After his honourable defeat, Ivan Drago began to respect his much smaller opponent Rocky. And, when he meets a young teenager, who asks a very important question, he will find just how much he learned from Rocky's previous example, and prove to the Soviet Union and all of Russia that he could rise from the ashes of his former fame and prove himself through the way of a true victor.

I

First Encounters

Walking about the main streets of Russia's small town, Drago looked thoughtfully about him. He had been much more observant of his surroundings when he had been taken from his training, steroids no longer part of his daily routine. It was a relief, to finally get a chance at normality, to respect the boxer who had beaten him those few years ago.

He noticed everything that passed him by, instead of carelessly brushing the everyday sounds out of his mind, concentrating on beefing up. Drago smiled, an extremely rare occurrence for the former vicious boxer. 'I now notice the days as they should be ('Я теперь уведомление дни как они должны быть'),' Ivan thought jubilantly to himself.

Stowing his thickly-mittened hands farther into his coat pockets, Drago shivered slightly in the cold winter noon. The sun was just beginning to heat up the cobbled streets, though it had been up for hours. It peeked from behind a row of shops and houses clustered together in the little town.

Squinting in the bright light, Ivan headed for the grocer's, hoping to buy another few rubles' worth of food. The little bell over the door tinkled madly as he opened it, denouncing his presence to the customers and employees inside. Wall to wall was stacked with everything a town could imagine. Newspapers, food, and other necessities. In one corner, there was a small meat counter, a gruff, bearded man stood behind it, stripping the remaining fat from a piece of venison.

Turning to face a different corner of the store, he caught sight of what he had been searching for. A few rows of bread stacked neatly atop each other, still fresh, ready to be picked up and bought. Beside it were a variety of buns, pies, and pastries, shelved next to cans of pie crust and filling.

Picking up one of the warm loaves, and clutching a package of tarts, Drago went to the front counter, which was right next to the door, to pay for his purchases. Digging out a few large coins from his pocket, he placed them on the wood counter; the employee scraped the coins off and calculated his change. Handing the remainder of his change back, the cashier returned to counting the money in the register.

Exiting the store, Drago walked with less haste down the streets. His current errand done, he could enjoy the rest of the day.

The loaf and package tucked firmly into the crook of his elbow, the former Russian boxer's eyes never missed a beat of what was going on around him. People were coming to and from stores, a few in thread-bare clothing peering out from whiskered eyebrows at passers-by, while they stood next to a small store-front.

Ivan's boots still crunching against the snow-covered streets, he did not notice when he bumped into something.

"Hey! Watch where you are going!" ("Эй! Часы, где вы будете!") she yelled, her eyes blazing anger.

Drago finally got the chance to look down. It was a young teenager, probably around fifteen or sixteen. Her hair was the typical blonde, though close to golden brown in some places, and her eyes were iced-blue. She had a scarf wrapped around her, and a thick coat that seemed to keep out all the weather could dish out. It was no wonder he had accidently knocked into her, she was definitely a lot smaller, compared to his massive frame, and she was even smaller than most at her age.

"Sorry, I did not see you there," ("Простите, я не вижу Вас,") he answered back, clearly blown away by her harsh manner.

"Of course, how could you? Go on, make fun of my size! Everyone does!" ("Конечно, как вы могли? Продолжайте, смеяться над мои размеры! Каждый делает!") she snapped back, obviously she had brushed the apology aside with a flick of her flaming eyes.

"Why? Since when did size matter in anything?" ("Почему? С каких это вопрос не размера, ни в чем?") Drago asked, plainly curious.

Before she even thought of answering, her eyes lit up and her jaw dropped in complete awe. "You are Ivan Drago!" ("Вы, Иван Драго!") Apparently, he had not changed a lot if it took so few words passed between the two to understand who he was.

"Yes, but I do not find that much of a badge of honour to wear, save that I was beaten by a worthy opponent," ("Да, но я не считаю, что большая часть пропуска в честь носить, исключением того, что я был избит достойный оппонент,") he shrugged dismissively, obviously still guilty about his past. Sitting down on a nearby bench, out of the way of street traffic, the two continued there conversation.

"You were everything that the Soviet Union was grasping for, but you proved them wrong! You proved that man cannot become machine!" ("Ты же все то, что Советский Союз, хватаются за но вы доказали, что они были неправы! Вы доказали, что мужчина не может стать машина!") clearly, she had done a fair bit of research to figure all of this out.

"I proved that, and I learned some, but what does it matter?" ("Я доказал, что и я узнал кое-что, но то, что это важно?")

