Marvelous Meditations #57

Snow whipped through the air in thick, blinding sheets, the wind howling like a beast prowling through the frozen wasteland. Nathan Cross, Logan, Piotr, and the five young mutants trudged forward, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground.

The patches adhered to their skin worked as promised, keeping them warm despite the relentless cold.

Then, through the storm’s fury, a low, gruff humming echoed—a voice, deep and weathered, carrying a somber tune through the swirling whiteout.

"Tyomnaya noch', tol'ko pul'i svistyat po stepi…""

Logan’s ears twitched at the sound, his frown deepening as his claws instinctively slid free with a quiet snikt. He turned sharply, scanning the blizzard for movement.

Nathan placed a steady hand on Logan’s shoulder before he could act. "Relax," he murmured, voice barely audible over the wind. "That’s our guy, and that’s him being polite."

Logan gave him a skeptical look, but after a beat, he exhaled through his nose and retracted his claws. "Hell of a way to say hello," he muttered.

The singing grew louder, closer. Then, through the wall of ice and wind, a figure emerged.

The man was massive—easily six and a half feet tall, broad as a bear, his heavy coat doing little to hide the sheer bulk of his frame. Snow clung to his thick, fur-lined hood, and his beard, grizzled and streaked with silver, was dusted with frost.

Despite the brutal conditions, he wore a broad, wolfish grin, his sharp eyes locked onto Nathan like a predator sizing up an old rival.

Then, with a booming laugh, he bellowed in Russian, "Krestov! Look at you—big, tall, and still ugly as ever!"

Before Nathan could respond, the man lunged forward and engulfed him in a bear hug, hoisting him off the ground like he weighed nothing. The force nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Nathan let out a wry chuckle, giving the man a few firm pats on the back. "You're still built like a damn tank, Gregor. Thought you’d have dropped dead from vodka poisoning by now."

Gregor set him down, still grinning like a madman. "Bah! Vodka keeps me young! Unlike you, little American, looking all serious and tired. Come, we have much to discuss—and much to drink."

Nathan smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get out of this damn storm first."

Gregor turned, gesturing for them to follow as he led them further into the blizzard, his heavy boots crunching through the ice.

Logan watched the interaction with narrowed eyes, then leaned slightly toward Nathan. "You sure this guy’s not gonna sell us out?"

Nathan didn’t hesitate. "If he was, we’d already be fighting for our lives."

The cave was a welcome refuge from the raging storm outside. The wind howled through the narrow entrance, but the deeper recesses remained dry and mercifully still. A small fire crackled in the center, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.

Gregor stretched his arms with a grunt before settling onto a rock, the firelight highlighting the deep lines on his face. He glanced at Nathan with a smirk. “Storm’s got the roads buried. Transport will be here once it dies down.”

Nathan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “And yet, you still managed to find us on foot.” He gestured vaguely toward the blizzard outside. “Looks like age hasn’t slowed you down any.”

Gregor waved a dismissive hand. “Pff. I age like fine wine.” Then, as an afterthought, he added with a smirk, “Not that I’d put that swill anywhere near my mouth.”

Logan, who had been leaning against the cave wall with his arms crossed, finally gave in to his curiosity. “Alright, I gotta ask—how do you two know each other?”

The question made everyone pause. Even Piotr, who had been quietly tending to the fire, glanced up. The younger mutants perked up, shifting their attention to Nathan with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

Nathan sighed, rubbing his temple as if bracing for the inevitable. “Gregor was a Soviet soldier. When the Union collapsed, he found himself out of a job… so he joined the Bratva.”

Before he could continue, Gregor cut in with a grin. “Became a lieutenant real quick, too. And that’s when I met this one here.”

Nathan shot him a pointed look but didn’t argue. “We did business.”

Gregor let out a booming chuckle. “Ha! Sweet and short of it? I sold him guns to arm his gang.”

Nathan sighed again, palming his face. He knew there was no stopping Gregor once he got going.

Kitty’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, staring at Nathan. “Wait, wait—you had a gang?”

Before Nathan could even open his mouth, Gregor—clearly enjoying himself—nodded. “Oh, da, little one. Not just any gang.” He gestured dramatically. “This one? He was a kingpin. You Americans call it that, yes?”

Nathan groaned under his breath. “I was not a kingpin.”

Gregor smirked. “Aha, right. Just a man with an army, guns, and a network of criminals at his beck and call.” He threw a wink at Logan. “But not a kingpin.”

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Huh. And here I thought you were just some mysterious ex-military spook. Turns out you were runnin’ your own damn syndicate.”

Rogue arched a brow. “And here Ah was thinkin’ you were just morally questionable, but this is a whole new level.”

Jean’s brows furrowed as she studied Nathan carefully. “You never mentioned any of this before.”

Nathan exhaled through his nose, rubbing at the bridge of it. “Yeah. Because I didn’t want to. It's like my dark past...”

Gregor barked another laugh. “Ah, don’t be so shy, Krestov! You should tell them the story of how you took down that drug lord from Mexico. Or when you—”

Nathan shot him a sharp look. “Not another word, old man.”

