Breaking What's Survived

-Breaking What's Survived

Tags n shiet ('Bad Guy' Protagonist) (Military) (Hmofa) (Red Panda) (Mental Illness) (Combat) (WIP) (fuck Portugal)

<xxx> Designates that whatever is spoken, is in Russian. Translating this is a pain, and I'd rather focus on the editing, sorry.

-M- Designates that a certain part of the story will be in Mila's perspective


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Ruins. That’s all that is left. What used to be St. Petersburg is now an ashen pile of rubble.

Walking down a street one day, it looks hopeless. Barbed wire is strung along the sides of the street, bomb craters litter the way forward, and there isn’t an undamaged building in site. At least your body is undamaged. Looking down the street, you see what you came here for, an old clinic, belonging to a friend of yours, Markus. He was a native to the area, unlike you. He was a good man, and you hope he got out before all of this happened. Snapping back to reality, you walk into the clinic.

The clinic is devastated. Holes from bullets and shrapnel are everywhere, and with the electricity out, you have to do with a flashlight. Entering a room in the back, you find what you are searching for. Medical supplies, and more importantly, morphine. Since you were shot about a week ago, you’ve been in horrific pain. The damned sharpshooter hadn’t killed you, but the pain was absolutely bitching. But now, instead of the pain, the warm calming sensation of the morphine is what you need.

Packing the supplies into a bag, you crawl out through a hole in a wall, which brings you to an alley. Walking down the alley, you notice how trashed everything is. Garbage and rubble lay everywhere, bullet casings, and even a body in a crater. Hearing a helicopter flying by, you duck. Talking a look, you realize it’s not some type of MI. Odd. It lands not too far from you, but you don’t pay it much attention. Soldiers should hopefully leave a civilian alone, so you’d be fine.

Starting the trek to your hideout, you have an odd feeling of being watched. But at this point, it feels calming. If someone wanted you dead, they would have already shot you.

Life in the ruins was tough. People went crazy when the war broke out, and order fell apart. The fact that you were alive was astounding. St. Petersburg fell into the hands of so many factions and was bombarded so many times. You know, how it looks reminds you of those post-war pictures of Berlin. Surviving this was more difficult you imagined. Not only were soldiers and artillery strikes a worry, but the roving bandits and renegades makes life oh so more difficult.

Then it happens. A loud crash from your left, and a group of masked men rush at you. Looters.

You unholster your old PM, and run in the opposite direction, letting a few rounds loose. Just as you start firing, you hear a crack louder than your pistol. So, they are armed too, perfect. You didn’t want to shoot anybody today, but here you are. Diving behind some rubble you take a few careful shots. One man drops with blood streaming down his head, while another falls and grasps at his leg.

Pulling the trigger once more, you realize that lack of ammunition that you have, due to the fact that no more bullets were flowing from your piece. Swearing like a sailor, and desperate as all hell, you return to sprinting away. They must be a close-knit group, as some stay back from chasing you to tend to the fallen men. Still, a group of four gives chase, and you run for your life.

Rushing down different alleys, you still hear them not too far behind you. Thinking you have some breathing room, you start to slow down in a street to recuperate, but a gunshot behind you combined with a horrible feeling in your right leg brings you down.

You are on your knees, holding your right thigh, using rags to try to stop the bleeding, then you look at them. It’s up. But why does it matter? Life was just kicking you around, all the time, the city around you proof of that. The things you saw and done. You wanted it to end. You yell out to them, closing your eyes, and starting to lose consciousness: “<Go fuck yourself>!”

You hear laughter, then a gunshot. You feel no pain anywhere else in your body, are you already dead? Multiple more gunshots ring out, and you open your eyes. Two looters have fallen, and the rest are running.

You fall back and crawl into a ruined garage. Its dark, dusty, and cold. Rusted tools lay all over the place, and motor oil coats the floor. You prop yourself against some busted car and take a look at your right leg. The wound is in your thigh, and blood is everywhere. Taking some alcohol, you drench your leg in it, and proceed to fish out the bullet, but not without a copious amount of swearing. Bandaging it up, you give yourself the morphine you so desire.

The warm feeling is wonderful, and you start to calm down. Your vision is fading, and you lose the energy to hold your head up. Not before you fade away to unconsciousness, you hear footsteps and a woman’s voice. “<Are you alive?>” Then, the world fades to black.

You open your eyes, expecting to see more ruins, but you awake in a beautiful field of grass. Getting up, you look around. It extends all the way to the horizons, and the sun shines bright. You have some clothes from work before the civil war started. You start to walk in a direction to see where you were, but a voice comes from behind you. “<You can't blame yourself anymore.>”

You turn around instantly, but no one is there. What? That sounded like Viktor. You start to run away from where you were, but the voice is still behind you. “<Don't run from the truth.>” You look back, and it scares you. The ground behind you is falling. You run even faster, trying to gain ground. The more you run, the closer it gets, and the more the day turns to night. Once more you hear the voice. “<Please, Mikhail, stop. For us.>” As soon as those words were spoken, your footing gives way to gravity, and you fall into the void. You yell out in desperation, but nothing happens. Then, you hit the ground. And everything disappears, even you.

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Waking up, you get that damned sensation of falling, and you bolt straight up. Glancing around, you are in some sort of hideout. You have a decent bed under you, some lighting from a lamp on a table in the corner of the room, and your belongings are next to the doorway out. Turning on the bed, you can tell that your bandages have been replaced, there isn’t so much blood on them now. To get to your bandages, your savior had to take off your jacket and shirt. The room is well kept, tidy, but not perfect. Some tally marks are on the wall, as well as some empty bottles on the table with the lamp.

Whoever saved your ass must be stupid to keep your belongings in your room. The last thing you do with a prisoner is give them the means to escape, and you don’t feel like becoming a ransom. You try to stand up, but your right leg is far too weak from pain. In the push to get up, you move too far forward and end up crashing into the floor. Hard. So, your leg is fucked, wonderful, but you’re desperate to escape.

Crawling to your stuff, you bring them with you to the table. Using a hammer that you have; you break off part of the table. It is large enough the be usable as a makeshift crutch, and so you get to work. Smoothing off the top, and wrapping it with bandages, you can bring yourself up. Now, time to get ready to leave. You limp to the bed and layout your belongings. Putting on your mask, leather jacket, and shirt, you load a new magazine for your PM, and adjust your holster.

Getting up, you hobble out of the doorway. Looking around, everything comes back to what you expect. Ruin and rubble. You are in some trashed lobby, with an open ceiling. It used to be some fancy glass dome, but it's in complete disarray, metal bent, and glass gone, only a few shards left on the floor. Moving to the other side of the lobby, you find another open doorway. Looking inside, a large grin breaks onto your face.

A room full of equipment. Oh, wonderful equipment. A Gp-5 gas mask, An AKM, five mags, and enough rounds to last you until the sun explodes. Digging through it all, you find something even better. Morphine. Fuck worrying about your leg anymore, it was time to get walking. Thus, you jammed that fucker into your leg, and let it do its job. Taking the needle out, you were finally able to stand. Thank god, crawling was fucking annoying.

Walking back into the lobby, you hear footsteps coming from outside. The bastard who took you is back. Hiding behind a fallen pillar, you wait. Then, one of the front doors open, and cold air flows into the building. A decently sized person walks in. Then, you notice their gear. It’s all good stuff, seems expensive and western. Good body armor, a nice helmet with a headlamp, and a gas mask that… protruded outwards? Oh, great, a fucking anthro. Those fuckers were the animal-human hybrids that the west made.

What the fuck is one doing in St. Petersburg? All of this thinking left your mind when the bastard starts talking, in English. “Damn bandits, if only command sent me some other operatives, then this shit would go a lot faster.” English? At least you understood it, and you could speak it decently too. And it sounds like a she. The woman who you heard before you passed out, in the ruined garage.

Hiding well, you listened in on her, hopefully, it could clue you in on when to strike. “At least I have some RnR right now. I need to rest like a motherfuck...” Did she notice you? You take a look, but she isn’t staring at you, but rather, frozen in place. “Damn, he’s in the bed. I’ll have to get a fucking sleeping bag, wonderful.” Well, she’s letting you have the bed that you aren’t using. She has to be worried about your health or something, but you aren’t dead yet, so fuck that. “Shit, he was bleeding bad, I gotta check on him.” She walks over to the room you were in and takes off her helmet. She had this brown-orange fur on the most of her head, with some white too, looked like a Red Panda.

She stands by the doorway, then she walks in, while you hear: “<Hey, you awake>? Or are you still out? What the fuck? Where is he?” As she backs out, you make sure your AKM is ready. Round in the chamber, full mag, and on auto. It was time to make your presence known.

“Drop the rifle. Now.” She freezes and then drops her rifle. “Now drop any other weapons you have. Try anything and I’ll fucking blast you.” She slowly grabs a pistol and a knife and lets them fall to the floor. "Hands on your head, and walk to the bed, then sit.” She proceeds to do exactly as you tell her. As she turns to sit, you see the fear on her face soon mixed with shock as she looks at you. Then she opens her mouth.

“Y-You, I sav-“ Knowing where that was going, you cut her right off.

“Took me prisoner, yeah. The last thing I am going to be is some hostage.”

The fearful expression on her face soon turns to confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Great. Some merc is trying to play dumb. “What do you mean? I wake up in someplace I don’t know, with this fucker in front of me walking into a room with a gun and a knife to a wounded man.” She slowly shifts towards the wall as you leave the cover of the pillar and enter the room.

“I saved your ass, and you think I’m trying to capture you?”

She must be incredibly stupid, or new. “Well lady, considering that you speak English, you must not know how things work around here.”

Her muzzle contorts, a scowl developing on her face. “I’m N.A.T.O, you dumb bastard! Of fucking course I don’t know! Glad to know that the locals repay life-saving with a gun to your back!”

Looking at her uniform, you notice that famous blue and white N.A.T.O symbol on her sleeves. Well, maybe you did overreact a little, but better safe than sorry. “Alright, calm down. I’m just trying to look after myself.” You lower the AKM, and her scowl lessens but persists.

“Christ! Is it really so bad here that you do shit like that?!” With how life is here, its kill, or get killed. The westerners must not understand jack shit.

“Sorry, it is hell here. I wouldn’t have done that a month ago, but I guess the chaos is growing on me.” You start to lean on the doorway, your leg starting to hurt once again. That morphine isn’t working as good as it's supposed to be.

“Damn, that bad?” Looking at the red panda, she is staring directly at you with a devious smile.

It's obvious, she’s taking pleasure with your pain. You’d be in the same boat if it were you, some bastard pointing a gun at you after you saved him. Your surprised she hasn’t done anything yet, she must be warry with you holding the Kalash. But soon, the old pain gets even worse. You let out a groan and try to fight through the pain, but to no avail.

With the pain starting to cloud your mind, you stop caring and let the AKM fall to the ground, and you as well. The red panda dashes to you, grabbing a knife, and she dives at you. You don’t move. Why should you give a damn anymore? Just let it end. “You piece of shit!” She holds the knife at your neck, her muzzle an inch from your face, with her teeth bared and a deathly growl.

Then, you say it. “Do it, put me out of my misery will you.” Her growl ends. She slowly shifts back, her determined demeanor fading.

Her face turns to what you believe is a saddened look. “What?” You look at her as blankly as possible.

“You heard me, do it. I don’t want to suffer anymore.” She stands up, looking at you, completely mortified. “Why? You can leave this hell, I’m N.A.T.O, I can get you out!”

You turn your head at her slowly, your energy leaving you. “I can’t live. Not with what happened.” Your head drops down, memories flooding you. Gunshots, screams, the blood. Why did you let it all happen? You should be with the rest, but here you are.

She speaks up, snapping you out of your trance. “Wait, wait, it will get better, trust me!”

No. It won’t, and you know it. It could only get worse. “<I’ve done so much. It’s my time to pay.>” She won’t do it, so you will. Pulling out your PM, you swing it to your skull.

But soon, a gloved hand grasps your arm and slams you into the wall. “NO!” You hit your head hard. Sliding to the floor, you start to cough. Your chest hurts like hell. “Fuck!” She lifts you up, and brings you to the bed, while taking your gear off. She checks for wounds, but she must find none.

You try to push her away, but you’re too weak to do anything, and she easily restrains you. “Don’t. You aren’t just hurting yourself.” You chuckle.

“I’ve got no one else. It is just me left. And I don’t want to hurt.” With your mind fading to memories of Viktor and Klaus, you drift away. Hopefully, this rest would be eternal.

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You wake up once more, but it's... different. It's the St. Petersburg you know, but it's all intact. Walking around, what worries you is the fact that there is no one else. It's just you. Goddamn it, no! These fucking dreams, they're gonna kill you. You start running to what was your home. The door is unlocked. Walking in, you feel somewhat at peace, but you know somethings off. The phone starts to ring, and you pick it up.

"<Hello?>"

"<You have to forgive yourself.>" That voice gave you a horrible chill. Forgive myself? No. I couldn't. The circumstances didn't matter! You still did what you did. You fucking bastard. And so you answer.

"<Why would I>?"

Great. No response. You are about to hang up, when that voice comes back.

"<You weren't responsible.>" What? Are you serious!? Not responsible? You fucking did it! How could you not be responsible?

"<I did it, so I have to suffer.>"

Again, a long pause before you get a response.

"<Please, Mikhail, move on. It wasn't in our hands.>" Move on? How? Then, the other side hangs up. That voice. You knew it. Hans. Goddamn it, you just wanted them to be here, with you. They didn't deserve what fate had dealt them, and you didn't deserve to walk free. Looking at the window, it shocks you. It's pure white. You don't know what this will lead to next, but you decide to open the front door.

It's a cemetery. Walking through, you look at the gravestones. Nothing looks odd, until you make it to the center of the field. Then, you see it. The gravestone. On it, it read: "<Mikhail Vetrov 1997-Now>"

You never thought that you would see your own grave. But here you were. And as you look to the right and left, you see the graves of... them. It should have been the other way around. And you lose your strength, falling into the grave as you are buried alive. And before it fades, you hear all of them, at once.

"<Go on, for us.>" I guess I have no choice then. If that's what they wanted, I'd do it. No matter the pain.

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Waking up, you feel the bed below you. You look around the room, but the lamp is off. There is only darkness. Attempting to move, you realize your hands are bound. That fucking westerner. Still, you shift your weight and sit up. The bed makes a loud creak, which is followed by the sound of a cloth ruffling in the darkness. The pain in your leg and gut remains, but less so then when you ambushed the woman. You have a feeling of being watched, but considering the room is pitch black, you don't give it much attention.

Moving your bindings to the metal base of the bed, you try rapidly bringing your hands up and down, an attempt to rid yourself of the makeshift cuffs. After some seconds, you start making good progress. The bindings aren't so tight anymore. You continue on, but a furred hand and claws fall on your arm, which you recoil back from.

"I'm sorry, but please, stop. I don't want you to get hurt." Looking at where you heard the voice, you deduce that you can make it to the doorway faster than she can. So you sprint.

"Hey, wait!" Like you would stop. Running to the doorway, you get tackled by the woman. Her weight knocks you down, but you aren't out of the fight.

"Get the hell away from me you damn freak!" You proceed to swing your arms violently, but you are soon restrained. Then, she yells.

"STOP!" She lets a horrific growl from her mouth. You realize that fighting won't work. You'd have to get out some other way. So, you stop. "Christ, the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Well, my hands are bound up, I have a walking and talking animal holding me down, and I've been shot twice. Anything else?" Insulting your captor who could kill you at any moment was the intelligent choice to make. Her claws shoot to your neck, ready to slice.

"I AM NOT AN ANIMAL."

"And I'm the pope." She must be real pissed now, as she proceeds to send a fist into your face.

"F-Fuck! Alright, I'll stop I'll stop, just don't hurt me."

"Really, you're worried about getting hurt? You piece of shit, you almost blew your brains out yesterday!" She was right.

"And?"

"And? Why the fuck are you trying to fight for your life when you nearly splattered your brains on the wall yesterday?"

"I have my reasons. And no, I won't tell you why."

You don't get a response. She must be utterly confused, or completely livid. Then, she lifts you up, and brings you to the bed, dropping you down.

"Listen here. I'm two things. One, an anthro, not a fucking animal. Two, kind. I saved your ass, and I'm still willing to patch you up. So be good, and tell me your name." Your name. The last thing you want some N.A.T.O fucker to know is who you are. So you pause and think. Then it comes out.

"I-I'm Sergei."

"Alright Sergei, I'm Mila. I'm here on a mission, and I need help." Help? The fuck would some black ops motherfucker need help with?

"Help?"

"Yes, you seem to be a local, so you could help me. I need someone who knows where to get around to places. I can help you get out of here once we are done." She wanted you as a guide, wonderful. But considering that she threatened your life not too long ago, you feel fairly apprehensive.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Why? I saved your life, and I haven't killed you yet. That should be enough. Considering that your mind is completely fucked, and you held a gun to my back yesterday, I shouldn't trust you." That reasoning seemed good enough. If she wanted you dead, she had plenty of chances.

"Okay. But I also have something that I'll have to do as well."

"Alright. But I'm not letting you free yet. You'll have to prove yourself that you won't hurt yourself, or me." Great, you're being fucking mentally evaluated. Just what you need.

"Okay."

"Is that it?"

"Yes.”

"Alright, Sergei. I'll keep an eye on you, don't try anything, but get some rest. You need to recover." Your pained body is an indication of that enough, hearing that from someone else just drives it home. Taking her advice, you close your eyes and start to rest. You hear Mila walk to where you heard the cloth ruffle. It must be a sleeping bag. "Sleep well, Sergei."

"I'll try."

Rest does come eventually. You feel your body being pulled back into a world of dreams. Hopefully, they wouldn't be so horrific now.

----------------------

Your night was dreamless. No horrors came to you, but neither did anything pleasurable. In your own personal purgatory called St. Petersburg, all you wanted was to be back in the past. To be with Klaus, Hans, Viktor. Shotting vodka and taking jobs. It was a good life, but it all had to come to an end. For them, it was St. Petersburg. Would you end up lying in the gray ground, like them? Or would you walk out?

Life was already tough enough. Moving from one country to another sucked, entirely changing your identity was even worse. It seemed to have paid off back in the old days but considering where you are now, it doesn’t matter.

Opening your eyes, you look around in the room. The lamp is on, and light floods the room. Mila is busy rolling up her sleeping bag, and you can’t help but silently chuckle as she has trouble getting it to properly fold. Moving your arms, they are still joined at your wrist. This was getting annoying. Hopefully, she would get them off soon. Shifting your arms around, you manage to somewhat lessen the immense pressure on your joints.

Soon, she finishes fixing up her gear, and she turns to you. You notice her stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny, jackass?”

“You look like a dumbass, stop trying to get those off of you.”

“Well, maybe that would be alleviated if you took them off.”

“No chance.” Wonderful, you are truly fucked. Mila starts walking over to her backpack, and she takes out some small green bag. “Hey, feeling hungry?”

“Yeah, but considering that my hands are being fucking fused at their joints, I can’t do anything about it.”

Mila giggles at your helplessness and looks at you. She then speaks up, with a pretend sad look on her face, and a mocking tone. “Aw, are you gonna starve without little old me to help?” This fucking prick.

“Preferably, yes.” Being a prisoner to this piece of shit pretty much stole your dignity away, but you’ll fight tooth and nail to keep what of it you have left.

“Well pal, too bad. Now get over here. It’s chow time.” Wonderful, she isn’t taking no as an answer. You decide to walk on to the table and have a seat. Being force-fed would only make this worse. Mila proceeds to open the bag and pour some water into it. Closing it and putting it down, she pulls out a bottle of whiskey, and a shot glass. “This will make ya feel all kinds of better, you want it?”

“Whiskey. It isn’t vodka but fuck it.”

“Good choice.” Mila pours a shot and slides it over. You give her a condescending look, which she soon understands, as she walks over to you and holds the shot up. You open up, and she pours it in. You swallow it down, completely straight-faced. You glance at Mila, who chuckles to herself. “I’d expect you to cough it out, but I guess your full of surprises.”

“Firstly, the fuck is that supposed to mean? Secondly, just use the damn bottle. Shots will take too long.” Mila soon starts laughing.

“You think I’m gonna just gonna let you have the bottle, and leave no more for me? How inconsiderate.” You turn your head to the ceiling and let a scowl form on your face.

“Considering that I’m bound and trapped here. Letting me have the fucking drink would be the considerate thing to do, prick.”

Mila gives you a slap on the head. “Watch how you talk to me, dick. Now, I’ll give you some, but you ain’t getting much.”

She pours a good amount of the whiskey into your mouth which you gulp down. At least it’ll make the pain in your wrist and leg less apparent. Mila then walks to the green bag and sets the bottle of whiskey down. Grabbing the bag, she opens it. Whatever is inside, it smells really good. She grabs some plastic bowls and pours what seems to be spaghetti and some meat in both. Grabbing forks, she proceeds to feed both of you at once. The food is good, damn good.

“How the fuck did they get that in the bag? I had worse at restaurants!” Mila looks at you, confused, but whatever she is thinking about must dawn on her as she soon breaks into a smirk.

“Oh yeah, you Ruskies don’t have shit for MRE’s anyways, huh. Well, thank Uncle Sam for that one pal.” Firstly, Ruskie? Considering who your parents were, she’s far off. Secondly, the fuck is a MRE? Isn’t that what soldiers call that shitty instant-food that they got? Well, whatever it means, the West has beat out home by a long shot. Eating the rest, you quickly finish. Glancing at her bowl, she has finished as well. “Alright, at least you’re civil tonight. For your good behavior, I’ll let you loose.  But remember last night. You aren’t getting away.”

She pulls out a knife and slices your cloth restraints, then she backs off a few steps. “About fucking time.” You stretch your arms out and put them to your side. “Now, what are you going to do?”

Mila stares at you, then she pipes up. “Well, you could be a useful guide. I don’t trust you enough to give you something to fight with, but I suppose you can be a sort of, well, guide. I’m the one with a gun though, so don’t run. Help me, and I’ll get you out of here.” Alright, be a guide to some piece of shit western animal person, and you get a free ticket out of this hell.

“Alright Mila, I’ll play along. But only if I get your help doing some things too.”

“Like what?”

“It’s personal. I’ll tell you when we reach that point.” Mila gives you a questioning stare, but she soon breaks into a grin.

“Okay Sergei, it’s a deal.” She puts her right arm out, and you shake hands.

“So, what are we doing?” Mila walks to her equipment and sighs.

“I can’t tell you what, but we need to make it to a building three kilometers south of here. It’s big and red, it used to be some government building.” That was the new armory, constructed not too long before the war. With your business, you made a lot of visits there.

“That’s the new armory. I can get you there fast.” Mila has already put most of her gear on. A helmet, vest, backpack, and more, but she then points to your jacket and your backpack.

“There’s no knives or guns in it, but I’d assume you would want what’s in it.” You give an affirmative ‘mhm’, and start equipping yourself. She walks out the doorway, into the lobby. “You coming?”

“Yeah, gimme a second alright?” No response. Thinking over your situation, you know what to do. Help her out, but also use her to get rid of the past. No one would be coming for you then, and you’d be able to live a normal life. And if she finds out too much, get rid of her too. Moving to Russia was a plan that seemed to pay off immensely, but with how things are turning out, you should have stayed home. Back in Singapore. At least there you wouldn’t be fighting for your life and your own identity. Yet here you were. Hopefully, you could head back after all of this.

Walking you, you see Mila completely geared up. She looks like some action movie extra, ready to gun down terrorists in the background. You, on the other hand, were completely different. Some shirt, pants, work boots, a leather jacket, a backpack, and a mask. You looked like a cross between a S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Bandit and Mad Max. Mila takes one look at you and starts to chuckle.

“Is that all you got? Just some clothes? No proper gear?” You shoot Mila an angered glare.

“Unlike you, I don’t need expensive shit to keep me alive. These ‘clothes’ have kept my ass alive for quite some time.” Mila rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“When you get shot, don’t come crying to me.” Yeah yeah, fuck you too lady. Maybe if some 7.62x54 comes her way, you might just sprint the fuck outta there instead of patching her up.

“When the lead starts flying, we’ll see who needs help.” Mila slides her gas mask onto her face and locks it into place.

“Lead the way then, Sergei.” Walking to the front doors, you open it and walk into the street. Great, it was completely ruined. Pathfinding was gonna be one hell of a bitch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You gonna come along, or do you plan on talking shit all night long?” You start to hear footsteps follow you. “Good, now keep fucking quiet. The last thing I want to deal with is any renegades.”

Walking through the street, you take a look at the nearby buildings. It isn’t just to check your surroundings but also to keep your mind off the hell you are In. Glancing at this large grey ruined building, you remember the old days. With them.

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It’s one of your free days off. No work, and you can relax. It’s not like you hate your duty, you actually have a passion for it. Nonetheless, it’s good to take a break, you don’t need to go insane anytime soon. Getting up from your chair, you look around your surroundings. The outskirts of Kiev are quite beautiful. You admire the wonderful yellow of the sun before a sound behind you peaks your attention.

“<Mikhail?>”

“<Hey, Klaus. What is it?>” Klaus looks around nervously. He was the youngest of your group, and the least acquainted with your lifestyle.

“<I just wanted to see if we could talk. I need some help.>” Klaus looks down, a sorrowful look on his face.

“<It’s alright man, what’s wrong?>” Klaus looks straight at you, his face blank, unnervingly so.

“<H-How do you keep on like this? I… t-the nightmares keep me up, and I can’t get their faces out of my mind…>” The last job must have hit Klaus hard. It was the first time he killed someone. During the action of it all, he held up well, but afterwards, he seemed… drained. You never suffered from it. You just didn’t care about what happened to the fuckers who tried to take you out. They were in the dirt, and they could suck it. Maybe Hans was right in calling you ‘a psycho fuck’.

“<To be honest, I don’t know. I never went through all of that. It just never bothered me. Hans had to suffer it. He would be able to help, but no matter what happens, we’ll be here for you, alright?>” Klaus looks at you, and a small smile starts to form on his face, but then it fades.

“<Okay. Thanks, man. I just want it to end. It won’t leave me.>” Him saying that startles you. The last thing you wanted was Klaus hurt.

“<Klaus, it will. Hans pulled through, and so can you. Trust me. Give him a chat, you need it.>” Klaus gives you a hug which lasts a few seconds. These men, they were your brothers. You didn’t give a shit about anybody else in the world, not even your parents. But you had them, so it was alright. The hug breaks off, and Klaus turns away, walking through the door. Just before it closes, you can hear him say: “<Thank you.>”

Turning back to the view, you smile. Everything seemed to be going well. Klaus was gonna get help, Hans was chilling in his room, and Viktor was coming back after meeting a client. Hopefully, he would bring a new contract. There was no thrill like a fight.

--------------------------

The memory brings you both joy and warmth. The days past were gone, yet you must trudge on. Right now, the goal was to get to the new armory. Chances were that it wasn’t yet broken into, as the storage areas were quite locked out, but considering that you wheeled and dealed over there, you’d find another way in. Mila walks behind you, and then her tail falls on your shoulder.

“Well Sergei, what’s the plan?” What, to get to the armory? Simple, don’t go straight.

“We’re gonna have to take the alleyways there. Heading straight to the armory is effectively suicide, considering the number of looters in the area. I know a good path, just follow me, and keep quiet.” Mila does just that, marching behind you and not uttering a word in response. Setting off, you start walking through backstreets and other hidden-off areas. Mila’s brain must be on high alert, as every sound and motion catches her attention. When some bricks from a crumbling building fall, she crouches down and finds cover. You chuckle, continuing your path. “It’s nothing but gravity. Get your ass up and move.”

Mila falls in, following you closely. As you continue to the armory, she gets closer to you. She must be afraid. Not good for a black-ops agent. “Hey, Sergei?”

“I told you to be quiet, shush.” She better not be disregarding your advice, otherwise, some drunk jackass and his friends can run on over and start some havoc.

“I think I should bring you back. I got a plan on how to get there, just let me escort you to-“

“No, I’m not backing out. I don’t care that you’re the N.A.T.O spec ops soldier, you’ll get ambushed and shot up. Now calm the fuck… Shit, get down, now!” You dive onto some rubble, doing your best to shield yourself from the road up ahead, and Mila copies you. Good, she’s learning to trust the ‘local’.  Mila soon starts to whisper to you.

“I don’t hear anything, why are we hiding?”

“I saw some shadows up ahead. Looked like a group of three. I don’t know if they’re out for blood, so just wait.” Mila gives a worried stare but soon composes herself. She readies her rifle, some western plastic toy. Soon, you hear footsteps that are coming ever closer to your hiding spot. The men are having a conversation, and you can make out some of it.

“<So, I rush into the room, and I see these two fuckers fighting over some shitty canned food. They’ve got knives ready, and they’re about to fight, but they forgot to account for me, and my TOZ, because bam, bam! The fuckers are gone.>”

“<Yeah yeah, you’ve got a shotgun, so cool. My ax probably has ended more fuckers then you ever had.>”

“<Shut the fuck up, you’re such a dick. Now, get fucking going, we’ve got work to do.>”

They are converging directly to your position. Tapping Mila on the shoulder, you make a motion of your hand of pulling a trigger. She nods and takes a breath. Rapidly, Mila turns the rifle over her rubble cover and lets some rounds loose. You hear some yelling, but the gunshots make it impossible to understand. Looking over, you see one fallen man with a shotgun. The two others take turns moving up slowly to your position, cleverly using cover as they advance. One must be feeling very confident, as he makes a mad dash to your position, Mila drops the man with one shot.

It seems clear. No noise, movement, but something is off. Mila soon vaults over the pile of bricks she was hiding behind and walks forward. Then, a man jumps from the wreckage of a car and proceeds to hit her right on the head with a pipe. You sprint forward, grabbing a brick from the street. The man must be confused and fixated on the animal person in front of him, as he doesn’t even notice you. You slam the brick into his head, and he falls. Quickly, the man pushes himself off the ground and turns to fight you. He had once a chance to give up. Now he was fucked.

“<You bastard! I’m the one with the weapon, you’re screwed!>” Making a fake lunge at him, he moves back.

“<Then why are you afraid?>” Jesting at the man, he yells and charges at you. He makes swing directly downwards, which you sidestep. He then swings at your left, but you dive before it can connect. Dashing at him, you tackle him into a wall and then provide a punch directly into his gut. He drops the pipe and starts coughing.

“<Bitch…>” This bastard just called you what?! Picking up the pipe, you bring it down full force on his head, again, and again. The top of his head is totally smashed. Brains coat your pipe. The adrenaline of the fight is still with you, and you remember that Mila was hurt. Turning around, you saw Mila, propped up against the car, staring at you, then the body, and then once more at you. Walking over to her, you kneel beside her, but Mila shuffles away.

 “Hey, you alright?” Mila stares directly at you. The gas mask isn’t helping her conceal her fear. “I’m not gonna hurt you Mila, get up. You got hit pretty hard.” Mila proceeds to just stare at you. “Alright then, I’m gonna search for supplies. Get yourself fixed up, alright?”

Then, you hear her voice. “The fuck was that… you just murdered him!” Murder? Considering that you were in the ruins of St. Petersburg, killing those who attacked you wasn’t what worried you right now.

“What do you mean murder? The fucker almost got you, and he tried to take me out.” Mila pushes herself up, keeping distance between the two of you. She picks up her rifle and faces you.
“Sergei! He was already out of the fight! You didn’t need to kill him!” Oh, morality. It can go fuck itself. The bastards try to kill you, and you kill them instead. But no, he was not a threat anymore. Christ, she sounded like Hans. Wait, she was talking like Hans, she had a point.

“Shit, I guess the heat of the fight just, came out. I didn’t think about it, it just happened. Fuck.” Mila continues to stare at you, but then she speaks up.

“Christ Sergei, keep yourself together! Just, search for whatever you need, but be quick. We need to get to the armory soon.” Nodding to her, you search the bodies and think over what just happened. You got into a fight and executed some fuck who had the balls to insult you. Hans would be disappointed. I guess he was right. In a fight, I did turn into somebody else. But right now, that didn’t matter.

