Anon's 19th birthday had came and went, as he grew older his desires became more blurred as he could never quite tell exactly what he wanted. The few things he did manage to nail down were either too expensive or illegal in his communist state (even though his father would never allow such evil weapons in his home). It was at these times such as important holidays or special occasions, his mother would send for him to fly down to her home for a nice visit to the family. As per his wish, the first place they'd visited was the local gun store to possibly look for a rifle of his choosing. 

There she was. A near perfect condition Mosin Nagant. Her steel had retained its blue and the wood had not warped or discolored. The bore was in great shape and very little to no pitting that could be seen.

"1930, hex receiver...Jesus Christ."

Anon's smile was ear to ear as he'd held this wonderful weapon for the first time. It may not have been special or unique in the grand scope but it was his first rifle and he couldn't bear to put her down.

"I'll take it."

"Come on by the register and we'll ring you up, you're just gonna have to fill out this form real quick."

Unfortunately for Anon, he wasn't a state resident but his mother was and was willing to fill out the form for him.

When he'd finally returned to his home with rifle in hand, anon disassembled his new prized piece and gave it a once over with some Hoppe's solutions and bore cleaner he'd gotten from Walmart earlier.

"No cosmoline? Odd."

Looking over the barrel and reciever more closely without the pressure of being watched in the gun store by the employees, he'd noticed that instead of a hooded post, there was but a steel blade like one would expect on a pistol.

"Even more odd"

With a quick reassembly, the rifle was back in working order, quick function check and a firm slap on the side of the stock.

"Ahn~!" 

"What the fuck?" Anon said as his head snapped around behind himself.

Clock struck 2:36 AM as Anon had stayed up and watched some shitty Steven Seagal flicks. Mocking movies had been a favorite pastime of his, especially poking fun at the low budget "operators".

"On a black op in the middle of Russia or some shit and what do you bring with you? A tactical wakizashi. Fuck."

Never had his rifle left his side the whole night, he was a kid with a new and very dangerous toy. After the cinematic travesty had ended where the floperator had tactically employed all of his Special Forces training to slash up street thugs to get at some Chinese mob boss, Anon had become overwhelmed by the familiar feeling of drooping eyelids. Placing the Mosin across the couch cushions and falling into bed he'd passed out almost instantly.

What felt like seconds passed as he was woken up by an abrupt slap to the head. 

"Звoнoк-идиoт" This voice was unlike any he'd heard and more importantly, there was a threat in his room that had gotten too close. 

In true prepper nature, he'd always had at least one weapon of any kind within arms reach if this exact situation had ever happened. Anon had reacted the only way he knew how, by flailing autistically and losing his mind as he was scared shitless. The figure had backed up with arms raised, ready to defend as he grabbed the Maglite at shined it right in the figure's face. Much to Anon's surprise, it was a tall, bulky woman with long chestnut brown wavy hair that fell just past the shoulders. The mysterious woman donned a pair of sleek, tall black boots, a woolen greatcoat and that goofy fuzzy hat.

While covering her face to shield her eyes from the beam, she simply slapped him again and ordered him to turn off the light in a deep, thickly accented voice. 

Anon was simply stunned at the woman's abuse and the fact that shed somehow gotten in here past the security system of the house. The strange soviet sat herself down on the couch where the rifle had once lain and crossed her thick legs.

Clicking on the lamp on the nightstand, the room illuminated to reveal the woman more clearly. She sat with her arms folded across her larger bust with the left leg over her right. A look of utter disdain was spread across her porcelain but scratched face. No Mosin is without her marks.

tossing his Maglite aside and picking up an $8 Walmart machete he kept against the table, he opened his mouth and sputtered out, "wh-who are yo-" before being cut off.

"Quiet, Blin" she said as she eyed him up. Looking over every detail of his thin yet firm composition.

"You are of weak, I cannot pledge myself to weakness." she said in a tone dripping with venom.

Anon's expression scrunched as his frustration and anger started to overcome the fear.

"I'm sorry, just who the fuck are you?"

"Am Mila"

"Mila?"

"Are you of deaf too? Mila"

"Yeah, got that now just what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"Hush your mouth, coбaкa. I am rifle."

"You...are rifle. Alright this is going nowhere, I'm calling police."

"You are of deaf and stupid too? I am rifle, YOUR rifle. You bought me from store today. You even have nerve to hit my behind!"

"What in the hell are you-" Anon thought back to the noise he'd heard after giving the rifle a nice lovetap on the stock. He still couldn't find a way to rationalize this whole situation.

Mila sighed as she stood from the couch, the look of disdain now mixed with one of annoyance. She stood easily at about 6' 2", her bulky body would be guessed to weigh in the ballpark of 170 to 180 pounds.

"If I cannot convince, I show proof." She said ash she unbuttoned her greatcoat. Anon couldn't help but stare as she undid her coat and moved on to her shirt, eyebrows raising with the release of each one.

With her shirt halfway undone, Mila pulled it aside to reveal the top of her left breast.

"Look. Do not touch or I break arm."

There, tattooed into her skin was a triangle with the upward arrow, the date '1930' and her serial number.

For a second, Anon thought he could make out what was another mark on the side of her breast. When he tilted his head to look, Mila abruptly shut her shirt and hastily buttoned it back up. Startled by the sudden movement, he jolted back and looked up at her, only to notice something peculiar. She was distinctly heterochromatic with her left eye being a light blue fading to grey and the other being a deep baby blue. It's almost as if that eye was replaced as there were a couple marks around her eyelid. 

"Uhh... Did I offend you?"

"Heт, you see what you need to see. Is all.'

"It's just that...nevermind."

His mind trailed on that mysterious other mark for a bit before dropping it completely. Anon had other pressing questions to get to first.

"So...how are you a rifle exactly? I can plainly see it poking out from under that blanket."

The Mosin in question had been moved to leaning up against the bed with a blanket wrapped around it.

"Do not call me 'it'. I have name, Blyat"

"Whatever, just what are you? You know this, the human form." Anon said while making broad waving gestures to the body before him.

Mila opened her mouth to speak but could not find the words as she took on a puzzled expression. Her features contorted until she finally came up with a semblance of an answer.

"I am, how you say, of spirit? Perhaps spirit of rifle?"

"So you're the spirit of my rifle? Are you the only one? If there are more could you feel them somehow?"

