The Hazards Of Smoking...

Something bad was going to happen, Katja thought to herself as she moved to the window of the living room. Someone in the world tonight was going to know pain, suffering, sadness, loss...and if that wasn't enough, someone would more then likely die tonight. It was depressing to think about such terrible things, but it couldn't be helped. She knew that on beautiful nights like tonight, such bad things inexorably happened; it was just the way of the world. Drawing the curtains aside slightly, she peered out into the night at the quiet little culdesac. She couldn't help but find herself just slightly envious of the peaceful setting surrounding her, something that seemed to be just a bit elusive to her these days, especially in her newly adopted home of America. But she was determined to change that, and the old friend she had come to the sleepy little piece of suburban life to visit would help her do just that.

"Do you mind if I smoke, my friend?" she asked with her deep rich Russian accent, not turning around to face her host as she continued gazing out the window at the tranquil scene. "I would understand if you didn't want me to in such a charming home, but I must admit that I do crave one terribly."

Not hearing any objections, Katja reached into her red leather cropped bomber jacket and pulled out a small flat silver case. She calmly tapped one of the slim black cigarettes out of it, then replaced it back in her pocket, bringing the object of her cravings to her anticipating lips. "Spaceba, Emil." she said gratefully. "Damn this awful addiction of mine. I hate it so much, yet I swear I could kill for one sometimes! Ah, well...we are all slaves to one sort of addiction or another, da?"

Outside a lone dog barked loudly, the only noise to break the near total silence of the winter dark, and brought her attention from the woes of her bad habit back to the view in front of her. She noticed that the part of the window in front of her had started to fog up, the cold of the window reacting to her warm breath on it. She brought up a black leather gloved hand and then used her index finger to trace out a smiley face on the fogged window pane. "Such a cold night out tonight. I had no idea that anywhere in America got this cold...I always thought this was the land of eternal summers or something to that effect. But this? This almost reminds me of a St. Petersburg winter, so bitterly cold. A pity we don't have the comfortable heat of a roaring fireplace to warm us, yes?" she thought out loud, still continuing to look out the window. "Speaking of fire, where did I put those matches?"

Katja began to pat down her jacket and well fitting black denim designer jeans pockets, seeking the missing matchbook. "Damn it, always losing them." she cursed, still searching herself. "A shame too, because after the time I've had of late, I seem to be needing the calming effect of a good smoke more and more these days. First, I quit my job back home to be with my love...yes, I know, very romantic. Unfortunately, my former employers were not very romantic or understanding and were quite vocal about their disappointment concerning my decision. So my lover and I came to America for a fresh start, and things were good for awhile...at least I thought they were.

What I didn't know was that the person I gave my heart to and gave up home, work and family for was cheating on me with someone I thought was my best friend. And if that wasn't bad enough, the two of them ran off together after they stole all my money! Can you believe that? Needless to say, I didn't take this well. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' is very true, you know? I mean, of course, no one takes betrayal well, I know...but women take it even more to heart and react with more anger when it happens to them, and I take it even worse then most."

Taking one last look out at the beautifully quiet scenery, Katja closed the curtains and turned to face her host finally, taking the cigarette from her lips and sweeping back her long dark red hair, then placing it behind her right ear. "Which brings me here to you this night, Emil. My search for my betrayers has been hampered of late by the people I used to be in the employ of; It seems they are still looking for me. I know this because men found me and told me who sent them. It wasn't easy getting them to admit this, but I was very, very persuasive. But then you know how I can be when I want to know something, don't you? And again, I do thank you for telling me what you knew about my former lover and best friend...very helpful, indeed." A small smile spread on her face as she walked over to stand in front of him, her deep blue eyes impassive and unreadable.

"Now, while I knew who was looking for me, and even had an idea why, what I didn't know was how they found me. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was you who had told them how to find me, Emil. After all the time we spent in the academy and in training, our time in the SVR, and you turned me in without a thought. I couldn't believe it, which is funny when you think of how I've been betrayed lately, right?" She turned away from him and started to pace the living room floor. "So now that leaves us with the question of what to do next. After careful thought, I believe I need to make...a 'statement' of sorts to those still looking for me. Something to discourage my former employers from wasting time, money and other resources to find me. What do you think of that course of action, Emil?"

When Katja heard no reply, she stopped pacing and turned to face her friend. "Ah, silly me. Here, let me help you." She moved over to kneel beside him and removed the gag from from his mouth as he struggled in vain to escape the tight industrial ropes that tied him to the chair securely. "There we go...much better, da?"

Emil gasped for air greedily as soon as the gag was taken away, and turned to look at her, fear evident in his one open and uninjured eye. "Please, Katja...," he said shakily after spitting blood caused by the various injuries she had inflicted. "Let me go. We've been friends for years!"

