctor stopped immediately as he saw that Mykola was awake, as he looked back out and down the hallway as he said: «Nevermind! Mykola Vovk is awake! No need for the execution!»
Mykola looked directly at the doctor, as he suddenly burst out: «What the fuck?! You were going to kill me?!»
The doctor nodded his head, «Direct orders to, sorry Vovk! It just so happens that with all the recent attacks, we have been losing supplies. Medical, military, food... all of it is being destroyed by the fascists or being seized by them.»
«What the fuck happened to Laika?» Mykola asked.
Mykola nodded his head, as the doctor lowered his and sighed. He took a moment to seemingly collect himself, before he replied: «It was hit pretty hard. Heavy casualties and plenty of people detained. It wasn't the only one either...»
«There was Galaktika and Krasniya.» A familiar voice joined.
Mykola looked towards the voice, spotting the familiar shape of Kuptov as the man approached the side of his resting bed. Kuptov took a puff of his cigar, as the doctor tried to stop him but the officer shrugged him off: «We are in an underground bunker with fucking gunpowder, petrol and plenty of other fucking toxic shit. Tobacco isn't a problem here.»
«Two more were hit?» Mykola asked, as Kuptov nodded his head. «We have only one more entrance, and with the two we have lost we have lost the capacity to keep everyone who comes to us alive.»
«So you are killing the injured?» Mykola asked flatly, as Kuptov rolled his eyes, «We have a fucking observant one. Yes, of course we fucking are! If no one can help us, we cannot afford to keep them alive!»
«What about the fucking children, or the elderly?» Mykola then snapped as Kuptov approached his bed as he forced him back into it as he spoke coldly, «If they can't fucking help us, we cannot afford to keep them alive!»
Mykola fell silent as Kuptov said this, as the officer tapped his cigar and turned away, «We are running out of food, ammunition, weapons and other essentials, Mykola. We are slowly losing the ability to help anyone who comes to us, and unfortunately in this scenario if we want our cause to be kept alive so we may continue to fight for our freedom, we need to prioritise the fighters over everyone else.»
«We were fighting to protect them! Not cast them out like the fucking—» Mykola was interrupted.
«Do you want to fucking survive?» Kuptov asked, as the doctor then turned out of and left the room. Mykola remained silent, as Kuptov continued to stare down at him as Kuptov then said: «I asked you a fucking question, Mykola.»
«Then you will get out of this fucking bed, get dressed and listen very closely to what I have to fucking say!» Kuptov replied, «You. Will. Do. As. You. Are. Fucking. Told. What did I just say so I know we are fucking clear?»
«I will do as I am fucking told.» Mykola replied grudgingly.
«Even if that means you put down worthless fucking children and fucking old fucks.» Kuptov said. Mykola remained silent, as Kuptov then yelled: «Well?!»
Mykola sighed, «Even if it means I put down worthless fucking children and fucking old fucks.»
Kuptov nodded his head, dropping his cigar on Mykola's bed while it was still hot as he then said: «Good. Now you have a minute to get ready, or I will have someone come around to kill you.»
Kuptov turned, walking for the doorway as he stepped out confidently. Mykola sat for a second in his bed, before turning towards the pile of insurrectionist clothing he had been wearing. He moved, as his body screamed in agony as he moved—but he still moved because he knew that if he didn't, he would die.
And it wasn't the cold that would kill him. Nor the UNSC.
But the very people he trusted.