"I do not know, if I am not alone then I have not felt another."

"Also why are your eyes a little mismatched? It almost seems like-"

Her face froze and she went from a calm commanding presence to being very self-conscious and insecure. Anon trailed on for a bit while the hint of a tear welled up and she flew into a fit. With her left hand over her right eye, she yelled out rapid fire Russian and backhand punched him in the nose.

With a yelp from the sharp, stinging pain in his most likely cracked nose, Anon closed his eyes and held back tears while gripping his face.

"What the fuck?! Christ that hurt!" he yelled into his hands. When his eyes opened, she was nowhere to be seen and the rifle sat motionless.

Getting up and looking around while blood started to trail through his fingers, Anon looked around the room. A quick peek down the stairs shown that the door had not been disturbed and would have made a loud creek, had it been. Turning to the small door that lead to the "attic", what was really just the rafters holding up the roof and housing for the heating and ac unit, often to be jokingly called "where the vampire lives" as per his small vampire fetish, there was no Mila to be found.

"Mila?" he called out in a hurt tone, sounding like a scolded dog.

Anon walked back over to where the rifle had been propped and called gently. 

"Mila?"

No response. He knelt down and called again.

"M-Mila?"

Just then the rifle tipped and the bottom handguard caught him square in the forehead. Another yelp and he got the message.

With a defeated sigh, Anon just picked up his rifle and set her back on the couch where she laid before and went back to bed with a switch of the lamp.

A week had passed since Mila's outburst and Anon's nose had fortunately not broken from her rather strong punch. Every time Anon had passed the weapon, she sat still as a statue and made no hints of coming out of her shell, her silence was disheartening and frustrating all in one neat little package. Anon would often try to just brush it off as immaterial to him as she was a rifle and only that, but he knew after that night that Mila was a person with a body and soul just like him as she'd demonstrated. He knew he'd fucked up bad somehow or another, but even the building guilt wouldn't stop him from enjoying the day that all gun owners look forward to...especially the newer ones. Range day.

Living in scenic God's nowhere near the waters of North Carolina didn't afford him many options as it wasn't quite as barren as Anon led himself to believe. Homes, neighborhoods, shops and even small towns were spaced enough apart to give the illusion of open space but still just close enough together that he wouldn't want to risk underestimating the power of the 7.62x54r and have it blow through someone's wall or worse, body. 

through a couple hours of searching he came upon some shoddily put together site about a man that owned an outdoor range. Looking up the address told him that the only other option besides an indoor range in the waterfront town. Deducing they probably wouldn't allow him to shoot his steel surplus to his hearts' content. Anon had recalled something online about indoor ranges barring steel and making range goers buy their lead.

'Probably some bullshit that happened at some greedy cunt's range years ago...but lets play it safe.' Anon had thought.

"Remember, honey. law says the gun has to be transported unloaded and out of reach."

"Got it, mom"

Loading Mila and two packs of the surplus into the truck and locking it down so she wasn't rattling around on the floor with loose bullets, he buckled in and waited, trembling with anticipation.

Grip firmly around the plastic safety glasses and old earmuffs he'd found in the messy garage made his knuckles almost turn white. The wait and anticipation was eating away at him as this would be the second time he'd ever shot a gun, even though he didn't really count shooting that Ruger LCR 22 as it had no recoil. 

Driving out into further nowhere led him to have sneaking suspicions that the site was just some lure or whathaveyou. Anon always let his paranoia get to him as his frantic mind wandered. Anything to get his mind off shooting and stave off the butterflies holding a fuckin' rave in his stomach. 

Passing through a small business park with no-name companies doing god knows what out here where a days' worth of counting cars would net you about 18 on average, eventually coming up to a small, very out of the way range in the woods where construction equipment like backhoes and dozers where parked beside the firing line. 

Stepping out of the car and opening the trunk to retrieve the Mosin, he got a look around he place and saw nothing was out of the ordinary and everything was very quiet. Not even the barrage of booms from varying weapons assaulted his ears. Stepping to the fence door, Anon had half expected some retard with an AR and decked out in MOLLE shit to be just around the corner. Hell, even some redneck with Pappy's shotgun was expected but nobody seemed to inhabit the place except an old range officer that slowly waddled his way up to the door.

"Howdy there" He greeted nicely

"Hello, we were wondering if you were open. There doesn't seem to be anyone else here and thought that we'd come too early"

"Naw, you're fine. Nobody usually shows up 'till about noon or so. Alrighty, come on in and get comfy since you got the place to yerself."

Anon had nodded and picked a table at the 20 yard targets and tore the paper wrapping off the ammunition. Giddy as a kid on adderal, his smile spread ear to ear.

The range officer was preoccupied chatting it up with Anon's mother to notice him perfectly lay out five rounds, standing face up on the table, counting them out with each placement. Eventually his mother slowly made her way over and not soon after followed the officer as he revealed himself to be the officer and owner.

"Well I do own this place as it don't require me to do much a anythin'. Now over there is the tone switch, ring it twice for a cold range and to go hot let it ring for three seconds. After that you put up this red flag in the holder."

With a nod as his simple response, he went back to his bench and loaded each shot up, one by one. The range officer seemingly just appeared behind him as when he spoke, he was just a two to so feet to his right, giving Anon a start.

"You know I remember back in the day I bought a crate of those things. Still got a couple tucked away."

The owner tilted his head and eyeballed the rifle up and down.

"That's a force matched bolt on that there rifle, see how one set a numbers is scratched out?."

At the second the words stopped tumbling over his lips, the rifle jumped a bit in Anon's hands. Quickly looking down at the weapon in surprise, he'd now maintained a tighter grip on her.

"Oof, careful there. Wouldn't want you droppin' it now."

Another nod and he took his spot along with a steadying breath. His expectation for recoil was thinking it would be enough to throw his shoulder back a bit. With a held breath of uncertainty, he recalled his youtube and war game training.

'Line up sights, front blade on target...pull trigger..."

A boom and a light push greeted him. Noting how the recoil was vastly overblown from what he predicted, his giddy smile returned as he worked the bolt. Looking to his right were the owner and mother with ears covered and off by the door. 

"Well it seems like you're having fun here, I'm gonna go sit in the car. Come on out when you're done and we can go get dinner."

