New Fic: Intuitive Chapters 1-3
DWP -AU
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: NC-17/M
*The information and general ideas are based off of one of my favorite international intrigue authors: Eric B. Lustbader. Derived from his Asian-American-Soviet-era, Nicholas Linnear novels such as The Jian or Second Skin, I began to imagine Miranda and Andy in such a startling and complex world where loyalties are few and the shadows are often dangerous.
*This story has some disturbing images of violence and sexual violence, but is necessary to the storyline. Please pass if this is makes you uncomfortable.
*Please allow for some serious artistic license and any historical and cultural inaccuracies, I’m only a ‘fan’ of history, not an expert. Also I've moved around some historical timelines to suit to story, so beware. But I read lots and watch lots of documentaries, so hopefully that’s gotta count for something… right? lol
*Last but not least, any and all mistakes are my own and feedback is much appreciated. With all that said, I hope you enjoy the ride.
******************************************************************
Chapter 1
General Miranda Priestnicov’s 4-inch heels beat a steady staccato down the concrete hallway of the infamous Lubyanka, lined with industrial-style cinder blocks painted pale green. She finally came to a door designating her title: Comarde General Priestnicov, the head of the First Chief Directorate, the feared arm of the apparat.
Entering her domain, she once again sighed over her the Party’s lack of any hint of style or substance when it came to decorating or designing the interior (and many exterior) of government buildings. Luckily her house on the Black Sea, was filled with warmth and light, decadent paintings from the West, furnishings from China, including a secret compartment that stored among many things, her precious books, clothing from some of the most premiere fashion houses in the world, and relics from like one of the famous Imperial Fabergé Eggs called the Cherub with Chariot Egg. However, her stark office consisted of the ever-present drab, hospital-green walls, a heavy, black phone, guaranteed to work just as well as a weapon in a pinch, 1950s-styled furniture: an aluminum desk that seemed as old as the building, and her uncomfortable metal chair, with a tad bit of cushioning on the seat, which she’d just received after waiting months for a requested “upgrade.”
The Komet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti or more commonly known as the infamous KGB, in which Miranda manipulated, cleverly fought, killed, even as a last resort (and with a great deal of reluctance) fucked, her way into this position. It was the only way a woman with her looks, intelligence, and her drive, could have any chance to advance to such heights within the Soviet hierarchy. In addition, Miranda also held an esteemed position within the Politburo or the government arm. The powerful Minister Yuri Dzerzhinsky was her predecessor; ruthless, cunning, and as ambitious as Miranda, he wasn’t as immune to her charms as he probably believed. But Miranda if nothing else, was an expert on finding people’s weaknesses.
Consequently, after his attempted sexual assault against her that she was able to deflect, she poisoned his favorite aged vodka, opened a gas line, proceeded to stuff newspaper into a toaster, and then programmed it to toast. And as she was darting into her waiting car, with her trusty driver-KGB agent-driver, she watched with vicious satisfaction as his home blew up. Killing a Minister of Security within the Politburo had to be done very delicately. Luckily this is Russia, men-in-power meeting violent ends were as common as a Russian soldier drunk on cheap vodka.
Miranda was mindful that she was building up quite the body-count. Lest anyone think that her ambition is everything, killing is never easy, and she had nightmares for weeks, but it was killed or be killed, in Communist Russia. Any hint of ambition, particularly as a woman, often meant your life-span became increasingly shorter.
It was very rare that a woman with her intelligence and yes, even looks was rewarded for such attributes. it also helped that she was an expert in successfully coordinating foreign operations, deciphering codes, had an ear for languages, including local vernaculars, as well as, ferreting out spies and plots against The Party. Her office was housed in the infamous Lubyanka, home of the Soviet Intelligence apparatus, while it may be a place one wanted to work, it was definitely not a place one wanted to “visit.” Infamous for the Soviet purges, many people were marched through the front doors never to be seen again. There was a running Russian joke that said that since it was the tallest building in Moscow, you can see Siberia from its basement. But for Miranda it was no joke.
She was the product of Russian Jews, her father was a linguist and believed in the beauty of the written word in all of its languages. Her mother was a teacher and they kept a secret compartment to hide the dozens of precious books from the KGB. Nevertheless, her family was the victim of Stalin’s Great Purge; random names selected but his advisors, delivered at night, if one was lucky he'd randomly select names to cross off with no apparent rhyme or reason. The rest were immediately rounded up for either a slow, painful death in Siberia or something quick and simple such as an execution-style bullet. Her family did not make the cut.