Walking to another body, you find a wonderful surprise. The man has a wonderful vest, it could be useful for holding onto things. Shame it looks like it won't stop any bullets. Next to him, lies an amazing prize. A Toz-34. It was a beautiful over-under shotgun, you had one before, when you had just met Viktor. Along with your looted shotgun was a good amount of shells, thirty-something. Putting on your new toys, you walk over to Mila, who seemingly jumps back in shock.

“Sergei, what the fuck? I took away your gun and knife for a reason!” That wasn’t important. Guns were nice, but they didn’t kill, you did.

“Considering I just beat a man to death with a brick and pipe, I’m perfectly dangerous without a gun. Bringing this is only gonna help our odds of success even more. Now let's get going, I wa-“

“Christ! Alright, just don’t lose yourself like that again. You were horrifying. I thought you had gone mad.” Well, having the psychological advantage of frightening your enemies was a pleasurable thought, losing the one ticket out of this hellhole was worse.

“Okay, I’m sorry. It won’t happen.” Mila looks down, then at you again. She must be completely in shock with how crazy her situation was. Sucks to be her, but yours was worse. You couldn’t say you weren’t worried about her. After this, you’ll have to check her head. Hopefully, she wasn’t hurt too badly.

“G-Good. Let’s just get going. Lead the way.” Back to business, about time.

“Follow along, we can make it there in half an hour if we keep the pace.” You start on your path again, and Mila soon follows you. She seemed to keep quite some distance between her and you. She seemed to be in shock about what happened. Her tail was low, dragging behind her, and she didn’t react to her surroundings like she did at the beginning, but she’ll make it through. You just had to talk to her. Hans made it through, and Klaus was when he met his end, so she could too. You just had to make it to the armory, then, you’d have a chat.

------------------------------

Taking the long route seemed to be paying off, considering you weren’t dead yet. Your ticket out of hell was hurt and probably is frightened by you. That shit doesn’t matter though, you’ve got a Toz-34, and any fucker who will try to take you on won’t live to tell the tale. On your path, you find a gate for an alleyway. It looked like it would be a good shortcut. You hand signal for Mila to get over to you.

“Hey, if we can open this, we’d be right next to the armory.” Mila takes a look at the gate, and then she turns to you.

“Alright, but, how do we get it open?” Some rusty gate shouldn’t be too hard to break down, right?

“It’s old as shit. Knock it down.” Mila kicks at the hinges holding the gate to its supporting wall, but her efforts are in vain. You know, this Toz might have more than one use… “Mila, back off, I got a plan.”

“Hopefully, this plan won’t get us hurt, huh?” You flip her the bird and aim the Toz at the lower hinger. Pow. You lift it higher and repeat. Pow. The gate falls and slams into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete under it before it falls back.

“My key is universal.” You chuckle at yourself. What are you, some action hero? Then Mila follows, not before giving you a punch in the back.

“The fuck are you doing, idiot? How fucking unprofessional can you get? Killing non-combatants, wasting ammo, and making quips?!” This is getting annoying. Popping open the back of the Toz, two shells pop out, which you replace. You swing the barrels up, and the shotgun is prepped.

“Listen, I don’t know what black-ops bullshit you got trained in, but my methods work. Maybe you should learn some local lessons before you start chastising me for effective action.” You can hear Mila stop walking. You decide to stop and turn around, you need to stop whatever she is trying to pull.

“Sergei, listen to me please?” Fine. If only you had a mute button for this woman.

“Alright. What is it?”

“You remind me of a friend I had. He was always getting into trouble, choosing his path, doing… bad choices. He’s dead because of it. I know where your path leads, don’t choose it, please.” Well well well, Ms. American Red Panda is now an official therapist. Just what you need. Someone who doesn’t know your past, telling you what to do. Dad told you to stay away from your friends in Singapore, but look how it turned out. You were on the top of the world, and you only got in this mess because of some jackass screwing you over with a shitty contract. She’s trying to be helpful sure, but right now, what helps you is ammunition and adrenaline.

“Mila, I know you're worried about me. Don’t be. I know what I’m doing. Chances are that I’ve been in action more times then you could dream to be. Stop worrying.”

“No! I saw you at your lowest, I know what will happen. It was the same for him!” Same? Seeing the only people who you cared about get cut down, and being powerless to do anything about it? Bullshit. Besides that, you had a new purpose. Their legacy must be carried on. You know what to do, it’s just a matter of being able to do it. For now, you had to earn this girl’s trust, and the silver tongue just starts on its own.

“N-n… Your right. I’m gonna get myself killed doing this. I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep myself under check. I guess I’ll be looking out for you too then. Now, take your damn mask off. I worried about how that pipe hit you.”

Mila gives you a hug, which you involuntarily return. She breaks it off just to take her gas mask off and seeing her face underneath, you breathe a sigh of relief. Not only is she A-Okay, but she also has this big grin on her face. She really does think she turned your life around, huh? “How does it look, pal?”

“Well, no bleeding, or anything unusual. Sorry if I sound like a prick, but I’ve never really seen an anthro up close, so I can’t be certain. How do you feel?”

Mila kneels on the ground, and you sit next to her, flanking her right side. “Well, it stings a bit, but not too bad. This mask is a savior, I’m telling you.” Speaking of gear, she had some nice western stuff. Despite that, just one thing took your interest.

“You know, with that helmet, how does it affect your hearing. Helmets never bother me much, but considering how your ears are uh-“

“Well, it doesn’t bother me too much, but after some time, it becomes really uncomfortable. Still, I’d rather be safe than having my ears be free. Speaking of that, when we reach the armory, you’ll need to pick up some serious protection. The last thing I need is you getting shot, again.” Giving Mila a shove, you get up. Body armor would be nice, much more preferable than having your guts spilled by some prick with an AK.

“That would be nice. I don’t feel like becoming a statistic.” Mila gives a hearty laugh. Seems like she enjoys your dark humor. Good, the less annoying she was, the better getting out would be. Extending out a hand, you help Mila get up. “Now get ready, the armory should be close. I have an idea on how to get in, so don’t worry.”

Mila puts her gasmask back on, and you both continue your trek. What would Klaus think? You helping somebody who clearly cared about you, just to get out of this hell? He’d be yelling at you like a motherfucker. Alright, maybe you’ll be friends with your savior. But right now, that was for them, not for her.

Plus, having the faith of your new comrade would be important once you needed to do what you had to. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run or try to shoot you. But that’ll be later. Right now, you just have to keep walking, and if anybody gets in the way of your plans, start shooting.

---------------------------------

There it was. The new armory. On the outside, it seemed like just another battered building, but you knew that under it, one could arm a small army. You and Mila move to what used to be a hotel and decide to stake out the armory before going in it. Walking to the second-highest floor, both of you secure a room and fortify it. Furniture is set up to prevent intrusions, and the room provides an amazing point to watch over the armory. You take a seat, and start putting some of your gear away, and Mila does the same, taking off her gas mask and helmet.

You turn over to Mila and say “Well, it looks like the armory hasn’t been too intruded, but that’s just from our point of view. Hopefully, the goods are still there. Anyways, why do you want to make it to the armory anyway?” Mila grabs a pair of binoculars and lays down, spying on the building.

“Well, I was sent out to track down a man. He’s dangerous from what I’ve heard, and sources say the last time he was seen, he was here. I can’t tell you who, or what I’ll do with him, but you’ll be compensated for your help. Anyways, he was sighted at the armory he before, I’m hoping that I can find a lead there.” Well, that changed things up. That could be you, but with the amount of men dealing with the corrupt soldiers before the war, the chances are slim to none.

“Alright, thanks for telling, it’s nice to know why I’m helping. I can get in the armory, I planned to get in beforehand, but I never had the chance. Hopefully, I’ll find the loot that I want, and you’ll find your lead.” You walk over to Mila and kneel next to her, and she turns to look at you. You never thought about it much, but her green eyes reminded you of a beauty you used to know. She was quite the charm, a complete seductress. It was a shame you never could get with her, but back then, you were still cementing yourself in work.

“No problem, and thanks for the help. Despite the rocky start, I’m glad you could help, and I’m hoping you can make it with me. I know it’s difficult out here. When we’re done, you can start a new life.” Start a new life? That sounded… wonderful. Once you rid yourself of your past, all you had to do was settle down somewhere, find a nice girl, and let your swiss bank account bring you whatever you desired.

“No problem. Once we do what we need to, I’ll be glad to get out of here. Godwilling, I won't have to go through this hell again, I just want to rest.” Mila smiles at you, and her tail is swishing from side to side. Standing up, you walk to your gear. She’s fallen to the lie of you being just some survivor completely, but you can't say it wasn’t nice to have someone to help you out through these times. Maybe, later on, you might open up to her. But before that, you’ll have to cement your trust in her, and vice-versa.

Sitting by your gear, you inspect some of the loot you found after you dealt with the bandit patrol. It was mainly basic stuff, food, water, some medical supplies, but at the bottom of the bag, you find something wonderful. A bottle of Kauffman. You slowly pick it up and put it with the rest of your gear. The last thing you want is something so precious getting broken. You decide to check the quality of the medical equipment, and so you open up a small case.

Inside is some basic stuff. Disinfectant alcohol, bandages, some suturing equipment, and what looks like… morphine. Nice, it was a while since you had your last jab, so your pain was slowly coming back. You roll your right pant leg and prep your thigh. Then, you thrust the small syringe right into it. The pain easily subsides, and you take the needle out. Tossing it into the trash, you roll you pant leg down, and lay down. You needed some rest and now was the time.

Closing your eyes, you almost immediately open them to the sound of Mila walking over to you. She stands right over you, with a glare that would frighten most men, but not you, especially right now. Looking straight at her, you decide to break the ice. “What’s up?”

“The fuck did you just do?” Was she watching you or something?

“Whaddya mean?” Mila sits down next to you and puts a hand on your right leg.

“Are you taking drugs? Why, Sergei, why?” Damn, she was watching you.

“Just morphine. Considering that I’ve been shot twice, I believe I’m entitled to some pain relief.” That was true, but leaving the craving you have for it makes the whole situation sound much better.

“Well, you aren’t a doctor, tell me if you have that pain, I know what I’m doing. Plus, that shit is addictive. You don’t need that in your life, Sergei. Please, just let me help.” She was trying to help, but you can manage yourself. Plus, you just need it until the pain stops, right, so there’s no harm in taking it now.

“Okay, I’ll let you help, but I’m fine. The pain sucks, but trust me Mila, I’m just fine besides that.” Mila pats your shoulder, giving a smile, while still having somewhat of a worried appearance.

“Good. I don’t need you hurt, nor do I want you to be. Get some rest, okay? You’ve done a lot tonight, considering your wounds.” You give Mila a thumbs up and lay your head back. It feels good to have somebody caring about you again. Hopefully, it can stay that way. You close your eyes and try to rest. It comes easy.

-------------------------------

Your eyelids burst open, and you recoil up from your bed. Looking around, you aren’t in the dilapidated hotel room, but rather what appeared to be a tent. Getting up, you almost trip and fall. It was so dark, you couldn’t see what you were walking on. Exiting the tent, you expect to see some lush green environment, but you are met with the hard reality of grey concrete coating the ground. You fumble with your pockets and fish out a small flashlight. Turning it on, you walk through the dark. You hear a loud crackle, followed by a brilliant blue flash. Rain started to fall, but it seemed to… avoid you. The ground around you was getting soaked, but not a single drop of water touched you. Walking through this darkness felt oddly unnerving, almost as if you were waiting for something bad to happen.

Eventually, you come across a door. Just a door. It’s just in the middle of the darkness, standing up. The fuck was this? Inching up to the door, you open it, and walk through. Your vision completely fades away, before coming back. You immediately felt weight all over your body. Looking at yourself, you are completely strapped into a straitjacket Struggling to get it off, you give up. Might as well check your surroundings. You were in a bedroom, high up in an apartment complex. You turn to break open the door, but it won't budge. You kick it, then run into it, but it just won't move. Walking over to the window, you look outside. It was some alleyway, with red-bricked buildings consisting of both sides of the walls. Looking down, you see a man in a suit. His head is obscured by a shadow just covering his shoulders and up. To the sides of him, a group of similar suited men stands, but they are armed. Some carry handguns, and others shotguns and carbines.

A good distance away from the men, a door opens. Four men walk out. You try to good a look at them, but what you see is horrifying. Three of the men have no faces. It’s just a wall of flesh. Goddamn, it was fucking freaky. The fourth man is what scares you the most. It’s you. You’re wearing some old worn out fatigues, and you have blood all over your cargo pants, or is it his cargo pants? The three faceless men and your doppelganger walk down the alleyway and stop a few meters away from the men in the suits. Then, your copy opens his mouth.

“<Well, we’ve got the shipment ready. The stuff is packed, and you can send it off to America whenever you want.>” Right after that, the suited man walks out of the shadows. He’s… he’s you. You never thought you’d see two versions of yourself talking to each other, but here you are. The version of you in the suit gives a huge grin.

“<Perfect. I’m glad everything is going to plan. My goal will be attained, I promise you.>” Goals? You wanted to erase your past and save your dead friends' legacy, but whatever they wanted, sounded worrying. The version of you in the fatigues stares directly at the suited version of you, and in a completely monotone voice says:

“<I exist for action. I don’t care what happens, as long as I get to fight.>” The suited version of you gives off a disgusted face and backs off. Soon, both sides draw guns. You hear a shot, and the brightest flash you ever saw. You suddenly feel lightened as if the straitjacket vanished. The flash dies down, and you can see that you are in a completely closed-off room. There is only a light on the ceiling, next to a vent. You notice that you are just wearing shorts and a T-Shirt. You start to plan a way out, but a sound behind you gets your attention. The wall behind you was pushed back, and it had this black writing on it.

<After this, what’s next? What will you want?>

You stare at the wall. The idea of what next wasn’t something you really planned out. Just, leave, and start over. You’d thought that you could have a relaxing life, but would it stay that way? You needed action. You needed power. A quiet life in the west wouldn’t give you that. What would you do? You mind races, as the worrying gets worse and worse, your vision fades, and you fall. On the floor, you hear your own voice, but it isn’t you.

“<What will I do?>”

It soon comes to you. A plan. You know you cant live a life of peace, it’d be too boring. You’ll start over but in your own way. With your old friends, with them, you were an urban legend. Criminals who couldn’t be stopped. You know what you want. You don’t just want to take that back, you want more. You want the underworld, at your fingertips. The underworld is yours. Hopefully, you could make new allies, and again you’d be, unstoppable.

---------------------------

Waking up, you have to adjust your eyes to the bright light permeating the room. Sitting up, you look around. Mila is out by the window. She is absolutely exhausted. You can tell from the fact that she keeps trying to keep her eyes open to watch the armory, but they keep closing, and her head is resting on the windowsill. Getting up, you put on your gear, grab your Toz, and walk over to Mila. She must be completely out of the loop, as she doesn’t even notice you.

“Mila, get some sleep. I’m on watch.” Mila must get a shock from hearing you, as she suddenly turns around, her eyes wide open staring at you. Looking at her, you notice she has beautiful green eyes. They reminded you of an old love you had as a teenager, back in Singapore. She slumps down and immediately dozes off. Bad idea. With the floor she was on, she’d wake up with killer back pain. Kneeling, you bend to pick her up. You never thought about it much, but despite the fur, the snout, the tail, and everything else, she was very woman-like. Odd, you never thought you’d be so close to an anthro, but here you were. Picking up the Red Panda, you shuffle over to the bed and try to gently put her on it. Then her eyes just barely open, and they are looking at you.

“Hey, what’r ya doing? I’m tryen to shleep…” Her slurred words provoke a chuckle from you.

“I’m putting you to bed. Now sleep, you need it.” Mila closes her eyes, and in seconds, starts to snore. She’s completely shut down, not much would wake her now. You take off some of her gear, she wouldn’t want to wake up weighted down by all of the expensive protective equipment. Doing this, you can’t help but notice some of her more, female possessions. Firstly, her breasts. To be honest, they’d put a large number of women to shame. Hell, even when you were partying after a good contract, the girls you had would be small compared to her. Secondly, her ass. It was a decent size, not too large, but not too small. It seems that her military activities keep her appearance. You stop yourself from staring and get up.

She was a kind woman, and you imagined if she wasn’t an anthro, you’d be completely enamored with her, but it probably is for the best that your now partner-in-arms was a friend, not a lover. Walking over to the windowsill, you see some movement straight down. A man, who you can only see the top of, walks into the building. He was carrying some package, and had a helmet on, along with some uniform. You run over to the door and open it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be a threat.

You hurry down the stairs, yet you don’t make a noise. You are completely silent, and you can hear the man’s boots smash against the steps of the stairs. Taking a position behind some boxes, you grab a hammer and prepare yourself for an ambush. The man walks up to your floor and stops. Fuck, not good. You hear him breathing heavily. He’s tired from the slog of making it up the spiral stairs. Peeking from behind the box, you see the man. He has his helmet, and some military looking clothes, but what takes your interest is the yellow cloth bands tied around his right arm and left leg. He was a member of the collective. They were some paramilitary group that claimed to want to establish an independent St. Petersburg, but in reality, they were glorified bandits.

Creeping behind the man, you ready your hammer and bring it down onto his back. He falls, dropping the package. His backpack slides from his back and hits the ground hard. Whatever is in it must be heavy. He crawls back, towards a wall, and pulls out a knife.

“<You cunt, I’ll gut you!>” He makes a dash towards you, thrusting his blade, but you sidestep and swing the hammer at him. It connects with his left arm, and he staggers back.

“<What’s wrong, scared?>” You decide to taunt the bastard. If you were lucky, he’d get angry. And lucky you were, the man once more charges you, but making a slash towards your neck. You step back, but his knife makes contact with your left shoulder.

“<I’m going to enjoy looting your corpse.>” That settles it. He’s fucking dead. Making a charge you start to make an overhand swing, but much to the surprise of your opponent, you stop short and let go of the hammer. It flies towards him and collides with his chest. He falls back into the wall, and you resume your charge. Running up, you slam your knee into his gut and grab his knife. He swings his left arm at you, but you easily stop it. Taking his knife, you stab it right into his neck. Staring into the man’s eyes, you can’t resist giving a final jest.

“<Today is the first day of the end of your life.>” Twisting, then pulling out the knife, you step back, and the man collapses. Damn, that felt good! “Fuck yes!” Combat was rare, but you thrived in it. Looking at his body, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret. One less fucker to deal with. You take everything valuable off of him, and some PDA. Turning around, you grab the package and start off towards the room.

Arriving just outside, you open the door, to see Mila, still in the same spot, completely passed out. Putting the equipment and the package down, you take stock of it. Good stuff it was, firstly came a nice helmet, it looked like a 6B47, but you weren’t sure. Secondly, some sort of body armor. It wasn’t just a vest, it wrapped around. This was good, now you weren’t cannon-fodder for 9x18. Next came some western fatigues. What was this, M81 camo? It wasn’t the greatest in St. Petersburg, but it was better than the basic shirt you were wearing, plus the fact that it looked fucking awesome. Searching through the backpack. You find some basic provisions. Food, bandages, water, and also, something that catches your eye. An RGD-5. Nice.

Putting the gear away, you pick up the package, and open it. You look inside and find… Good god. Yes. Yes! YES! It’s a motherfucking 9A-91! Compact, lightweight, and in 9x39 goodness. Fuck recoil, you could handle that shit easy, so the piece laying before you was pure joy. Searching through the rest of the package you find several magazines, and the best part, enough ammo to last you until doomsday. Today is a good fucking day. You put on the gear and lay your Toz down. Grabbing the 9A-91, you load it up, chamber a round, and give it a kiss. Walking to the bathroom of your room you look in the mirror.

Goddamn, you didn’t have a paramilitary fetish before, but you sure as hell do now. You look like a Russian Merc mixed with a post-apocalyptic survivor. It felt nice to be properly geared up. Walking back to the window, you sat down and watched. Now, was the boring part of the day. But, you do have a bottle of Kauffman for that. Twisting the cap off, you felt good. Finally, a day where shit didn’t go horribly wrong. A good fight. Viktor would be proud.

A memory floods your brain as soon as you swallow your first gulp of vodka. During one contract, you were escaping from the remnants of a street gang. You’d hit them hard, a perfectly set up ambush. Only a few remained. One had gotten cocky, and led a to group charge you. You raised a pistol and splattered his head open. The rest scattered, and it was only you and Viktor left. Looking at the man's corpse, Viktor started to laugh.

 “Mikhail, good work. You breaking what’s survived.” That memory was a good one. It was your first operation with Viktor. He was learning English at the time, and it certainly wasn’t good, but the man tried. Thinking over the quote. You realize what you are doing. You almost killed yourself not too long ago. You were a broken wreck. Viktor’s quote suddenly gained more weight. Shaking your head, you bring yourself back to a ready state. Looking outside, you scout everything in vision, but there is no movement. Just the sound of your new ally snoring. It was bad, but things were getting better, and hey, you can't quit on a plan you so recently started. You look down at your hand, and you imagine it. The world in your grasp. It feels so real.

-----------------------

After some quality time spent drinking the bottle of Kauffman, you put it down and continue your boring job of watching the armory. As the day starts to turn to night, you hear Mila start to move. She lets out a yawn, then soon gasps.

“About time you're awake.” You turn your head at Mila who is staring directly at you. She has an expression of fear that just blankets her face. “Hey Mila, you alright?”

“Sergei? Why are you in Military gear? And where’s mine?” Well, explaining this would be a pain.

“Do you want the short story or the long one?” Mila doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, you can see her ears twitching. After some time, she opens up.

“The long one.” Well, time to update her on reality.

“So, I woke up, you were completely tired, I told you to get some rest, and then you just collapsed. I know it would suck sleeping on the floor, and with gear, so I took you to the bed and took off some of your equipment. After that, you were completely knocked out. Sometime later, I heard some noise, and I saw some man enter the hotel. I went down to spy on him, and he was a collective member, so I-“

“Wait wait wait, firstly, it's kinda odd that you just fucking carried me and took some of my equipment off. Secondly, what is the collective?” Shit. How the fuck do you answer that? I guess, with the truth.

“Sure, it may sound odd, but you’ll be thanking me over the fact that you don’t feel like your back is busted. On the other point, the collective is a giant bandit group. They got good gear, and they wear yellow. They say they’re good, but they’ll gut you for the fun of it. Be careful with them.” Mila gives you an unimpressed stare, but you barrel through it. “Back to the story, I saw that he was a collective member, so I ambushed him. He’s dead, I’m not hurt, and I’ve got good gear. Relax.” Mila walks over to you, and she put her hand on your left shoulder as she gives you an angry stare.

“Sergei, I can smell the blood. Please, don’t lie to me. I’ll need to bandage it, alright?” Oh yeah, he did cut you. Well, it’s nice to know that your buddy-in-arms can tell if your better hurt then you can. Must be something with anthros and their senses. Looking at the wound, you notice the gash. “Shit, you didn’t notice it?”

“No, I felt it, I guess I must have forgotten about it on the way up. Say, how did you know I didn’t notice the cut?” Mila gives a smirk and chuckles.

“Hey dummy, it's your face. Just because you have a mask on doesn’t mean I can't tell that your surprised. Now stay there, I gotta bandage you.” You do just that, relaxing by the window. Despite how shitty things could get, you had an ally right now. And that was just fine. Taking off the gear that covers your shoulder, you wait for Mila to walk over with the bandages. While your waiting, you feel a vibration in a pocket of your pants. Searching for the source, you find the PDA you acquired from the bandit. Taking a look, you see a message displayed on its screen.

“<Hey, the boss wants to meet up at the old bar by the armory. He thinks that Mikhail could still be out there. He’s beyond paranoid. Stay safe dipshit.>” Someone wanted you dead. Wonderful. Chances are that this man was Biyaman. The Tuvan fuck was a greedy piece of shit, and most likely behind your involuntary stay in St. Petersburg. This was the perfect opportunity, and you couldn’t let it go to waste.

You must be completely lost in thought as you jump when Mila starts to bandage your shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” Mila takes a glance at you, then to the PDA screen. You can see her eyes open fully, and a grin breaks out onto her face. “Hey Mila, you alright?” Mila gives you a giant hug and breaks into laughter. You awkwardly hug her back, not being sure on what to do. “Mila?” She releases you from her grasp, and she steps back. You can tell from her face that she is absolutely joyous.

“Holy shit! You’ve got some luck Sergei!” Luck? About what?

“What, this PDA? I mean yeah, it looks nice, but-“

“No, no, that man could be a useful lead!” Wait what?

“What do you mean?”

“The ‘boss’. If we capture him or get to his residence, that will give me a huge lead on my search!” Staring at Mila, you see her tail swinging from side-to-side, at a vigorous pace. Now, it was time for the big question.

“Is the man your searching for that ‘Mikhail’?” Mila gives a nod.

“Yeah, he is. You wanna learn about him?” Great, you get to hear about part of your own story.

“Sure, why not.” You take a seat by the window, and so does Mila.

“So, about Mikhail Vetrov. He’s quite the legend in the underworld. We don’t know that much about him, but we do know some important stuff. He’s skilled in various forms of combat, he shows little to no remorse for those he killed, nobody yet knows where he’s born. He’s so dangerous that the U.N. has him as one of the world’s most wanted men.” Christ, your ego must have just multiplied tenfold. Fuck. Yes. “It’s believed that he isn’t a Russian national, and he’s believed to be an arms dealer, and a criminal contractor. He’s brutal, remorseless, and rich. Yet, recently, he disappeared. He was last sighted not too far from St. Petersburg, so we’re searching for him here. That’s all we know for now.” Good, not much is known, just that you're feared, and for good reason. Hopefully, you could keep it that way.

“Alright, thanks for filling me in. This ‘boss’, how are we going to get to him?” Mila stands up and looks out the window. Her gaze seems endless.

“At night, we hit the armory, after that, we’ll go find this ‘boss’. Sound good?” Not really, but you could ‘subtract’ some evidence from the equation, so this could be a blessing in disguise.

“Alright. But just a question, why at night? I’d rather get some sleep.” Mila gives a chuckle and points at herself.

“Hey Sergei, I’m a Red Panda, we’re nocturnal.” Shit, she was part animal, after all, so you didn’t question it.

“Alright then. In the meantime, I’ll get my rest. Wake me up an hour before we set out.” Mila nods, and you walk to your bed. Taking off your equipment, you fall down into the cushion. You close your eyes and start to rest. You hear Mila make some faint noises, but you don’t really feel like staying awake any longer. You slowly drift off, to sleep.

-----------------------------

Your rest was dreamless. For better, or for worse, you didn’t have any dreams. You wake up with Mila tapping your shoulder. “Hey, Sergei, it’s time to get ready.” Mila walks off, and you turn over. Getting up, you walk to your new-found gear. You already have your cargo pants and fatigues on, so you slide on your boots, put on the vest, put your helmet on your head, and place the backpack where it belongs, on your back. Grabbing your 9A-91, you inspect it. Round in the chamber, ready to fire. The fire selector is on auto, you’re ready to rock. Walking over to Mila, you give her a smirk.

“Let’s go for it.” Mila nods and opens the door. She’s already suited up, looking like a spec-ops poster child. With all of the fancy gear and tactics, it’s odd to see her tail swaying behind her. Making your way down the stairs, Mila touches her gasmask and turns to you.

“Shit, you don’t have night vision, do you?” You shake your head to Mila and decide to improvise. You tie some cloth and a flashlight to the end of your 9A-91. Mila takes a look at it, then you and shakes her head and walks away. You hear her say something very faintly. “Fuckin’ Christ…” Walking over to her, you turn on the flashlight and scan the area. You notice what she was looking at. It was the body of the collective member you took out yesterday.

Continuing down the stairs, you can’t help but ask a question. “Hey Mila, I don’t mean to be an ass or anything, but when you see bodies like that, you are always put off by it, yet when you blast some guy, you don’t really seem to give damn.” Mila stops mid-step, and then takes a seat on the stairs, and takes off her helmet and mask. “Mila, you good?”

“Sergei, could you sit with me? I want to talk.” You oblige and take a seat right next to her. “I-I don’t like talking about it, but I guess that I should tell you the truth. When I was just a grunt, before switching to covert-ops, I was on a patrol with a good friend of mine. He was a bear anthro, a real good guy. His name was John. We were walking through a house, searching for stashed weapons that guerilla fighters could be using. Midway through the search, this- this- fucking bastard just stabbed him. I ran over, but John was already doomed. He begged for a medic, and I couldn’t do anything. I let him down! I could have stopped the fucker who stabbed him, but no, you know what I was doing? I was fucking looking out a window at some fucking stupid bullshit outside!” Holy shit. She just blew up. She was growling with rage.

“I did everything I could, but I… I WASN’T FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH! He was DEAD, and I was why! His chest was pouring blood everywhere… his vest and my hands were soaked red. He was gone. I fucked up. I was nothing but a fuck up. Back then, he was one of the few people that genuinely cared about me. I should have thanked him every day, but I repaid him with his death.” Mila is staring straight ahead at a wall. Her face is one of anger, but a more depressive tone tugs her head down.

“And after he stopped breathing… I got this a-anger, and I just chased down the man who stabbed him, and I-I-I…”Mila breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably. “Nobody knows what it’s like…” That’s where you step in. Moving up to Mila, you hug her from the side. And she freezes everything she’s doing.

“Mila, I know exactly how you feel. Do you remember when I had my pistol to my head? I did because I couldn’t take the agony of what I did. I was the reason my friends here died. But now, I know something.” Mila turns her head straight at you. The fur under her eyes is soaked, and her green marbles are stained red from the crying.

“W-What?”

“They wouldn’t want me like that. We all make mistakes, but some things, we have no control over. I wish I could have stopped what happened, but I simply wouldn’t be able to. You are alive, so live! You shouldn’t mourn that good men died, but that they lived, and that you do.” Mila closes her eyes and returns your hug. Her head rests on your right shoulder, and you don’t dare to complain about the pain. “You don’t need to suffer. I went through that, please, learn from my mistakes.” Mila is sniffling, but she isn’t crying anymore. You never felt too much care for Mila, to be honest. You, in all of your heartless glory, took her as a ‘get out of jail free’ card, but now, she felt like a true person, who had suffered. You knew that too well. You then hear Mila’s voice, wavering from the sadness in her.

“Sergei, thank you. I know that we had a rocky start at the beginning, but you are a good friend. Please, don’t get hurt. I don’t want to lose you.” You’re not sure if it’s a good idea, but you start to pet Mila’s head and scratch her ears.

“Hey, I’ll be fine. I promise you, okay?” Mila takes her head off your shoulder, and you stop the scratching. She has a smile on her face and she’s staring right at you. She pulls away from the hug and lays her back on the stairs.

“Thank you. I-I don’t know how I was going to make it through that.” You give her a pat on her vest and a smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Mila turns her head away from the ceiling and towards you.

“And I got you, Sergei.” Mila pushes herself up and puts her mask and helmet on. “Now, let’s make this quick. I want to get back to our hideout after this and relax.” Her voice sounds confident, but also cheery. Good, the better your ally was, the better you were.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Walking down the stairs, you both make it to the hotel’s front doors. Opening them, you creep out and make your way to the armory. You sneak to the outer fencing blocking it off from the rest of the city and start to climb it. Sliding down, you wait for Mila, who does the same.

“Sergei, what now?” You look and point at a rock pile next to one of the walls of the armory.

“Follow me, you’re about to learn a secret.” You both scurry over to the pile, and you start moving the rocks. Midway through, you give an annoyed stare at Mila. “You gonna help?” Mila slings her rifle on her back and helps remove what is left. Under the pile of rocks, a small trapdoor is present. Opening it, you hop down.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s a secret I learned from a friend, now get down here.” Mila soon jumps down, her but her landing is more graceful than yours, considering that she doesn’t land on her ass. “This is an entrance that not many people know about. Chances are, that we’re the first to be in here in a long time. Now, let’s get to work.” With your flashlight illuminating the small passageway, both you and Mila work your way through the hall, eventually coming across a wooden door. “Open this, and you’ll have enough arms to equip the entirety of Puerto Rico.”