Cracking off another shot on target and working the bolt again, all worry and stress had just left him in one moment. Almost like everything except the rifle, the bench and the target had just simply stopped existing. Life is good and for the next thirty eight shots will be good. 

Lining up the sight for a follow up took him a second and he drew breath. Just then, a hand had covered each of his and seemed to adjust his position. Internally screaming as he didn't want to be cuddled by the old range officer under the guise of "teaching better posture" wasn't on his list of things he wanted to experience. Attempting to jerk away had no effect as the hands had just held on tighter to his own.

"Look man, I don't wa-" he said as he turned to face the owner but was met with a familiar accented voice giving him orders.

"Quiet. Face forward" Mila told him in her usual commanding tone and he did just that. Pressing her body into his to better mold herself around Anon, she leaned down getting cheek to cheek with her shooter.

"Be calm. Point at that one, far in distance."

"Are you sure? I haven't even checked to see if you're sighted in properly for long range."

"I am fine. Do not talk, only shoot."

"Look this is only the second time I've shot and-" His complaining was swiftly shut down by a firm slap upside the head.

"I said no talking, only shooting. Concentrate. You aim right, you hit." Placing her head right back down against his, he took a breath and exhaled slowly as he'd seen in the History Channel sniper documentaries. Slow, steady squeeze. Boom.

"Is low, aim higher." She said in a lower, softer tone. Her breath smelled of gunpowder as it passed is nose.

"How can you tell? Can you see that far? It's about 50 yards out." Anon replied, bewildered that she's able to see a .30 cal hole in a paper that's already been perforated to hell at 50 yards.

"Do not question, I see. Shoot again."

Working the bolt sent the spent steel casing into the breeze.

Getting home put Anon at ease as he'd gotten Mila to break her silence and teach him hw to handle her properly after a day of practice. The building guilt collecting at the bottom of his stomach, weighing him down like a lead brick had dissipated over the course of one range session. 

"Where do you want to go to for food? you know what's around here don't you?" asked Anon's mother as she drove.

A simple answer for a simple question.
"Chick-fil-a"

An hour passed between the drive from the range to the restaurant to the house. Nothing eventful happened besides the usual jackass honking at them to go faster. Dragging the Mosin out of the back of the truck and hauling her up to the room, he laid the rifle across the couch cushions and plopped himself down on the bed and immediately went on his phone. 'Day well spent and a small rest earned' in his mind.

"Ahem" The large Soviet spoke up, clearing her throat.

"Huh?" Anon responded dumbly without even looking up from his device.

"Are you not cleaning me?" She asked.

"Why would I? It was only one range trip...I doubt anything will happen with a little bit of gunpowder in you." Perhaps Mila was right about questioning Anon's intelligence.

"Лeнивый cyкa!" She said in a most annoyed tone. Knocking the phone out of his grip, she grabbed him by the collar and yoked him forward. "You clean me or I rust. I do not want rust."

"A-Alright, alright. Jesus..." Anon replied skittishly, She was a big girl and he figured his chances of beating her in an up close confrontation if he disobeyed.

Taking the rifle from her resting place, Anon set her down over one of the towels he had laying around. Opening the bolt and pulling it back out of battery, he pulled the trigger and began to slide it out before receiving a slap upside the head...again.

"I am not ready" Mila said simply before walking around to sit behind him. "Go"

"Go? What d-" Mila had hushed him with a hand firmly clamped over his mouth.

"Strip me" She had said so calm and casually. That factor alone had struck him like one of her slaps. Being on a three year dry spell didn't help him but he was in no hurry to attempt jump in bed with the abusive spirit of an old rifle.

"What?" Bewilderment plain as day as he turned to face her but was met with another hand now locked onto his jaw, keeping his head looking to his left. 

"Strip. Me. Do it before I lose patience." Orders clear, she twisted his head, forcing his gaze forward. Anon shifted as much of his concentration onto the task at hand as Mila moved her hands down to his shoulders and kept them there. 

"Be careful" She warned him as he took her apart and laid the components on the towel. 

"What do I do first?" he asked, fearing she'd insult his ignorance.

"Brush bore" Simple enough for him to understand.

Screwing the cleaning rod together, Anon screwed on the brass brush and began to stick the end into her muzzle as the rod wasn't long enough to take her from the chamber. Her fingers twitched a bit and as he started to shove the brush in harder, her grip tightened exponentially. Fingers digging into his shoulder meat and heavy breathing through grit teeth could be heard.

Anon immediately stopped and almost tried to turn before her clenched fist met the back of his head. He had to collect himself for a second as the impact had knocked him out of alignment. She yanked him back by the shoulders to bring him up.

"Smaller...brush..." she said through ragged, pained breaths before steadying him.

Pulling out the end of the brush slowly as to not cause himself any more pain by proxy, Anon replaced the brass brush tip with a smaller diameter and slowly inserted into the muzzle.

"This better?" He asked 

"Дa..." 

He began to make his passes with the brush as he cleared his throat.

"You need to stop beating on me, you're starting to leave marks."

"Heт" Mila responded curtly.

"No? The fuck do you mean no? You are MY rifle, you follow MY orders!" His frustration leaked as his voice raised.

"I did not pledge to you. I am not yours." Her words were stone cold against his ears as his expression dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You learn through pain. You make mistake, I hit you. You learn to not make mistake."

"You are the worst hundred and sixty dollars I ever spent, I should have bought that old Springfield bolt-action." He said in his most venom filled tone.

"Perhaps someone more competent would have me then."

Her abusive words may not have affected him on the surface but deep down, he was boiling to the core. Blood rushed faster than a riptide as his breathing became heavier in his anger. Anon didn't know whether keeping her was worth having a rifle and possibly trade her in for something else.

Cracking open the fresh can of CLP and sticking the straw into her chamber, he let out a flurry of solution, soaking her bore and penetrating her steel, her grip tightened as a light gasp was heard. her fingers now twitching bit as the CLP slowly made its way down her rifling, all the way to the muzzle and dripped onto the towel. Laying the receiver down to let it soak, next was the bolt assembly and with her direction, Anon slipped it apart, unscrewed the firing pin from the cocking knob and sprayed the pieces down. Taking an old toothbrush, he scrubbed away whatever carbon he could get at in every crevice he could reach. Wiping it down and piecing it back together, he set the bot by the stock and now focused his attention to the receiver. Rubbing the toothbrush on the towel, Anon went to work scrubbing down the chamber as best he could with the obtuse head of the brush. Mila's hands would move with his brush strokes against her metal. sticking the corner of the towel into her chamber and wiping out what solution and residue he could, her breath became more audible.