And so one early morning when Miranda was at school, practicing the Soviet manifesto in German, a group of men in black course overcoats, rounded up her parents, her sister, and her brother into the infamous black vans to be ushered off to Lubyanka’s cruel embrace. When a two plainsclothes men showed up to her class to usher her into a waiting black Chaika idling nearby. A burly, huge, man with a dark beard and piercing dark eyes, wearing Soviet military dress, medals affixed upon his left breast, sat across from her smoking a Cuban cigar, watching her intently. By then Miranda was already a beautiful young woman; long blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and thick dark lashes, tender young breasts becoming fuller, long coltish legs, perched nervously from under her Soviet school uniform.
“I am General Helmut Andropov of the First Directorate. Your parents have been found to be enemies of the Party. As such, they have been taken to be Rehabilitated.” He paused, watching her reaction like a hawk, puffing on his cigar. “But you are class leader and we receive exemplary reports from the CPSU. You will make a fine addition to the Party school. Don’t you agree?”
Meanwhile Miranda, even at the age of 13, instinctively knew that her reaction and response would have an immediate and monumental impact on her life. So viciously squashing the urge to plea for her parents’ life, while trying to stem the welling, hot emotion crawling up her throat, she swallowed hard, before smoothing her features. “I am humbled and honored to serve the People’s Party, Comrade General.” And in that moment Miranda knew she'd do whatever it took to seek vengeance against the people who destroyed her family.
From that moment on, Andropov guided her through the cumbersome, yet demanding Soviet educational apparatus, on through Higher Party Schools, until her entrance into the militsiya or Higher Party military school, before formally beginning her career under his direct tutelage at the First Chief Directorate, not knowing that underneath her brilliance, ambition, her expertise in linguistics and code-breaking, facilitating operations, the she burned with the knowledge that he was one of the one’s responsible for murdering her beloved family. Beyond that Miranda had bigger plans and those plans were called Operation Moonstone.
Chapter 2
Andy was an operative for an agency only the head of NSA and the President knew about...
Chapter 3
Nearby a groan alerted Andy to his so-called “muscle,” laid a squat, more fat than muscular, Chinese male, who was currently missing some teeth due to her elbow...
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: NC-17/M
*The information and general ideas are based off of one of my favorite international intrigue authors: Eric B. Lustbader. Derived from his Asian-American-Soviet-era, Nicholas Linnear novels such as The Jian or Second Skin, I began to imagine Miranda and Andy in such a startling and complex world where loyalties are few and the shadows are often dangerous.
*This story has some disturbing images of violence and sexual violence, but is necessary to the storyline. Please pass if this is makes you uncomfortable.
*Please allow for some serious artistic license and any historical and cultural inaccuracies, I’m only a ‘fan’ of history, not an expert. Also I've moved around some historical timelines to suit to story, so beware. But I read lots and watch lots of documentaries, so hopefully that’s gotta count for something… right? lol
*Last but not least, any and all mistakes are my own and feedback is much appreciated. With all that said, I hope you enjoy the ride.
******************************************************************
Chapter 1
General Miranda Priestnicov’s 4-inch heels beat a steady staccato down the concrete hallway of the infamous Lubyanka, lined with industrial-style cinder blocks painted pale green. She finally came to a door designating her title: Comarde General Priestnicov, the head of the First Chief Directorate, the feared arm of the apparat.
Entering her domain, she once again sighed over her the Party’s lack of any hint of style or substance when it came to decorating or designing the interior (and many exterior) of government buildings. Luckily her house on the Black Sea, was filled with warmth and light, decadent paintings from the West, furnishings from China, including a secret compartment that stored among many things, her precious books, clothing from some of the most premiere fashion houses in the world, and relics from like one of the famous Imperial Fabergé Eggs called the Cherub with Chariot Egg. However, her stark office consisted of the ever-present drab, hospital-green walls, a heavy, black phone, guaranteed to work just as well as a weapon in a pinch, 1950s-styled furniture: an aluminum desk that seemed as old as the building, and her uncomfortable metal chair, with a tad bit of cushioning on the seat, which she’d just received after waiting months for a requested “upgrade.”