Mila walks forwards and opens the door. You can only wish to see the look on her face right now, but watching her freeze tells you everything. Looking past her, you see crates upon crates of wonderful ordinance. Whatever you dreamed of; it was there. AK’s Mortars, DSHKMs, the whole nine yards. If only they had a Scud. “Like what you’re seeing? Because I sure as hell do.” You walk past Mila, and into the storage area. Not much catches your eye. You already have a 9A-91, not much will coax you out of it.

 “Holy fuck. I don’t know how you found out about this, but damn.” Mila starts into the room at a slow pace. She turns her head, looking at the nigh-endless amount of weaponry. As you watch her, something important makes itself apparent behind her. A small wooden box. The soldiers here used it to record their deals. Sneaking over to it, you open the box and slide the papers into your backpack. “Sergei, where are you?” Closing the box, you return to Mila.

“Sorry, just got distracted by some guns.” Mila waves you over to her.

“Well, we need to search for any documents or computers. If Mikhail was dealing here, we’d be able to find out.” You give her a nod and start ‘searching’ the area. You don’t find too much until you find an old relic of yours. It’s a Sako TRG, chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum. On the right side of the barrel, it has an engraving on it. “<The last thing you’ll never see>” Picking it up, you inspect it. It’s in prime condition, still zeroed in as you had before. It was hard selling it, but you did get a good price. As you start to tie it to your backpack, you hear Mila run over. “Wait, let me see that!” What?

“Uh, Why?” You give Mila a confused look, and ignores you, staring directly at the rifle.

“Holy fuck…” Shit, this isn’t looking good.

“Mila?” She snaps out of her trance and looks at you before breaking into a smirk. That smirk worries you. Did she know? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“That rifle belongs to Mikhail! He has to of been here before!” Oh, thank god, you were spared. But, wait, how did the west know that this was your rifle?

“This is Mikhail’s? How do you know that?” Mila walks over to the rifle and puts a paw on the stock. That makes you wince, and you fight off an urge to shoo away her paw.

“Well, there is a recording of Mikhail cleaning it. Funny enough, even though we heard about him, and we have this recording of him, we still don’t know his voice or his face. We just know his name, his ‘profession’, and the fact that he’s human.” You nod your head and put your backpack on.

“Well then, we got the clue that he’s here. What now?” Mila suddenly freezes up and starts to shake.

“Well uh… we kinda got to blow this all up.”

“What?” You are staring at Mila in complete disbelief. Blow up the armory? The explosion would be fucking massive!

“Yeah, I have some C-4 in my backpack, it’s a plastic explosive. I’ll ready it, you place it, and when we’re far enough, I’ll detonate it.” You watch Mila slide down her backpack and pull out the green bricks of doom. She slides them over. “Put them wherever there are enough munitions in here that a hand grenade could set this all off.” Taking her advice, you leave them right on the floor. “You lazy fucker. Let’s beat it, quick.” You both do just that. Running to the exit, you both make it to the passageway out. You climb up out of the hole first, and you give a hand helping her out. As her paw meets your hand, you pull her up, but she loses her footing.

You both fall back, with Mila landing right on you, and her mask coming off. Luckily you have your body armor to cushion the blow she accidentally lands on you. Her face is an inch from yours, and your eyes are both staring at each others. A nervous smirk breaks out on Mila’s face. “Uh, sorry…”

“Yeah, just be gentle. Most girls I know aren’t.” Mila’s face has an expression of shock written all over it.

“What?” As she says this, you are trying your hardest not to laugh.

“Hm?” Just as you say that the dam breaks and your laughter bursts out.

“Oh, har har.” Mila has a scowl on her face and is looking angrily at the ground. You roll over and push yourself up. Getting up, you turn to Mila, who is facing away from you. You see a teardrop before she wipes her face. Turning away, you grab your 9A-91 that’s lying on the group.

“Alright, let’s get serious. We still have the boss to take out, then we can relax for a bit.” You can hear Mila shift around, and she walks right behind you. “All good?” You turn to look at Mila, who has her mask back on. She doesn’t say anything, but she gives you a thumbs up. Turning back you crouch down, and sneak to the perimeter fencing, with Mila doing the same.

You jump up and latch onto the top of the fence, Mila copies your movements on your right. You both shimmy over the top and jump down. Looking around, you signal to Mila for her to follow you. You sneak through the streets in the dead of night, crouching and crawling around rusting cars and piles of debris. Eventually, in the distance, you see your target. It’s an old tavern surrounded by houses. Taking a pair of binoculars, you scout it out.

Two cars are parked outside, and you see a collective member standing outside. He’s busy smoking and looking at his PDA, his AK laying next to him. You signal to Mila to stay low and quiet. You crawl close to the tavern, and ready yourself. Swinging around from the side, you take out your knife. Moving to the man, you strike. Grabbing him from behind, your left hand covers his mouth, and the blade in your right slices his throat open.

You dash the tavern. Sliding over to it, you take a position by a window in the front. Peaking your head out, you see three men talking. Two men in suits, and one collective member. You notice one of the men. Oleg, he was a lieutenant in Biyaman’s Bratva. Shit, Biyaman was here in St. Petersburg too? Well, taking him out was something you couldn’t pass up. You wave over to Mila and signal for her to come over. She crouches down and shuffles to your position. Once she meets up with you, she whispers.

“What’s the plan?”

“There are three men inside. No boss, but one is an advisor to Biyaman.”

“Biyaman, as in the Tuvan?”

“Yeah, now get your rifle ready, we’re taking them down.” Mila nods and readies herself. You give a neck slice sign with your thumb and you both swing your rifles up. They are completely caught off guard. Oleg falls backward, and just before you both start to shoot, you can faintly hear him.

“<Mi->”

Pulling the trigger, you fire a spray of rounds into Oleg. Pulling the trigger felt satisfying, as you watched Oleg’s chest get stained red from the impact of your 9x39 power. As the recoil intensifies, a round flies high, and connects with his forehead, spraying a pink mist all over the room. The collective soldier is fallen by Mila’s rifle, he didn’t even have time to raise his gun. The other man in the suit is caught by another one of your bursts, and he falls down hard.

Immediately, you vault through the perforated window and check the table Oleg and the suited man were discussing over. Looking through, you find countless documents about you. They included your crimes, where you were predicted to be, and your affiliates. Mila rushes through the door and starts to analyze the documents, ripping her mask off in the time being. You were confident that Biyaman didn’t know that much about you, so Mila wouldn’t be a problem yet. Searching walking over to Oleg, you take his leather gloves, not only for their helpfulness but also as a trophy.

Turning to Mila, you see her completely in awe at the documents in front of her. “Hey, all good there in Mila-town?” Mila turns to you with a smile and nods.

“You gotta read this shit! It’s a fucking goldmine! We never knew shit like this in N.A.T.O! I knew Mikhail was a fucking legend in the underworld, but Jesus!”

“Wait, you are telling me that not only are the myths of the fucker true, but he’s also wanted by N.A.T.O?” Mila nods and continues to read the documents.

“He is a high-grade level threat. His combat prowess, power, and armaments can cause Europe to go into flames if he wanted.” Damn, you never expected to be unintentionally complemented so well. As she reads, an idea pops into your head.

“Hey, What’d it be like if Mikhail went to work for N.A.T.O? He’s a criminal sure, but I’d imagine that they’d want him on their side.” Mila turns and gives you a puzzled look.

“Yeah, we would. Command would offer amnesty and immunity is he were to pop over, but he’s hidden well, there’s no chance, well, until now.” You give Mila a smirk and walk over to the Vodka in the bar. Here goes nothing.

“Well, what if I told you that I may be able to do just that, bring him over. You pour yourself a glass and start to drink it.

Mila stares at you, then give a forced laugh. “Well aren’t you a joker.”

You snap your fingers, and Mila looks back. “I’m dead serious.” Mila puts a paw on her pistol’s holster.

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle.

“Well, I know Mikhail. We’re good friends.” Mila’s jaw drops.

“WHAT? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” You shake your head.

“Because I was worried that you would kill him. I’m sorry for the deception, but I don’t want him hurt.” Mila takes her paw off her holster, and she marches start to you, putting her paws on your shoulders.

“Can you contact him?” You give a nod but hold a finger up.

“Yes, but conditions will apply.” You say that final part with a smirk and Mila frowns, her ears twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘conditions’?”

“Well, I’ll have to contact him and tell him the details. Chances are that he’d want to meet in a specified location. No guns, except for me and him. We’ll work out the details later.” Mila nods. “Now, let’s go back to the hideout. I’m fucking tired, so let’s get some RnR.” Mila laughs.

“Yeah, I’m tuckered out too, but I’m also excited.” You know why, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

“Why?” Almost immediately as you finish that sentence, you hear Mila speak.

“Because I have a chance to not only meet this man, but If I, no we, succeed in turning him over, we’ll be set for life.” Well then, that sounded nice. A chance to reclaim and expand your empire and have N.A.T.O support. Breaking the reality of it would be interesting.

“Well then, let’s head back to the hideout. We can chill and negotiate.” Mila smirks and puts on her mask.

“Sounds good to me, Sergei, let’s g- wait a second… I have some questions for you, take a seat.” Yeesh, chill out lady, I just want to relax and drink. You walk over to a chair and slump down.

“Okay Ms. Interrogator, what’s up?”

“How the fuck do you know Mikhail?” Time to think fast, and talk faster.

 “Well, we once met a bar in Kiev. We talked about our lives, and we started off a good friendship. We’d meet up and chill out, it was pretty nice.”

“Alright, and what did you do for work before all of ‘this’ started?”

“Private security. I was hired by the old Russian government to hunt down criminals, and bring them back, dead or alive.” Mila nods her head.

“Alright, that explains the combat skills and the knowledge of the gangs. Now get up, we need to go.”

“Fine by me.” Standing up, you and Mila walk out the bar. Mila starts off walking away but you whistle over to her, with keys in your hand, you point to a car outside the bar. “Let’s take the easy way back, alright?”

Mila shakes her head and walks over to the car. You both get in, and you put the keys in the ignition. Turning them, the engine starts, and the headlights turn on. Pushing pressure on the gas pedal, the car rolls forward, and you make your journey back to the hideout. Driving away, you see Mila pull something out of a pouch, and fiddle with it. Suddenly, a loud blast comes from your rear. Looking in the mirror, you see a huge detonation occur where the armory was. So, that was that.

Driving down a ruined street, you take it slow. Rusting cars and potholes make going fast a deathwish for your new automobile. Taking a look at the dashboard, you see a cd player. Hitting play, you are greeted by a familiar song.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibbXtf8-nWc]

Mila is looking out the window, taking in the sight of the crumbling ruins around you. Not too long after the song starts, you start to hear what seems to be sniffles. Whatever it was, you had to stop what was making her sad. You reach over to a bottle of vodka, open it, and tap her on the shoulder with it. “Drink up, it’s time to relax.” Mila’s mask hangs from her neck, and she grabs the bottle, taking a swig. As she does that, you turn the volume on the music up. No longer being able to hear her saddened cries, you start nodding to the beat.

As you near the hideout, you start getting an uneasy feeling. Mila every now and then would start glancing at you, but whenever you would notice, she’d look away. Whatever it was, you continued driving. Taking a spot near the hideout, you parked in a damaged warehouse. It was pretty hidden off, nobody should be finding this. “Alright, let’s head back to base.” Opening the door, you get out, as does Mila, but she stumbles around. “Christ, you are fucking wasted. Let me help.” Walking over to Mila, you wrap her right arm around your waist, and you support her with your left arm. As you do this, Mila rests her head on your shoulder. She must be pretty content with the drink.

Walking over to the hideout, you head to the room that you both had. Stumbling through the doorway, you have to drag Mila to the bed, as she is completely drunk, unable to stand. Laying her down, you hear her groan. “Shtay wif mee…” You laugh and sit on the bed next to her. She soon falls fast asleep. Considering that she’s completely wasted, and on a decent bed, you decided not to disturb her. You get up and secure the hideout, blocking off all entrances. Returning to the room, you set down your gear. Sitting by the table, you start thinking about your situation.

You are in the world’s oddest situation. A criminal who holds so much power is in a war-torn city, unable to use it, and your only chance out is hunting you down. Luckily, you may be able to convince the western powers to take you as an associate instead of prosecuting you. Nonetheless, you can relax right now. Kicking your feet on the table, you pick up your PDA. Opening it up, you see if anything catches your eyes. Nothing, just boring bullshit that doesn’t concern you. You remain sitting on the chair, relaxing until you see movement in the corner of your eye.

It's Mila, she’s rolling around on the bed. Her face is one of extreme discomfort. You get up and walk over to the bed. Rubbing the fur on her head, you try to calm her down. “Hey, don’t worry, everything’s alright.” Mila’s arms reach out, her paws grabbing your back as she pulls you into the bed. You are face to face with her, and she’s somehow still asleep. She looks much more content, with a smile on her face. I guess she really did want you to stay with her. You lay there, trying not to disturb her, as her head burrows into your chest. You exhale and close your eyes. Nursing her hangover was going to suck.

--------------------------------------
-M-

Waking up, you feel your heavy armor keeping you down in the bed. That sucks, but it’s nothing compared to the intense headache you have. You were pretty bummed out last night, but you should have laid off the vodka, you weren’t used to drinking it. Sergei, in all of his Russian prowess, would guzzle the stuff down like water.

Pushing your body up, you go to rub your head, but you only touch your helmet. Damn this ACH, it protected your noggin well, but the boys back home could have at least made a version with holes for your ears. Taking it off, you look around the room. Sergei is busy at the table, completely focused on reading the documents you found last night.

You start to remove your body armor, dropping your armored vest on the ground with a loud thud. Sergei swings his head back in surprise, his blue eyes wide in surprise, but they soon return to normal once he realizes that it was only you. You start to stretch, and Sergei goes back to reading.

“I’d imagine that you’d be having one hell of a headache right now.” Walking over to the table where Sergei was sitting, you take a seat, grunting to affirm his belief. “Drink some water, will you?” Sergei reaches to the floor and tosses you a bottle. You open it and drink about half of the bottle. Sergei is staring straight at you, with a quizzical look on his face.

“You alright Sergei?” Sergei shakes his head and chuckles.

“I’d ask the same about you.” Sergei turns his head back to the papers he’s holding. He dives deep into thought. It was odd how he popped into your life. Some man who was completely broken, who didn’t care about death, even inviting you to kill him, is suddenly your ally. It was so odd. Yet, you liked him. He was shut off, but when you were hurt, he helped you. He was genuinely worried about you.

Despite that, so many questions you have are still unanswered. If he knew Mikhail, why didn’t he arrest him if he was a criminal? Why couldn’t you find anything about his past when you searched him up? And why was he so willing to help?

“Hey, Sergei?” He turns his head over to you, eyes glazed by fatigue.

“Yeah?”

“I have some questions, and I wanted to see if you could answer them…” Sergei remains silent, observing you. After some time passes he answers.

“I can answer some questions, yeah, but if I don’t want to answer something, I won’t.” It wasn’t the best response, but you could get something out of him.

“Okay. Firstly, why were you in St. Petersburg when the war started?” Sergei’s eyes open wide and he looks at the table.

“I-I was here for work.” Work huh? With how he reacted, it sounded fishy at best.

“You couldn’t find it anywhere else?” Sergei's eyes return to you, but they seemingly have an ominous look to them, as if it were someone else’s eyes.

“No, it’s just that my work made me come here.” So, was he tracking somebody down too?

“Why?” Sergei sighs and his head lowers down.

“I was to hunt down Biyaman. I came with three friends. They were my blood-brothers. Now it’s just me.” So that’s why he was so depressed before. Noticing how sad he seems thinking about it, you decide to drop the issue.

“Well then, what are you going to do now?” Sergei’s face soon turns to a grimace, then one of pure rage.

“I am going to find Biyaman… And I’m going to put him in the dirt.” You want to back away, Sergei’s rage was so visceral that it made him seem like another person.

“Okay, relax Sergei… Right now, we need to stay calm.” Sergei exhales, and his face becomes perfectly stoic. If he were in a high-stakes poker game in this instant, he’d be rich. “Let’s talk about something better, alright. What about interests? What do you do for fun?”

“For fun? Work. It’s a thrill like no other. Besides that, I like weapons of any type, alcohol, and reading. I used to be big into medical stuff, but not as much. Besides all that, I like to relax now and then. Just kick back, listen to some music, and chill, you know?” Well, the fighting part you somewhat expected, but reading? Well, maybe he was more refined than you thought.

“That sounds nice. I always did enjoy kicking back and having a good time. Also, how do you know all of these English sayings, like chill, and kicking back?” Sergei’s eyes wander, his face contorting into one of confusion as he leans further back into his chair. He’s thinking hard.

“I guess… exposure? I knew English when I was a child, and with my job, I always came in contact with English speakers, so I guess that’s why.” Makes sense, a good security contractor could get in contact with a lot of American big-wigs.

“Alrighty then. So, what are we gonna do?” Sergei’s turns to you, and shrugs.

“No clue. I don’t have much to do.” Well, you had an idea. Walking over to a box, you pull out a small screen and a remote.

“You want to watch a movie with me?” Just as you say that you cringe a little. Damn, were you taking him on a date or something? As you start to regret saying that, you hear Sergei.

“Sure. You what movies do you got?” Digging through your memory, you have a few ideas.

“How about Raiders of the Lost Ark?” You turn to see Sergei with a big smile on his face.

“Yeah, I fucking love me some Indiana Jones.” You walk over to the chairs and drag one to the bed. You prop the screen on the chair and set up the movie. Sergei heads over and takes a seat on the bed, moving the covers against the wall to create a makeshift cushion. You take a seat on the bed, and lie back into the covers, starting the movie.

It was nice to finally relax, fighting and walking were getting tiring. Just as you both get to the scene where the Gestapo agent burns his hands, a cold wind blows into the building, and Sergei starts to shiver. This could be the perfect opport- no, be civil. You aren’t some whore, you were refined. But, seeing him so cold hurts your heart. In the world of secret operations and espionage, nobody gave a shit about you, but this man did. Screw it, your heart matters more right now. “Hey Sergei, you good?”

Sergei shivers some more before turning to you. “I was hoping the hideout wouldn’t turn me into an ice-pop. You chuckle and start your devious plan.

“Well, could I help?” Sergei gives a confused look to you.

“How?” You shuffle over to Sergei and start to lay on him.

“Body heat and fur. Trust me, you’ll like it.” Sergei gives no protest, and even shifts onto you a bit.

“Thanks.” You nod and continue to watch the movie. The score was now Mila-1, Rejection-1, thinking about the joke Sergei made back at the armory slightly disheartened you, but his lack of protest steeled your resolve. You liked him, and you were going to make him feel the same about you.

---------------------

Mila had made a good choice in choosing the movie. Indiana Jones was a kickass character. As a kid, you wanted to be something like him, an adventurer. I guess you got your wish. Watching the movie, a question pops into your head.

“Hey, Mila?” She turns her head to you, seemingly worried. “I’ve got a question, it’s about life in the west.” Her worried demeanor stops, and she relaxes.

“Alright, what is it, Sergei?” You hope that what you say isn’t too offensive.

“How life in the world for you anim- uh, anthros? Here in the east, you people are rare, and we never seemed to give you much thought. Is it better for you in the west?” Mila rubs her head, thinking about your question.

“Well, in the west, it’s certainly better. After some years after our creation, we were able to secure our rights pretty easily. It’s not perfect, discrimination is very widespread, but it’s better than here in the east, where we might as well be animals.” Nodding your head, you go back to watching the movie, but Mila interjects with her own question.

“Hey, Sergei?” You turn your head back to the red panda sitting beside you.

“Yeah?” Mila fidgets with her fingers, looking down.

“I was wondering, why didn’t you ever have those feelings toward me? Anthros aren’t common in the east… ” You take your left hand, and wrap it around Mila’s shoulder, she shudders, and her ears droop.

“Well, to be honest, I did kinda distrust you at the start because of… well, you know. But, you aren’t that different from me. You’ve got a good head, and you’re kind. That’s good enough for me.” Mila’s ears shoot back up, and she suddenly hugs you.

“Thank you so much…” You return the hug.

“Of course, why would I hate you?” Mila looks up at you, her face saddened.

“It’s just that, almost every human I seem to meet hates me for what I am. Before I met you, the kindest I’ve met were indifferent to me.” You reach a hand to Mila’s head and start to scratch it.

“Well, fuck them. You are a good person, and you deserve respect for it.” Mila smiles and hugs you more tightly.

“You’re the best Sergei.” You chuckle.

“That’s what friends are for. Now let’s get back to the movie, eh?” Mila giggles and pulls away from the hug, but she still leans on you.

Turning to the movie, you see your favorite scene. An Arab swordsman flashily swings his sword around, trying to goad Indy into a fight, yet Indy just shoots him. The perfect comedy of it hits hard, and you are turned into an unstoppable tsunami of laughter. Soon, Mila joins in on your laughter. At the end of it, you are both wheezing hard.

“<Oh, fuck me, that’s good shit.>” Mila smiles and lays her head on your left shoulder, her ears poking into your neck. “You getting comfy over there?”

Mila’s smile grows larger. “Yeah, I am. You have a problem with that?” Mila’s eyes are pointed right at yours, and you start to smile yourself.

“Nope. I’m just glad that I have you on my side.” Mila’s ears once more fall right down, and her tail swishes onto your lap.

“Sergei, I want to tell you something, but I don’t think I have it in me.” You smirk.

“Alright, tell me whenever you're ready. In the meantime, let’s relax.” Mila sighs and holds you close to her.

“That sounds good.” You continue to watch the wonderful piece of cinema on the screen, and eventually, it reaches the part where Indy beats the shit out of the German soldiers on the truck. An alarm pops up on your PDA, startling Mila, but you’ve planned this. Standing up, you turn to Mila.

“It’s Mikhail, I’ve got to go for a second. Pause the movie, I don’t want to miss this part.” Mila’s eyes freeze onto you as she fumbles for the remote, pausing the film.

“Why can’t I be in it?” You look at her, with a face of pure dissatisfaction.

“Because it’s personal, and Mikhail doesn’t trust people he hasn’t met. I’ll tell you what we discussed when I’m back.” Mila sighs and falls further into the cushions. You walk out into the lobby, then take a set of stairs to the roof. Walking to the edge of the roof, you take a seat and open up your PDA. You have the feeling that Mila will try to do something to spy on you, so you’ll have to look convincing.

Opening a messaging system, you start to compose one.

‘<Dimitri, it’s Mikhail. I’m in St. Petersburg. I have a chance to get the westerners off our asses, but we’ll have to negotiate. I’m in an odd relationship with this black-ops lady right now, so I’ll need some help. Bring some guys, and be armed. Don’t try to hurt her, I’ll have your head if you do. By the way, let the black market dealers know that I’ll be back soon. It’s time to retake our glory.>’

Sending it, you put the PDA away. Walking back to the stairwell, you hear cloth ruffling. That little shit was watching you. Luckily, it’d be too far away for her to read what was on the screen, not even including the fact that she wouldn’t even be able to look at is as it was facing away from her.

Taking your steps slow, you make your way back into the room. Mila is giving you a big smile and is laying heavily into the cushion. “So, what’s the news?”

You give a huff. “Mikhail is willing to negotiate, but I’ll be the one he communicates through.” Mila nods.

“Well then, that’s good progress. I’ll contact command and some legal people, and we’ll set up a teleconference.” You smile and take a seat next to Mila. It’s still pretty cold, so you decide to return the favor and lean on her. Doing this, you notice her breathing starts to increase.

“Hey Mila, my right side is still freezing, can you wrap your tail around?” Mila looks at you and gives a nervous smile.

“Y-Yeah, no problem!” Her tail swings over to your side and the warm fur makes everything much better.

“Thanks. Now, where were we?” Mila snaps to attention and starts the movie. Good, you wanted to see Indy kick some ass.

---------------------------------

-M-

Your situation was wonderful. You were going to meet one of the world’s most dangerous men and turn him to your side. You’d get one hell of a promotion for this, not even talking about metals. Even better, the mysterious man that you desired was resting on you, with your tail wrapping around to his back. His face is fixated on the movie in front of you, but you can’t take your eyes away from him.

His smile brings warmth to you. You couldn’t imagine the hell he went through, and to see him recover from it so well feels great. You slowly rub your head against his neck and close your eyes. You just wanted to sit with him, the man who had suffered too much. You wanted to piece him back together.

-------------------------------

Towards the end of the movie, you feel something fuzzy rub against your neck. It’s Mila. Looking over, she has her eyes closed and was resting. Returning to the movie, you start to think about what to do next. Firstly, you’ll need to get Dimitri and your men over here, having backup would be important. Secondly, the teleconference. You’d do two things, set it up where you’d be in no danger, and also tell Mila the truth. Finally, you had to take out Biyaman. The Tuvan prick was still walking around, and that alone pissed you off beyond no containment. But to do the first task, you just have to wait.

You return to reality, and reach a hand over to Mila’s tail, scratching it.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Mila is looking at you with a face that combines confusion and happiness.

“Scratching your tail, sorry if it makes you feel un-“

“No, no, please, keep going.” With her affirmation, you go back to scratching her tail. Mila’s body falls back, and she melts into the cushions. “Christ, that feels so good…” You chuckle. Damn, it was like petting a dog. “Hey, don’t you laugh at me, you don’t know how nice it feels…” Mila has her head buried in the cushions, hiding what you presume to be her face covered with embarrassment.

“Hey, I don’t blame you for it, hell, I could have one myself, it’s just that I don’t have a tail.” You stifle a laugh at the poor excuse for humor, and Mila raises her head.

“Maybe…” She cuts off whatever she going to say and looks down in uncertainty.

“Sure.” Mila’s eyes fling to look at you.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“And?” Mila is completely flabbergasted, but a smile grows on her face.

“Well then, take off your shirt, and lie face down.” You give her a look that says: ‘uh… alright?’ and lie down. Soon, you can feel Mila’s paws rubbing your back, the feeling of this massage is heavenly.

“Christ, I needed this.” Mila giggles and continues the massage. Her paws work your back with pure talent, the pain in your wounds fading away. “Damn Mila, where did you learn to do this?” She laughs and her head leans down, just to the left of yours.

“Pure enthusiasm.” Her voice sounds silky, like a seductress at work. You turn your head, and her face has a wonderful smile on it, her eyes gazing into yours. She turns you around and falls on you, her chest on yours. “I’ve finally got the willpower to say it, and I will. I like you.” Well, this was… unexpected, but not entirely unpleasant.

“Really? I think you’d be able to do a lot better than me.” Mila’s face turns into a frown as you say those words, and her head falls just below your neck.

“Sergei, you are one of the only few people in my life who care about me. You are a good man, you have just suffered through this hell. I can help you. I want to help you.” Her face moves up, an inch from yours. This red panda anthro, at first who you regarded as nothing but a ticket out, has confessed her adoration for you. You should say no, but her voice… her wanting of you… and funnily enough, her body, which now looks beautiful, fur and all. “Will you let me?”

You smile at Mila. She was a good person, and you couldn’t let her down. You just hoped that she wouldn’t take the truth you would reveal later too heard. “Yes.” Right after you say that Mila darts her face down, the lips on her muzzle connecting with yours. You don’t expect it, but it feels… good. You reach your arms around her, pulling Mila closer, and she does the same with you. After a few blissful seconds of kissing, she pulls back, a smile on her face.

“You know, I never thought that I’d find someone who liked me back.” You don’t say a word, but rather answer by kissing Mila again. Her tongue breaches your lips and tangles with yours. You both enjoy the moment of pure satisfaction together, ending the kiss after some time. “Thank you so much…” You smile at Mila.

“How couldn’t I like someone like you?” Mila looks down, her ears drooping.

“I… I thought that I took it too fast.” You chuckle and stroke a hand across her cheek.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s alright.” Mila’s ears shoot back up, and she looks content. Well, at least she was feeling better. “We’ve got some time to kick back, don’t worry about the other things right now.”

You yawn, and soon Mila does too. “I’m tired, let’s get some rest, alright?” Mila shuts off the screen and lays on you, her head right next to yours, with her tail covering what’s left exposed of your body.

“That sound good Sergei. I love you.” You kiss her on the cheek before you close your eyes.

“I love you too Mila.” Rest comes quick, probably from the heat of the red panda atop of you.

--------------------------------------

Your eyes open to a wonderful sight. You are in a lavish room, in your mansion. You are sitting on a luxury sofa, and the table in front of you has various premium drinks. Getting up, you walk over to a door that leads to a patio. Walking out, you look around. It’s a tropical paradise, the sun is shining brightly, its heat washing over your body. You look around and see various soldiers in gear doing tasks.

Some drive around, others are marching. In the distance, you see farms with what seems to be poppies. Staring up, there is a helicopter flying around, armed to the teeth. Wonderful red flags are hanging from the mansion and the soldiers who walk by salute you. You hear walking behind you, turning to see a suited man salute you.

“<Sir! I’ve compiled the list of weaponry as you asked. N.A.T.O has been quite kind to ‘send’ their old 5.56 rifles to us.>” Huh, well that was good.

“<Very good. Do they still want us to carry through with Operation Privateer?>”

“<Yes. Our estimates believe that the country will be thrown into complete chaos for at least a week. That will allow us to land on the eastern coast.>” A huge smile breaks onto your face. If all went well, your power would increase exponentially.

“<Perfect. Send word that we will start preparations. Also, I want to procure heavier hardware. Let them know that we are offering to pay top dollar for some modern MBT’s.>” The man gives another salute.

“<Of course, sir!>” He turns around and marches away. It took a long time to get here, but it was perfect. Chances were that the world’s most dangerous man was you. And you were about to get worse. No longer were you a criminal king, but a man in control of the world’s largest private army, and you had secured western backing. If the plan succeeded, western support would become useless. You always wanted your own country.

Suddenly, the door behind you bursts open. “<What the fuck! Don’t slam that shi->” You turn around to see Mila, with tears in her eyes. “Mila, what’s wrong?” She grabs onto you, and loses strength in her legs, bringing you both to your knees.

“Please, Mikhail, don’t! I can’t see you do this anymore, the bloodshed has to stop.” You stand up, supporting your love.

“Mila, this is my destiny. I’ve fought my entire life, and I will take what is mine.” Mila immediately turns into a sobbing mess.

“No! Please, stop the madness! Please!” You pick her up and kiss her on the cheek, but it accomplishes nothing. Walking back inside with Mila in your arms, you set her on the couch, signaling guards to assist. They help you lay her down, and you sit next to her.

“I’m sorry, but I will not stop. Heaven and Hell combined wouldn’t be able to prevent me.” Mila tries to reach for you, but you’ve already gotten up. She remains on the sofa, completely heartbroken. You walk out of the room, tidying your uniform. Her cries break your heart, but you don’t need it for what comes next. Operation Privateer was a go.

Walking outside, a convoy of vehicles is waiting for you. Stepping into a UAZ, you take a seat in the back, lighting a cigar as the convoy starts off. The wind blows through your face, and the sun provides a beautiful view over the island. You take a look at your soldiers. The finest men, the finest gear, and the finest fighting spirit. Nothing would stop you, and the world would know it.

---------------------------------------

Waking up, you shake your head. An overly crazy dream, but one that you would enjoy if it were to become reality. On top of you lies Mila, dead asleep. You reach with your left arm, petting her back. Hopefully, she wouldn’t take your revelation too hard, but until then, you can only wait with her.

You slowly pry her off of you enduring her moans of discomfort. Rolling off the bed, you walk to your gear. Putting it on as quietly as possible, you can’t help but take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your blue eyes hide the tired man within, your scar on your neck tells you the story of a man who loves danger. The smile on your face indicates that whenever things try to kick you down, you end up on top.

You talk a walk over the table and pick up something important to you, your old PM. Holstering it, you start out the door. Walking through the lobby, you pull out your PDA, a notification taking your focus. It was from Dimitri.

“<Mikhail! We were afraid that we lost you. I hope everything is good for you over there. The deal in Kazan was a complete success, we’ve only had a slight problem, but it’ll be fine. I’m coming with a bunch of our best men. We’ll be ready to rock.>” You smile as a feeling of power washes over you. Everything was starting to fall together.