A few patches, brushing and more patches later and her bore was looking almost spotless. The brass weight of the boresnake he'd bought with the armful of shed he'd bought from Walmart the day he'd gotten her clinked as it dropped in and found its way around her chamber. Falling out of the muzzle, Anon gave it a small tug, wrapped some of the slack around his fingers and gave a bigger and slower tug, pulling it straight through the barrel. A few more passes and he'd believed himself done and felt satisfied with his work. 

Reassembling the weapon and playing with the bolt to make sure it was well lubed, he de-cocked her and tossed her aside onto the couch. Mila quickly grabbed his wrist.

"Where are you going?" she asked in that oh-so-lovely demanding voice.

Anon gave no response as hearing her voice continue to order him only added fuel to the fire burning at his core. He needed to be far away from her. The only response she'd gotten was an angry pulling away from her grip and him edgily walking away silent like Bruce Willis walking away from an explosion. Mila's expression went from seeming insulted to one of being a little hurt. 

Getting downstairs and picking up the iPad he'd placed on the endtable before the range trip and quickly bringing up some music he'd had on there to try and relax. About 30 minutes had passed before thinking of what to do with his unwanted spirit.

'How am I going to live with this bitch of a ghost inhabiting the first and only rifle I've ever had? What CAN I do? its a ghost...wait, a ghost.'

With a flash of inspiration, Anon grabbed the iPad and brought up the only people he could ask for advice on what to do with an unwanted spirit. Hopping on to /x/, he opened up a quick thread asking for advice.

'Hey I need some advice real quick. I'm pretty sure there's a spirit connected to an object in my house and I need to get rid of it. wat do?'

Within the first couple minutes there was a response.

'throw it out dumbass'

"What- no you fucking faggot" Anon said aloud as he typed his response.

'No this object is valuable and dangerous. I cant just throw this shit out.'

"This is what I get for coming here for advice." he mumbled as he tossed the iPad aside and looked at whatever was playing on TV. The Dark Knight Rises was running its course and the scene where Bane had entered the stadium surrounded by his stormtroopers was playing. The star villain was delivering his menacing monologue and threat mix and he'd chucked as the scene played out.

"Who the fuck honestly thought Baneposting was funny?" Anon remarked as he watched the bit play out. 

Remembering he had an /x/ thread open after a bit, he opened up the device an refreshed the page. A few unrelated responses of laughing anime girls replying to the post and one that said "Include me in the screenshot". Sighing loudly and dragging his hand over his face, pulling at his skin, he saw actual responses inquiring about what the object was.

'Well it's a gun that I bought from the gun store about a week ago.'

Auto update

'Can you tell us about said spirit? does it interact with anything or make noise?'

"Finally" he said as he typed out lightning fast. 'Yeah, its a woman from the soviet union. She appears in my house wearing an old winter uniform.'

'Have you interacted with her at all?'

Anon became more and more hopeful at the thought of exorcising Mila. Even if she had wants of her own, his selfishness dictated that his come first.

'She calls herself Mila. Claims to be the spirit of my rifle' Without a second thought, he instantly posted and reread it as he saw it. It was at this moment he realized he'd sounded like a complete fucking autist. The auto update was already on and the responses came flowing in calling him a faggot and such.

'Lol you fucking retard your girl guns aren't real go back to /k/'

Anon's heart sank as he'd realized his mistake and sat with his head in his hands. Now he'd get memed for sure. 

-

October 27th, 1939. Siberia. 

The harsh winds screamed past the mountain peaks and through the crags and valleys into the open tundra, frozen over with thick layers of snow compacted into ice and smoothed over by said wind. Winter training for the Red Army was as cruel and unforgiving as the land they trained in. There was talk amongst the soldiers that a new war was in the works, some officers had let it slip that the glorious father Stalin himself had a problem with Leningrad being too close to the Finnish border. Most of what was being passed around was here-say, but for the soldiers of the 44th Rifle Division, the possibility was all to real as they'd been expedited to some base out in the middle of the frozen wastes. 

The Officers ran them through their drills day in and out in their newer, heavier uniforms to get them used to the environments they could possibly be expected to fight in. With rifle in hand and pack loaded with gear, Pvt. Vasili Egorov trudged through with his division.

"Hey, Vasili...did you hear about why they sent us out here? They're saying there's going to be some invasion at the Leningrad border. Winter is hitting there pretty hard and they'll try to use that as cover."

"Where did you hear that? Sounds like something Anatoli would say. You tell him to stop saying nonsense or I slap it out of him." Vasili said with a roll of the eyes.

"You know Anatoli is too stupid to say shit like this. I think it's going to be the Finns, theyre on the other side of the line."

The private turned at looked at his comrade with an expression of disbelief.

"Do you think Finns are dumb enough to-"

"QUIET, NO TALKING. ONLY MARCHING...NOW MARCH." The officer yelled from his literal high horse. Vasili snapped forward as ordered and kept his pace with the others in line. 

Hours passed as the sun set and the tracks from marching to the mountain and through several passes and back were disappearing from the snowfall. Vasili sat in his canvas tent with an oil lantern for warmth and light. He did not have the mindset for camping in one of the harshest environments the planet had to throw at him but at least he had light, some heat and his main companion, the rifle. Sticking his head out the tent and peeking about to check if the officers had set up in their own tents to let the lowly conscripts take watch duty. Seeing two other enlisted men sit by a couple of lanterns and talking, he'd decided it was safe to speak with his friend. 

"Mila, is safe. Come on out." Calling to her in a low voice, he sat his lantern behind himself as to not have the apparition of another person in his tent be projected for all to see. Heeding his request, she appeared before him in her usual winter attire. The greatcoat, tall leather boots and her ushanka. Mila's face had a couple marks here and there but sitting before him, a smile spread across her face and those blue eyes lit up when they locked with his. 

"The Officers worked you pretty hard today, are you feeling alright?"'she asked in a low tone. 

"I'll be fine. Just keep me company and I can keep my sanity." He replied with a rub to his shoulder and stretch of the neck. 

"I heard what Dima was saying about border problems. He makes good point, training here would help prepare you for winter fighting. They may know things you don't." 

