It is that time again… Since some people seem a bit interested… in my history… I figured I’d humor you all with a story… Here goes… nothing.

It was a dark, cold night. Soviet Winter of 1980. Spectre was only 16 years old, so naturally his codename was non-existent and he was just Vladimir Bodrovski. His father, Vasili Bodrov, was in the 4th Guards Rifle Division as a Designated Marksman. After World War II, Vasili mainly did what Spectre did later on in life, be an Intelligence Technician. “Vladimir! Come here!” His father ordered. “Yes, father?” Spectre asked. “Today I am going to teach you basic survival techniques… Now listen… You are becoming a man, Vladimir. Soon, the Soviet Union will allow you to do my job, as is tradition.” Apparently, they worked the market both controlled and traditionally. “But father, from what I heard of your job, it won’t require basic survival techniques.” Vasili gave a hardy, Russian laugh and said, “It isn’t for your job, son. It is because we live in such a place where you never know what you’ll run into. They will put you through weapons training, mainly focusing on long ranged weapons since I am a designated marksman. Snipers are needed here as much as machine guns were needed by the earlier Fascists!” He laughed a bit again. They went out into what seemed to be dying woods, snow-covered trees and limped plants, frozen and dead or dying. Suddenly, wild wolves were near them, widening both Father and Son’s eyes. A whole pack. “Keep quiet.” Vasili whispered. “But father-!” Vladimir began, getting the wolves’ attention. Vasili wanted to hit the child for this, but decided best if they just, “RUN!” Vasili shouted. Vladimir wanted to hit the deck or something but… that would be stupid. “QUICK! VLADIMIR!” Vasili shouted, Vladimir straining to keep up behind his much more expertly trained father. Vladimir almost convinced himself he was going to die out here. They just had to get to that tree. Had to… Vasili climbed up, ordering his son to do the same. Vladimir jumped to it, his body just inches away from the tree trunk. He rolled over just in time to see a wolf jump on top of him, both of them in a struggle. It snarled and growled at Vladimir. A sudden determination overcame him, fire in his eyes, piercing into the wolf’s. He smacked it a few times in the face, only peeving it. So Spectre poked one of its eyes out with a good bit of force, subduing it enough to climb up onto the tree. JUST in time, too, for the rest of the pack caught up to them. “What… do we do… now, father?” Vladimir asked, breathing heavily. “Now we wait for the rest of the pack to… get bored… phew…” Vasili looked down at the wolf pack circling the tree, looking up at them with hungry eyes. “There’s no better survival practice… then fighting to survive, son… always remember this.” Now… all they had to do was wait for the wolves to move on to an easier, less intelligent meal.