Hitting an icon to reply, you make your message short and sweet. “<Good. When you arrive, meet me at the old bar by the armory. We have much to discuss.>” Sending it, you pocket the PDA. Walking outside, you start on your path. Not much happens. Your trek is undisturbed. You cant tell as roving bandits run from your direction. Apparently, you’ve already made a name for yourself. Arriving at the bar, you open the door to see the bodies of the men you’ve killed in there gone. Already looted. At least some of the drinks remained.

Sitting down, you pour yourself a glass of rum and begin to enjoy it. Your mind is taking back by good memories, when you were starting to become a real menace.

-------------------------------

Getting up from your chair, several suited men are around you. They stand perfectly still and wait for you to speak. You raise your arm and hold your hand up. “<Listen up. The fuckers are moving on out turf. Anybody have any suggestions?>”

One man starts to speak. “<Boss, we need to set a precedent that we will not be bossed around. We should retaliate.>” That sounded wonderful.

“<It’s settled then. Kill them.>” The suited men procure weaponry from the room and head out. Walking to a window, you see a group of rival thugs sent by Biyaman. The bastards are intimidating a gun shop that you have under your protection. They walk out laughing, but that ends quickly.

A series of loud blasts ring out, with the thugs falling to the ground. The suited men run up and finish off those who survived, and then scurry off. It was a success, and Biyaman should learn from it. Don’t fuck with your shit. Turning around, you start to laugh. This was the start of an amazing journey.

----------------------------

Your mind flashes back to reality when you hear the sound of a helicopter flying nearby. That better be Dimitri. Looking out the window, you see dust rising from the ground. The helicopter flies off, and walking comes to the door. It opens.

A smile breaks on your face. It’s Dimitri, and he has at least ten men with him. They’re all very well equipped. “<Ah, Dimitri, it has been too long since we’ve last met. Come in boys, make yourself comfortable. Dimitri takes a seat next to you. His face one of confusion.

“<Thank your boss, but where’s Viktor, Klaus, and Hans?>” Hearing their names hurts. Worse than any bullet wound.

“<They’re gone. Biyaman got them.>” Everybody in the room turns to you, and Dimitri’s face contorts to sadness and fear.

“<M-Mikhail, I’m sorry… what are we going to do?>” You grasp your glass hard, breaking it into shards. The rum was already drunk, so there is no problem. The leather gloves are unfazed by the glass attempting to slice it.

“<Firstly, we are going to secure western support. After that, we are going to take out Biyaman. You all need to hide somewhere else. I’ve ingrained myself with a black ops agent. She’s none the wiser about who I actually am.>” Your soldiers start to laugh, with Dimitri getting a smirk on his face. “<South of here, there is an old bomb shelter. It should be intact, no one is able to get in without a code. Let me write it down for you.>” Writing it down, you hand it to Dimitri who puts it in his pocket.

“<Well, is that all?>”

“<Nope. Tell me, how is everything doing with me gone?>” Dimitri cracks his neck and relaxes.

“<Everything is quite well. Business proceeds as normal. The deal with Hector went perfectly. The only issue is that we have to look after his adoptive daughter, Sofia. She’s a sweet woman, we’ll have no trouble with her.>” A smile breaks onto your face. So, you haven’t lost your power. Good.

“<Very well then. Head on out to the bunker, and wait for my orders.>” Dimitri nods and pushes himself off the chair.

“<You heard the boss, get moving!>” The men head out, with Dimitri giving you a wave as he leaves. Now you had real power. Walking out the bar, you bring a bottle of gin with you. Walking down the street, some noise gets your attention.

A group of men is strolling down the street, they don’t have much in weaponry. One has a club, and another has a shiv. You decide to walk out and have some fun.

“<Well hello there, could you explain to me what you’re doing?>” The man with the club walks forward, spitting onto the ground. The rest stay back. He starts to run at you, and you stand still. He lunges at you, swinging towards your head. You step back, and he misses. Pulling out your own knife, you ready yourself. “<I do love myself a good fight.>” The men behind him start to come over, but he yells at them.

“<He’s mine!>” His? Yeah, fucking right. You swing at him, and he ducks down, the blade just missing him. He kicks your legs when he’s down, bringing you to earth. As you fall, he moves towards you, swinging his club down. You roll out of the way and move into a defensive stance. The man makes a dash towards you, swinging once more.

Unluckily for you, it connects with your left shoulder. It hurts like hell, but he has the worse part of the deal. In his attack, you were able to puncture his chest. He falls back, and grasps at the wound, coughing violently. His efforts are in vain, as blood starts to flow from his mouth. Looking up, the other men are staring at you.

One starts to sprint at you, but you are prepared. Swiftly drawing your PM, you make a quick shot. The shot connects with his gut, and he falls down. The others are deathly afraid of your handgun, and either run off or surrender. You start to walk back, away from the surrendered men. You wouldn’t be able to take them prisoner, so let em’ run.

Turning around, you start off on a jog back to the hideout. On the way there, you find one of the surviving bandits. He sounds completely panicked, and he is yelling.

“<I am telling you, we got hit hard! Oleg is gone, it’s just you man! No-one else could do something like that.>” You sneak up behind the man. He’s talking about Oleg, so that could only mean one thing. When you get right behind him, you knock him to the ground and continuously stomp on his head. Looking at his body, you see a small radio on the ground. Picking it up, you hear a voice you know too well.

“<Hey! What the hell is going on?>” You can’t help but laugh.

“<Biyaman, you are a dead man. I hope that you’ll enjoy the hunt.>”

“<Mikhail? What the fu->” Tuning in on a different frequency, you snicker. Biyaman was here, and that was perfect. In St. Petersburg, you could kill two birds with one stone. Walking back to the hideout, you stop. Hiding low, you see movement. It’s… Mila. She’s looking around everywhere, her face in a panic. She must have rushed out, because she only has her fatigues on. No helmet, mask, or vest. In her hands, she’s holding her rifle. You hear her yell out.

“Sergei, where are you?” Well, that’s why she’s so panicked. Standing up, you whistle and wave a hand. Mila looks over, and the fear on her face turns to relief. She runs up to you and grasps you in a hug. “I was scared that you ran off…” Putting a hand on the bottom of her snout, you push it up, making her stare you right in the eyes.

“I wouldn’t ever think of leaving you.” Mila thrusts her head up, planting a kiss on your left cheek. Her attention turns to your left shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?” You pat her back and sigh.

“I went out searching for stuff. I might have gotten a little bruised, but I’ll be fine.” Mila releases you from the hug and grabs you from behind.

“Ok, now get back inside!” She escorts you in like you were critically injured. “Take your gear off will you, I need to make sure that you’re not hurt.” Turning to Mila, you shake your head.

“I’m fine calm down. I just took so- “

“No! Take it off!” Christ, this is unbearable. Taking your body armor off, Mila is waiting right by you, immensely concerned. Next, you slide off the top of your fatigues. Mila latches onto you. “Sergei, you need some healing, you know that?” It wasn’t even bruised; the fuck was she talking about?

As these thoughts race through your head, Mila grabs you and drops to the bed, bringing you down with her. She holds you tight, putting her head on your shoulder. “And one of the best ways to heal is to rest…” Ah, that explained it all. Her eyes close, and she starts to stroke your back, avoiding your wounds. You return the favor by reaching behind you, grabbing Mila’s fuzzy tail. She jumps from your sudden move and looks into your eyes.

“Well, are we going to rest?” Mila chuckles and breaks from the embrace. She walks over to the table and grabs your bottle of gin. She turns around on the spot, a giant grin plastered on her face.

“Oh, I think we will, masterfully.” The chica bonita in front of you slowly walks towards the bed, her hips swaying. Damn, you weren’t into anthros before you came here, but something about Mila just entices you. She opens the bottle and takes a huge swig. She must not be used to the stuff, as you see her eyes burst open as the liquid fills her mouth. She tries to stifle her coughing, but you can still make it out.

“Having fun?” Mila gives a deathly stare before it turns into one of mock anger. She thrusts the bottle to you, and you snatch it. Bringing the bottle up, you chug down an ungodly amount of gin. The next morning is going to suck, but you had to nurse Mila when she was hungover, so she could repeat the favor.

“Yeah, However, I think you’re gonna have a better time.” Mila snuggles up to you and grabs a remote next to the bed. Pressing the button, a song starts to play. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWb5Rf9olpQ] How appropriate. Mila moves her head down and gives you a small kiss on your nose. “Now, relax.” Your mind is soothed, the combined feeling of Mila’s words and fur, the music, and the gin making it through your body is a wonderful feeling.

-----------------------------

-M-

Sergei was tipsy. The gin hasn’t fully hit him, but he’s starting to feel its effects. He stands up, his stance is sturdy. “I’m gonna go an’ get more drink.” He starts towards the doorway, but you run up and grab him. The last thing you want is for him to be hurt.

“I can do that, you just sit and relax.” Pulling Sergei back, he walks with you to the bed, where he flops onto it. “I see you are already pretty relaxed, maybe you should cut on th-“

“<NO. I WANT MORE.>” Holy shit. It was like alcohol just possessed this man. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you walk over with a bottle of vodka. It was some brand that Sergei was fond of, Kauffman or something like that. It was very oddly shaped, but it was vodka nonetheless. Sergei is too busy trying to get up, but you keep him down. “<Fuck, I need the drink. Now.>” Taking a sip, you are surprised when Sergei snatches the bottle from you. In a sudden stroke of movements, he had managed to steal the bottle and start off towards the door in a light run.

You dash after Sergei, but he has a significant head start. “Sergei, wait up!” He’s running through the lobby and makes it through the doors. You lunge at him, but he just escapes your grasp. Sergei runs even faster, which blows your mind. This man has drunk so much, and it doesn’t impede him at all. Sergei runs through the door, and sprints outside. “Sergei, hold on, please!” Your begging falls deaf to his intoxicated ears.

“No! This Kauffman is mine!” Sergei is absolutely chugging the bottle. How it isn’t already empty is a miracle. You are eventually able to tackle him to the ground. The bottle somehow manages to land upright, saving itself from spilling on the floor. You pin the incredibly drunk Sergei to the ground, and he eventually passes out. Picking up the bottle, you close it up.

“Shit.” All you wanted was a nice relaxing time, but you just found out that Sergei is a huge alcoholic. A massive fucking alcoholic. How the fuck were you going to bring him back to the hideout? You bounce several ideas through your head. One was to drag him, but the debris made that impossible. Another idea came of picking him up, but you were in no state to lift him.

You start to worry. What if there are bandits? What if he’s really hurt? You decide on a terrible plan. Taking both your and Sergei’s shirts off, you create a makeshift stretcher. You could safely drag him, and so you started. As you are making your way back, you hear Sergei.

“<No, stop… They’re innocent, they don’t deserve this…>” Well, he’s either too drunk to be talking any sense, or he’s having a nightmare. You feel an intense urge to shake him out of it, but it’d be too risky to leave both of you out in the open. Pulling the stretcher inside, you drag him through the lobby and the doorway.

“Christ, and I thought that we’d just be chilling.” You haul Sergei up onto the bed. When he hits the mattress, he jumps awake, but not at full awareness.

“Whadda fuck ish goin ahn?” Ah, he’s completely shit faced.

“Sergei, you are really drunk. Get some rest.” Sergei looks at you with a huge look of confusion.

“Who the fack is Sergei?” Damn, he must be really fucking shitfaced. He doesn’t even know who he is.

“Well then, I’m gonna let you rest. If you need me, just call out.” You walk off over to the table, tired out. Turning back, he’s asleep again. Taking a seat, you notice something in Sergei’s pack that catches your eye. It’s a PDA, picking it up, you turn it on. Good news, it works and you can do basic stuff. Bad news, there is a lot of protected and encrypted things in it. Looking through it, you don’t find much of interest until a message pops up.

“<Hey, we made it. Me and the men are set up, nobody would ever be able to flush us out in a thousand years. I still have to say that I’m sorry for what happened with… you know. I knew you’d take it hard, but I know what they would want, and what we would. Good luck, and godspeed.>” The hell? He had an outside contact? Odd, you would have expected him to tell you this. Nonetheless, you put the PDA away, frustrated by the lock on the important documents. You walk over to the bed and lie next to Sergei, wanting to comfort his drunken stupor.

-----------------------------------

As you come back to reality, your eyes open to the sight of the hideout. Getting up, you move to where your gear should be, but the room is… empty. There is only the light, you, and the bed. You start to walk to the doorway is, and when you look out, the sight is disturbing. There are bodies everywhere, badly mutilated.

Shit, this wasn’t looking good. Starting towards the exit in a dash, you slam through the door, falling down. You look up and see nothing. Getting up, you turn towards the hideout. It’s completely demolished. How? You were just in it not too long ago…

As you go back to walking away, you hear various noises follow you. Feeling put on edge, you grab a brick from the ground. Best to be armed. As you continue forward, you hear what seems to be talking. Sneaking to a bombed-out building, you peer out to see what was unfolding.

It’s you and Mila when you were walking to the bar. Mila looks fine, but you are a different story. You are completely fucked up. Your clothing and gear are dirtied and damaged, as if you had just looted it from a dead man. Your double walks with a pronounced limp and is bleeding from the head. It looked like you’d fallen a couple of stories down.

Your abused copy suddenly stops and turns to your direction. Mila is acting as if nothing had happened, like a carbon copy of Mila on that day. Your double approaches you, his face wild with a combination of joy and bloodlust. He pulls out his knife and starts to run at you. “<It’s time to fight!>”

You move back, finding a good defensive position, and ready yourself. Your double waits for you to make the first move. You dash him and slide. Mid slide, you toss the brick as hard as you can at your copy. He dodges the brick but doing so leaves him vulnerable. You take the opportunity, and swing, landing an uppercut into his chin. He falls back, and lies, unmoving. You start to walk towards him, but his body suddenly starts to shake. It gets progressively more violent, and you are left in awe.

Eventually, the shaking stops. You move to the body and take the knife away. As soon as the blade leaves the grasp of your doppelganger, he turns to ash. You stand, horrified. As you look at the ash, a voice comes from behind you.

“<Funny, you did what so many others couldn’t.> You turn and see Hans. He was staring straight into your soul, with a look of disdain. “<Well, tell me, are you proud of yourself? You’ve done nothing good.>” You are completely in shock.

“<What do you mean? I am reestablishing our empire!>” Hans shakes his head, his face contorted by anguish.

“<You fight for dead men? What about those that you’ve killed? Will you fight for them?>”

“<Why would I? Those bastards oppose me, so they deserve to fall!>” Hans walks forward and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“<You always were so brutal. Please, Mikhail, stop while you can.>” Stop your life’s work? No! Now, you would fight for yourself.

“<Are you suggesting that I give up on what I have achieved?>” Hans nods, a frown on his face. This bastard, he was your friend, and he turns on you?! Anger takes your body, and before Hans can even notice what’s happening, you plunge the knife into his gut. Hans's eyes expand, his face in shock.

“<Mikhail?>” A scowl forms on your face as you let Hans fall to the ground.

“<You always were the weak link, Hans. Still, I cared for you. Yet you turn on me. I have no mercy for traitors.>” Hans is grasping at his wound, attempting to stop the bleeding, but it is in vain. Turning around, you start to walk away. Behind you, all you can hear is Hans calling out for you.

“Mikhail, why?!” The bastard could fall. You had a goal, and that was power. You will get it, at any cost. Walking out the building, you see movement. Looking at it, you see Mila, fully geared up. You start to walk over to you, yet she raises a pistol at you.

“As you said, I have no mercy for traitors.” You dive as Mila pulls the trigger. You ran through some ruins, making sure that cover was always protecting you. The more you run, the less you hear of Mila following you. On your path to escape, you found a small set of doors that led to a basement. It was well concealed, perfect for hiding.

You open the doors and hop in. Closing them, you fumble around for a source of light. Hitting a switch, the room is illuminated by a warm yellow. Looking around, you find only a table with some suitcase. Walking to the table, you pick up and open the suitcase. It had a picture. Looking at it, you saw something familiar.

It was an old photo, when you and Viktor completed your first contract together. You were standing together, drunk as hell. Behind you were Hans and Klaus, both sitting on a couch. Hans was busy cleaning his shotgun, and Klaus sleeping. Taking a look, the nostalgia washes over you, forcing your eyes to close.

When you open them, the picture is completely different. It’s just you, PM in hand, and with a maddened smile. Blood is on the floor, but there are no bodies. Some writing now existed on the top. “<When others bring you down, get rid of them.>” You drop the photo and turn to leave. This couldn’t be a dream, it felt too lifelike, but all of this crazy shit was happening…

As you open the door, you see Mila. She’s checking the area, yet she hasn’t seen you. A pistol lies by her. If you were to grab it, you’d have a wonderful chance. Dashing, you dive for the handgun. Mila turns, and her gun is aimed square at your chest, while your piece had her head in its sights. Before you pulled the trigger, everything vanished. Your vision was black, and all you could hear was a gunshot.

Was this the victory that I had wanted?

--------------------------

Waking up, a horrible throbbing comes from your head. Wonderful, you had one hell of a hangover. Mila was lying on top of you, presumably also knocked out, meaning that you had to wait until she would get off you.

As you lie down, the radio under the table starts to play. Odd. “Sun streaking cold, an old man wandering lonely. Taking time, the only way he knows. Leg hurting bad As he bends to pick a dog end. He goes down to a bog and warms his feet. Feeling alone, the army's up the road. Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea. Aqualung, my friend, don't you start away uneasy. You poor old sod, you see it's only me.” Humming along to the lyrics, you feel somewhat better. Mila starts to move around, hopefully awake.

“Hey Sergei, you awake?” You turn your head to look at Mila. She has a worried look on her face.

“Yeah, but my head feels like it was pummeled.” Mila leans down and kisses you on the cheek.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t of drank so much last night.” Mila looks irritated when she says that.

“Speaking of last night, I don’t remember a fucking thing about it. What happened?” Mila gets off of you and walks over to the table. Her clothes are dirtied as if she was crawling through rubble.

“Well, you got incredibly drunk, and I had to chase you down because you ran off. Also, I found something out, and I want answers.” The first part sounded funny, the second, worrying.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a hassle. Could you bring me some water? My head is about to burst.” Mila stares at you, with an unimpressed look on her face. You can tell from her body language alone that she isn’t happy. Her ears are starting to droop, and her tail stays completely still.

“Sergei, I want you to take a look at this.” You close your eyes, and when you open them, Mila drops your PDA right onto your gut. Picking it up, it’s a message, from Dimitri. Fuck.

“Okay. You’ve got me, I know some people that work for Mikhail. What about it?” Mila walks up to you and kneels. One of her paws grabs your neck and turns your head towards you.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Mila is growling, in utter rage.

“Mila, I couldn’t. If I did, my mission would be compromised, I’m sor-“ Mila’s grip tightens, and you are unable to speak, coughing out. You push her back, and she stumbles and falls. You dash over to your PM and aim it at her. “Mila, the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mila is horrified and looks at her paws. She starts to speak, but it comes out uneasy and nerve-wracked. “I-I-I didn’t mean to hurt you…” She starts to sniffle. Shit, now you feel bad. Dropping the PM, you sit next to Mila, and hug her. “I’m so sorry!” Mila is starting to cry, and her tears are coating your shoulder.

“Mila, it’s alright.” You didn’t know why her anger took over, but that question could wait, as you had to comfort her. Rubbing her back, she slumps into you.

“I was scared that you’d be running from me…  The last human I knew did.” You pick her up, which startles her. “Sergei, what are you doing?” You smile and start to walk over to the table.

“I’m gonna keep you next to me, so you won’t be scared.” Mila smiles and relaxes in your hold. “So, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?” Your answer comes in the form of Mila nuzzling your neck.

“Of course.” You smirk and start to pet her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find this racist. Or is it speciesist? Her calm demeanor tells you all you need to know, and you continue. After a good minute of petting, she looks up at you and smiles, but suddenly she frowns and looks at the wall.

“Mila? Is everything alright?” Her paws ball up into a fist, and her arms start to shake. Her voice then comes out.

“Why couldn’t they be like you? Why were they such pricks?” You stop petting her and grab her paws.

“Mila, that’s the past. You can move on. If you want, we can try to do something to let your anger out. How about target practice?” Mila sighs, and looks up, clearly in thought.

“Alright, let’s do that.” You go to your gear and suit up. Despite having it on, you feel like you could have more. Wait, there was that stash, the one with the GP-5 and the AKM! Yes! Running over, you grab the mask and the rifle and start moving ammo into your room. Mila looks in awe at the 7.62x39 convoy you are operating.

“Well, grab your piece and meet me on the roof.” I got something planned. Mila nods and heads up, ready to blast. The masterpiece you had planned would make any professional shooter cringe, but you didn’t give a damn. You could handle recoil with no problem, it was a gift. Thus, you had a plan. Your AKM would be your rifle, standard use, but if anything happened to it, you’d need a compact backup, and your PM is nice and all, but there just isn’t enough firepower. To remedy this, your fucked up mind decides to Obrez the 9A-91. The stock was damaged and was becoming a pain, so you knocked it off. Now you had a compact 9x39 powerhouse that you could hide. Sweet.

Running upstairs, you bring several targets, many that can be reused. Mila is fiddling with her rifle, while you set up the surrogate range. Walking back, you hand her the AKM. “Train with this, you don’t know when you’ll need it.” Mila takes it and starts to inspect it thoroughly. While she’s busy familiarizing herself with the Kalash, you draw out your 9A-91, and with one hand, start your training. Pulling the trigger, you hit center mass on a can. The recoil isn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. Time for the real test, aiming at a cutout of a man, you let a burst of rounds out. Considering that you’re firing a small 9x39 carbine one-handed, the shots are decently on target, spreading from the gut to the neck.

Mila is looking at you in complete disbelief. You look at her and nudge your head towards the AK. She gets the message and gets ready to shoot. She starts to put rounds downrange, doing pretty well. Deciding to join in, you start to blast the targets. Rounds pour downrange, and the targets get torn apart. She’s not bad with the Kalash. After she finishes a few mags, she starts to watch you handle the 9A-91. For whatever reason, she’s just fixated on you, and you don’t know why.

--------------------------------

-M-

Sergei, something about him seemed off. The way he was shooting… One-handed, and the way he handled the recoil, it seemed familiar. You think about it, and something comes to mind. You once saw footage of Russian Mobsters doing that exact technique. That worried you. Was Sergei still lying to you? He takes a glance at you, a confused look on his face. “Hey Mila, are you good?” Sergei lowers his 9A-91.

“Yeah, it’s just that method you’re using. I’ve seen it before.” Sergei turns towards you.

“What, shooting this one-handed?” You walk over to Sergei, stopping a few inches from him.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it before. Russian Mobsters do that.” Sergei scoffs, his face turning into a scowl.

“Are you calling me a mobster?” You take a step back, embarrassment starting to cloud your mind.

“N-No, I didn’t mean I-it like that. I’m sorr-“ Sergei turns and walks away, he’s very angry. You start to run after him, you're unsure why that angered him so much, but you have to fix it. “Sergei, I’m sorry, please, don’t go!” He stops, the suddenness of it making you freeze on the spot.

Without turning, he starts to speak. “I am going to make something very clear. Do not ever suggest that I am a mobster. Is that understood?” You are horrified. His voice is grave, worn, and fatigued.

“Yes.” He turns, his face no longer one of anger, but rather, pure sadness.

“Thank you.” He walks over to some rubble and takes a seat. “I don’t like the topic, plenty of bad memories.” Walking over to Sergei, you kneel in front of him, giving the poor man a hug.

“I can understand.” Rubbing his back, you both calm down. A beeping sound comes from a pocket of yours, and you check it. It’s the Meeting. Top N.A.T.O Officials want to meet with Sergei to discuss Mikhail. You show Sergei the message, and his face brightens up.

---------------------------------------

“Good, I’ve been waiting long enough.” Both of you rush downstairs, and into your room. Mila sets up the screen, along with a camera. You take a seat and grab the documents. Composing yourself, you wait for the screen to start up. Time to negotiate.

The screen suddenly turns on, greeting you with the sight of several humans and anthros. All look very official, fancy suits and uniforms. Mila stands straight up and gives a salute, which the officials return. “Major Mila Taylor, reporting!” She stands still, her face completely unmoving.

“At ease Major.” A wolf anthro is speaking, and it sounds like a she. “I’m guessing that this man would be your lead?” You stand and stare straight at the camera.

“My name is Sergei Kotov, I will be the intermediate in negotiations between you and Mikhail Vetrov.” The officials nod and start intermingling between themselves. They must be very concerned about your offer.

“Very well, what are Mikhail’s demands?” You layout a piece of paper and start to list them off.

“First, both amnesty, and immunity for his actions. Second, the preservation of his ‘business. Third, the agreement that we come to is absolute in its legally binding, and that it cannot be skirted around.” The N.A.T.O officials are muted and start to discuss with each other. It seems to get pretty heated, as one man slams his fist on the table, making everyone else quiet.


“Shit, that didn’t look good…” Mila silently whispers to you. “Hopefully, this doesn’t go south…” The officials unmute themselves and return to negotiations.

“Alright, but we have our own demands.” You nod your head in response, and at the same time, Mila’s PDA makes a sound. “We’ve sent them to Major Mila’s PDA, you will be able to read them, and we will negotiate at a later date. Thank you both for your time.” Mila salutes once more, and the video feed cuts out, with Mila unplugging both the screen and camera.

“Well, that could of went worse…” Mila is rubbing the back of her head, and awkwardly smiling. Reaching for her PDA, you open the file containing the demands. “Hey, no, that’s mine!” Mila snatches the PDA from your grasp and walks over to the bed. “Let me read it out for you, okay?”

---------------------------------

-M-

It was supposed to be teasing, a joke. It was a mistake. You had to read line after line of demands. ‘No human or anthro trafficking’ this, ‘no sales of narcotics’ that. It was boring as hell, and Sergei seemed uninterested. Nothing seemed to catch his attention until you started talking about Military Aid. His eyes open wide, and a huge grin broke out onto his face when you told him that Mikhail would be receiving weaponry. Odd. You start to question why he would be the one happy and not Mikhail.

“Hey, Sergei?” He turns his head towards you with a smirk.

“What’s up?” You walk up to Sergei, tossing the PDA onto the table.

“Tell me, what are you so happy about?” Sergei’s smirk fades away, and his eyes unfocused. “Sergei?”

“I have my reas-“ You grab his shoulders, and bring him closer.

“NO. YOU ARE GOING TO TELL ME.” You push Sergei onto the ground and restrain him.

“Mila, what the fuck?!”

“TELL ME.” Sergei stares straight at you, he knows that he wouldn’t be able to break out of your grip.

“Fine. I have a work-based relationship with Mikh-“ You slap him across the face, in pure anger.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE LYING TO ME!” You pick him up and slam him on the table. The air is completely knocked out of Sergei.

“I had to protect myself, I would be dead otherw-“ You wrap your arms around him, both to prevent him from running, and to comfort him.

“Sergei, I love you. I would never hurt you, I just want to know everything so you can be safe.” Sergei looks up at you.

“If that’s the case, we need to go somewhere. There’s one more thing for you to know.” He has a devilish grin on his face.

“What’s that?” His smile grows larger.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

--------------

-M-

Trusting Sergei wasn’t easy, but he said it was the final secret. You had to believe him to find out the truth. He had been quite quiet since he told you the destination. You both walk outside, and Sergei reaches for his PDA, and sends a message. You can see part of it before he puts it away. “<Xzxzxzx, meet me by the rusted-out factory, zxzxz xzx zxzx, zx zxzx zx xzx zxzxzxz.>” Well, you now had somewhat of an idea on where you would be. Walking through the streets, Sergei seems much more confident than usual, and you are completely unbothered on your trek.

You make it to the outskirts of a factory, and an uneasy feeling washes over you. “Sergei, are you sure about this?” He looks at you with a face that was stoic as possible.

“Only if you are looking for the truth.” He continues into the factory, and you follow him, nervous as hell. Suddenly he stops and whistles. In an instant, there are several armed men that pop out of nowhere, guns trained on you.

“<Don’t make any sudden movements.>” Sergei chuckles and raises a middle finger to the men.

“<Are you the one in control? Cut the shit.>”

One man takes off his mask and approaches Sergei. “<Boss, are you really sure about this?>” Sergei walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “<Of course, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Now, make yourselves comfortable, we have much to discuss.>” Sergei turns on the spot to face you. “My love, I am sorry that this had to happen, but now you will know the truth.” You feel completely frightened.

“Sergei, what are you talking about?” He bursts into laughter, and many of the other men do so as well.

“Again, I apologize. I guess that I should get this out of the way first.” You freeze when he says that. No… “I am not Sergei. My name is Mikhail Vetrov. I am in control of the world’s largest criminal syndicate. I hope that you can forgive me.” It made perfect sense; how didn’t you notice it? He knew so much about him, knew so many things that only he could, and you just believed him every time? You trusted him…

“Why?” Mikhail slowly walks up to you, and you back away.

“I couldn’t take the risk. So many people have tried to put a bullet in me, I wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t be one of them.” He catches up to you, putting his hands on your sides. “But now you know, and I am confident that you won’t hurt me. Would you stay with me?” His face is a mixture of worry and sadness.

“I-I don’t know, you aren’t who I think you are.” Mikhail wraps his arms around me in a hug, his head resting on my right shoulder.

“Mila, when I let you know how much I cared about you, it wasn’t an act. I do love you, and I am the same man you knew before, the only difference is my name and my power. Do you forgive me?” His voice is quiet, hushed by his fears.

“Is that the truth?” He pulls his head up and looks you right in the eyes, his wonderful blue orbs are bloodshot.

“It is.” You move your tail around his body and embrace him with a tighter hug.

“Then stop the secrets.” He pets your back.

“I will.”

----------------------------

As you break the embrace with Mila, you see Dimitri and your boys giving you big shit-eating grins.

“<What, jealous? Get into formation, we’re heading out.>” The soldiers immediately get renewed by professionalism and pack up their belongings. Mila turns to you and stands, her pose one of fear. “Mila, they won’t dare to hurt you, trust me. We’ll be heading back to the hideout.” She walks over to you and stands by your side, her gaze still falling on your private army.

“Why’s that? How can I trust them?” You chuckle and lean on her.

“Because they know what’ll happen if they do that.” Mila looks at you, her face in pure confusion. “<Hey, let’s get moving! The more time we spend out here, the worse!>” Your soldiers move out, following you, ensuring your safety. There was no equal to them, the cream of the crop. As you walk through the ruined streets, Dimitri runs up to you.

“<Boss, where are we going?>”

“<We’ve got a good hideout set up. It’s a big building, so the men can set up base there.>”

“<Got it, I’ll tell them to fortify it when we get there.>” Nodding, Dimitri moves back with your soldiers, directing their efforts to keep you protected. He soon directs then men to crouch down, and on instinct, do you the same, with Mila copying you. Dimitri signals that there’s a patrol up ahead, likely from The Collective. You mime to Dimitri with you pulling a make-believe trigger.

With Dimitri nodding, several men move into position, readying their weapons. You crawl up to some rubble and look at the patrol. The yellow cloth tied around their arms tells you who they are. Readying your AKM, you take the first shot. A man falls, and the rest scatter. Your soldiers open fire, gunning down a majority of the patrol. You feel confident in your victory, but a brick next to you bursts into pieces, and the shooting starts once more.

Whoever shot at you was a cocky fucker, and that pisses you off. Yelling at your men for covering fire, you vault over the rubble, sprinting at the location of the marksman. Your AKM is left behind, but you still have your 9x39 beauty. With you pulling it out, the enemy makes himself known again, by aiming once more at you. Unluckily for him, you had the same idea.

A flurry of rounds is unleashed from your piece, and the sharpshooter falls back, eviscerated. More movement comes from your right, a ruined house. Aiming in its direction, you wait for a Collective member to walk out, but the only thing you hear is a grenade fall next to you. You run and dive to the ground, and the grenade detonates, covering the vicinity with shrapnel. You make an attempt to get up, but you can’t. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Crawling towards your men, Dimitri rushes towards you.