"Ignore him, he knows only what is passed around by paranoid men. The biggest problem right now is probably the Germans over there causing trouble with their "Reich". Eventually they'll probably step on Soviet land unwelcome and we will be sent, they can only expand so far before reaching us." 

"You are right. I just worry for you Vasili." Switching from sitting cross-legged to now sitting on her knees, Mila pats her lap and smiles a bit wider. "Come, rest. You will need as much as you can get for tomorrow." 

Vasili turned the lantern out completely and rolled onto his back to rest his head on her thick thighs. Taking a breath and letting out a relieved sigh, he chuckled to himself. "I will never get tired of your lap as my pillow. For you have the most comfortable legs..."

With a smirk replacing her smile, she gave him a good flick on the top of his head and let out her own chuckle as he reached up to defend his skull. 

"You're an idiot, Egorov, but you're my idiot for as long as I am yours to fight with. Few have taken as good care of me as you have."

"You are my weapon, I have to take care of you. You keep me alive. Goodnight, Mila" he said in the best honeyed time he could muster. 

"Goodnight...Vasili..."

-

"Anon? Are you in here?" Mother called out as she entered the living room. A look of concern stretched over her face. Anon perked up a bit upon hearing her call, still being in his disheartened state put an audible damper on his tone. 

"Yeah, mom. Right here...what's goin' on?" He responded with zero enthusiasm, as expected. 

"Mitch had some kind of injury at work and went to the hospital. I'm going to get your sister from lacrosse and take her to see him. Did you want to go?" She asked.

Ah Mitch, the kind of guy to openly yell at his wife in public and threaten to beat you if you responded to one of his insults in kind. Wears dockers, polos and has an assortment of shoes that would make any woman feel inferior. Metrosexuality at its most insecure. His mother postulated that he'd been made fun of when he was younger for his clothes. Needless to say that Anon didn't like him much but also had a reasonable excuse to not give a shit and stay home.

"Well how long are you going to be there?" Answering a question with a question.

"Probably for the night, from what I heard from his co-workers, he was in excruciating pain." This time his mother sounded genuinely worried, but that didn't keep anon from having little empathy and declining her offer.

"Nah, someone should probably stay and watch the house. You remember that one time Mitch warned us about those kids?" Anon said, alluding to a previous near engagement on his property in the hours of the late night/early morning.

"Yes, something did happen then but that's very very unlikely to happen again." Mother reassured. Even if the odds of some punks returning were astronomically low in his out-in-the-woods neighborhood, especially for something like that to turn into a home defense were even lower, a chance was still a chance and now he'd qualified himself better prepared this time around.

"Well, if it happened once then you know it can happen again. Regardless, I'm not sleeping in a hospital chair or on a stone mattress at the motel down the road. I'll be fine here." With his confidence bolstered by the mere presence of his weapon, he was certain he'd be able to defend himself if need be. Mother was not as convinced as he was and raised her eyebrows as she knew what was going through his mind, only difference is he believed he would only resort to shooting as a last measure while mother dearest thought he would be a bit too trigger happy.

"...behave yourself and be careful." With those words, she gathered her things for the night and left him in peace. Anon gave only a nod and looked to the television. Now all he had to do was lock up and steel his resolve to face the weapon in question. 

Ascending the stairs to his room, Anon was thinking over his approach. No telling what potential abuse he'd have to face for his actions earlier but whatever made the night go smoother. Breath held as he entered the room, Anon prepared for the worst. Expecting to be greeted with cold quips, verbal assault or a physical confrontation, he was mildly surprised to find only silence. 

'Guess this was to be expected as this happened the last time I pissed her off' he thought as he simply picked up the rifle and slapped on the bayonet then grabbed one of the spare packs of the surplus ammo. Cradling his rifle and descending the stairs back into the living room, Anon paces to the front and back doors, locking both then quickly peeking out the door to the garage to ensure his forgetful mother didn't leave it open. Giving the all clear to no one in particular, he sat on the couch and tore open the wax paper wrappings. Five shots pulled from the bunch and loaded one by one into the magazine. Anon always felt a bit of satisfaction watching the round slide forward as he put he bolt into battery. 

Putting his attention on the television, the usual nonstop news coverage of the election played out and drove Anon to disregard the tv completely and use it for background noise. Pulling out his trusty phone and scrolling through whatever he could find to sate his boredom, he found himself looking from his phone to the rifle lain across his lap. His fear of absent mindedly pulling the trigger grew until he no longer felt safe with a loaded weapon without a manual safety just lie like it is. Of course he could always use the terribly designed safety mechanic but then he'd be sitting there fumbling with it while someone is breaking down his door. Deducing the best course of action for fast use would be to keep it on an empty chamber and rack the bolt when a threat presents itself, Anon prepared his rifle. 

Opening said bolt and taking out the first round, Anon pushed the other four rounds down further into the magazine and closed the bolt back up. Placing the fifth on the end table he went back to his phone. 

"What was point of that?" The accent laden voice asked

"I don't feel safe having a cocked and unlocked weapon in my hands when I'm not planning on shooting it. Since you don't have a standard safety lever, button or switch it's safer to keep the chamber clear." He answered without looking up from the device.

"I have safety." Mila retorted defensively.

"What, twisting the cocking knob on the bolt? That would take too long" Anon finally looked up from his phone to meet Mila's stone gaze. She sat just as she did on the couch with arms across her chest, accentuating her bust and legs crossed.

"No, do not put finger on trigger, идиот. There, is safe" she said with a huff before looking to the tv. Anon looked her over for a bit with an eyebrow slightly raised. Realizing what he was doing, he inhaled, stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders back. Silence fills the air between the two for what feels like quite a while, the only audio comfort being the CNN report about Clinton being ahead in every poll. 

"Who is that?" Mila asked with a tilted gaze. 

"Wha- Oh, her with the blonde hair? That's Hillary Clinton." 

"Oh..." She seemed to take a disappointed expression as she leaned further back into the couch and switched her legs around. "So she is bitch I hear about." The sudden insult elicited a half stifled chuckle from Anon. 

"What is funny?" She asked, raising her voice. Mila did not like to be laughed at and would often take it as a personal insult. 

"You. What you just said was kinda funny. I didn't know you knew about her." Anon said through small chuckles and a wide smile. Something about that smile must have been endearing to her as her stone gaze melted away to reveal a softer look. Keeping her eyes on the tv, she began to open up a bit. 

