Roman Yurriovitch Novikov's Story

The steady shaking of the limousine was a comforting feeling to Roman, as it was perhaps the only remaining memory of mother Russia he had. The strong scented leather was marked by his father's aftershave, which Roman savored as though his life was dependent on it. He drew a deep breath into his naris and exhaled slowly from his mouth. His face remained cold as steel, unmoved, straight, and unemotional. This was who Roman was, the calculating individual who idolized his hateful father beyond anything. To be greater than you father, that is my only wish. He glanced across the long seats to the other side of the limousine, to his brother Vassi. Vassi sat scribbling notes on his legal pad, a trait the brothers shared, and Roman knew better than to disturb him. For the remainder of the ride Roman slept, a frequent habit that had become slightly abnormal. The vehicle pulled up to the main entrance with a stop so smooth, spectators would not have even noticed the transition. Ivan quickly scurried to Roman's side door, which he opened to present the inside of the limousine to the building's main entrance. Leading with a slick black loafer followed an tailored Armani suit, Roman stood outside the limo with sharp eyes scouting the area as though to make sure it was sufficient for his brother to set foot on. He moved slightly to the side across the gravel to allow his brother through the door. He noted that his brother was still writing on his notepad and shot him a glare to let him know that this was not the time. "Ivanovitch, we will take our small bags, you can carry the others to the respective rooms.", said Roman in smooth Russian. "Of course Master Novik, please take these envelopes, they have the directions to your commons." Responded Ivan. Roman took the envelopes without so much as a glance towards Ivan and gave Vassi one of the two.

The opaque black of the evening sky began to fall over the phoenix colored hue of crimson and gold that signified a setting sun. The fusion rate in the core is in a self-correcting equilibrium: a slightly higher rate of fusion would cause the core to heat up more and expand slightly against the weight of the outer layers, reducing the fusion rate and correcting the perturbation; and a slightly lower rate would cause the core to cool and shrink slightly, increasing the fusion rate and again reverting it to its present level. He noted. Perhaps there is a possibility of making such fusion readily accessible.. Roman reached into the outer flap of the side-bag that Ivan had handed him. The flat midnight colored leather tote held Roman's most personal items and trinkets. His large palm slid across the material as his finger's searched for the flap. His eyes remained active, noting both position and color of the atmosphere, as well as an increased air density to that of Vladivostok. He guided his phalanges into the darkness of his tote and retrieved a felt-tipped pen, and with yet another slide of his hand, reached into the bag's main compartment and retrieve his latest notebook which was mostly filled with wormhole theorems. Ah, yavol, a change of pace.Roman quickly scribbled the conceptual equation for condensed fusion and returned his supplies to their respective homes. His tools were to be organized tightly, categorically, and neatly, as they were his life's work; his only purpose as a human being. Roman nodded to his brother and spoke in english,"Vi I will go to find my room. Meet back with me in a short time. Ponyal?"