“<Boss!>” He grabs you by the shoulders and drags you back to the cover while you fire at the ruined house.  “<Shit! This isn’t good!>” Considering that your men had taken no casualties, you would beg to differ. As you are pulled behind a pile of bricks, you notice the state your legs are in. They’re bloodied and torn up to hell. “<We need a medic!>” Mila rushes over, along with a soldier.

The soldier immediately pulls out some medical equipment and gets to work, but Mila falls on her knees, and stares at your legs. “Mikhail…” The pain starts to come, and you are grasping at the ground.

“<Fuck!>” The medic is removing the metal from your legs and patching the wounds up. He hasn’t injected you with any morphine, but he knows what he’s doing. Looking at Mila, she’s horrified by the sight of your impromptu surgery. “Mila, I’ll be fi-argh! I’ll be fine, don’t worry…”

“Mikhail, please, don’t leave me.” She takes up one of your hands with her paws, her tail lying completely flat unmoving. You smile at her and try to resist the pain.

“I won’t, I promise.” You try to reach at the ground under you, as it is stabbing into your back, but Mila moves her tail under you, which is very comforting. “Thank you.” You can feel bandages being wrapped around your legs, and Dimitri once more tries to pick you up but is unable. Mila volunteers, and grabs the other side of you.

“Hey, your name is Mila right, where is this hideout, we need to get the boss somewhere safe, quick.” Mila looks at Dimitri and signals down the street.

“It’s not too far down, and it’s a huge building. Let’s go, now!” Dimitri nods, and everybody sets off. As you are carried down the street, everything starts to feel off. The weight of gravity feels lessened, and the sun glows ever brighter. It feels wonderful, and you close your eyes. A warmth rushes through your body, and you feel at peace. It’s all fine.

------------------

-M-

Mikhail. That was his name. It was who you were carrying. It was who you were sent out to capture or kill, and yet you were trying to save his life. He lied to you about who he was, and you shouldn’t care for him, but you do. He was one of the only humans who cared about you. His eyes are open, and he is staring at the sky. As you and his allies rush forward, Mikhail’s eyes start to close, and a smile forms on his face. Oh god, please no, don’t be dying. You shake him to wake him up, but he stays unmoving.

“<Boss, wake up!>” Dimitri is yelling and even slaps him on the chest. When Mikhail doesn’t respond, Dimitri’s face devolves to pure fear. I feel it too. The fear of losing him. It hurts.

------------------

You’re not in St. Petersburg. This is somewhere else. The fields surrounding you seem to stretch infinitely. Walking around, it seems like this is all too peaceful. It felt fake. As you sat down, you felt a chill run down your spine.

“You know, it’s funny how you got here.” Looking behind, you see an old man walking over. “Responsible for the whole mess, but you don’t clean it up. A shame, really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man simply laughs.

“Your greed is such a terrifying force. What would happen if the men of the west found out what you’ve done?” He knew.

“Then I’d kill them. I won’t stop until my plans are realized.” The man shakes his head.

“Always killing, aren’t you? Tell me, why do you do it?” You stand and stare at the man.

“Because it solves my problems.”  The man frowns.

“It solves your problems? You are your problem. Look at what you have created. Because of your greed, your choices, you are wounded, almost dead, in St. Petersburg. You’ve been responsible for all of it. When the world finds out what you decided to do, you’ll be hung. You have one chance to correct what you have ruined.”

“And leave it all behind? I’ve fought for this, and I will keep fighting! My will is unstoppable, I’ll crush all that stands in my way!”

“So, then you’ll be the end of yourself, a self-solving problem. Like a virus that kills too fast, your work will destroy what you desire.” You walk up to the old man, and swing at his gut. He falls down. “You think this will change anything? You’ve already decided your own fate, you damn fool.”

I stand above the man and stare into his soul. “I’ve made my own fate, one of conquest and victory. When the west learns, I’ll be too powerful to stop. I need no naysayers.” You slam your foot down, crushing the man’s neck. He goes limp. “And I will take what I wish and stand triumphant.” A wind blows through the field, and the man's body turns to dust, flying away.

A feeling of victory flows through you. Everything has been perfectly set up. Once you had wrangled control back, you would be unstoppable. A ruler of it all. Ambition had led you here, and it would only get better. You can see the future, a throne of deceit and strength. It looks so wonderful. Closing your eyes, you notice that the wind has suddenly stopped.

You are standing in what seems to be a museum. The air feels cold, and you can only hear the echo of your footsteps. Everything seems like a bland experience, until you wander upon an odd section. It's titled: ‘The New Era’. How unimaginative. Walking in, you first see something familiar. It’s your 9A-91. Next to it is a plaque.

‘This weapon was the start of The New Era. With the decision of a single trigger pull, the world’s destiny was shaped.’

Alright, this was odd. The fuck was going on? Looking around, something hits you. Every time you look away, something changed. Fuck, this was a bad dream. You try walking away, but something is moving. Something is chasing you, hunting you down. Walking goes to running, and that to a full sprint. Whatever was chasing you was managing to keep up. As you sprint, you hear faint voices that you couldn’t make out. As your unknown pursuer started to catch up, you got desperate. It was almost on top of you, so you needed to act. Turning around, you swing at whatever was following you. All you can see is a bright white.

-------------

-M-

He still wasn’t awake. You’d managed to bring his unmoving body to the hideout, and he was on the bed. Mikhail was breathing, but not conscious. Blood soaked his uniform, and Dimitri was standing next to him. The rest of the soldiers had started to set up camp in the lobby. You stare into Mikhail’s face. It’s blank, stoic as can be. Suddenly, Dimitri puts a hand on your back.

“The medic will watch over him. You need to relax, Mikhail would never want anybody worrying over him like us.” Dimitri’s voice is trembling.

“Are you scared too?” He nods.

“He has survived so much, but the fact that he hasn’t woken up terrifies me. Mikhail was always one to shrug off blows.” Dimitri kneels down beside Mikhail. “We can only wait. Time will tell.” You want to stay with Mikhail, to comfort his hurting body, but You know it would do nothing. The medic from before walks into the room.

“I need to monitor him. You two should get some rest, we’ve been through a lot.” Dimitri stands up and walks out of the room. You take one last look at Mikhail before you leave. His chest is stained crimson red, and he’s covered with bandages.

Leaving the room, you move over to some cushions and sit. Despite how bad things were looking, you had to contact headquarters. Pulling out your PDA, you begin to compose a message. ‘Sergei is Mikhail. Contact established with a group of his soldiers. Name of the second in command is Dimitri. Mikhail is wounded, possibly fatal. Will update when conditions change.’

Dimitri walks over to you and takes a seat. “You know, I still don’t understand the connection.” Huh?

“What’re you talking about?” Dimitri chuckles.

“Mikhail isn’t exactly a man you’d want to be with. He’s a killer, and a huge criminal.”

“But he cared about me. Most people in my life don’t. Even with those who do, he saw something more than friendship.” Dimitri nods. “And that is what I want, someone who likes me for who I am.” Suddenly, Dimitri stands up.

“I understand. I hope that he’ll make a quick recovery, for both of us.” Wait, this wasn’t going to end just yet.

“Dimitri, please. Sit.” He looks at you with a questioning glare, but then complies. “Tell me something, why are you friends with him, what’s your reasons?” He looks at the ceiling and smiles.

“It’s an odd story. I met Mikhail when I was at the bottom of my life. I had nothing but anger, and my clothes. He took me in and gave me a purpose. Mikhail let me know that I had the chance to set things right. He trained me, and I did.” You can only guess as to what he was talking about.

“What… What happened that led you to that?” Dimitri looks down, at the floor.

“Biyaman. He was the reason for all of it.” Dimitri is clenching his hands, hard. It’s so much so that they’re shaking. “The bastard killed people close to both me, and Mikhail. He’ll pay.” You reach a paw out to Dimitri and place it on his right shoulder.

“Hey, we need to stay calm, especially right now. Chill out.” He sighs, and falls further into the cushion.

“Right. I’ll be resting here. If anybody bothers you, just get me, I’ll set them straight.” Nodding, you lay back. You were getting involved with the Vetrov Syndicate. This was not what you expected to happen. Closing your eyes, you start to rest, exhausted by today.

----------------

Your body aches. Pain flows through your legs, and you cannot move. Great, this nightmare was getting worse and worse. Reaching an arm to your head, you feel cold airflow through your surroundings. You feel the bandages that coat your body, and looking down, you are coated in what is presumably your own blood. What you remember is a bit foggy. A blast from the last fight, and you being unable to walk. The room you are in is familiar. You are in the hideout, but you can see nobody in the room. Movement from the doorway gets your attention, and you look over.

“<He’s going to make it; I know he will.>” With the voice, comes in the medic. He stops in the doorway and stares at you.

“<And you’re goddamn right. Get me some painkillers, the wounds hurt like a bitch.>” The medic rushes over to your side and fumbles around with some pill bottles. He hands you some, and you take them. “<Now, let the boys know that I’m alive. We’ve got work to do.>” He calls out for Dimitri, who runs in.

“<What is it? Is… Boss, we were fucking worried about you.>” You can only smirk.

“<I’ve suffered worse, plus, we both have more important issues to talk about.>” Dimitri stands still.

“<Is it the… Turnabout?>” Your smile grows.

“<Dimitri, you are learning well. Once we rid ourselves of Biyaman, it will be a race to get all the support the west can provide. Then, you know as well as me what will happen.>” His jaw drops.

“<The revival of the…>” You laugh.

“<We will be unstoppable. The world will be at our fingertips. All we need is the project. Once it is recovered, our path is set towards conquest.>” Dimitri smiles and grabs your hand.

“<Then we shall fight for our glorious future.>” Dimitri walks out of the room with pure excitement. Mila soon runs in after he yells for some time.

“Mila. I’ve missed you.” She jumps onto your bed, laying next to you.

“I thought that you might have never woken up.” Mila is certainly happy, but still scared. You can tell both from the fact that her tail is swinging side to side, but the fur coating her is standing up. “Don’t get hurt like that again, alright? I’m scared for you.” You smile and reach a hand to her head.

“I’ll be fine, I’m recovering well enough, but the pain is absolutely exhausting.” Mila moves closer and flops her tail onto you.

“Then get some rest. I’ll keep you warm.” You can’t say no to the red panda, so you thank her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll nod off then.” With Mila’s fur insulating you against the cold, you fall asleep. The feeling of pain is slowly taken away by the pills that you have previously taken, which leaves you with only the sensation of the bed, and her warm fur up against your body.

Waking up, you are back in the outskirts of Kiev, laying on a recliner on your house’s porch. Standing up, you look around. The moonlight shines wonderfully upon the countryside, and a glass of whiskey sits upon the railing, half-empty from your efforts. As you look upon the beautiful green that shines from the fields, you hear a door open from behind you.

“<So, you really are going through with it?>” Turning around, Viktor is walking to you.

“<It’s been planned for a while. When it succeeds, we’ll be the kings of the world.>” Viktor looks at the moon.

“<You know, I never have been one to worry, but this just seems… So out there.>” Out there? Was Viktor seriously having seconds doubts?

“<Viktor, we have the chance to do something that so many people can only dream of. We have the power to take the opportunity, and a plan that will see us win. The west has hounded us for so long. We’ll take back what is ours.>” Viktor drinks some of the whiskey.

“<It’ll be glorious. The revival of such a great power. It seems almost maddening that we’ll bring it back, but we’ll be the victors.>” You smile. The air blows with a chill that makes the leaves flutter around, and everything seems at peace.

“<We’ll have to get them to trust us. Once we do, it’s only a matter of time before they find out the truth. Once they do, it’ll be too late for them. We’ll be ready, and the world will know our wrath.>” Viktor chuckles. You turn your head over to him, wondering what he finds so funny.

“<I’m sorry, it’s just amazing how we went from just another crime group to this. Even now, we have even greater ambitions. I never thought I’d be involved with something like this.>” You felt proud. You started off as a just another kid on the streets, fueled only by pride and anger. Now, you were an unstoppable force, who’d only get stronger.

“<Well then, we know what to do. We’ll get our rest, and in a few days, we’ll head out to St. Petersburg. We have a contract there, but that’s just the cover reason. When we reach there, we’ll get the project. Then, we’ll make our power play.>” Viktor nods, and pats you on the back.

“<Then let’s do what needs to be done.>” He turns around and heads inside. You stay on the porch. The night was beautiful, and you wanted to enjoy it. What was coming next would be hectic and fast-paced, so you needed to savor what you had for now. You would rise, and the west would fall. You’d have to stab them in the back, but that was what they deserved.

-
A good night of rest. It was so nice to have it. You don’t realize how wonderful it is until you need it. You awake to Mila resting right next to you, with the medic asleep on a chair next to the doorway. You slide out of the bed and walk out of the room. There’s a horrible pain in your legs, the feeling of shredded flesh and burns, but that could wait for now, you had to properly wake up. The lobby is filled with sleeping bags, empty bottles of alcohol, and sleeping soldiers. You walk to the stairs and start to ascend. The roof is clear of anybody else. It was a calm morning. The sunlight was blocked out by a cloudy sky, leaving the whole area with a grey feeling.

A cold wind blows through the ruined city, leaving ashes and garbage to flutter through the air. The sight of concrete debris and destroyed buildings seems to expand on infinitely and leaves you with a feeling of sadness. This war was hell, but you’d give it a reason. You refused to allow all the deaths and destruction be in vain. Walking over to the edge, you stare out into the distance. The bleak scene is crushing, but it’d take more than that to break you. Grabbing a bottle of vodka that was lying out, you begin to drink. Hopefully, it’d stop the pain. Despite everything that was happening, you needed something. One thing, just to take off the edge of all this shit unfolding around you. Morphine. Christ, you don’t know how your legs are still intact, one would expect them to be torn to Hell, but you got off lucky. Hearing footsteps behind you, you hear Dimitri.

“<Ah, gone to see the wonderful sights of St. Petersburg?>” Cheeky fuck.

“<Dimitri, tell me this. Do you know what must be done?>” He walks to your side, standing beside you at the edge. His face is wearing a giant grin.

“<Of course, but are you sure about this? You aren’t in the best condition?>” You reach a hand out to his back.

“<Dimitri, you’ll lead it. I’ll stay back, at least for this. Remember, this will be what guarantees victory. I have my complete faith in you. Don’t let me down.>” Dimitri nods and walks away, heading to meet up with the rest of your soldiers. You stay on the roof, enjoying the fresh air. It was the breeze of a dead city, but it felt good. Despite the inferno this situation was, you were making progress.

After some time out on the roof, you decide to head back inside. You needed the pain to stop. As you descend the stairs, you wave your medic over. “<Morphine.>” He nods and pulls out a small syringe, jabbing you in the leg. The pain quickly subsides, but not as good as you expected. “<Another.>” The medic is confused, but you give him a glare to set the point across. He gives you another dose, and you finally feel good. “<Good. Meet up with Dimitri, he’s going to need your help today.>” The medic runs off and you walk back into your room.

Mila is still asleep. Damn lazy, but she looked cute as hell lying down on the bed. She’s holding some of the cushions tight, wrapping her arms around them. She probably thought that it was you, which was adorable. You move over to the table in the room and kick back. You hear Dimitri and the boys head out, and you can’t help but let a smile break onto your face.

The plan was going into effect. Despite the initial setbacks, you were able to get everything running again. With Dimitri sent to secure the project, you had time to kill. Eventually, Mila wakes, sitting up. In her semi-awake state, she is confused when she realizes the cushion that she was holding wasn’t you. You can see the panic on her face, and it is hilarious.
“Ay Mila, I’m over here. Stop panicking, will ya?” Mila looks over at you, and sighs in relief. She falls back into the bed, rolling over on the blankets.

“I don’t wanna get up…” Oh, this lazy shit. You stand up and walk over to the bed, standing over Mila.

“Hey, <dickhead>, wake up.” Mila only looks at you with annoyance. “Come on, you gonna lie there all day?”

“Yes, I am. Now lemme sleep.” You decide that actions speak louder than words, and you sit down next to her. “Oh, you gonna join me?” Nope.

You pick up Mila, and walk to the table, setting her down in a chair. Once she is set down, you toss some food onto the table. Bread and sausage, couldn’t go wrong with that. “Bon appetite.” Mila in her half-awake state manages to give you the finger, which you chuckle at. “What, don’t enjoy the local food?” Mila yawns and stares at the food, not even moving to eat it. Fine, you didn’t have to deal with this crap.

Walking over to your belongings, you find some new gear that Dimitri left for you. A slim body armor vest, and a nice black suit, along with something you wanted. A pair of aviator glasses, and a fancy grey beret with the symbol for your syndicate on the front of it. You’d be in proper clothing, like the boss should be. You change into it, unconcerned if Mila was looking.

“Goddamn, aren’t you the Mafioso in the room.” You smirk and take a seat. Mila has finally started to eat, and you kick back. “So, where the hell is everybody else?”

You smile and pull out a package from under the table. “They’ve gone on a mission; they’ll be back eventually. In the meantime, we can chill.” Ripping into the package, you attempt to stop yourself from achieving an erection when you pull out the colossal handcannon from the box. A .460 Rowland. You put it and the rest of the box’s contents away, so you’ll be ready if you have to use them. “In the meantime, I plan on finally relaxing. If you need me, I’ll be on the roof.” You walk out of the room, leaving Mila by herself.

Once more you climb the stairs, and when you make it to the roof, it’s good, damn good. The clouds have parted, allowing the sun to shine brightly upon the city. The cold wind still blows, but it complements the sunlight quite well. You go back to the bottle of vodka that you left here, and you enjoy its contents. You feel calm, at peace. Everything was going well, and you could just relax. The plan was so far a success, and that felt really good, a relief like no other.

You had the plan set up well, and even in the west, your agents were busy at work. After this, you knew that everything would go crazy, but you thrived in the insanity of it all. It came naturally, the ability to just throw a wrench in the cogs, and work with it. Eventually, you hear walking behind yourself. “Hey, Mikhail, thanks for the food, it was nice of you. So, if everybody else is on a mission, does this mean we are on house duty?” You chuckle.

“Pretty much. It isn’t much, but we gotta do it. Plus, I’m not in much of a state to be fighting.” Mila walks up behind you and gives a big hug.

“Well then, let’s relax.” Mila gives you a kiss on the cheek and pulls you towards the stairs that lead inside. Fine, you’ll go along with it. You and Mila walk inside, with Mila to your side. “I gotta make sure that you’re alright, you know?”

“Mila, I’m fine. Don’t go worrying about me, alright?” You and Mila walk down the stairs, both in silence, until you break it. “I'll be safe, trust me. I’m not gonna leave you anytime soon.” She hugs you unexpectedly. She must have forgotten that you were weak and on stairs because you both fall down them. You land on the bottom, beat up badly, while Mila was fine with her fluff protecting her. Lucky fucker.

“Oh shit! Mikhail, are you alright?” Not really. Your body was aching, and you were laying down crumpled at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

“Things could be better.” Damn, that sounded passive-aggressive as fuck. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a dick about it. I’m fine, d-“  Mila jumps onto you, she’s in a panic.

“Let me help!” She pulls you up and wraps an arm around your waist. “Take it slow.” She helps you limp back to the room and the bed. When you reach it, she gently let’s go of you. Falling onto the bed, you gasp in pain. It shouldn’t hurt like that. “Mikhail, what’s wrong?”

“My fucking body feels like it’s been punched a thousand times all over…” Mila grabs some bottles and hands them to you. “Mila? The fuck are you doing?” She stops and stares at you.

“Well, you’re in pain, right? One of these has to be something like Tylenol.” Wow. That was fucking stupid. Guess you’ll do it anyway. What’s the worst that could happen, you’ve already been on so many different drugs before that you must have some superhuman tolerance bullshit to this stuff. One bottle says ibuprofen. No clue what that means, but it looks like a painkiller, so you take two and toss the bottle behind yourself.

“I still feel like shit.” Mila slides over beside you and rests her head on your shoulder. “I’m not sure that having you put weight on me is a smart idea.” Mila looks at you and smiles. You feel confused. “Uh, Mila, you still sane?”

Mila gives you a look that said: ‘Dude, seriously?’ “Mikhail. I want you to relax.” Uh, you were trying. Mila moves in and nuzzles into your neck. “And I’ve got an idea on how to do that.” Damn, her voice sounded silky smooth.

“And what’s that, morphine?” Mila looks at you with pure disappointment.

“Mikhail. Don’t tell me you don’t understand what I’m getting at.” You shake your head. No clue. “Christ, are you fucking serious? You are a leader of the world’s largest criminal syndicate, don’t tell me that you don’t understand.” Mila is unconvinced by you attitude and continues her assault on your neck, nibbling on it. Lady, I have no fucking idea… Oh. Nevermind.

“I get it now. Just, fucking relax, will you? I’m a religious guy, don’t blame me.” Mila looks at you in pure disbelief.

“Really? You are a fucking Bratva leader, and you are too religious to get frisky with people? You’ve killed people.” You smirk.

“And? You might not like it, but I have my own moral code.” Mila is completely in shock. “Sorry, but I’m not like that.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You laugh. Jesus Christ, she was in complete disbelief. “No way. Not possible. You’re lying to me. Tell me, is it bec-“

“Mila. Relax.” She is staring at you intensely. “I’m sorry, but I wait until we are bound by matrimony.” Mila’s jaw drops.

“No fucking way. How in the name of God do you believe that?” Christ, Mila is killing you.

“I know that my morals and methods seem erratic, crazy even. Still, I have my own rules that I follow, and you have to accept them if you want to be with me.” It was the truth, and Mila looks towards you, breathing slowly. Her gaze seems uncertain.

“Then I’ll just have to accept.” You and Mila remain lying down together. You sneak a kiss on her muzzle, and her ears fold back. “Sneaky.” You chuckle and pat her head. She always seemed to like it. Was it wrong to think that was the animal part of her? Nonetheless, you pull her close.

“I’m sorry that you’ve been caught up in all of this. You deserve better.” Mila smiles and rests her head on your chest.

“Don’t be. This allowed me to meet someone who cared about me. I’m just glad to be with you.” You smile. Mila and you both. You two lay on the bed together, content with snuggling. “I just want to say thank you. I know our situation isn’t the best, and we’ve had some moments where shit was fucked, but I’m happy that I’m next to you.” You felt the same. Maybe it was the insanity of the situation that forced you two together, but you felt bonded with her, that you could trust her.

“I have that same feeling.” You pull Mila close and put your head on her shoulders. Her tail lays across your legs, and her fur keeps you warm in the chilly room. Mila was fucking beautiful, kind, and you helped bring her joy. You couldn’t say no to her, you’d never. “I just want to have you with me.” Mila smiles and closes her eyes.

“Then get some sleep. I’ll be with you.” You follow her advice and close your eyes. You needed sleep. Her warm fur was perfect insulation against the cold air of St. Petersburg and also served better than any blanket could. With the comfort of Mila, you fall asleep.

-

It’s dark. You can barely see two feet in front of yourself. A loud bang rings throughout the room. Walking forward, you don’t find much of interest until you almost walk into a wall. Moving your hands over the wall, you accidentally flip a switch. The room is suddenly illuminated with light, and goddamnit, it hurt your eyes. Fuck. As your eyes adjust to the light, you look around the room. It’s huge and has concrete walls with large metal doors. The lights are intensely bright, almost industrial.

Walking around, you see no way out. The doors are too heavy to be opened, and they are the only way out. A feeling of desperation creeps up on you, but it is crushed when one door suddenly opens. Behind it is an empty hallway. It’s the only way out, so you have to take it. Walking down, you feel alone. Nobody else is with you. It’s eerie. As you continue to walk down, you can make out voices that you don’t know.

“<He’s dangerous. A threat to our Security.>” “<We know what he can do. Right now, he could strike. We must take preemptive action.>” “<I agree.>” The voices felt cold, coarse, and calculating. If they were talking about you, however, they would be too late. You wouldn’t be stopped. Walking further, the voices slowly get more distressed.

“<He’s becoming stronger and stronger. We MUST act.>” “<If he gets what he wants, he’ll be unstoppable.>” “<Damnit! We have to stop him!>” As you near the end of the hallway, it gets frantic.

“<Dear God, what the fuck are we going to do?>” “<Get Biyaman to St. Petersburg, now!>” “<Fuck! He’s getting way too close!>” The voices are horrified. You open the door in front of you and walk through. Odd, it’s some type of lab. Walking around, you don’t see much of interest except for a pile of papers on a desk. Picking it up, you read it.

‘<Project Deliverance>’ ‘<The development of new types of weaponry and warfare is vital for getting an edge on the battlefield. Project Deliverance remedies this problem, through two means, psychological, and chemical.>’ A smile breaks onto your face. The Project was the key to your next steps. Russia was fragmented, a broken star. You would reshape it, make something that never existed before. It would be a haven for those who needed to hide across the world, while also helping your organization.

America used to be the land of opportunity. You’d turn Russia into the land of second chances. Somewhere where everybody could start over again. The West cared only for itself. Everything opposed to it was ‘evil’ and ‘abhorrent’. They were hypocrites. With you in control of Russia, a new society could emerge. One with peace, and strength.

The West put not only your way of life in danger, but it stood in your plans. Right now, morals didn’t matter. Right or wrong, you had a path planned, and you’d see it through. With your victory, you could bring about a new time, one where organizations such as your own had a safe haven to call home.

You had already pulled the rug from under Mila before, and you’d have to do it again. God, it was fucked. It was bad enough before, but letting her know that you were never on her side, just using her? The idea of it hurt. Hopefully, it’d hurt you worse. Seeing Mila like that would be unbearable. Still, just why was Mila with me? She says I’m the only one who likes her, but that seems far-fetched. How could she? It had to be some sort of excuse. Nonetheless, you ponder more and more. This dream is a wonderful time to plan some more.

-

When you awake, the pain is still there. It’s mostly faded, but not gone. An oddly familiar feeling of aching bones is making itself known throughout your body. Fucking hell, this was a pain in the ass. You roll over on the bed and push yourself up. Mila isn’t in the room. Odd. Nonetheless, you walk out into the lobby. Mila isn’t here, but she left a note. ‘Mikhail, I’m on the roof, yell if you need me.’ You look around and stretch.

The lobby is filled with sleeping bags, boxes, tents, and many other various camping items. It looks odd seeing this stuff inside, but it worked well, so best not to question it. You around, but the sound of footsteps makes your turn. It was Dimitri and the men. “<Boys! I’m glad you’re back! How’d it go!>” Dimitri holds a briefcase, while several other men set down various metal containers.

“<Boss, you’ll need to read this.>” A pile of papers. Fuck, this was going to be boring. Taking them, you walk into the bedroom. Christ, this shit was weird. I’m not in too much pain, the various drugs I’m on pretty much nullify any effects my wounds would give me, thank God. Looking at the papers, they divide into three separate sets. The first one is Project Deliverance. Awesome. The second is some shit about weapon caches hidden across the country, which is also helpful. The third one is odd. Apparently, this was stolen from the west. ‘Project Janissary.’ Odd. Nonetheless, you start to read the first stack of papers.

Boring bureaucratic bullshit at the beginning, but it soon becomes interesting. Various plans and formulas for chemical weapons, some that the west doesn’t even know of. This was good, very fucking good. Just the edge you needed. The other psychological and weaponry based stuff was nice, but you needed to move on.

The second stack was small. It had a list of locations, passwords, and the contents of each stash. Shit like T-90s, MiGs, and MI-8’s. Damn, today was looking good. Nonetheless, you move onto the final stack of papers. ‘Project Janissary’, whatever that was. Huh, western stuff. As you read through the beginning, it easily catches your interest. ‘Genetic Warfare Program.’ Christ, this was some Sci-Fi shit. So, the west had scientists fucking around with genes. Pretty sure that was a People’s Rights Violation. As you continued to read, it got worse. Stuff went from finding ways to fix permanent disabilities, to genetically altered soldiers. Christ in Heaven.
The papers say that not many soldiers were made, as it was not cost-efficient, but it still worries you. These were killing machines, designed to be ruthless. Some apparently had not entirely fallen to their programming, and had kept their sense of empathy, but were still deemed failures, fated to be alone, unallowed to be treated with compassion. Hopefully, the west would keep those fucks away from you, you didn’t need organic killing machines to keep you on the run.

You didn’t need to worry right now, you’ve achieved your main goal in St. Petersburg. Dimitri walks into the room and you wave him over. “<Dimitri. Read this shit, but after we talk about business.>” Dimitri smirks.

“<Is this the chance?>” He already knew.

“<Yes. We’re finally going to plan a strike on Biyaman himself. No more playing around, we’ll have his head on a plate.>” It was time to plan. Handing the papers to Dimitri, you walk out into the lobby to see the crates being inspected and unloaded. Bah, you didn’t have time for basic labor. Walking towards the stairs, you climb up. Those painkillers must be working well because you aren’t feeling any pain. As you step out onto the roof, you see Mila sitting down, staring off into the distance. Walking over to her, she jumps up as you take a seat next to her. “What’s up?”

Mila sighs. “Not too much, just thinking about my past.” Huh. What was her past like, anyways? “It’s odd. I remember something so vividly, but other times seem so have gaps.”

“Really? Do you want to talk more about it?” Mila looks at you with a frown.

“I guess I should. I never had parents, so I guess I’m an orphan…” Damn. “I lived life on the streets until I turned eighteen. I signed up for some military stuff, but I don’t really remember a thing about it. It was odd. After I signed up, everyone ignored me, treated me like I was something to avoid. I don’t get it.” Shit.

“Christ, that’s fucked. Hey, Mila. Smile. It isn’t like that anymore. I’ve got you, and you got me.” Mila does smirk, and you hug. Some time passes, and you both remain on the roof. It’s calm. You wish it’d stay like this forever.

“Thanks. I never understood why, and I still don’t but I’m with someone who does care about me now, so it’s okay.” Sitting with Mila, you think. This conversation felt all too familiar. Western military, a skilled soldier, no friends, or relationships. Shit, she couldn’t be one of them, right? Shit. You grab Mila’s hands and pull her up.

“Mila, come with me. I think you should know something.” She follows you with a look of concern on her face. Each footstep feels tenser than the last, leading up to a shivering feeling running through my back. Shit. You hope to God that this doesn’t fuck her up. Walking to the stairway you shoot a glance at Mila. “Don’t fuck up my bones this time, alright?” Mila chuckles a little.

“I’ll try.” You both walk down the stairs, this time without falling. When you reach the bottom, you wave over Dimitri who is looking at Mila with a questionable glare. You nod to him. “Mila, Dimitri, with me.” You walk into the room and take a seat, with both Mila and Dimitri sitting down. “Mila. I believe that I know something that might be of great importance to you.” You slide the document over to her. “Project Janissary. It was made to create supersoldiers. Give it a read.” Mila rolls her eyes and starts to read, while you and Dimitri whisper to each other.

“<Mikhail, are you sure about this?>”


“<If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be doing it. She has to know, I’d be fucked up not to.>”

“<Well, glad to know you’re still sticking to your weird morals.>”

“<Dimitri, back on task.>” Turning to look at Mila, you can see a sense of confusion on her face. “Mila. I hope that this isn’t too much for you.” She looks at you with a sense of wonder.

“So, why’d you make me read this?” You sigh.

“Mila. You are probably one of them.” Mila’s jaw drops.

“Nope, not true.” You interrupt her.

“Mila, you have excellent combat skills, you don’t have the memory of when you first joined the Military, and everybody steered clear of you, and you are special forces. It’s the truth.” Mila drops her head down and puts her paws on her neck.

“No, this isn’t possible. They wouldn’t do that. It’s wrong!” You sigh.

“Mila, despite how much your countries claim to be morally superior, they aren’t. They used you.” Mila picks her head up and tosses the papers across the room.

“Bullshit! Do you think that I’m some killer machine? A living terminator?” You fall back more into your chair as Mila walks over to you. “I trusted you, and you’re gonna call me some psycho? You bastard!” Mila suddenly runs out of the room, sprinting out of the building. Fuck! You chase after Mila, trying not to lose her.

“Mila, wait, please!” Mila takes a turn into an alleyway and you follow. As you are both running, Mila trips on some rubble and falls down. You run over to her and grab her. “Goddamnit Mila, just calm down!” Mila is starting to tear up.