"When I was in gun shop, whenever someone mentioned Clinton it would always be insult. They always say how she is bitch and will never take gun from them."

Anon could only nod in agreement at her generalization. "That's pretty much to be expected around here."

"Is she really trying to take guns away?" For a minute, one could actually hear a bit of concern in the rifle's voice. 

"Well with the promises of new stricter regulations every time she's asked, probably. Don't let it bother you, she could never just outright take you."

Mila stared forward, gaze locked on to the image of Clinton moving around the screen and promising the world to all her voters. She was quite perturbed at the thought of possibly being taken or knowing that others could be taken from their owners.

"...would you fight for me?" the rifle's voice faltered from it's usual commanding tone.

"What?" he replied, dumbfounded by the sudden mood shift. The only thing filling the awkward pause between the two was the TV still going on about the election and its utmost importance that we band together to stop a fearmongering madman. 

"If Clinton becomes leader and you have to give me up...would you fight for me?" The tenderness in her voice started to get to him along with the worried look she'd been shooting him. Anon took a breath and exhaled as if to portray he was in deep thought, even if he'd already made up his mind a couple seconds after she asked the question.

"Well...considering all the shit you've been giving me, combined with your constant physical attacks..." he trailed, letting his tone go cold. The rifle began to fear being locked away in a cold armory like she was all those years ago or worse, being melted down for salvage. She folded her arms tighter and expected Anon to return her cruelty.

'I would...in a heartbeat. I paid for you and I wouldn't let them just take you. Besides, you're special." He may be a mean fuck sometimes but in order to make peace with his rifle Anon had to man up and let go of the past transgressions between the two. He knew there would probably only be more from the finicky Mila.

Her eyes brightened a bit at him describing her as special. she almost couldn't wrap her head around it as the last to compliment her at all was long dead.

The only response the rifle could make was "Don't say such things..." as she'd broken eye contact with her owner.

Mila was convinced this woman would be out to get her, even if she'd had no evidence of such intention. The nonstop negativity toward the democratic candidate had succeeded in drilling that into her mind. 

Hours later into the night and anon had begun to yawn and feel sleep's familiar pull. His bed coercing him into coming back for more like a faithful whore.

The third yawn in a row escaped him as the lights on the cable box read 3:46 AM. Thinking that getting up and pacing around the living room would help him stay up, he rose and began making laps. The fourth time he blocked Mila's view of the TV, she let out a heavy sigh. 

'What on earth are you doing?" she asked.

"Can't sleep now. Last time I came down here, someone was trying to look for a way into the cars and then into the house. I need to be ready for them" He replied as he continued pacing around the living room and through the kitchen. 

"Walk somewhere else. You block view." Mila said with a shooing wave of her hand.

"There's nowhere else TO walk, Mila. If I could, I would."

"You believe this person to come back?" Taking her eyes off the screen and locking them onto his own made him stop in in his strut.

"Not them but maybe someone else. No cars in the driveway and the lights off at three in the morning. Its more likely at this hour and under these circumstances."

"So turn lights on."

"Don't want to and it probably wont do much."

"идиoт"

With his marching ending after finishing an unknown number of laps around the interior, Mila had enough.

'Anon. Come, sit."

Obliging her and following directions, he sat back down next to her and looked over.

"Is there something you need?" He asked

Uncrossing her legs, she patted her lap. "Come"

"What? I'm not sitting on your lap."

"No, idiot. Lay your head and rest. If anyone comes, I will wake you."

Sleep deprived and not wanting to annoy her further, Anon laid his head down on her lap and faced upwards. "Like this?" With a finger to his lips, she shushed him and ran her fingers through his hair. 

"Good, now sleep" she cooed.

Within minutes, Anon had clocked the fuck out and went limp. A small Smile spread across the rifles lips in response.

"Goodnight Vas-" Mila's body shuddered as she stopped herself from uttering the name.

November 30th, 1939. Leningrad, Soviet Union.

Vasili and the 44th had been deployed to aid in the defense of Leningrad and repel all enemy forces at the border. The Commissar was on his megaphone yelling the usual propaganda to the soldiers. Looking around, he could easily see the others eating up what the man was spewing, even some of the young officers straight out of the academy. One of the more weathered and hardier of the officers just shook out his match after lightning his hand-rolled cigar and walked out.

'Must be nice to have the option of personal time.' Vasili thought. From what the Commissar was saying, he could tell that war had been declared. Who the declarer is, they didnt say conveniently. All they told the men was that thier homeland demands noble protectors and that those of the 44th Rifle Company are among the first to be chosen to give thier lives in duty to the motherland. 

"Soldiers of the Great Soviet Union! Heed my words as you prime your weapons of war, you are the first line of defense for your home. Only you can protect us from the madmen of the Finnish Army! Your names will forever be etched on the stones..." As the Commissar kept yelling, Vasili eventually tuned him out to think of Mila slung over his shoulder, the only companion for the past weeks of training he'd endured. His grip of the stock tightened and his fingers wrapped around the steel buttplate.

"Nervous?" A deep female voice in the back of his head asked. He gave a simple nod as it was the best response he could muster as he coudn't really just speak to nobody in particular in the spam-can of soldiers the room he was in became. "I would let you lay in my lap again to reassure you but seeing as it is quite crowded..." Vasili sighed briefly and tapped on her stock twice. "Dont push it, Idiot." Mila warned. A small chuckle escaped him.

Soon, the soldiers were being herded out of the room and down the snow filled street to the train station to take them to the nearest Soviet outpost. As the fresh snow crunched under thier boots, Vasili kept getting this sinking feeling like he was carrying lead bricks in his pouches and stomach. He had joined the army to escape farming potatoes for use in vodka but considering he was actually going to war and may lose his life to a man in the snowy woods, he'd prefer picking spuds in the frozen wastes with no gloves than to go into direct combat. "Hey...Vasili." a voice quietly addressed him to the right. Looking over to see Viktor sporting a confident smile, his morale rose a bit wiith the question of how this man could possibly be happy about going into an actual full-scale war. 

"Yes, Viktor?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"Does this not excite you? We are going out to defend our country from whatever evil lies beyond our borders. We will come back as heroes I tell you." He exclaimed as loud as his quiet tone would allow.

