Title: Whatever She Wanted
Fandom: Venture Bros.
Rating: G
Word Count: 265
Prompt: 'Unresolved'
Summary: Once there's no more Soviet Union, what can a woman do with herself?
They wanted her to stay on, you know. They told her that the politics didn’t matter, that what she did -- what she was -- was above such things as leaders and economics and ideologies. They offered her more money, money she knew they didn’t have. They begged and they pleaded, and she still left, because she was Molotov Cocktease, and Molotov Cocktease did whatever she wanted to do.
Or she did now, anyway.
She had no idea what she was going to do, actually. The day they opened up the checkpoints, she stepped outside of Russia for the first time since they’d made the announcement of the dissolution, into Latvia, then looked around and decided that she was indeed above politics and ideologies, but she was even more above organisations and departments and rules and captains and all of that government nonsense.
What she was was a carefully crafted killing machine, designed to plunder and destroy delicately enough to leave things of value in good enough condition to bring back to base. The end of the Soviet Union hadn’t changed that.
And now there were no silly ideological divides to get in the way of what she could and couldn’t do.
Smiling, she turned back to the border, to return to the Motherland and retrieve her belongings. She still didn’t know what she was going to do with herself, but she had a vague idea and that was enough.
She’d decide after she paid visits to some former comrades, as well as a former enemy. After all, now she could do whatever she wanted.
Fandom: Venture Bros.
Rating: G
Word Count: 265
Prompt: 'Unresolved'
Summary: Once there's no more Soviet Union, what can a woman do with herself?
They wanted her to stay on, you know. They told her that the politics didn’t matter, that what she did -- what she was -- was above such things as leaders and economics and ideologies. They offered her more money, money she knew they didn’t have. They begged and they pleaded, and she still left, because she was Molotov Cocktease, and Molotov Cocktease did whatever she wanted to do.
Or she did now, anyway.
She had no idea what she was going to do, actually. The day they opened up the checkpoints, she stepped outside of Russia for the first time since they’d made the announcement of the dissolution, into Latvia, then looked around and decided that she was indeed above politics and ideologies, but she was even more above organisations and departments and rules and captains and all of that government nonsense.
What she was was a carefully crafted killing machine, designed to plunder and destroy delicately enough to leave things of value in good enough condition to bring back to base. The end of the Soviet Union hadn’t changed that.
And now there were no silly ideological divides to get in the way of what she could and couldn’t do.
Smiling, she turned back to the border, to return to the Motherland and retrieve her belongings. She still didn’t know what she was going to do with herself, but she had a vague idea and that was enough.
She’d decide after she paid visits to some former comrades, as well as a former enemy. After all, now she could do whatever she wanted.