“Well, what’re you gonna do? Sell the supersoldier? I just wanted a life with you, that’s it.” Christ, she must be messed up by the revelation. “Well then tell me, why even talk with the girl who can’t feel empa-“

You had interrupted her with a kiss, as cliché as it was. “Wrong. You have empathy. You are not some freak. If you were, we wouldn’t be having those feelings together.” Mila is in shock.

“But the documents said…”

“Some were considered ‘failures’, just because they kept their empathy. You were one of them, that’s why people stayed away from you, they were ordered to.” Mila looks you in the eyes, her face is one of horror.

“Then why? Why torture me like that, why do you want to be with the genetic freak?” You rub a hand across Mila’s face.

“I don’t know why they did that to you, but I want to say something. You are no freak, and your torture is over. You can finally have a normal relationship, talk with people, have friends, and be in love. Mila, please, just stay with me. The pain is over.” A tear runs down Mila’s face, soaking into her fur. She grabs you in a hug.

“Mikhail, I’m sorry. I love you. Please, don’t leave me, I’ll never leave you.” By God, she was really scared. “I need you.” It finally clicked. After the Military, you were the first one to show her real compassion, and from that, she fell in love. It seemed wrong, as if you were taking advantage of her from her state of mind. She had fallen for you, bonded heavily. Even so, if it was wrong, you couldn’t leave her. She was a wonderful, beautiful woman, and you wouldn’t let her get hurt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for you. Let’s head back, we should both get some rest.” Picking up Mila, she wraps her tail around you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. What happened in the past was bad for both of you, but it was finally time for the good in her life to happen. Your work in St. Petersburg wasn't finished, but you could take a short break.


It was only a short walk back. You had just gotten yourself into a relationship with a killing machine who was horrifically attached to you. Wonderful. At least she was cute, that sweetened the deal quite a bit. No matter. You had promised her you’d stay by her side, so that would be written in stone. Planning into the future, you are somewhat more optimistic about what lies ahead. If Mila has fallen for you so hard, it should be easier to sway her over to your side when the backstabbing happens right?


Deciding to focus on the walk, you carry the red panda back to the hideout as she cuddles against you. You felt good, damn good. A girl you liked, a plan that’ll work, and power to push through the odds. All you needed now was a drink, and you’d be set. Dimitri is walking outside, searching for you. “<Shit, I thought we lost her.>” You shake your head, confident in your ability to keep Mila close. “<Well, what now?>” What now? There was one man who needed to fall.

“<An old enemy has to go.>” Dimitri smiles as he follows you.

“<Good.>” Biyaman. The Tuvan prick has to die. He was a thorn in your side for too long. If you took him out, the plan to unite the fallen federation could realistically come to fruition. “<How are we going to take him out? He’s got the entire collective set up here.>” You exhale, the heat from it warming the air around you slightly. This plan would have to be good for it to succeed.

“<A coordinated strike. I’ll infiltrate beforehand, you get the boys and move in when everything is ready. I want this to go right, I’m taking no chances.>” Biyaman would be set up well, a head-on attack would be suicide without something to even the odds. Striking from the inside would definitely help. “<Now, we need to ready for it. Get some men to recon the place, and brief everybody. We’ll work out the finer details later.>” You head inside the hideout and make a swift pace to your room. Laying Mila on the bed, you head over to the table. Dimitri is standing by the doorway. “<Let’s plan.>”

-

The idea was simple. Get inside, cause chaos, and then let your men in. It should theoretically be a cakewalk but shit always changed. Hell, you’ve always been flirtin’ with disaster. It was set up well, all you had to do was get the gear and head out. Some tactical gear, a silenced handgun, and you’d be on your way. Still, you had to wait for everybody else, going too early would be a waste. You take a seat next to Mila and smile. “Glad that you’re taking everything well.” Mila smirks.

“It’s bad knowing what they’ve done to me, but I know that I’m still me. They couldn’t break me, they couldn’t turn me heartless, so I’ve come out on top. I’m just glad that despite all of this, you’re still willing to be with me.” You reach an arm out and pull Mila close.

“I wouldn’t leave you, so don’t worry about that. I’ve got to go, I’ll see you in the fight.” Getting up, you start to walk out, but Mila grabs you.

“Mikhail, please, stay safe.” A hug leaves you with her tail wrapped around your back, the fur of it brushing against your fatigues.

“I will be. Don’t worry.” You leave Mila with a kiss on the cheek. Walking out into the lobby, you see Dimitri talking to the soldiers. The attack was complex. Infiltration, sabotage, and then signaling for the attack to start. It should hopefully go well. Heading outside, you breathe in the cold air. A cloud of dust flies past you, leaving a feeling of a time long gone. Turning to the right, you begin to walk. It’ll be a long trip.

It’s the same sight every time. Ruins of once busy buildings, a crumbling concrete jungle, rubble, and ash covers the ground. Bullet holes, barbed wiring, and bodies are not that uncommon. The moonlight is bright, illuminating the streets with a wonderful white glow. You have to stick to the shadows, avoiding any possible prying eyes. The silence is howling. Nothing besides the sound of wind and your footsteps comes to attention. It feels wrong. Despite how dead everything seemed, something had to be out there.

That idea gets brought to reality when you hear movement. You aren’t alone anymore. You crawl to the side of a wall and look around. Nothing moves. Pulling out the silenced handgun, you wait. A man walks by, he’s no bandit, nor a collective member. As he is walking, he falls down. He isn’t moving. Poor bastard. He was just another victim of this war. It sickened you.

 ‘White doves in flight, peace to all, but tell me why the peacemakers fall. Must we bury anymore?’

It was disgusting what this conflict has done. This man's death and many more would discourage and frighten many people, but for you, it hardened your resolve. He wasn’t going to die in vain, you’d make damn sure of that. Returning to your path, you make way towards the target. It was an old hospital that was surprisingly intact. Biyaman had it fortified to hell, and the Collective was based out of there. You can see it in the distance. As you make it closer and closer, you can notice the signs of the Collective.

Bodies, bullet casings, markings on the walls, and a patrol or two. Nothing too problematic, you make it through with ease. Hopefully, you wouldn’t come across the sharpshooter who fucked this all up. He was a problem. Crawling through a burnt-out shop, you can feel the cold air washing over yourself. Damn, if only Mila was here. Her fur was like paradise brought to earth. For you, it was the protection from the cold. You’d better make this quick if you want to be with her again soon. That idea kickstarts your movement.

The crawl turns into a jungle run, and you make a good pace to the hospital. One side of it is unguarded, due to the fact that there are no entrances there. A tactically shit choice to make, but never correct your enemies. A hook and a rope allow you to crawl up the side. If you were lucky, no one would spot you on the way up. Grabbing on, you combine pulling yourself up with putting your feet on the wall. Fuck, this is weird as shit. You make fuck all progress at first, but eventually, you’re going up at a decent pace. Looking down, you are reminded by why you wanted to go in guns blazing. You had a fear of heights.

Moving up, you grasp onto the ledge and pull yourself over. One man is on the roof, and he turns to you, but you’ve already made a dash towards him. Diving, you slam the man onto the ground, his head impacts the floor, and he’s out cold. Unholstering the silenced PMM, you move to a stairway. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and step inside. Thinking of Mila, you are ready. This was the only chance. There would be no redoes. You were in the inmost dens of the Collective. May God be on your side.

-

It's oddly silent. Walking down the stairs, you make sure to keep yourself as quiet as possible. This is wrong. There should be many more people here. It soon makes sense. Hiding behind a crate you listen. The sound of a lighter breaks the silence. Slowly moving, you inch towards a doorway. The lack of light is the greatest help you have right now. Looking in, you see a man with a rifle looking out a window. A lit cigarette is in his mouth, the ash falling onto his boots. This motherfucker. He was the sharpshooter who gave you your first wound.

Laying down, you crawl ever closer to him. This was personal, the pistol wouldn’t give a satisfactory ending to his life. Thus, you drew a blade. He is too busy looking outside to notice you. Millimeter by millimeter, you slowly rise, readying your attack. Suddenly, he turns his head towards your direction. Fuck, time to improvise. You lunge forward, swinging at his neck. He falls back and avoids your swipe, crawling backward, he pushes himself up and draws his own blade. “<Huh, so I didn’t kill you…>” Damn right he didn’t. “<Tell me, why not shoot me instead?>” Now was not the time for talk. You run forward and thrust the knife at his chest. He moves his knife to block yours, and you both are locked in a struggle of strength.  You shift more weight forward, and he steps back, allowing you to make a slash at his arm. It connects, but it isn’t deep.

“<Come on, fight, don’t hide!>” The man inches forwards. Guess the sniper wasn’t confident with fighting up close. Coward. He seems to be reinvigorated by your insult, as he dashes toward you. Suddenly, the knife moves towards you at a breakneck pace. It misses you, but the fist the sharpshooter threw didn’t. You fall to the ground, and he grabs you, swinging you at a wall. You slump against it, the air beat out of you. He walks over and stands.

“<And to think you were a fighter.>” He goes to kick you, but you aren’t going to let him win. Grabbing his leg, you force him to the ground. A stomp to his knee, and he is out of the fight. Fuck stabbing him, this was personal. Picking him up, you walk to where he was sitting. “<You fucker… what are you doing?>”

“<Winning.>” You step forward and a grin grows on your face. With a smile, you throw him forward. With a scream, the sharpshooter breaks through a pane of glass. His yell fades as he falls to his doom. Turning around, you pick up your knife and put in back in its place. Unholstering your handgun, you move through the halls. They’d be searching this area, and you had to hide. There was no cardboard boxes or dressers to sneak into, so putting 9x18 into them would have to suffice.

Making a good pace, you sneak into a maintenance room. It had an entrance to an elevator shaft, just the thing you needed. Jumping in, you grab onto a cable. Thank god for the gloves that Oleg ‘lent’ you. Sliding down, the sound of an elevator riding up makes you stop. You can see it going up to your right. Fuck it. Readying the pistol, you hop over. Crashing through a hatch, two men are in shock. In rapid succession, you drill a hole into each man’s head.

Fuck, that was some action movie shit. Goddamn kickass that was. Standing in the elevator, you decide to make the movie type events even better. Raising the gun at the door, you wait for it to reach whatever floor it’s being sent to. After some time, the elevator stops. The door opens to one man standing in shock. With a pull of the trigger, he falls down. Stepping out of the little box of death, you look around. Boxes full of supplies are laying everywhere. Searching through, you find ammunition and alcohol. Huh, guess sorting things out wasn’t something that these guys did. A brick of c4 with a timer, and you leave on your merry way. Just before you get into the elevator, the door closes, and it goes up. Fuck. Guess you’d have to take another way out. A hallway to the left seems like the only choice.

Making a run over to it, you kick the doors in front of you open. Nobody is in the area. Good. Walking through, nothing much seems to be of interest. Just an empty hallway. Walking through, the walls seem to be in disrepair. One has two large straight cracks in it. Wait, those aren’t cracks. Putting a hand on the wall, you push. The section swings open. A fake wall. Odd. It’s a small room with a computer and some files. Walking over, you move to pick up a file, but it falls. When it hits the ground, a collection of pictures is spread out upon the floor. You see your face all over them. So Biyaman must have an entire collection of info on you.

With a match tossed to the ground, the files ignite. Your handgun is aimed at the PC, and several rounds make its purpose invalidated. Walking back out into the hallway, you look back at the room where the elevator shafts were. There were a bunch of Collective soldiers looking around. Fuck, the odds were stacked against you. Perhaps you should’ve brought Mila along. Stepping backward, you try to stay quiet. Suddenly one of the soldiers looks in your direction. Shit. Turning around, you dash down the hallway. Bullets start to whiz past you as the men open fire. Crashing through the doors, you jump down a stairway.

The landing was rough, but it spared you from catching any lead. Rolling over, you push yourself up. You can hear the men running after you. Sprinting off, you run down a winding series of halls. The concrete floor leads to your footsteps echoing throughout the concrete passageway. The lights are flickering, becoming less and less bright. It was perfect. Lying down by some debris, you wait. The soldiers walk by, unable to see you in the dark. Crawling away, you slowly head back the way you came.

Okay, it seemed safe. Nobody was following you. Seems like you did enough damage. Fuck up their data, kill the sniper, and soon the armory would be in flames. Fuck it, time to leave. There was a ladder that went up a few floors. Hopefully, that’d take you to a working elevator. Grabbing on, you start to climb the rungs. Clank after clank of the metal banging brings you halfway to the top. A sudden jolt rushes throughout the building. You guess that the explosives must’ve gone off. You climb faster in an attempt to get out of the hospital before anything else goes wrong. A creaking sound horrifies you.

Oh fuck, please don’t, you need to get back to Mila and your men. It seemed that fate had other plans for you. A crack and a crunch send shivers through your body as you can feel the ladder breaking. Desperate to not get caught up in this, you climb faster, but it’s in vain. The ladder snaps, and you fall down, heading towards the cold ground. Slamming into the concrete, the air is forced out of you. Everything seems to fade as lose the strength to move.

-

Your body aches. Pain is everywhere. Fuck, you need the only cure-all you’ve got, morphine. Your attempt at moving your arms does nothing. Pressure is built up around several parts of your body. Suddenly, a bright light permeates wherever you are. You can now see why. You are restrained to a chair, you wouldn’t be able to move if it was life or death. Looking up, you Biyaman standing in front of you with an expression of pure rage. “<I was wondering when I’d see you, fuckface.>” A man punches you across the face. “<Can’t go against me in a real fight, huh?>” Biyaman, The Tuvan fuck, was standing with a suit and a cane. The old bastard would be laying on the floor without it. When you break out, he’ll pay.

“<Mikhail. I have plans for you. In the meantime, I’ll have to supervise the cleanup of your… mess. Have fun, I will too.>” He leaves. You know what’s going to happen. You won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking. There’ll be no sadness, no despair, just rage. A punch knocks you out cold.

-

-M-

Things could’ve been worse. Despite the reasons for the sadness in your life being worse than you expected, it was looking up. In all honesty, you expected Mikhail to leave you behind. Some crazed soldier should have been abandoned, yet he held on to you. It felt so odd. Mikhail didn’t care about the fact that you were a genetic experiment, he treated you just the same. You didn’t expect such treatment from the leader of a criminal syndicate. It seemed like all the secrets between the two of you had fallen down, and it was wonderful. There was no more fear about being lied to, no more anxiety over not knowing the truth.

The thoughts were nice, but they distracted you. Shaking your head, you bring yourself back to reality. Walking down a street, you’re following Dimitri and Mikhail’s soldiers. The hospital was in the distance, but something was wrong. There was a massive hole in part of it, which made you think that Mikhail’s sabotage went well. But, where was he? He was supposed to be back with you. No matter, he should be fine, right? Dimitri points out to the men, and they all get down.

“<We’re getting close. Be ready to strike. They shouldn’t be expecting it, and there’ll be chaos from Mikhail’s work. Follow me.>” You nod and walk forward. The Collective would be on the backfoot, unaware, and unready. Moving up, all of you close to the hospital. The best shot would be from the back. Sneaking up, you’re all luckily unspotted. One man places some explosive charge on a wall and backs off. This was it. These weren’t just bandits, but actual soldiers. Time seems to freeze as you take in the surroundings. Dimitri looks at the wall, determination in his eyes. The following men are waiting in cover, guns at the ready. A blast breaks your analysis of the scene.

Rushing forward, the men move into the hospital. Gunfire has not yet started, the Collective must be further in. Following them, you branch off. A man in a suit catches your attention. He sprints down a hall, and spots you, drawing a pistol and turning around, he lets a few shots off as he runs away. Following after him, you fire your own bursts, but none seem to connect due to the debris filling the halls. He’s yelling, but you can’t make it out. Eventually, he moves down a set of stairs, frantically trying to open a door. Rushing down, you manage to shoot him in the arm before he can face you. The weight of his falling body forces the door open, showing you a dark room. The man rolls over and stares at you with a horrified expression.

“<Please, I’m just a grunt, don’t hurt me!”> Wonderful.

“<Turn the lights on and we’ll see.>” The grunt slowly stands up before flipping a switch. The room is illuminated to show a man in civilian clothing sitting in a chair. A cloth bag rests over his head. “<A torture room? Sick fuckers.>” The grunt looks at you in fear.

“<They made me do it, please…>” Ah, so he was the interrogator. Moving up to him, you knock him to the ground.

“<Don’t move or you’re done for.>” Huh, maybe this poor bastard in the chair could be important. He looks horrific. Blood is all over him, bruises, burn marks, cuts, and stabs. He must have gone through hell. Hopefully Mikhail wont be too fussy about the condition this guy is in. Moving over, you take off the bag. Wait, the scar on the neck, and his eyes… it was Mikhail. Oh god, Mikhail better be alive, you don’t know what to do without him. Fussing around with the restraints, you manage to free him. He’s unresponsive, and it looks like he was put through the fucking gauntlet. The only problem is his interrogator. He did this to Mikhail. The person who cared about you. He will pay. Walking over, you kick the fucker in the gut. He yells out in pain, but you’re only starting. He’ll suffer.

-

Your body is in excruciating pain. The sound of a man screaming tells you that you’re still in the torture room. You were beaten, brutalized, but you didn’t break. Yet, you don’t know how much longer you can go. Trying to shift your weight so your back isn’t in pain works better than expected. Wait, the bindings are off, and your vision is returning, adjusting to the light. You try to stand up, but you collapse onto the floor. Yelling in pain you swear like a sailor.

“Mikhail?” Wait, Mila? No, this isn’t possible. This is either a dream or a hallucination. “Mikhail!” Looking back, you see Mila running to you. She slides on her knees and places a paw under your back. “Mikhail, you’re…” Fucked up, you know.

“Mila, I hurt… I can’t walk, I need help.” Mila nods and pulls you up, but not without you yelling in agony. Your entire body was tortured. Looking down, you see your sorry state. The cargo pants and shoes you had were in good condition, but the shirt was ripped to hell. You can barely stand, your left leg was fucked. Looking up, the fucking grunt who did this stares at you in fear. Your pistol is on a table next to you. Mila is too busy inspecting your wounds to notice you pick it up. Aiming it, a single shot is fired, and the grunt slumps over, grasping at his neck. His attempt is in vain. Mila looks over in shock.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you had it in you, Mikhail, you looked so broken…” You nod.

“Mila. I’m not stopping until Biyaman is dead. The fucker ran off. I’m not in the best condition right now, but we need to go after him.” Mila is staring at you in shock.

“Go after him? Mikhail, you are in no state to be even walking, how co-“

“Mila. I’m going after him.” Moving forward, you force Mila to also walk to prevent you from falling. “I don’t care how messed up I am, that’s not stopping me. I’m going to keep going until Biyaman is down from my hands.” Mila sighs. “Now help me up these stairs. I ain’t gonna be able to do shit until I talk with the medic.” You start the grueling task of ascending the set of stairs. Every movement sends pain down your body, every step makes you freeze with agony, every breath makes your chest burn. After some pure suffering, you make it up. By now, you’re so tuckered out that Mila has to practically drag you. Moving through the halls of the decrepit hospital, you hear the sounds of fighting. Gunshots, yelling, all of it.

As time drags on, the fighting seems to slow to a stop. The gunshots have stopped. Mila has dragged you for quite a distance, she must be tired. “Hey, let me go.” Mila looks at you, confused. “Lie me against the wall and get the medic. I’ll be fine.” Mila does just that, gently propping you up. When she’s content with your position, she dashes off, yelling for help. Laying against the wall, you rest. Waiting, it’s silent. Suddenly, some gunfire starts up, and it’s close. Adrenaline starts to pump, and your pain becomes secondary. A suited man with a shotgun walks around a corner, but you grab his arm and throw him into a wall. Your first impacts with his chest and he falls over. Picking up the shotgun, you get a look at the man.

Huh, he seemed different. He certainly wasn’t Russian. “<Who the fuck are you?>” The man only looks at you with contempt.

“<That doesn’t matter, but I know who you are.>” This fucker knows? Screw that. Raising the shotgun, you slam the butt of the stock into his head. He’s out, cold. Two more men run out of a door, and stare at you. Aiming the shotgun up, you pull the trigger. A click. It was empty. Tossing it to the side, you crack your knuckles and walk forward.

“<Come on, let’s go!>” An evil smile grows on your face. You’d been beaten. Now it was time to give it back. One man runs forward, and you dash to meet him Jumping forwards, you jut a knee out. It connects with his chest, and he falls down, breathing heavily. The other man has closed on you, and swings at your head. Ducking, you manage to dodge it by the skin of your teeth. A kick in return and he moves back. “<Stop fucking around and fight!>” Walking forward, you run at him, attempting to deliver an uppercut. He slides out of the way and pushes you over. He goes for a stomp on your legs, but you roll out of the way. Pulling yourself up, you pick up a pipe off of the ground. Huh, feels familiar.

The other man has gotten up, and both of them are converging on you. The first one charges at you, and you strike. A jab from the pipe to his face makes him collapse onto the floor, and another swing to his head renders him unconscious. The second moves up much more cautiously. You make an overhand swing towards him, but he jumps back. He reaches down. Fuck! Rushing forward, you smile as he raises the shotgun at you. A click only makes that smile grow wider. The pipe is thrust forward, and it pierces his suit. Traveling through his body, it pins him to the wall. He’s in a panic as he tries to remove it. Bending down, you pick up the shotgun and rack the slide. The man doesn’t notice as you level it with his head.

One pull of the trigger, and he’s gone. Racking the slide again, you kneel down next to the first man you saw. He’s still unconscious. Looking at his suit, you notice a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. They’re a western brand. No way he’d buy them, they were expensive as hell over here. “Mikhail?” Turning your head, you see Mila standing with the medic and Dimitri.

“Ah, good timing. I’ll need some serious patching up.” Dimitri nods and the medic walks over, Mila following.

“Well, seems like you are still able to hold your own. You always were an unstoppable fuck, you know that?” Chuckling, you look up at Dimitri and grin.

“I gotta keep going until I win. Nobody is going to stop me before that.” The medic is doing his work, cleaning and bandaging the wounds you have, and he’s about to give you some morphine. Yet, when you look us, you see Mila frowning. Turning to the medic, you shake your head, and he puts the morphine away. “Good, now let us go. Biyaman is on the run, we need to hunt him down.” Standing up, you walk down the hall.

“Mikhail, I think you’ll need a shirt and some body armor if yo-“

Interrupting Dimitri, you raise a hand. “Just my aviator glasses and the beret.” Dimitri tosses them, and you catch. Now you were ready. Heading outside, your men are waiting. “<What’s the situation?>” One man runs up to you.

“<Boss, the area is clear. Biyaman went off, probably in a car.>” You sigh. This was a victory, but Biyaman was still alive. Waving over Dimitri, you look towards the sky. “<Demolish this site and take anything important or valuable. I’m going after Biyaman. Call more men and bring in whatever we got. We’re locking this city down.>” Dimitri gives you a salute and walks off. To the right is a UAZ-469 with a machinegun mounted on it. Perfect. On the walk to it, one of your men runs up to you and hands over a Rowland. Good, you didn’t want to lose this. Holstering it, you get into the passenger seat. Mila is still following you, and she gets into the driver’s seat.

“Mikhail, what are you going to do? You’re hurt, don’t be going off on a manhunt like this.” Turning to Mila you frown.

“If you don’t drive, I will. I’m sorry, but I’m fighting.” Mila looks at you in fear, her paws trembling. “Mila, you have to make a decision in your life. There are two paths. In the first one, you walk away, and I fight on. In the second, you help me, and we fight together, unstoppable. It’s your choice, make it count.” Mila sighs and starts the car. You could feel your heart burst with happiness. She chose you. Shifting over, you give Mila a hug. “Thank you. I’ll always be here for you, and I’m glad that you’ll be with me. Now, let’s go, Biyaman is still out there.” The car goes forward, and you both are driving to the one intact exit out of St. Petersburg, the St. Petersburg-Moscow Roadway.

The cold breeze blows around you, calming in its serenity. You’re on the road, driving at a fast pace. The sound of the radio drowns out all else. Looking to the right, it’s an oddly wonderful sight. Despite how horrific it was, it looked beautiful. The ruined city was illuminated by the orange glow given by the falling sun. The light was fleeing, hiding from the trauma this war caused. The city truly is ruined. One day, you’ll rebuild it, make it whole once more. Looking towards the sky, you notice movement. Fuck, that’s a helicopter. The fuck is one doing in this no-mans-land? “Hey, I see some cars up ahead, think that’s them?”

You can tell instantly. Some fancy fucking limo with some fancy European cars following it. “Yeah. Get ready Mila, we’re closing in.” She nods. You stand and turn around. A wonderful piece of work is right behind you. DSHKM. Climbing over, you move into the turret ring. A big machinegun that fired big bullets. Just what you needed. The helicopter is getting closer. You don’t like this, not one bit. Taking a closer look, you notice yellow markings on it. Fuck, it was a Collective chopper. Swinging the gun around, you take aim.

The roar of the cartridges is deafening, and you can see the bullets glide towards their target. The rounds connect, but the helicopter must be armored because nothing happens. “Mila! Get ready to dodge, we’re in for a fight!” You smile as the helicopter rotates towards you. This is gonna be fun.

An orange glow tells you everything you need to know. Mila turns the steering wheel, moving out of the way of the oncoming missile. The road is a bit rough, but that’s fine with you. A car comes from your rear. A handgun is pointed out at you, giving you a reason to fire away. The wonderful crack of every bullet brings you pure delight as the car is pounded with lead. The windshields are shattered, leaking red stained glass to lie as the now unmanned car drifts to the right and crashes. The helicopter once more makes itself known. A barrage of bullets starts to creep towards you. Shit. Dropping down, you avoid getting cut to ribbons. Hopping once more on the machinegun, you try to line up a shot.

“Mikhail, the road is getting thin up ahead, I won’t be able to swerve!” Fuck, this was not the cards you wanted to be given. Driving forward, you keep trying to get your sights on target. A sudden flash tells your instincts to pull the trigger. A single 14.5mm bullet flies into the air. It slices through the wind and soon finds its target. A missile latched onto the helicopter. A bright blast happens where the chopper is, or now, was.

“Haha! It’s getting good!” Swinging the gun around, you see the face of Mila, mortified. “Hey, we’re alive, stay together!” The DSHKM is now aimed at the cars following Biyaman. A flurry of shots goes in your direction. Guess they decided to blast. Luckily, you could play that game too. A roar of Russian power sends metal towards your opponents, cutting down doors and men together. Glass shatters, goons scream, and metal tears. Just as you turn your sight on Biyaman’s limo a click is all you hear. Fuck, outta ammo. Shame too, just when you were gonna get to the good stuff.

“Shit, you’re out? What now?” Reaching a hand to your holster, you draw out the Rowland.

“Drive me close. I’m going in.” Mila stares at you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You smile at her.

“Of course I am. Step on it!” Mila does just that, and you climb onto the front of the UAZ. Standing up, you ready yourself. Nearing the limo, you rack the handcannon’s slide. Time to end it. The UAZ speeds up, and you are right behind Biyaman’s luxury escape vehicle. Making a jump forward, you lack onto the back of the limo. Climbing up, you stand on the top. There’s a sunroof. Hopping in, a man moves a rifle towards you. He’s too late. A pull of the trigger and his chest is annihilated. Turning around, you see Biyaman cowering in fear.  “<Biyaman. What a surprise seeing you here.>”

“<Mikhail, wait! You don’t know what will happen if you kill me.>” A stubborn old bastard, isn’t he?

“<Actually, I do know.>” Before you raise your pistol, you hear movement behind you. Turning, the man has his rifle aimed at you. Dropping to the floor, you barely manage to avoid getting blasted. Another shot from your Rowland and his head is removed. Standing up, you see Biyaman horrified. Smiling, you look at him. Wait, why was there blood in the front? Oh, fuck the driver's de-

A sudden slam stops you in your tracks. It must have been some time because Biyaman isn’t in the wreckage. Fuck, your body hurts. Extra bruises and glass cuts, just what you need. Crawling out, you fall onto the pavement. The engine is smoking, you can barely see. You push yourself up, bloody as hell. “Mikhail? Mikhail!” It’s Mila, she’s running straight up to you. Thank god, you need some help right about now. Hobbling over to you, a crack makes you fall. Your leg, your fucking right leg! Mila yells. Turning, you see Biyaman holding your Rowland.

“<Tell me, Mikhail, did you think you’d win?>” You spit blood at the fuck. He turns the pistol towards Mila. “<Lucky, you get to die second.>” Wait, what? No! A flash and Mila falls. Turning to Biyaman, you see the smile on his face. He took yet another person from you. He will pay. Pushing yourself up, you charge at him. Diving forwards, you tackle Biyaman. You both crash over the side of the road. Falling some ten feet, you both collapse onto the ground. Standing up, you two are left staring angrily at each other.

“<You are dead.>” Knives are pulled, and both of you are ready to fight. Biyaman makes the first strike, a rush forward. He makes a jab towards your gut, but you easily sidestep it. A kick to his side and he is sent back. Walking towards him, you stare straight into his soul. Only one thing is keeping you moving, anger. He takes his knife up high and makes a downward slash, but you catch it with your blade. A left hook and he falls back. “<Get up.>” Biyaman is crawling back, gaining distance from you.

“<Fuck you, I’ll gut you!>” Biyaman lurches up, holding his knife tight. You ground yourself, readying for an attack. It comes. Biyaman runs forward, but he does an unexpected move. He jumps. A kick to your chest and you are sent to the dirt. You can still hear him moving around, so you roll out of the way. It’s a smart move, as you see him holding a knife, dug into the ground where you once were. Standing up, you crack your neck.

“<That’s it? You do all of this, and when we fight, that’s all you got?>” Biyaman laughs. You aren’t. You run forward and swing the knife early. Biyaman smiles with what he thinks is you making a mistake. Halfway through the swing, you let go. The blade slices through the air and collides with his right hand. His hand recoils in pain, and he drops the handle. Rushing forward, you plant a fist right into his gut. Biyaman steps back in pain but soon composes himself.

“<I see you still have some fight left in you. That’s what makes fighting you fun, Mikhail. You keep fighting on.>” Biyaman makes an attack, rushing at you with one hell of an overhand swing. You get hit in the shoulder, but a knee goes into his leg. Biyaman still pushes on, delivering a blow to your leg. The pain is horrific. You fall back, hitting the dirt. Just as things seem to be going as horrifically as possible, a beam of hope shoots out. Mila is alive. She hops down and stands before Biyaman. They get into a fight, which is the distraction you need. Crawling, you reach your Rowland. Standing up, you limp over to Biyaman, who has forced the shot Mila to the ground. You feel so much. Pain, anger, and the blood from your bullet wound.

Whistling, you get his attention. “<Biyaman. You’ve taken so much from me, yet I stand still. When I look at you, your empire, I see only one thing. I see what I have brought it to. Dust.>” A flash. A bang. Biyaman’s head bursts open. A sense of conclusion is washing over you. A gentle flow, everything feels so light. You can feel it flowing down your right leg. It’s finally over. You fall back, the sound of Mila screaming being the one thing you can hear. When you hit the ground, you see the wonderful orange sky. It’s so beautiful.

-

Opening your eyes, you notice that you are not in a field but in some building. It’s odd, something is off. Looking around, you start to piece it together. It’s less of an actual building and more of a construction site. Pushing yourself up, you wander around. Outside, it’s beautiful. A pinkish sky comes from a rising sun, and the clouds are few. Leaning onto a railing, you smile. It was beautiful. Summer brought the best sights to your ruined land. The faint sunshine doesn’t reach you, but everything is still illuminated. A warm breeze comes, and your bandages ruffle in the wind. Taking off your sunglasses, you look into them.

In the reflection, all you see is a wounded man. He has a scar across his lips, blue eyes, and unkempt brown hair. He looks tired yet satisfied. Tucking the sunglasses into your pockets, you keep that vision in your head. You were tired, worn down, but certainly not out of the fight. Your turn around to see a familiar man walk over by you, looking towards the horizon. “I never thought you’d be something like this. I always thought you wanted to become a doctor, yet here you are.” You look at the man. His face is blank, stoic as can be.