Looking much more skeptical, Vasili could only inform him of the unfortunate. "Viktor, not all of us are coming home. I hope you know that."

"Oh come now, have faith in the good training the officers gave us! We didn't go to Siberia for nothing."

"They showed us how to run in the snow and lie down in the snow. Oh! they also taught us how to put up tent in snow, I feel so much better about not knowing how to spot enemy or shoot in snow with these thick gloves." He responded with sarcasm sprinkled about.

"Oh come now, instructor showed us how to shoot in first training. If you can shoot straight then you can shoot anywhere. You will live, I promise you." His wide smile didn't do much to assure the young private but it was a start.

The station filled up quickly as the soldiers started piling in, waiting for the train to arrive. Officers chatting amongst themselves as the general population did the same. With the station now completely full and the rest of the company waiting outside as everyone was already elbow to elbow, Vasili could only smell vodka, tobacco and sweat from the others just as nervous as he was. Not even the kind, caring rifle on his shoulder whispering and reassuring him that everything will work out could not keep him from falling deeper and deeper into his own despair. He could hear voices all around, some shaken, some stone cold, one in particular seemed quite cheerful and happy to be here.

'I don't want to be here, oh god help me. Get me out of here. Id give anything to be away from all this.' He thought as his limbs became heavier and his boots were seemingly bolted to the ground on which he stood. His thoughts swirled around his head faster than an angry whirlpool.

"Vasili..." a voice called, he pushed it aside as he stared into the void of his anguish.

'Dear Lord, if you're listening...'

"Vasili!" they called again.

'Is someone calling me? Who the hell is calling to me?' He asked himself as he looked up from the abyss to notice the last few soldiers were boarding the train. Viktor called to him from the crowd.

"Vasili! Get in here befor-" 

"EGOROV! GET ON THE TRAIN, NOW!" An officer called to him from beside Viktor.

Lurching forward as his limbs retained that weight from his standing there, he picked up speed as the officer called again in their harsh tone. Stepping onto the train, he could feel their gazes pierce him as he'd caught some shit from the Lieutenant for holding up the departure. The brakes releasing sent a shudder through the cars and the men aboard. Within minutes, the train was screaming down the tracks toward the border and soon, the battlefield.

Arriving at the outpost a half mile from the border, the fresh soldiers were greeted with the sight of a new yet well worn concrete wall lined with impacts from various munitions and some pieces just completely missing. A few ranking soldiers stood at the platform waiting to greet the new Officers that would be leading the charge as the last one had headed for Viipuri with a sizable force intended on setting up a perimeter around the city for a later siege. Few returned as the only ones to come back were those that had not been wounded and were promptly reassigned to other squads to fill gaps along with those with light wounds like a shot to the leg or arm. The heavily wounded were presumed dead and or wouldn't make the trip back and left for the scavengers.

Gripping Mila tight enough to make the knuckles go white, he stepped off the train with the other first few by the train car doors. Massing up by the gate, the soldiers were addressed by the officers after being given a short briefing about the current situation. An officer spoke up after a couple minutes and welcomed them to the camp he'd just been sent to with them. Giving the soldiers a rough estimate of about 1,200 lost so far, resources and reinforcements were on the way as the T-26's were on the way with more munitions for the Maxim guns and their rifles. Finishing his speech with the usual 'keep your chin up' shit, the officer let the men know that they'd better get a good nights rest as they'd be moving out to press into the city at sunrise.

"Vasili...you're shaking. Please calm yourself, I am here for you." Mila whispered to him. His nervousness only amplified her own as her tone was clearly forced to be calm. "When the time comes, I will not fail you. Have faith in me." He simply brought his hand over to his shoulder to grab her and bring her closer. With a quick peck on the handguards, he set off into the camp.

12:36 AM, Soviet outpost, four miles from the Soviet/Finnish border.

The frigid breeze blew without care into Vasili's face as he strut around the wall of the camp to tire himself out. The fear of being sent into combat sent his pulse through the roof whenever he looked to the mountains. In an attempt to keep his mind off of the eventual reality of his situation, he locked his gaze forward. The action did not help much as his worries plagued his mind without any hint of relief in sight. A cold sweat ran down his forehead and his breath was stuttered.

"Vasili...you are troubled. Please, tell me what is wrong?" The Rifle in his hands whispered to him.

"...Is nothing, I'm just talking a walk. Can't sleep." He tried his best to put on a strong tone for the weapon. She could not be fooled by his attempts to feign bravery.

"You stutter slightly and your voice shakes, do not lie to me." Mila warned sternly. 

"Do not worry about me, Mila. I am able to take care of myself...just the same as everyone else here. You know these things." Vasili said as he rounded the inside corner of the guard wall. The snowfall was light for now as the rest would always come early in the morning. Some often joked about how it was God giving them all a hard time. 

"You are my soldier, it is my job to protect and worry about YOU. Do not make me have to address you directly." She had a tolerance with everyone but when the fires of insubordination lit her fuse, she'd be explode with mighty force. 

"Alright, alright! Mila...please do not think me a coward or less of a man because of this..." He started. Another late night walker came into sight when he stepped out from between a couple T-26's with a cigarette in his mouth. Vasili fixated on the cherry at the end, burning into the night. Passing each other with a nod of acknowledgement, he looked over his shoulder with a quick head turn and continued in a lower voice. "It is because...because I am afraid."

"Afraid of what?" The Rifle asked. "It is okay to be afraid of some things, even the bravest have fears."

"I am afraid of going to battle when the sun comes. I know nothing good can come of this...I cannot sleep because of it." His grip on her tightened again. "Every time I look at that damned mountain, I feel my stomach sink and my heart stops beating. I don't want them to send me up there..." His voice lost its confident tone at the beginning of his admittance of fear but as he progressed, it took on a more frightened and desperate tone. 

Mila did not speak for some time despite her Soldier asking and then pleading to hear her voice. His fingers started to shake as his grip faltered from the fatigue of maintaining it combined with the thought that the only one he could confide in has left him to wallow in his despair and cowardice. "Mila, please. Don't leave me alone now... You're all I have"

"Turn in there. Now" She ordered. 

"W-What?" Stunned by an order instead of the usual comforting words he'd heard from her during his training, he piped up for a response. "Where? I don't seem anywhere to go?" He asked. 