"I truly wish it didn't have to be this way, but you really left me no other choice, old friend. Well, now...I guess we should go ahead and get this over with."

"I'm begging you...no!"

With a sad smile on her face, Katja stood up and left the screaming man, going to the cozy little kitchen in the back of the house. She admired the simple yet efficient design of the kitchen, taking notes of some of the design ideas and thinking of using them in her own little dream home. That is, once she got a chance to settle down and live in peace without operatives of the Soviet equivalent to the CIA, the SVR, and the Russian military intelligence entity GRU trying to bring her back to Mother Russia or kill her. She moved over to the old gas stove and began to turn on all four stove top gas jets to high, and then did the same to the oven, leaving the door wide open. She moved over to the sink and pulled a piece of cloth from her jacket, wetting it and placing it to her mouth and nose to block some of the toxic fumes coming from the stove.

She then left the kitchen and returned to the living room where her friend was now sobbing incoherently, pleading for his life still. Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue at him. "Emil, Emil...stop this pitiful display!" she lightly chided him, moving to the coffee table and picking up the full gas can she had brought with her, then walking back over to him. "What would our instructors say if they saw you now, blubbering like a scared old woman? Show the bravery of a true son of Russia! At least endure this with a little dignity, da?" With that said, she began liberally dousing him with the high octane fluid, using nearly half the contents of the five gallon container on him. She then began moving backwards away from him, splashing a trail from Emil with the highly flammable liquid to the front door on the plush carpet of the living room and the hardwood floor of the hallway. Katja then emptied out the can and threw it back into the living room, where it landed near her old friend. Finished in her task, she patted herself down again and smiled as she finally found her lost book of matches in left breast pocket of her leather jacket. "Ah, there they are! Always in the last place you think to look, of course."

Standing at the open front door and looking at Emil, she watched him flinch in sheer terror and scream as she pulled the cigarette from behind her ear and brought it to her full crimson lips, then proceeded to strike a match to light it. Katja inhaled deeply and gratefully, sighing contentedly as she finally got to have her long overdue smoke. She leaned on the door frame, taking a moment to look around at the sleepy suburban scene for one last time before it was to be very rudely awakened. She watched with mild amusement as she blew out little smoke rings that floated lazily up into the chilly dark sky, smiling to herself as she enjoyed her quiet little moment of peacefulness. 'If only it could last...' she thought to herself, but in her heart she knew that it couldn't. She knew, in fact, that it was more then likely she was going to commit even more dark, brutal acts before things ended, with her having to kill an awful lot of people along the way to accomplish her goal. 'Speaking of which...back to business at hand.'

"You know, I am not without heart, Emil..." Katja called out to him from the doorway. "There is a chance you could escape all of this with just some major burns, and not perish. The ropes aren't all that fire resistant, and theoretically could burn off you before you burn to death. Or die of smoke inhalation. Or have burning debris crush you. Oh, and then there's the explosion from the gas..." She stopped for a second, thinking over what she had just said. "All right, not a really good chance, but slim and none is better then none at all, right?"

Emil sputtered, trying to spit blood and gasoline so he could speak. "You don't have to do this, Katja! I swear I won't tell them anything else...I swear! Just please, let me live!"

"Should you escape, comrade, I want you to tell my former employers to stop coming after me as things will only get worse from here." she went on, ignoring her former friend's pleas. "And I also suggest that should you somehow survive this, you not come after me in some misguided scenario of revenge. If we meet a next time, I will just put a bullet in your head then and there, understand me? Dosvidanya, Emil, and good luck." She then turned to walk away from the doomed home.

"For the love of God, do not do this!" He cried out at her, furiously straining against his bonds.

As Katja moved down the stairs from the porch of the home, she paused and reluctantly took one last drag of her smoke, taking it from her lips and then holding it up close to look at it as she exhaled slowly. Shrugging and then without looking back, she flicked it over her shoulder to soar through the air where it landed softly into the pool of gasoline at the open front door. She walked briskly down the walkway to her rental car on the side of the street as she heard the 'Woosh!' of the trail of flame start at the door and move to the living room. By the time she heard Emil's screams of pain and agony, she was in her car and starting the engine. As she pulled away from the curb and began moving down the street, the first of multiple explosions rocked the once quiet neighborhood, pieces of the former cozy little home raining down behind her as she continued to speed away from the scene of the crime.

"God, I should really quit smoking..." Katja mused aloud as she continued to drive, looking in the rear view mirror as the flames and smoke from the remains of the house rose higher and higher into the night sky. "It really is a dangerous habit."

A/N: This is another sample of hopefully a lot of tales to come dealing with the heartbroken Russian ex-assassin Katja Petrov and her quest for revenge. Tell me what you think, OK? -VM