“I chose my path. I had no support; I did what I have on my own. You’d know that by heart.” He grimaces, breathing in deep. “I’ve pushed on. I don’t know why things happened the way they did, but I’m content with the outcome.”

“What about the others? Do you care for what they think?” You can only chuckle.

“Why should I? Out of everybody, you’ve taught me the best that trust is shaky at best.” The man grips the railing, his hands are strained, leaving the bones to be hidden only by a thin layer of skin.

“It was wrong, and I know it, but you took that excuse and ran too far with it. I should have stayed with you; however, you cannot excuse what you’ve done just from my mistake.” You remove your beret and stare at it. Its allure is mesmerizing.

“I don’t need an excuse. Hell, I don’t even feel regret for the things I’ve done. Sometimes, I worry about that. My lack of caring can make me afraid, as if I am lacking something important.” The man puts a hand on your back, and moves his head up, to look at the pink sky.

“That IS important. You’ve learned to stop caring, and it’s brought horror. You only need to see the bodies to realize.” You shove his hand off of you.

“The bodies? They stood before me, in opposition. I did what must happen. Don’t act like you were any better.” The man turns away from you, angered by your words.

“At least I had regret for what I did. You don’t, tell me, how can you be so remorseless?” You raise a hand in anger and close your eyes.

“I have no remorse because I care not about those I’ve vanquished. Tell me, why should I care what happens to a criminal?” The man turns around, his eyes are just as blue as yours. He stretches his arms outwards, and his face contorts in anger.

“Because you ARE a criminal! You are no better than them!” You suddenly swing a fist towards him, and he falls over.

“No better? I’m still standing, they aren’t, and you aren’t either! I am a better man than you ever were. All you did for me was show me to not show weakness. Look at where you are, and where I am! I have people who I care for, and who care for me! With them, I have more than trust, I have love and friendship. You just kicked me away and let me down. And now, you try to turn me away from all of this?” The man looks down, saddened.

“I just want you to stop all this bloodshed.” You kneel next to him.

“I’ll spill the blood of those who do wrong, and those who wrong me. I won’t give up what I have, not for the likes of you.” Walking away, you ignore the man’s cries. “Father, you are nothing.” Stepping down some stairs, you feel the world start to slow around you. Time itself is brought to a crawl, yet you are unaffected. You can see a bottle falling, almost completely stopped. It slowly floats down, and you walk around it. Of course, this was a dream, it was obvious.

The walk down the construction site feels uneventful, but your phone rings. Answering it, you're not sure what to expect. “<Hello?>”

“<Are you prepared for what’ll happen?>” The voice is familiar, but you don’t recall whose it was.

“<I’ve planned this out, and I’ve already made it this far. Why wouldn’t I be prepared?” The voice starts once more, but it feels oddly doubled. Turning around, you see a suited man. He wasn’t Russian. He seemed to be the same non-Russian with the shotgun back in the raid on Biyaman’s HQ.

“<I hope you are. The future is going to be so much different. The Cold War may have ended, but your path leads to another one. Tell me, is this what you want? The world to be once more set against itself?>” Smiling, you point at the man, extending your arm straight out.

“<The world is my mold. I’ve earned the right to make what I wish. Tell me, did Genghis not earn his right to rule over his realm? I work to gain power and gained it I have. I do not wish for conflict, but if the West dares to challenge me, the blood is on their hands.>” He scoffs, bothered by your response.

“<The blood will be on yours. If you make that chance a reality, you’ve already started the process.>” Many other suited men are coming out from the shadows and stairways. “<And I’m not letting that chance to have the possibility of occurring.>” The man is confident; he’s surrounded by his very own army.

That confidence was a mistake. You were in a dream where time was slowed, and you had two Berettas in your holsters. Pulling them out, you spin the handguns in your hands. “<I’ve been waiting for a big fight like this, and since you aren’t armed, this is going to be even better.>” The men rush forward, and you run right at them. The world grinds to a slow pace, and you dive. Pulling the trigger, you can see in slow motion the bullet fly out of the chamber, and the shell ejecting into the air. Groovy. Round after round is shot, the nine-millimeter slamming into the suited men as they crumple to the ground leisurely.

It’s all happening at a snail’s pace. You finally crash into the ground, and the remaining suited men are rushing forwards. You swing your arms out, letting go of the pistols. They fly out into the crowd, colliding with the men. Cracking your knuckles, you wait for one to be brave enough to fight you. One takes the bait and swings in an uppercut, but you counter. Bringing your elbow down, you crush his knuckles. The man yells in pain, and you kick him, right in the groin. He falls down, and you stretch your arms out in a jest. “Well, anybody else?”

They do nothing but stand. They are waiting for you. This isn’t advantageous, it’s time to bail. Turning around you take a hook and rope and pray for the best. Dashing to the railing, you jump over while pulling the hook onto the rails. It latches on, and you slide down. Christ, if you didn’t have gloves, rope burn would be a bitch to deal with. Stepping onto a ledge, you grab onto the wall. You were just in time, as the rope falls, most likely from them removing the latch. Stupid. Dropping it wouldn’t kill you, you got off. Plus, they just lost their fast way down to get you. You were completely outnumbered. Fuck, if only Mila was in this dream world. Plus, how did you get here? Not much comes to memory, just a car crash and the image of Biyaman’s burst skull. All you knew that you were in a dream with ‘people’ out to kill you.

Wait, you’re in a dream, right? That means you could dream of whatever weapon you wanted. Fuck future shit like plasma, lasers, gauss, particle weapons, you needed something that actually sent a big fucking round downrange. Luckily for you, it appears. A KORD. Picking it up, you sling it under your shoulder. A lift is coming down, and you brace yourself. With a smile, you wait for the doors to open. A loud grinding sound and you see the horrified faces of many men cramped in the shaft. With a pull of the trigger, you send plenty of rounds at them. The large bullets are horrific, creating a bloody scene. Men fall, body parts are ripped, and organs are destroyed. Walking faster, you just manage to control the recoil. Step after step is deafened by the sound of 12.7x108mm. 50 rounds run out fast. Dropping the machine gun, you smile at the pile of blood and guts you reduced the suited men to.

One man jumps from the hatch of the elevator. It’s the non-Russian. “<You son of a bitch. You just don’t know when to quit, do you?>” He walks up to you, and you take advantage of his unready state. Grabbing him by the neck, you lift him up.

 “You know, foreigner, I never got your name. It doesn’t matter. When I wake up, you’ll be in for a world of pain.” You choke him, and he falls unconscious. Laughing, you turn to leave this place once more. The world seems to fade as you walk further from him. Finally, you are back.

-

Opening your eyes, you feel the rumble of an engine. Looking around, you see lampposts and buildings move behind you. Pushing yourself up, you see Mila. She’s driving the UAZ and whispering to herself. Your leg is bandaged up, thank God. Unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to move around. The sky flies past you, the cloud moving fast. The sun has fallen low, and you notice the lack of sunlight upon you.

Lying on the back seats, you smile. Your main rival was dead, by your hand no less. The woman driving you to safety, well, you had her heart in your hand. She was wrapped all around you, and that was just what you wanted. Loyalty and love to the nth degree, that was a deal you could never say no to, no matter what problems may have come with it. Turning your head, you call out to Mila, but your voice comes out weak and raspy. “Where are we?” The car slows to a stop, and she hops over to you, her face in worry.

“Mikhail, how do you feel?” Mila checking your wounds and fixing the bandages. She’s in one hell of a rush.

“Well, I’m in immense pain, and I’m weak. Yet, I could be worse. Could you bring me to the passenger’s seat?” Mila takes a deep breath; she’s looking at your leg.

“I don’t… I don’t think you should move around, not for now.” You scoff at the recommendation. You’ve survived worse, what’s the worst that could happen?

 “Mila, I’ve been shot so many times before, I think my body is used to it by this point. Just drag me over.” Mila shakes her head and crawls up to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot do that.” You groan, and Mila nuzzles into your neck. “Hey, I just don’t want you to get hurt. I can keep my tail here, but I gotta drive.” With that, she hops back to the front, but she kept her word. Her tail laid lazily upon you, and you enjoyed its furred comfort. It was like a pillow that just couldn’t be beaten. Bump after bump comes from the beaten road, and you stare at the evening sky.

The ride smoothens out, and you aren’t being launched from the shitty roads anymore. It’s quite calming actually, and you rest. Suddenly, Mila’s tail smacks you in the face. “Mikhail, I see some men up ahead, but they aren’t wearing yellow. I don’t recognize them what do we do?” You smile.

“Pick me up, and call ‘em over. They’re my boys.” Mila jumps over and grabs you by the back. She struggles to haul you up, but she just manages. With unsteady movement that worries you, Mila brings you to the front of the car and rests you against it. Mila waves and you look up at the men, flashing them a smile. With the sound of a stampede, they all rush over.

“<Get a medic, now!>” You chuckle despite the pain. Medical care on demand. Being the boss was good. The warm metal of the car is oddly comfortable. It seems that the rough nature of your surroundings was becoming familiar to you.

“<Just give me a small fix-up. After that, I’ll need serious care. Get a helicopter and send it over. I need a hospital, not a fucking triage center.>” He nods, and you wait for the usual. Morphine, epinephrine, and gauze. You move a hand up and reach out to Mila. “You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you here.”

“I know that.” Mila is surprised that you even said that.

“True, but I still wanted to say it, to let it out. You know that I care for you far too much to leave you in this hell.” As you look at her, you feel the prick of the needles. She kneels next to you and wraps her arms around you. As a man wraps gauze around your leg, your men give odd looks to you and the woman you felt love for. As you notice this, you give a glare to them, and they immediately stop. Heh.

Once the gauze is finally tightened around your proof of victory, you try to push yourself up. With the newfound help of drugs that you really shouldn’t be taking, you manage to somewhat get up. Mila won’t let you fall, and she grabs you by the side, moving one of your arms around her neck and on her shoulders. With the newfound support she provides, you can finally stand. “About time, I was getting fucking sick of laying down. Mila, could you bring me to the passenger seat?” She doesn’t say a word, but Mila steps forward when you do. Walking around the car, you fumble forward into your seat. Slumping into it, you’re surprised when Mila jumps in, right next to your side. She lays you onto her, wrapping her paws around your damaged body.

Right now, all you really needed to do was go to a proper doctor, but there was still some basic stuff to do. Grabbing a handheld radio from the car, you speak up. “<Dimitri. Biyaman is dead. I’m roughed up, and a helicopter is taking me south for treatment. We’re calling in the calvary and laying stake to St. Petersburg. It’s our town now. We have the responsibility of setting up shop and fixing the place up. I’m giving you command while I’m gone. If anybody gives you shit, kick their ass for me.>” With your message finished, you let the radio fall to the ground. Bending your neck back, you see the woman who saved your ass. “Now, how the fuck am I going to repay you?”

Mila only blushes and turns her head away. You try to ask again, but she cuts you off beforehand. “Being with you is payment enough.” Oh, this sappy shit.

“Listen, I know you love me and all, but I’m not just going to not repay you for this. Listen, when I get to the hospital, I’ll get you the highest class place I can. I’m talking drinking champagne from golden cups type fancy.” She looks down and gives you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Guess I can’t say no, huh?” Yup, there was no way in hell you’d not give her the life of luxury. “Well, if it’s what you want, then I’m perfectly fine with it. In the meantime, just relax. All we can do is wait.” With the feeling of fur on your back, you relax in the evening light. You were close to dead, an addict, and a violent man with a criminal enterprise. But despite that, you had her, so things couldn’t be too bad, right? Yeah, things were actually going well, to be honest with yourself.

More power, your rivals brought to dust, and newfound love. Hell, you didn’t know what would make this better. Actually, scratch that, a drink would be nice, but you still enjoyed the moment. With your pain mostly gone, and some cuddling with Mila, you smiled. Not from petty thrill, or substance abuse, but from joy. It was funny. “I’m shot to hell, and yet this is the happiest I’ve been in a while. Odd, isn’t it?” With a hearty chuckle, you shake your head. “I guess this is another story that’ll contribute to my legend.”

“Legend? Geez, it sounds a bit egotistical, doesn’t it?” Turning to face her, Mila is staring at you with a smile, while you glare at her in annoyance.

“Considering the things I’ve gone through in life, I’d say that I have the right to retell this.” She rolls her eyes and hugs you tighter than before.

“Okay there, bud. Tell me, what are you going to do now? You just beat out your main enemy.” Leaning into her, you think. You had plans, but you needed to wait for some time before you could start them. It seemed that you now had a decent period of time where nothing would be done. You never really had a time like that, so you were taken back. Your time was usually either spent planning or fighting.


“I… I’m not sure. I guess I can just recover than relax. Tell me, what do you want to do?” Mila freezes up, like a deer in the headlights.

“What do I… want? I don’t know.” She looks defeated, as if she was worried by her inability to think of a pastime.

“Well, how about we just relax until we can decide? I’m not going to be moving for a while. So y’know, let’s just chat and shit.” Mila looks around, then at you.

“Can I ask you something personal?” You nod, and she continues on. “I talked about my past, but what about you? Not to be rude, but I’d imagine it to be rather… unorthodox, considering how you are as a person.” Really? ‘Not to be rude, but you’re crazy because of your childhood’. Christ, give me a fucking break.

“Fine. I’ll give you a quick rundown on the past of Mikhail Vetrov, in all its glory. Firstly, I wasn’t born here. I’m from Singapore.” Mila looks at you with a scowl. She thinks you’re bullshitting her. “Fuck off, you wanna deny my past? Singapore sucked. My mother was Russian, but my father was a British aristocrat. Hell, my birth name was fucking ‘Mathias Cromswell.’ Thank God I changed that shit.”

“Holy shit, you aren’t lying. You’re a fucking Singaporean?” Shifting your weight onto her chest, you chuckle.

“Yup. Life there was supposed to be good, but life wasn’t wonderful. Mom had to run away, and with dad, it wasn’t much better. Do bullshit posh shit by day, then help the old man out with his criminal activity by night. Day after day it happened, then he left me behind. He fled away, and I was in Singapore. I did dirty deeds, moved to Russia, and worked my ass off. Finally, I’m here. I don’t know what happened to my parents, I’m a killer with a plan to get power, and I wonder if I’m making the right choices.” Sighing you look at the sky, but it’s quickly obscured by Mila’s head, as she moves it into your vision. She’s frowning.

“Damn, sounds rough. Do you… do you miss them at all?” Shrugging you close your eyes. Half to keep out the sunlight, and half to hide your feelings.

“Dad, I could not give a fuck about, but I don’t want to deal with him. I just want to leave that shit behind. For mom, I used to miss her. She was so goddamn kind. I wonder if she misses me, if she’s alright, that is.” Mila moves a paw to your chest and holds it close.

“Well, even if you don’t have her, you have me.” You smile. Mila was probably the best thing you had right now.

“I don’t miss her anymore, because I got you. Now let’s quit with the sappy shit.” Turning your head to a standing soldier, you call out. “<Hey! Get in, we need to be out by the hospital that’s becoming our new HQ! Come on, get fucking moving!>” The man runs over, hopping into the driver’s seat. You lay with your love as you wait to arrive at your destination.

“Well, a helicopter ride into this city, and then out. Funny. Guess I’ll have to let command know I’m coming with you to the hospital. I’m worried that they’ll call me back.” Moving your arms up, you put them on her shoulders.

“Don’t. I’ll request for you to be with me. They try anything, and the deal’s off. I’ve got it planned, just relax.” Mila swats at you, hitting your arm.

 “Hey, I’m the one who should be telling you to relax! Seriously, you’re beaten to hell. Get some shuteye, you need it.”

 “I was kinda unconscious before, I don’t thi-“ Mila suddenly hits you with the cutest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. Even though she was a Red Panda. Panda eyes? Still, you relent, unable to bear it. “Fine, you win.” Laying your head down, you close your eyes and try to rest.

-

-M-

A bumpy road, and a beaten man in your arms. It was definitely the most unusual scenario you’ve been in. Hell, all of it was. Building a relationship with a crime lord, fighting with him, and learning about your past. Learning it all was a fucking whirlwind of confusion and anger. You joined the military for a purpose. For comradery, to be part of those few brave people who fought for their country. They tried to turn you into a machine. Unfeeling, and only there to kill.

 Why? It was supposed to be a land of freedom, so why did they do this? Your rights were desecrated, your life, endangered. Thinking about the past, you remember a time spent on a beach. It was with your old war-friend, John. The last time you were on it, he told you to never ask for war. He was right. You had seen more blood flow than anybody should in a lifetime. Yet still, you fought. In this hell of St. Petersburg, you were outmanned and outgunned. You and Mikhail had no chance to win. But win you did.

Through so much killing, both of you came out on top. There you were. Two lives, united by death. Holding Mikhail close, you feel him breathing as he sleeps. Thank God you both made it out alive. Even more, thank God for who he was. Despite his frightening outwards appearance, this man was surprisingly kind. By all means, he should have left you as soon as he found out about your past, but he didn’t. Knowing full well who you are, he stuck by your side.

 It's odd. An almost remorseless killer, yet a caring man. Seems like the madness of this place is getting to you as you’re falling for him. You’re shaken out of your thought as the car hits a bump. The driver is swearing incoherently in Russian, you’re trying to get back into a comfy position, and Mikhail is somehow still asleep. The driver stops swearing and points to a flying object in the far distance. “Is you helicopter. Take you Mikhail to hospital. Good, yes?”

You have to stifle a chuckle at his poor English. Fuck it, why not? “Yes comrade, very good.” He shakes his head and looks back at the road.

“<Fucking Americans.>” You look to the sky as you see a helicopter fly through it. It’s blades slice through the air, and you are left with joy knowing that you’d finally be leaving this hell. With a sudden jolt, the car turns into a street, ever closer to the HQ. The final stretch is uneventful. When you pull into the lot outside of the HQ, you can see Dimitri running over.

 “Mila? Is he alright?” Dimitri is in a full sprint, it’s a wonder how his cap is still on.

 “Hey, quiet, he’s trying to rest.” He looks at you, pissed.

 “Seriously? That’s what you’re fucking worried about? My voice level, and not his fuck-“

“I’m trying to sleep, cocksucker.” Dimitri stops and stands up straight, trying to look presentable. “You know what to do, and that I’m fine. Just take good care of this place, we aren’t trying to blow it up anymore.” Dimitri nods and walks away, while a helicopter is circling around the lot. “About damn time.”

 “Well, how does it feel to leave here? I bet it’s a relief.” He sighs. Isn’t he happy? Is he actually beaten up about this?

 “I still have so much more to do. This isn’t a break, Mila. It’s just the next step.” Ah, focusing on his work instead of the horrors he went through. Does he ever learn to actually relax? Not just use free time, but make some? Something more than a movie and cuddling? Wait no, that’s actually pretty good.

 “Hey, we’re taking a break, I need to, and you definitely need to.”

 “Mila, I’m bu-“

 “Please, at least for me?” Mikhail leans his head back and looks at you in the eyes. You put on the saddest face you can and try to convince him from his set-in-stone path.

 “Alright, you win. But cut it with the puppy eyes, I can’t take anymore.” Good. You aren’t going to allow him to work himself to death. Your fur is being pushed around by the air, as the helicopter begins its descent. Covering his eyes, you chuckle as he tries to shake them off. “Mila, I’m fine.” Dust blows around you both as the helicopter touches the ground. It was finally time.

-


As Mila removes her paws from your face, you get a good view at the helicopter that landed. It was a MI-8AMT, so basically, a flying ambulance. As a door pops open, a stretcher is wheeled out with two men, both part of your personal medical staff. You look at Mila as they rush to you. “Hey, they’re gonna need to pick me up and put me on the stretcher, so you can’t be laying with me, alright?” Mila is grumbling as she shifts away from you. She’s pouting in the passenger seat, but you are soon unable to see her as you’re lifted into the stretcher.

“<Boss, tell me, how do you feel?>” The senior medical staff member is staring at the wounds covering your body, in shock at it all. “<I mean, how are you functioning?>” Reaching out an arm, the man looks you in the eyes as you tap on his shoulder. With a sly grin, you begin to speak.

“<The wonders of drugs. Now, seriously, every time I got effed up, I stabilized that shit fast and injected myself with so much crap that I’m becoming an addict.>”

 “<What?!>” You only chuckle. “<Well, shit. Luckily you’re somewhat fine, so you just need to recover, besides perhaps some surgery to remove whatever might be in you, but that’s unlikely. Wait, add rehab to the list. No morphine boss, you’re taking other things on this trip.>” Laying your head against a cushion on the stretcher, you crack your neck.

“<As long as it keeps the pain away.>” The men nod, and you are wheeled to the helicopter, but before you can enter, you suddenly stop.

“<Hey, you can’t come.>” Looking at the man, he’s pointing at Mila. You stare right at him, making a noise to get his attention.

“<If you do that again, I’m throwing you out of the helicopter halfway through the flight, do you understand?>” The man nervously nods, and you all board the MI-8. It was harsh, but it worked, they didn’t give her any more shit. As you are in the helicopter, you are secured to a spot with an IV hooked up to you. One man is inspecting your body while another monitors the equipment. Mila is sitting next to you, looking at the floor. Reaching a hand to her, she grabs it. Soon, her gaze to the floor turns to you with a smile.

“It’s really happening.”

“What, you thought I couldn’t bring us through?” Mila takes a deep breath.

“Not at first. You were just some beaten man with weapons and a deadly will. At that beginning, I wasn’t sure if I’d come out of St. Petersburg alive. Over time, I saw your skill, and when you called up your men, I knew we’d get out. Hell, all of this feels so… odd. It feels like we’ve fought against the odds and won.”

“Well, I tend to beat the odds, the wounds on my body tell that story enough. Now, take your military shit off, you don’t need it, get comfy. I’ll have someone watch over it, don’t worry.” Mila looks around unsure.

“Once we land.”

“Fine by me.” You tug on her paw slightly, and she shifts over to you. With a quick dip of her head, she leaves a peck on your lips. With a smile, you tug more, and she moves next to you. “<Hey, get rid of the straps on the stretcher, she’s laying with me.>”

“<Huh?>” You look the medical officer dead in the eyes, and he nods. Moving some equipment around, Mila is soon able to lay next to you.

“Not to be a dick, but this flight would be unbearable without my favorite fluffy pillow.” Mila gives you a disapproving look, one that says: ‘Really dude?’ So, you respond. “I’m serious. You’re a goddamn blessing with that. Are you seriously going to leave me on this stretcher?” She relents and slides over. Perfect. Raising your head, you place it on one of her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, weirdo.” You can see the blush through her fur. Closing your eyes, you rest, only to feel her lean her head on yours. Guess you’d both be getting rest this flight.
-

Waking up with your face in a pile of fur, you are left trying to spit it out. Fuck, guess there was a downside to an anthro lover. You can feel the helicopter descending, and the medical staff is busy setting everything up for a landing. Mila is still asleep, the lazy fucker. Moving your hands up, you grab her, then shake. “Wake up.” Mila jumps awake, looking around.

“Mikhail?” She soon calms down and looks at you. “Oh, thank God.” Did she… have a nightmare?

“You alright?” She wraps her arms around you, holding you close while she digs her head into your chest. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m here.” She doesn’t make a sound. No crying, whimpering, nothing. After some time spent holding her, she pops her head out.

“Thanks…” You only smile and hold her closer. If she wanted to talk about it, she could make the first move. You were content with just helping her. “Hey… we’re landing. Let’s get you ready.” She’s still meekly quiet, but she’ll just need some time to get all better. An odd thump sounds and the rear of your compartment opens up, allowing the medical staff to roll you out on the stretcher to the roof.

“Finally.” Laying back, you stare at the sky as you are pushed across the roof. Soon you are brought inside, into a small room with an elevator. Riding it down, the elevator door opens to a busy hospital. Your very own medical center was bustling. Soldiers were being patched up, refugees were treated, and you were going to get first-class care. Your caretakers from the helicopter leave and are replaced by various doctors and nurses. You and Mila are both rushed into a luxurious room, and a doctor is standing in awe at you.

He’s inspecting your wounds, writing various things he’s noted on some paper, and conversing with the doctors, but that doesn’t stop him from talking with you. “<Okay, first things first, how does it all feel?>”

“<Like I’ve been shot multiple times.>” He scoffs at your remark and shakes his head. “<Well, Mr. Immortal, you’re going to undergo intensive surgery. There’s a lot of metal we have to dig out of your unfortunate self, and it’s not going to be easy. The shrapnel at your legs is going to be a pain in the ass to remove. I don’t know how you were walking with that in you.>”

You respond with a completely serious tone. “<Morphine and adrenaline fix that issue well.>” The doctor leans onto your stretcher, jaw open wide.

 “<Did you seriously just inject that shit all willy-nilly?>”


“<Yeah. I had to fight, and I didn’t have access to a doctor back then.>” You must have mentally broken the man, as he is replaced by one of his colleagues. “<So, when do I get to go in the bed?>” The replacement only nods and calls in some help. Soon, you finally get something decent to lay on.

“<Mr. Vetrov, my name is Anton Denisov. I’ll be your chief caretaker here. If I could, may I ask you some questions?>” Well, of course.

-

-M-

It was a boring situation, but an important one, nonetheless. The doctor, who called himself Anton, was interviewing Mikhail while some hospital staff were performing X-Rays on his legs. Listening in deeply, you worry. Mikhail didn’t really have to worry about his bullet wounds. Only one remained in his body, and it could be removed pretty easily. The big problem was the shrapnel in his legs. It’d be extremely difficult to get rid of it all.

If they couldn’t, well, it’d be bad. Mikhail has three options so far, and the best one seems the least likely. Firstly, the operations could go well, and he lives life normally. Well, as normally as he lives it. Secondly, he’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. That’d suck enough, but you couldn’t imagine how crushing it would be for him specifically. The third option was the worst. Pretty much, have him permanently drugged up. He would be a husk. Empty, unfeeling. It sent shivers through your spine, all the way down to your tail.

When the doctors leave, it’s just you sitting next to him, with the beeping of a heart rate monitor, and the sound of you two breathing. You decide to break the ice. “I’m worried.” Mikhail responds quickly.

“Don’t be. I’ve beaten the odds before; I can do it again.”

“Really, are you going to sum it up like that? No worries, just a belief that you’ll be fine?” It seems crazy to you. Endless confidence.

“Yup. I’m sure that it’ll be fine. I have the best doctor’s money can buy, so I’ll be alright.” With a smirk, Mikhail gives you some of that confidence. Smiling, you chuckle. Things weren’t bad, right? “Oh shit, I have to go through detox too. Shit.” Sighing, you look down. Yet another worrisome issue. He was an addict. For him, morphine was at first a way to deal with the pain of his wounds. Soon, it turned to allowing him to function. Now, he’s trying to fight it. For you, no less. It feels touching.

“Well, you’ve got a long road ahead.” Mikhail is tapping his fingers on the bed, bored.

“Trust me, I know.”

“But that doesn’t matter. Despite how bad it may seem at times, I’ll be here for you, always.” He turns to you and extends an arm out.

“Take a seat on my bed, will you? I think your fur is just about as addicting as the morphine.” You roll your eyes. Har har.

“Fine, then why don’t you indulge yourself?” You take a seat on the bed, expecting him to just grab your tail, but a hand going around your waist says otherwise. Falling down, you land right next to him. “J-jeez. Really taking the initiative, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” His face is buried in your fluff. Christ, it was soft, but isn’t this a bit overkill? Still, if he likes it, then so be it. “Hey, it’s soft as can be. Don’t blame me for liking it.” At least it was innocent enough. You did have a decent amount of fluff to you.

“Alright, that’s enough. Don’t need you to ruffle it all up, shit’s a pain in the ass to keep groomed.” Laying next to him, you reach out to the small table next to you. There’s a remote on the table, and you grab it, turning on the TV. It glows in life, but you’re introduced to some shitty news channel, probably run by one of the warlord states. Speaking of news, that reminded you, didn’t FOX news get sued by an anthro rights committee? Heh.

“The fuck are you chuckling about? We’re literally fucking watching a news segment about farming.” Oh. Guess you zoned out.

“Uh, thinking of something else. Lemme switch this up.” With a press of a button, the channel is switched. And it’s some children’s cartoon. Boring, and annoying too. The next channel isn’t even in Russian. Is that… Arabic? Whatever, pressing the button over and over, you’re trying to find something interesting. Eventually, you give up, but with the last button press, you hit gold. An episode of a docu-series on the various crime groups of the world. It started off simple enough. Ukrainian mobs, Polish street gangs, Romanian gypsies… wait no, that last one was just your imagination. It wasn’t too interesting until it moved to Russia.

“And now, the biggest of them all, the Vetrov Crime Syndicate. The Vetrov Crime Syndicate, or more commonly known in the west as the ‘Vetrov Group’ is a Russian based criminal enterprise that does much more than just basic crime. It was formed before the Russian civil war, by one Mikhail Vetrov. Not too much is known about the ringleader of the Vetrov Group, but from some secondhand sources, he’s said to be a calculating man, yet brutal, and ruthless.” Well, he had his very own fucking segment. Taking a peek at him, you can see the smile on his face. Mikhail was loving being in the spotlight. Well, soon, you might be in it too.

“During the start of the Russian civil war, the Vetrov Group rapidly expanded. It expanded from simple contract killing and extortion to arms dealing and some paramilitary work. Eventually, it came into contact with the Eastern Bratva, run by one Georgi Biyaman. He was the head of Russia’s largest crime organization before the start of the civil war, but much of his empire has been taken by the Vetrov Group. Russia now not only has to suffer through its civil war, but between the battle of two criminal empires whose power is unrivaled in the underworld.” Turning your head towards the highlight of the channel, you tap on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Huh? Sorry, just, y’know… enjoying my legacy.” You rest your head back onto a pillow, next to him. Luckily, it was actually comfy, not one of those half paper shitty hospital pillows.

“You sound kinda megalomanic right now, but if anyone should have that power, I’m glad it’s the person I’m with.” Mikhail laughs.

“Oh, so you won’t get purged?” Wonderful, Stalin himself must have entered his soul.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just don’t go too crazy with it, okay.” Mikhail just reaches an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Hey, for you, I won’t. I promise.” For you, he was willing to not have absolute power. Laying your head on his shoulder, you started to relax some more as you continued to watch the TV. It seemed to just flow by you.

-

Well, if what you just watched didn’t show off your infamy, you don’t know what will. Hell, maybe someone will make a book about you. The show diverted from you, moving onto other crime groups. Some triads, some yakuza, and the Moreno Cartel. With the phone on the table ringing, Mila picks it up and hands it to you. “<Yes?>”

“<Boss, what are you planning to do with the westerner?>” Westerner? There were multiple everywhere. He needed to be more specific if you were to have any idea about who he was talking about.

“<Which westerner?>”

 “<The one you had beaten at the HQ.>” Ah, that man. He was… unusual to say the least. Not from here, but it wasn’t known where he was from.

“<Keep him alive, but find out everything you can about him, and from him. Except for death and disability, pull no punches.>”

 “<Understood.>” Good. Handing the phone to Mila, she puts it back where it should be. As she reaches over, you can see the ‘Made in America’ tag on her shirt, which pops an idea into your head.

“Hey, Mila?” She turns to meet you, her brow raised in confusion

“What?” Pausing, you take a quick breath.

“There was a group of foreigners I met when raiding Biyaman’s HQ. They sounded western, and one had a pack of Marlboro. Would you have any clue if perhaps, you weren’t the only one sent here?” She lays down and looks at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, I couldn’t tell you. I wouldn’t be told anything, and I’m not allowed to tell you.” Looking through the window to your right, you ponder as you view the fields of green outside. Mila still had ties to N.A.T.O. loyalty was a huge part of her. Despite what they’d done to her, she’s still willing to work with them. You’d have to break that somehow. You try to think of your usual bargaining tools, money, torture, threats to family, but none would work. Then, you realize. Use yourself.

“Mila. I have an ultimatum. N.A.T.O. and the west has used you, tried to break you. I have nothing but hatred for them. In a few years, I will break away from the west, and start my own reign in the east. If it requires war, so be it. Tell me, how can I have my love be on the opposing side?” Looking to Mila, she’s chuckling.