"Into the motor pool. There is no one in the hut. Go in. Now. Before I change my mind." Her orders baffled him as she'd never given him actual orders like the instructors would, merely told him to keep at his task and persevere as his moral support. 

Stepping inside and closing the door behind himself, Vasili looked around the interior to verify any other presence besides himself. Upon finding none, he turned to find Mila standing at the door, accompanied by the sound of a metal click and tumble. "Mila, why did you lock the door?" His question went unanswered as she then pulled the blinds closed before turning to pull up a wooden chair. With a gesture towards said chair and a slight blush across her features, she gave one last command. "Come, sit"

Approaching with his appropriately sported, quizzical look, he sat and awaited further instruction. With her female form slipping the rifle from Vasili's shoulder, she leaned her rifle body up against the nearest wall and then focused her attention solely on her Soldier. His gaze was all over as he fidgeted in his chair. "We really shouldn't be in here. What if an officer fin-" with a finger to his lips, she shushed him. His pulse shot up like a cannon shell as Mila sat right in his lap, straddling him with her thick legs. 

"You say you are afraid..." she withdrew her finger from his lips and planted both hands gently on each side of his face, forcing her gaze to lock with his. Her blush now clear and present as she refused to drop her confident expression. "I will help relieve your fears." At that moment, she began to unbutton the thick woolen greatcoat that attempted to hide her curves, next was the undershirt. Three buttons later, the rollmarks were clearly visible on her breast, her breath quickened from her anticipation. Vasili could only stare at the large rack openly presented to him, held back only by her bra. He stuttered as he tried to think of something, anything to say to her.

"Are you going to join me? Here...I will help you." She cooed while starting to undo the buttons on his own uniform. His brain was racing to concoct something to say to the weapon as she undressed him. It wasn't like he'd never been with a woman, but he'd kept his virtue up until this point and had no idea what was in store for him now. Without even thinking, his hands had wrapped around her upper thighs, leading up to her butt. "I thought I was going to have to order you to touch me, perhaps there is some bravery in there somewhere~." Almost ripping his shirt open to expose his chest, she placed a hand on his pectorals and gently stroked down to his toned stomach/

With a lean back and a roll of her shoulders, the overcoat and shirt came slipping off and collecting at the floor beside Vasili's feet. Now her own musculature was on display for her Soldier to behold, Mila's arms were toned as well as her stomach which showed a hint of abs just forming through the skin as she leaned back upright. Everything about her form was neatly chiseled as a proper warrior should be, soon he found himself running his hands up from her thighs up to her beautifully formed stomach and sides. She reached up and removed her ushanka and tossed it aside with the rest. Mila shook her head to shake out her hat hair to let her chestnut locks fall naturally around her shoulders. Leaning back down and pressing herself against Vasili, she gathered her voice and asked "Do you find me appealing, Vasili? Would you like to see more of me...?" Her words were slightly muffled as shed buried her face into his neck. 

"Y-Yes...you are quite a beautiful woman, Mila. I-I'm sorry if I seem nervous it's just that I've never had this...closeness before." The tone was uneasy but confident as he'd tread into the unknown, but his confidence lay within the one to guide him. 
"Then you will have to reveal me yourself, Vasili." Those words were the green light and he'd be damned if he would turn back now. Fingers moving toward the clasp of the bra had heated her up even more to know that he would be the first to look upon her form in its bare beauty but alas, he couldn't quite figure out how to undo it. "How do these contraptions work?" Mila giggled at his query and tried to muffle it with a hand. "What?! I told you I've never been this close with a woman before!" He exclaimed with much embarrassment. She put a finger over his lips again with a gentle smile and bright gleam in her eye. "It is alright, I will guide you."

Moving his hands back in position and following her careful guidance, the garment managed to find its way on the pile of others discarded. Her arms firmly at her sides as she allowed Vasili to look upon her. The blush displayed was also visible on her stomach as he inspected every curve firsthand. It had gotten to the point where even the ever-confident Mila was too embarrassed to keep her eyes on his own. Realizing he had the upper hand, Vasili wrapped his arms around her lower back and pulled her close, his face ending up in her breasts. The smile returned when she embraced his head and accepted his affection. "...you said I was beautiful before, what makes me so? I am just like all the other rifles, plain and featureless..." She asked in a smaller voice. 

Pulling his face back from its comfortable position, he looked up to meet her head on. "It's because you're warm, you show affection...you have a soul. All the others are just that, Rifles...nothing more. You are a woman and nothing can convince me otherwise. You have a heart in there and one day, I hope to have that heart."

"You are an idiot Vasili..." She said while never letting her smile drop, a couple tears started to form in her eyes. 

"What? How am I an idiot this time?" He asked, very taken aback by her sudden insult.

"...because you don't see that you already have it." With that, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, sealing their experience with a passionate kiss. Their warmth still being shared through their contact.

A couple hours later, the snow could barely be heard battering the windows as the two were quite preoccupied showing each other the emotion they held in their hearts. Small yips and moans slightly echoed across the walls as Vasili nipped at her neck right under the corner of her jaw. Slowly but surely, he made his way down to crook where he began to nibble away at her shoulder. Mila's fingers squeezed at his shoulders as his teeth dig in ever so slightly at her flesh. Her breath was hot and visible in the cold air. 

"V-Vasili...please, do not tease me so..." Her pleading tone struck his heart and he obliged. 

"What will you have me do then? If you like, we could just..." He hinted as he tugged at her waistband. She took a moment to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. The rush of adrenaline and ecstasy of finally being closer to her Soldier didn't help in the slightest. Reaching down and putting a hand on his, she gave a small smile and kissed his forehead. 

"Not now. Show the enemy your strength in battle. When you come home a hero, you will have your prize. Until then, you must rest. Remember, I will be by your side. I can never abandon you...my love." Resting her forehead against his, she closed her eyes and basked in the company and embrace of her Soldier. 

"Then you wait for me. You'll see, those Finns won't know who is coming for them!" He said as he embraced his rifle. "I'd hate to end our, ah...intimate moment, but I have to get back to my bunk. Sunrise can't be too far away, my dear."

With a final kiss, she smiled and vanished before his eyes, looking around and adjusting himself in his trousers, Vasili stood and buttoned his uniform back up before reclaiming his weapon from against the wall. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as the warmth shed placed in his chest remained even as he stepped back out into the frigid night. With the hope his new love had given him, he felt invincible.