"What does it matter?! What does it matter, you say?! You showed everyone out there, that you can't beat anyone with just muscle; without heart!" ("Что же это вопрос! Что это важно, говорите! Вы показали всем, тем, что нельзя бить никого без сердца!") this girl seemed to have done a lot of time for research and careful study to figure all of this out and spout it at a stranger.

Not liking where this conversation was centering around -boxing- he decided to change the subject to something more simplictic. "What is your name? I believe you already know mine." ("Как вас зовут? Я полагаю, Вы уже знаете моей.")

"I am Roksana, but most call me Serafima Roksana," ("Я огнем одного Рассвет, но большинство звоните мне Рассвет,") she answered. "Serafima is my pet name, because I am so passionate about arguing, and sometimes become hostile." (огнем одного Для меня домашнее животное имя, потому что я так увлекает утверждая, а иногда становились враждебными.")

Ivan Drago nodded, his expression showing that he was soaking in the information, comparing her pet name with her personality.

"By the way, are you ever going to box again, or was that just a one-time appearance?" ("Кстати, вы когда-нибудь будем опять квадрат, или, что всего один раз?") Roksana looked up at the tall Russian, her face alight with curiousity.

"I- I do not know. I have not considered ever trying again," ("Я - я не знаю. Я никогда не пытаются снова",) Drago replied, taken aback by such a question, presented in the bluntest way possible. He could barely remember ever hearing himself speak like that, let alone hear someone else say it to him now.

"But... why? You would prove to the Soviet Union that people cannot be made into machines, that will and desire is stronger than any amount of brute force and strength. You could show them that you could do whatever you pleased, and win, without using their "scientific methods". You could learn to box again," ("Но... зачем? Вы хотели доказать СССР, что люди не могут превращаться в машины, что воля и желание сильнее, чем любое количество грубой силы и прочности. Вы могли бы показать им, что вы можно делать все, что вам приятно, а победить, не используя их "научными методами". Можно научиться коробку",) Roksana delved deep into the heart of the discussion, never faltering.

"I do not know. This is all just hopes and guesswork," ("Я не знаю. Это всего лишь надежды и догадки,") Drago pointed out, deflating Roksana's confidence a little.

"But... you could still show the Soviet Union that you never needed what they had to become a boxer. You just need a good trainer." ("Но ... Вы могли бы показать еще Советский Союз, что вы никогда не нужно то, что он имел стать боксером. Вы Просто хорошие инструктора.")

"Exactly. Without a trainer, none of this will even get off the ground." ("Совершенно верно. Без инструктора, все это будет даже приступить.") Drago was pessimistic about the whole thing, and he wasn't afraid to show it. 'Why did I even start this conversation?' ("Почему я даже начать этот разговор?") he thought miserably to himself.

"Anyways, I can see you are fairly busy, so I won't keep you. Perhaps I shall see you again, at the training center," ("Немцы, я вижу, вы довольно занят, Иван Драго поэтому я не буду держать вас. Возможно, я буду видеть вас снова, в учебном центре",) Roksana hinted as she stood up, ready to start on home.

"Perhaps," ("Возможно,") Ivan Drago replied, watching her leave. Maybe he could box again. But then, who knew if two Russians, one an over-imaginative teenager and a dismal former boxer could even make it. But... what if they could?

'Perhaps,' ("Возможно,") he said again, to himself.

To be continued...

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Fortunately, I do not own ROCKY, or any of the products and individuals enclosed in the movie, (if I did everything would be a complete blob of junk), so, that's my wordy disclaimer right there.

Roksana means "DAWN", and Serafima means "FIERY ONE". Roksana Serafima in this case will mean "fiery dawn". Her pet name is not used very much, and you rarely will hear a last name, if at all. Ivan Drago is, of course, not one of my own characters, but don't be angry about how I turned about his attitude. The movie never conveyed his thoughts, only what he said, so such things cannot be fully determined, though you can be sure he has a good side, and guilt. Ruble is Russia's currency.

The Russian wording is there because, after all, they do live in Russia, and that is basically what their speech would look like. As for the pronunciation, you'll have to ask someone who can easily dictate Russian, as I only used a beta translator. It is also there to put some individuality into the type of story I am writing, so that anyone who can read Russian or English will fully understand the conversation.

Hopefully, you like my story, and you'll review it. I'm quite pleased to have the chance to add in my own Rocky fanfic, and get the whole subject better known to others.

Zealak Silverdirk