night at the kriegsmuseum part 1

I look up at the massive structure before me, its concrete form towering above the many flagpoles in the foreground, with the words ‘The International Museum of Warfare’ in massive steel lettering above the entryway. The sun is falling low behind me as I walk past the various, currently deactivated security systems. The automatic doors slide open with their usual hiss, the inside air carrying its unique hint of engine smoke and gunpowder. Even after all this time, I’ve still got no idea where that smell comes from, because none of the vehicles are run and most of the guns are never fired. I arrive at the front desk.
“hey Anon, how’ve you been?” the man at the desk asks. Most of the staff here know me by now, after spending most of my days off here for the past year or two. “Hi Dave, I’ve been alright”. He scans my pass and lets me through to the museum. I glance at the gigantic map of the museum, with marked sections for everything from medieval armour to modern MBTs. The first section is Allied tanks and vehicles from ww2, which is convenient seeing as the person I’m here for tends to hang around this area, I walk past lines of tanks, one of just about every tank put out by the allies. After passing the Americans and British I come to the Russian section, walking down the line of every T- imaginable I come to the T-34, Ivan’s favourite. I knock on the hull a few times, unsure if I’m hitting it hard enough but nonetheless the driver’s hatch swings open, revealing a bearded man in an ushanka.
“Privyet comrade!” how is day?” he says cheerily, as if it’s perfectly normal for Russians to pop out of T-34s and ask about your day. I guess it is for this particular Russian. “I’ve been well, now what is it that you called me here for?” I reply flatly, knowing that he probably just decided to call me because he was bored. Ivan pulls himself out of the tank and jumps to the ground with a thud. “Walk with me, comrade, many things to be of speaking about”. Despite his apparent ease of moving around inside the tank, Ivan is at least a head taller than me and that combined with his hat and boots makes him seem like a giant. I walk with him back down the line of Russian tanks, finding some difficulty in matching his stride.
 “you know what I do for museum, da?” Ivan asks as we pass the SU-100.
“Yeah, you’re the security guard” I reply, unsure of where he’s taking the conversation.
“I have been security for many years. I am only staff that came from Kubinka in Russia, no one else wanted to move country”
“It must’ve been hard”
“Not really, I have duty to protect the gir- exhibits, but I am of old now and I must return to motherland”. I look at him, shocked, I’ve known Ivan for ages and he’s one the few people who I call friends. “You have been visit many time, know place like back of hand”
“Y-yeah, but what’s this got to do with-”
“Russians cannot be apart from motherland for long, it shortens lifetime. Also, working visa is of expired and government is coming for me”
“Do you need my help to get back to Russia? Is that why I’m here?”
“Nyet! You take place as guard of museum!”
“Wait, shouldn’t I need some sort of training for that? Or at least some sort of experience?”
>Ivan laughs “not necessary, exhibits looks after themselves! Work of paper is already done, welcome to guard life!”
“I guess I don’t have much of a choice”
“Nyet, I should mention that your shift is of start…” he glances down at his watch “now!”
“Wait what?”
“Goodbye Comrade! If you have question, I left book with T-34 or call me on phone” he calls as he rushes toward the exit. His massive form disappearing into the sunset, bound for the land of slavshit and vodka. Leaving me, tasked with guarding the biggest museum in human history, by myself. Goddammit Ivan