Gregor simply smirked, leaning back against the cave wall, arms crossed over his massive chest. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying… you were a lot more fun back in the day.”

...

The cave was silent except for the distant howl of the wind outside. The fire had burned low, casting faint embers across the rocky walls, and the only other sounds were the slow, rhythmic breaths of the others as they slept. Nathan sat near the entrance, his back against the cold stone, eyes fixed on the swirling snow beyond.

Gregor, seated beside him with a rifle across his lap, exhaled through his nose. "You're still as quiet as ever, Krestov." His voice was low, gruff, barely above a murmur.

Nathan smirked. "And you're still as loud as ever."

Gregor let out a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly as he scanned the darkness. "Force of habit. Hard to turn it off after all these years."

Nathan glanced at him. "How are things looking?"

Gregor’s fingers tapped idly against the rifle’s stock. "Been reading everyone's pulse." His voice carried a weight of experience, laced with something just shy of amusement.

"My friends in the army? They’ll be very happy to see Arkady out of the picture. But…" He exhaled, shaking his head. "Not everyone is going to be pleased. Some see him for the monster he is. Others?" He shrugged. "They see an opportunity."

Nathan gave a slow nod, unsurprised. "Governments are all the same," he muttered. "Doesn’t matter where in the world you go. There’s always someone looking for a way to turn a nightmare into an asset."

Gregor smirked. "Spoken like a man who knows firsthand."

Nathan’s expression darkened, but he didn’t respond. He knew better than anyone just how many skeletons were locked away in the vaults of powerful nations—how many deals had been struck in the dark, how many men like Arkady had been created because someone saw value in their destruction.

Gregor studied him for a moment before changing the subject. "And as for the other thing… it’s handled."

Nathan’s eyes flickered toward him. "You’re sure?"

Gregor nodded. "Word’s already spreading. The tech Arkady needs to stabilize his condition? Everyone in the right circles is whispering that it’s stored in a military base in Severodvinsk." He smirked. "He’ll show his ugly mug there sooner or later."

Nathan leaned back against the rock, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still as reliable as ever, old man."

Gregor scoffed, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Hmph. Wasn’t easy pulling all that together." His voice turned dry. "And I do expect to be compensated, you know. This kind of work doesn’t come cheap."

Nathan chuckled. "Relax. You’ll get exactly what you want."

Gregor gave him a long look before grinning. "Good. Because I’ve got expensive taste, malen'kiy vor."

Nathan huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just keep your eyes open. We’re not done yet."

Gregor’s smirk remained, but his fingers tightened on his rifle as he looked back out into the storm. "Da… not yet."

...

The wind howled as it rolled across the frozen hilltop, whipping up flurries of snow and rattling through the bare, skeletal trees. From their vantage point, the military base below was a fortress of concrete and steel, its perimeter lined with floodlights that cut through the swirling frost.

Armed guards patrolled in disciplined formations, their movements sharp and practiced.

Gregor stood with his arms folded, his breath fogging the air as he surveyed the base below. Logan stood a few steps behind, silent and still, his sharp eyes scanning the facility, taking in every detail. Nathan, however, remained focused on the metallic briefcase in his hands.

With practiced ease, he flipped it open, revealing the disassembled parts of a sniper rifle nestled inside.

Gregor’s frown deepened as Nathan methodically clicked each piece into place, assembling the weapon with the kind of quiet efficiency that spoke of long familiarity. His grip on the rifle was steady, his movements fluid. He didn’t even need to look at what he was doing—his hands knew the process by heart.

“What the hell are you doing, Krestov?” Gregor finally asked, his tone edged with suspicion.

Nathan didn’t look up as he slid the suppressor onto the barrel. “Insurance.” He reached into the case and retrieved a single bullet, holding it between his gloved fingers. The dull gleam of Vibranium caught the faint light. “One shot. Just in case the kids shit the bed.”

Gregor’s expression darkened. He turned to face Nathan fully, his broad shoulders tensing under his heavy coat. “Need I remind you of my payment?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

Nathan finally met his gaze, slotting the bullet into the rifle’s chamber before giving the bolt a slow, deliberate slide forward. “No, you don’t.” He rested the rifle on the edge of the cliff, aligning it perfectly with the base below. “But would you still want your payment if it came at the cost of a kid’s life?”

Gregor flinched ever so slightly, his lips pressing into a tight line. A long, heavy silence stretched between them before he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Nyet…” His voice softened, the weight of his words hanging in the cold air. “That would not sit right with my rýpka.”

Nathan nodded, adjusting the scope with practiced ease. “Like I said, this is just insurance. Me being overly paranoid.” He finally glanced up at the older man, his voice firm but calm. “The kids can handle Arkady. I wouldn’t have brought them here otherwise.”

Gregor let out a slow breath before grunting. “Hmph. Just don’t get any ideas about pulling that trigger unless you have to, Krestov.”

Nathan smirked, settling his eye against the scope. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The wind howled once more, carrying the weight of an approaching storm. Below, in the depths of the base, the young mutants and Colossus were already in position.

They just had to wait.