The Komet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti or more commonly known as the infamous KGB, in which Miranda manipulated, cleverly fought, killed, even as a last resort (and with a great deal of reluctance) fucked, her way into this position. It was the only way a woman with her looks, intelligence, and her drive, could have any chance to advance to such heights within the Soviet hierarchy. In addition, Miranda also held an esteemed position within the Politburo or the government arm. The powerful Minister Yuri Dzerzhinsky was her predecessor; ruthless, cunning, and as ambitious as Miranda, he wasn’t as immune to her charms as he probably believed. But Miranda if nothing else, was an expert on finding people’s weaknesses.
Consequently, after his attempted sexual assault against her that she was able to deflect, she poisoned his favorite aged vodka, opened a gas line, proceeded to stuff newspaper into a toaster, and then programmed it to toast. And as she was darting into her waiting car, with her trusty driver-KGB agent-driver, she watched with vicious satisfaction as his home blew up. Killing a Minister of Security within the Politburo had to be done very delicately. Luckily this is Russia, men-in-power meeting violent ends were as common as a Russian soldier drunk on cheap vodka.
Miranda was mindful that she was building up quite the body-count. Lest anyone think that her ambition is everything, killing is never easy, and she had nightmares for weeks, but it was killed or be killed, in Communist Russia. Any hint of ambition, particularly as a woman, often meant your life-span became increasingly shorter.
It was very rare that a woman with her intelligence and yes, even looks was rewarded for such attributes. it also helped that she was an expert in successfully coordinating foreign operations, deciphering codes, had an ear for languages, including local vernaculars, as well as, ferreting out spies and plots against The Party. Her office was housed in the infamous Lubyanka, home of the Soviet Intelligence apparatus, while it may be a place one wanted to work, it was definitely not a place one wanted to “visit.” Infamous for the Soviet purges, many people were marched through the front doors never to be seen again. There was a running Russian joke that said that since it was the tallest building in Moscow, you can see Siberia from its basement. But for Miranda it was no joke.
She was the product of Russian Jews, her father was a linguist and believed in the beauty of the written word in all of its languages. Her mother was a teacher and they kept a secret compartment to hide the dozens of precious books from the KGB. Nevertheless, her family was the victim of Stalin’s Great Purge; random names selected but his advisors, delivered at night, if one was lucky he'd randomly select names to cross off with no apparent rhyme or reason. The rest were immediately rounded up for either a slow, painful death in Siberia or something quick and simple such as an execution-style bullet. Her family did not make the cut.
And so one early morning when Miranda was at school, practicing the Soviet manifesto in German, a group of men in black course overcoats, rounded up her parents, her sister, and her brother into the infamous black vans to be ushered off to Lubyanka’s cruel embrace. When a two plainsclothes men showed up to her class to usher her into a waiting black Chaika idling nearby. A burly, huge, man with a dark beard and piercing dark eyes, wearing Soviet military dress, medals affixed upon his left breast, sat across from her smoking a Cuban cigar, watching her intently. By then Miranda was already a beautiful young woman; long blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and thick dark lashes, tender young breasts becoming fuller, long coltish legs, perched nervously from under her Soviet school uniform.
“I am General Helmut Andropov of the First Directorate. Your parents have been found to be enemies of the Party. As such, they have been taken to be Rehabilitated.” He paused, watching her reaction like a hawk, puffing on his cigar. “But you are class leader and we receive exemplary reports from the CPSU. You will make a fine addition to the Party school. Don’t you agree?”
Meanwhile Miranda, even at the age of 13, instinctively knew that her reaction and response would have an immediate and monumental impact on her life. So viciously squashing the urge to plea for her parents’ life, while trying to stem the welling, hot emotion crawling up her throat, she swallowed hard, before smoothing her features. “I am humbled and honored to serve the People’s Party, Comrade General.” And in that moment Miranda knew she'd do whatever it took to seek vengeance against the people who destroyed her family.
From that moment on, Andropov guided her through the cumbersome, yet demanding Soviet educational apparatus, on through Higher Party Schools, until her entrance into the militsiya or Higher Party military school, before formally beginning her career under his direct tutelage at the First Chief Directorate, not knowing that underneath her brilliance, ambition, her expertise in linguistics and code-breaking, facilitating operations, the she burned with the knowledge that he was one of the one’s responsible for murdering her beloved family. Beyond that Miranda had bigger plans and those plans were called Operation Moonstone.
Chapter 2
Andy was an operative for an agency only the head of NSA and the President knew about...
Chapter 3
Nearby a groan alerted Andy to his so-called “muscle,” laid a squat, more fat than muscular, Chinese male, who was currently missing some teeth due to her elbow...