“Yeah sure there, bud. Think you can fool me?” You clench your fists.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Suddenly her smirk turns to confusion, then horror.

“Wait, Mik-“

 “You have two choices. You can head back to the west, where you’re nothing but a failed test subject, or, you could stay with me, where I’ll be forever by your side. Tell me now, for whose sake do you fight?” Mila is wide-eyed. For her, she is forced into two choices that she doesn’t want to make.

“Please… I don’t want to be a tra-“

“You’ll be a traitor if you warn N.A.T.O. Please, Mila, join me. I can do so much, and I will do much more for you. Whatever you desire, I will make it happen. Just work for me, that’s all.” She’s horribly uneasy, with her paws covering her face.

“Don’t do this… it isn’t right.” You shake your head, with a look of disapproval.

“I’ve chosen this path, and I have worked long for it. I will not back down. Please, Mila, join my side, for me, for us.” She slowly removes her paws from her face and looks at you.

“Mikhail, please don’t let me regret this.” She slowly crawls over to you, lying on top of your body. With her not moving or making a sound, you attempt to help her through this. With your hands stroking through her hair, you whisper to her how happy you were. It was both manipulative, but also genuine. It hurt to see her feel like she just stabbed someone in the back, but it was for the greater good. You couldn’t bear to have her be on the other side when this all started.

“Shush, I won’t.” You don’t push on with more words, Mila can take the lead whenever she feels so. With her mind trying to rationalize the choice she’s made, you turn on the TV for some background noise and relax. It was going to a long few months of recovery.

 -
Bland. Fucking flavorless as possible. With annoyance, you chuck the entire tray into the garbage, luckily not stirring Mila from the short nap she’s taken. Whoever today’s chef was, they should be fired. How the hell do you make French toast taste so bland? Sinking into your wheelchair, you sigh. Yet another part of this hospital that sucked. The temporary wheelchair was still, and it hurt your back, the food seems like something you’d get from prison, and not a western one, and worst of all, you’re feeling like shit.

Withdrawal sucks. Everything feels off. Dizziness seems to intensify at the worst moments, focusing is always interrupted by cravings or depressing thoughts, keeping you from doing anything important for a significant amount of time. You’re tired. So goddamn tired. You can’t fall asleep, but you feel the fatigue just wearing you down, dulling you like a knife being dragged across wood. Luckily, you have a blanket to comfort your shivering body, giving you at least something to immediately enjoy.

You hate this. In a second, you feel rage throughout your veins as you grip the armrest of the wheelchair in anger, but you soon let go and slump back. You were simply too weak and tired to do much of anything right now. And you knew it. It was certainly demoralizing, but it gave incentive to push on and reclaim your ability to work towards your goal. Still, with anger, you mutter a few swears.

“Huh… you still awake?” Mila groggily raises her head from your hospital bed and smiles. “Guess you decided to watch some TV…” You put your hands to your head and run them down.

“Mila. I can’t fucking sleep.”

“Well, lie down and close your eyes.” God, she wasn’t awake.

“No, I have fucking… goddamnit. It’s withdrawal, shit’s killing me.” She opens her eyes more as she slowly comprehends what you’ve said.

“Oh. Well, what can I do?” You stare at the ceiling in pure fatigue.

“I don’t think you can do anything, to be honest.” Mila shakes her head, not believing you.

“Nah, watch me.” She gets up and walks up to you, wheeling both of you to the bed, then hauls you onto it while she closes her eyes. Stubborn fucker. “Now get some shut-eye.” You groan and lie back. With her falling asleep, you lie in agony. Yet, something is off. Looking out the window, a horrific feeling starts to wash over you. You’re being watched. Somebody, something is out there. You stare open-eyed, searching for whoever is giving you that sixth sense, and the cold horror floods your mind. The air feels freezing as if the chill of winter had arrived firsthand in your room. With a rush, you feel your heart beating. This isn’t right. This is wrong.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is so wrong. Rolling out of her grasp, you slide onto the floor, landing on some carpet. It’s quiet. Even your landing makes no sound. Only the beat of your frantic heart can be heard. Crawling out towards the door, you open it. The halls are dark. There’s a pole next to you, so you grab it and use the pole as leverage to somewhat keep yourself up, as difficult as it is. Shambling down the hall, the silence is fading away. A dull humming sound surrounds you, and some metal banging slowly creeps closer.

You pick up the pace, worried by whatever is happening. Making it to a stairwell, you decide to worry about the logistics of getting down later, and get in. Sliding down the steps, you try to turn on the lights, but nothing happens. Suddenly, footsteps come from behind you. “<Where is he?>” It’s a deep voice, unlike one you’ve ever heard. Making it down and down the stairwell, the footsteps alternate between getting closer and farther away, while the puny amount of light you have slowly fades away as you descend further and further into the cold concrete stairway.

Your head is throbbing. Pain is washing around your body, and you feel anxiety, worry about your situation. Making it to the ground floor, your hand is shaking. You thought it was panic that was gripping you, but trying to calm down doesn’t work. Your hand starts to contort, stretching and contracting it’s various digits at different speeds, seemingly at random. The spasm isn’t going away. Trying to grab the doorknob only leads to your hand colliding with it, making a loud metallic jiggling sound. Suddenly, the footsteps get quick. “<Hello? Hey, don’t move!>”

You try to open the door, but it isn’t working. In desperation, you bash your body against it, and after a few tries, the door bursts open, leading you to the basement of the hospital. The pole is too large, and you abandon it, crawling into the cold and dry steel hell. As you drag yourself across the ground, you can feel the ash and dirt of the basement coating your hands, the result of the coal heaters the building used. With the flames out can’t see well. Still, hiding here from whatever was changing you was better than the alternatives. In an agonizing push, you continue to drag yourself. Through the pain, the worries, the cold in your body, and the fear circulating in your mind, you crawl into a small space under a table. Lying down, you feel pain. Yet, you feel something wet. Touching your body, you smell it. Blood. Blood is all over your body as you lie freezing in the basement. With the footsteps getting closer, you breathe harder and harder and your head gets worse in pain. “<Where are you?>” You feel horrific. It’s all wrong what is happening. All you want is the morphine, just so you wouldn’t feel so horrific. You want it. You need it. You NEED it. Slumping into the ground, you look to your right as you lose energy to move. Before you can yell, or faint in pain, all you can see are two pairs of eyes staring at you. One brown, and one green. Soon, you feel nothing. And there is nothing.

-

Jesus, what the fuck? How’d you get in the protected service room? You push yourself up and look around. The morning light fills the room, and you rub your head. Well, you certainly feel better. No more agonizing pain through your body, the anxiety seems to have disappeared, and you no longer feel that freezing cold in your body.

“Mikhail?” Mila? She walks into your room and slowly walks towards you. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah. What the hell happened last night? Did you find the fucks?” She steps back.

“What do you mean?” You continue sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back a bit. The white tiles of the room are blinding with the reflective light, so you shield your eyes.

“The bastards who were spying on me last night. Had to crawl to the fucking basement.” She starts to walk to you again and asks a question.

“Uh… Mikhail… there was nothing like that.” You look up at her, deadpan as possible.

“Bullshit. I saw them outside, I heard them coming for me!” Suddenly, Mila dives forwards and holds you close.

“Listen, you were hallucinating. Withdrawal, Mikhail. Not spies.” Withdrawal?

 “Wha… but, I saw them! Fuck! Is this what it’s gonna be like?” She sighs.

“You used morphine and various combat drugs in your trek through St. Petersburg. Coming down from that isn’t going to be easy. The day of hallucination is a breakthrough, so don’t worry. Now, all that weird shit will be just in your dreams.” Well, using experimental combat drugs wasn’t a great idea, who would’ve guessed.

“Wonderful, just fucking wonderful. Lemme guess you dragged my ass back up here?” Mila nods. “Well, thanks. At least I can understand what paranoid schizophrenics feel like now.” She chuckles and you smile, glad that the joke at least lightened the mood. “Hey, I haven’t asked in a bit, how’re you doing with all of this?” Mila’s ears sloop down, and she puts most of her weight on you.

“It’s a nice place, and I’m living in luxury, but I’m worried. It’s all so worrying, your legs, the withdrawal, and the future. What you have planned, it’s… scary.” Mila did have a point. It was a huge setup you had planned out. Still, you had confidence. You’re set-in-stone. Your organization is getting stronger, soon you’ll have Russia unified, and you’ll make your mark on the world.

“Hey, I’ve been through the worst of the addiction, and the docs will patch my legs up. On the other stuff, I have it all set up. Don’t worry, just relax, there’s no need to freak out.” She moves out of your arms and sits next to you, resting an arm on your shoulders.

“How do you keep so calm over it? Whatever, I’ll try to stop thinking about it.”

“Wonderful. Now, let’s get out of this room, this place sucks.” Mila lies you onto the bed, and walks away, confusing you. “Hey? Mila, the fuck are you doing?” She shakes her head and rolls in a wheelchair. Ah. That’d explain it.

“Hop on, Mr. Leadleg.” You roll your eyes at the joke. Sure, she was trying to joke around to make the situation less stressful, but ‘leadleg’? Really? Rolling around, you start to get a better feel for the hospital. Busy, that’s the main word that’d describe it. Nurses and doctors run all over, treating sicknesses and wounds galore. One man seems like he has no worse than a common cold, while another is missing a leg. Luckily, they’re too doped up to be screaming, which saved your ears.

Making it back to your room, you are surprised to see a doctor already waiting for you. “<Ah, Mikhail, perfect timing. Based off of the X-Rays we’ve taken, there’s already a plan set up for you.>” You didn’t have time for this.

“<Do I keep the legs or not?>” He pauses, then gives a thumbs up with a worrying smile.

“<Well, yes, but on your left leg… we’ll need to replace some bones with titanium replacements.>” Wait? Titanium? That’s… a thing?


“<Hold on, replacing full bones with… titanium? As in just swapping them out?>” The doctor shrugs.

“<That’s a crude way of putting it, but essentially, yes. With the extra funding we’ve gotten, with myself included, of course, must thank you, we’ve been able to get significant advancements in our capabilities. The finest procedures in the world are no longer limited to the west.>” That’s one hell of an improvement.

“<Goddamn, remind me to not ever decrease your funding. So, when will be able to get it done?>” Handing over a clipboard, the doctor chuckles.

“<Soon, hopefully.>” Charts and statistics, all over the clipboard. You weren’t a bureaucrat, the fuck does this mean? Oh, maybe the part that says: ‘replacement bone delivery: est. ~4 days.’ Fucking idiot.

“<Nice. Getting sick of being a cripple. Had enough of that in St. Petersburg. Well, don’t let me bother you any longer, I’m sure you have other duties to deal with.>” Tossing the doctor the clipboard, he fumbles with it before meekly walking out. “Well, no more of being a useless bitch. Fuck, guess I can’t say that anymore, can I?” Mila laughs as she picks out of the wheelchair and onto the bed, turning on the TV.

“Well, you’re definitely going to hurt some anthro’s feelings, but not me. Just, don’t do any of that supremacist shit, alright? Got enough of that back at the states.” You’ll keep that in mind. Race relations from your more eastern men is already something you don’t want to bother, messing with a new upcoming species would make more enemies than you could imagine. Sure, you could do it, and possibly pull it off, but it’s unnecessarily risky and has no upsides. How the fuck do you sell drugs and weapons to people that hate you?

“Alright. I have fuck all to do, and I’m tired, bored, and stuck in one place. Could you hand me the phone?” Mila tosses it over, and you catch it in flight. Dialing the phone, you know the person for the job.

“<Hello?>”

“<Dimitri! How’s everything going in post-apocalyptia?>” He chuckles and starts to ramble.

“<Well, it’s fucking tiresome. We have so much shit to do here, I’m running over to help one bitch, then the next.>” Well, St. Petersburg was literally ruins. It’s probably equal to the siege of Leningrad, possibly worse.

“<Well, tell me in detail, you dope.>” You can hear Dimitri fall onto a chair and moan.

“<Firstly, there are still skirmishes with bandits and survivors who don’t want to fall under your ‘banner’, so it’s still somewhat of a warzone over here. Secondly, setting everything up is a logistical hell. We need to fix the infrastructure, but we need the supplies to do that, but with the infrastructure destroyed, we can’t get the goddamn things. We’re airdropping food and basic stuff, but a second group is moving in with heavy equipment to fix up a route to our very own ‘town hall’.>” Lying back into the bed, you adjust your pillows while Mila flips through the channels, just as bored as you.

“<Well, it’ll take time, but we’ll fix it up. Also, I have something even more important for you to do.>”

“<What? I’m already knee-deep in shit over here, like God kicked me down into this shitty city’s outhouse! The hell else am I going to do?>” Welp, he flipped into a rage. You don’t blame him, it had to be tiring and stressful work he had. Still, he gets his pay from you.

“<Watch your Goddamn tone. Cut the shit, and stop fucking bitching. Listen, I need as many bottles of Kauffman as the syndicate has. Get with the Underboss-Quartermaster, I need that shit fast.>” He stops yelling as soon as you spoke.

“<O-Of course. My apologizes. The hospital I believe may have some already, but I’ll get the rest. Again, sorry for the outburst.>” Christ, stop with the ass-kissing.

“<Yeah yeah, just get it done soon, alright man? Still, a good job at St. Petersburg might give you a larger cut of the profits if you keep it up. Later.>” Hanging up, you dial up the Head of the Hospital, looking to claim the vodka for yourself. You needed it, more than a German needs to overengineer things.

------
-M-

Just keep watching the TV, that’s what you said. Yet, all of the channels were boring, and it’s kinda hard to not hear Mikhail right now. So, from what you’ve overheard, St. Petersburg is being somewhat patched up, and Mikhail is thirsty. Now, he’s yelling at the head of the hospital, pissed over some vodka. You wish you could just get some guts and ask him to stop yelling, as it was putting you on edge, but you have no willpower to do anything. What, ask a Russian to not argue over vodka? Impossible. Well, not really Russian, but culturally nonetheless.

“<You fucking cocksucker! I don’t give a shit that you hoard the stuff, I’m your boss! I pay you, I pay for this hospital, I could have you beaten over the head and thrown out of a window you piss drinking mongrel! Bring it over, or I’ll come and get it myself, and I swear to God, if I have to, I’ll make you wish you were nonexistent, you useless son of a whore!>” He slams the phone down on the table next to the bed and pushes his head deeper into a pillow. “God, give me the strength to not strangle these fucking idiots.” Yeesh.

“Hey, all… good?” He shrugs and sighs.

“It’s complicated. In the greater picture, yes, but my ‘employees’ are making me want to stab somebody.” Nope. Don’t like it when he’s angry, not having any of that shit.

“Well, relax. I’m sure he got the message, and now, you have another bonus to enjoy.” Hopping onto the bed, you lay on top of him, kissing his forehead. “My fur.” He slowly wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your shoulder.

“God, it’s still so comfy… how the hell do you do it?” You smile and put your nose right to his.

---

“Anthro fur. Specifically, Red Panda fur. Better than any blanket could ever hope to be.” You didn’t deny that she was right. Blankets were useless now.

“Well, heated blankets are pretty good…”

“Can it, this source of warmth don’t need no wiring?” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “See, you’re acting better already! Hey, let me play some music, that’ll help, right?” She turns on a radio, and tunes to stations. Western hippy music, pop music, and then some classical stuff. “See, something calming…” You grab the cord leading to the power outlet and yank over the radio to you.

You prefer to change the station, finding something more to your liking. Кино - Кончится лето / Kino - Leto - YouTube “Yeah, fuck that. We’re listening to what I want. Bach? Fuck ‘em.” Mila shakes her head and looks at you with a face that said: ‘Really? Are you serious?’

“So much for the classics, huh? Thought something like that would be nice and calming y’know.” Raising an arm, you gesture a dismissal to her.

“Well hearing the damn same piano songs over and over isn’t calming, it’s fucking torture. Was stuck listening to those songs on the Trans-Siberian railway. Nine days of the same fucking shit, nonstop.” You shudder from the memory. Having friends die in front of you? Bad shit, but in your oddly wired brain, you’d just not give a damn after some time. But that fucking trip? Never again.

“Oh, stop whining. What, you got PTSD from it?” You flip her the finger.

“I’ll ship you on that train, and we’ll see who’s bitching at the end of it.” She rolls her eyes and sits down on the bed, chuckling.

“Only if you come along.” What?

“I’d prefer to get hit by the train than to ride it again.” She starts to laugh, but she uses her tails to muffle it, hiding it from the staff workers.

“Fucking… just move on to another topic. When the everlasting hell is the Kauffman getting here?” Slamming your fist onto the pillow, you’re left annoyed with how unsatisfying that felt. “Mila?” She slides up over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Can you bring the… drink?” Mila stares into your soul, with a blank face that seems to hide anguish.

“Sure. But I’m having some if I’m getting it.”

“What? No that’s not part of the deal!” She wags a finger and smirks.

“Then no Kauffman for you.” Fuck. She was extorting you.

“Fine. Wanted my own reserve, but fuck it. Have some too then. When I get my hands on the head of this place I fucking swear…” She chuckles and starts to leave the room, but then stops.

“Hey, there’s plenty of the stuff. Trust me, we won’t be making a dent in it.” She leaves the room while you stare off into space, in awe at the revelation she spoke. There was really that much? No way.

Minutes after minutes and nothing is happening. What the fu-

“The booze cruise is here, baby!” Oh. OH. That’s a big cart. And by god, that’s a lotta boxes.

“Please tell me those are full of Kauffman bottles.” She nods with a smile, which soon spreads to you. “Well, what are you waiting for, get ‘em out!” Mila waves her hands, and the hospital staff works on opening the boxes, moving the bottles of liquid joy to the table next to your bed. You snatch a bottle from one and open it.

Ah, perfection. Going for a swig, you feel the smooth flavor of the vodka on your tongue, the confirmation to the Russian part of you that all was good. And good it was, you can’t get better than Kauffman. “Hey, Mikhail, you good? Looks like you were in nirvana.” You smile and look at the bottle.

“I was.” You can’t resist. It isn’t just a swig or some basic drinking, you start to demolish the bottle, draining the damned thing faster than a colander. Mila is still in awe with your drinking prowess, watching closely as you slam the bottle down. “Another.” A staff member hands you a bottle, and just before you can open it, Mila takes it.

“Hey, save some for me, Vodka-Man.” You groan and grab another.

“This is highway robbery.” Mila sits right next to you and chuckles.

“Aw shuddup. Quit the whining and get to drinking.”

“I was planning on doing that until someone interrupted me, pal.” Opening the bottle, you stare at Mila as she fumbles with hers.” Just pull the top off. It isn’t some combination code to open it. She pulls, and would you believe it? The bottle is open. Woopdy fucking doo.

“Finally. Now, this is some premium stuff, right?” You give affirmation to that.

“Only the best.” Mila smiles as goes in. Taking a gulp, she slightly recoils back.

“S-Strong…” Christ, don’t tell me she’s a lightweight.

“Strong? But, you’ve had whiskey before, right?” She nods.

“Yeah, but a pretty low alcohol brand, and beer too.” You shake your head. Beer. Alcoholic piss.

“Well, consider this a formal welcome to my part of Russia. The underground part that is.” She coughs.

“Is it always this rough?” Laying back onto the bed, you look at the piles of crates in the room. God, it was beautiful.

“To be honest, at first, yes. When I first came here, it was tough. I was just some kid looking to make a name for myself. I was foolish. Young. Poor. Yet, I worked my way up. From the outside, this is a tough place. But when you live here long enough, it isn’t tough. It’s just that the rest of the world is too easy.” Mila stops and thinks, before turning to you.

“Did you just turn into a philosopher or something? I was asking about the drink, but the story is nice. Hell, got any more for me?” You nod, you had plenty of stories. From times where you weren’t the man you were now. More innocent. Less powerful, less… horrific.

---

“<So, what about moving?>” Dimitri was walking with you to the bar, after a good job of mugging some dope peddlers. Plenty of cash and product in your safehouse, it was time to celebrate. Yet, he was helping you through a stressful time.

“<What about it? Put one foot in front of the other.>” He puts a hand to his head and sighs.

“<No, I mean moving away from her. It obviously ain’t working, so you need to move out. Get some freedom, man.>” He had a point. You were flirting with a local girl, but she was being one hell of a bitch.

“<You know, that isn’t too bad of an idea. Thanks, man.>” He pats you back and gives one hell of a smile.

“<Hey, no problem man. Now, let’s get some drinks.>” Opening the bar door, you are welcomed by a wonderful feeling. Singing, drinking, and all-around good times. “<Hey, Fyodor! Get us some shots, Putinka!>” The bartender gives a thumbs up and pulls out a bottle.

“<Thank God for vodka. Need to push some thoughts away.>” Dimitri looks at you with a concerned look.

“<With your girl, or work?>” Come on, it’s obvious.

“<Work. You know, I may be in this field, but I feel sick of it already. Sure, I’ve done some fucked up stuff, but I actually killed somebody, and not in self-defense. Man, it felt bad shooting a guy so I wouldn’t get stabbed, but last night? I saw that poor fuckers face as he fell. The surprise on it. Horrific.>” Finally, you get some shots and put one down right away.

“<Yeah, our very own way of life. Still, don’t be too hard on yourself. He was a dope dealer, he got what was coming to him. In this profession, you can’t be feeling remorse for putting the trash away, right?>” He had… somewhat of a point, but still, what if he was a good man? Reluctantly doing that for his family? As the shots go on, you’re able to push the intrusive thoughts away, feeling better about your situation, and especially about your recent success.

“<Man, we’re gonna be fucking rich, you kn- *hic* -know that?>” Dimitri cheers, annoying the nearby patrons, but fuck them.

“<Mikhail, we’re going to make it to the top, and nobody can do anything about it!>” Haha, he was right! You had it all set up, yet one dickhead decided to interrupt your fun.

“<Hey, we’re trying to talk over here, keep it down!>” Inebriated and offended, you get up and walk over to the man. He was probably just some factory worker trying to enjoy himself, but you weren’t going to let anyone talk to you like that in this state.

“<Huh? The fuck did you say you cocksucking bitch?>” The man stands up and gets right in your face and starts to yell, angered by your drunken attitude.

“<Who the fuck are you? Tell me bastard, why the fuck do you think you can talk to me like that?>” You smirk.

“<Because your whore of a mother's mouth had a triple-digit long waiting list. Any other stupid questions?>” The man pushes you back, leading to you stumbling into Dimitri. “<Oh, you fucker.>” Both you and Dimitri steel yourselves and rush forwards towards the man. Swinging, he ducks below your fist, but not below Dimitri’s. He loses his air as a fist connects with his gut. Thinking it was already won, you forgot about his friend, who kicks you in the side.

You fall, and your head hits a table, hard. In that instant, you felt such horrific pain. Something unlike any other. But also, you felt anger. All reservations about morals seemed to melt away as if God himself has unlocked your bindings in the underworld. As Dimitri is fighting the men, you push yourself up. Feeling your head, you look at your hand. It has blood on it. They spilled your blood. That was it. Picking up a bottle you run to the man who kicked you and smashed the bottle over his head. As yells out as the glass slices and sticks to his skull, leaving him to fall to the ground, incapacitated. Still, you wanted to prove a point. No-one would hit you and get away with it.

Stomping your leg, you deliver blow after blow. His chest, gut, legs, and arms, nothing is off-limits. He’s coughing horrifically, and when some blood from your head flows down onto your left eye, it just enrages you. With no more regard for the men’s wellbeing, you stomp on his neck, leaving a crack. Dimitri turns his head and is surprised. The man he has fought was knocked out, but you killed a man in cold blood. “<Mikhail, holy fuck! We need to go, now!>” Grabbing you, you both run out into the freezing night, searching for a doctor to patch you up. That day, you lost all of the feelings of being Matthias. A kid who did crime just to survive. Now, you really were Mikhail. A man who’ll do anything to get what he wants. And from that, you finally started to become who you were. A living legend.

---

“So, you’re telling me that the reason you’re probably all messed up in the head is because of a barfight?” Giving a thumbs up, you feel a bit… embarrassed. Could’ve been something cooler, like a helicopter crash or something.

“Pretty much. Went from a kid who just wanted to make a good living, to the ever so charming enterprising individual that is laying before you.” Shaking her head, she takes a sip from the bottle.

“Always the small things that have big consequences. Hell, take a look at World War I. Some Serb got pissy, and that set all of this into motion. Hitler, Hellish wars, and Hentai, all from one assassin.” Huh. She had a point, but thinking this much while drinking wouldn’t end well.

“On another topic, anything you want? I’d imagine having something more to do would be fun, right?” Mila runs a paw over her head and thinks.

“Hey, Mikhail, you know about video games, right?” Christ, how out of the loop did she think you were?

“I know about ‘em, and played a few back in the day, but I spend my time actually running a gang, not electronically pretending to have one.” Mila seems to be somewhat pleased with your response, with her smiling and staring off into space.

“Well, why don’t we get a new console? Something modern, I bet your Singa-ruskie ass only played Tetris.”

“DooM.”

“Whatever. Still, it’s a good idea, right?” Yeah, you’d say so. Still, games were kinda boring after a bit. DooM was fun, but once you got into actual action, it’s novelty wore off. You doubted modern games could do better, but you decided to give things a chance.

“Sure, get one in. TV is kinda wearing off on me, it’s just the same shit day after day…” Taking another swig, you’re getting annoyed at being bored. “Hey, I got an even better idea. First, help me up.” Mila seems unsure of your plans, but she complies, lifting you off of the bed, and to your feet. “Put me in the wheelchair, I got an idea.” With you falling down onto it, the plan might work.” Sweet. Uh… can you roll me out to the back? It’s an empty lot, and they usually have cars and stuff there.” She shrugs but goes along with it, pushing you through the hospital while you enjoy the drink you have.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but when you see a man who seems to be glaring in disgust at Mila, you give him a stare of death. He stops in place and goes blank, horrified, leaving you satisfied. When you make it to the elevator, Mila has had enough time waiting.

“So, what’s the idea?” You lean your head back to look at her, seeing the red panda’s green eyes.

“There’s an empty lot outside. We’re bored, my legs don’t work well, we drive around in it.” Mila seems to be fine with the answer, but she soon looks at the bottle of vodka in her hand. “Hey, it’s an empty lot. We’ll be fine. Just drive around, do whatever you wanna do. I don’t care, you wanna pretend to be a drag racer? Go ahead.” Mila stares at you, dumbfounded by your words.

“Hold on, you’re telling me that you want me to get in a car, while I’m smashed, and with a man who has horrific damage to his legs as my passenger, and drive around like a lunatic?” Well, when she says it like that, it doesn’t sound like such a good idea. Still, you stick to your guns, unwilling to budge. Perhaps it’s from the drink.

“Yes.”

“You- Are y- Pleas- Ugh… Fine.” You throw a hand up in celebration, and with only some effort, make a somewhat drunken cheer. “So, this is how they have fun over here. Wonderful.”

“Hey, cheer up. We got drink, a car, all the riches of the east, and each other. Don’t be so gloomy over some drunken driving, we’ll be fine.” She shakes her head in judgmental silence. God, you don’t like that at all. Jesus, just have her call you stupid or something, don’t just be quiet. “Uh… fuck, forgot what I was going to say.” The elevator stops, saving you somewhat from your snafu, opening up to the back of the hospital. “Sweet, just bring us to a car, and we’ll be good. Hell, one of my cars might be here actually.” Mila’s head whips down instantly.

“Wha? ‘One of’, the fuck do you mean by that?” What? The fuck does she mean?

“I… I’m fucking rich, Mila? Do you expect me to have only one car? Hell, I got the keys for it, it’ll be a Marussia B-2 if it’s here.”

“I don’t know what the hell type of car that is.” You put a hand to your head.

“Is… it’s a sports car, okay? Goes fast, colored red-orange, holds two seats. Here are the keys.” Tossing them up probably wasn’t a good idea, as the intoxicated Mila fumbles and lets them fall onto your head, but immediately grabs them.”

“Uh, shit, sorry. So… okay, fast car, got it.” When you move out into the parking lot, you see it instantly. Made in Moscow, it was a symbol of both your wealth and supposed nationality. “Holy fuck… that’s a fucking supercar!” Mila pushes you both forwards, seemingly excited to drive it. She’s running fast, leaving the wind to blow through your hair, and looking back, also through all of hers. Heh, looked funny.

“Yeah, so this is mine. Got two more of them, but this is what we got for now.” Mila’s just staring at the thing like somebody turned off her switch for regular thinking. “Hey, Earth to Mila, I kinda need to get in the car.” She snaps out of it and opens the door, letting you roll over and crawl your way inside. It made you feel more like a fucking worm than a person, but it worked. She took the driver's seat and was just sitting there.

“So… what’re we doing again?” Jesus. God, remind you to not let her drink anything substantial again. “Oh yeah, gotta start the car, hehehe…” Mila’s drunken laughter made you feel somewhat less safe about her driving, but fuck it, what could go wrong?

“Keep it easy on the gas, you’ll go speeding off otherwise. Just drive around in a lot for a bit, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Okay, nice and slow.” It was not. Mila must have pushed down hard because you were going from zero to sixty in three seconds.

“Jesus, slow the fuck down!” She slams on the brakes, and you two lurch forward before getting pulled back by the seatbelts. “God… I said easy… put only a tiny bit of force on the pedal, alright?” Mila puts her hands up as to defend herself, as if she were held at gunpoint, seemingly giving off a mocking aura. It wasn’t what you wanted.

“Okay, okay. We all make mistakes, just relax.” She heeds your advice and starts off slow. Sure, she may be somewhat swerving, but it’s easily controllable at this speed. “Hey, this ain’t bad, but it’s kinda boring… could I pi-“

“No.” You shut that shit down before it could possibly become a problem. “Keep it slow, and get used to its handling. Once you stop swerving like crazy, then you can pick up the speed, got it?” She nods, probably not even listening, but you’d make sure she’d fucking do as you say. “Now, take it slow with a lap around the hospital. Don’t fuck the car. It’s expensive.” Mila’s eyes burst open, and the swerving seems to be suddenly massively reduced.

“Uh, got it. Fuck.” Seems like the cost of the car shook her up. Good. “Okay, here we go.” And you did. It was boring, as expected, but Mila did well, handling the car just fine. Moving through tight spots without issue, following the signs and all that shit, she was a-okay at driving.

“Okay, not bad. You can pick up the speed, but don’t fucking go crazy, alright? I think there’s a store not too far from here, and I’m sick of the hospital’s food. Will ya take us over there?” Mila gives a smile and a thumbs up.

“No problem, hun.” You feel content with her reaction and lean back into the seat, feeling a bit more relaxed. Driving to the nearby town, you look out to the forest of green to your right. This is what it should be. Calm. Peaceful. Perhaps even carefree. Yet most of this country was far from that. People don’t expect it, but you want to change that. Rebuild the land, help the people, create a new Russia from the ashes of the old. The lands of the old Federation were scorched. Constant war with the collapse of infrastructure and ruined buildings left the populace in a horrific state. Little shelter, little food, and no warmth. It was a full-blown humanitarian crisis.

Still, you were no messiah figure. You had plans for power, to sate your greed, and having happy and healthy people gave you the means to achieve that. Hell, the people of the town live a good life, having proper housing, work, and food. It wasn’t bad food either, no shitty MREs or anything, stuff like borsch and black bread, something that’d leave a common man satisfied. With the people falling under your banner day by day, you were growing into a force to be reckoned with. “Feels good to have a nice calm trip, doesn’t it? Hell of a lot better than the old room we stayed in together.” Mila giggles and her tail lightly smacks you in the face.

“I don’t know, living in a ruined building with just one room filled with basic furniture and a bedroll was kinda growing on me…” The sarcasm burned.

“Well, if you want, we can always go ba-“


“NoI’mgoodthankyouverymuch.” You break into laughter at her expense, she did not want to spend a goddamn second in that hellhole again, and you don’t really blame her. Having the joys of modern life is pretty damn good.

“So, scared of St. Petersburg, huh? I don’t blame you, that place kinda sucked.” Mila shakes her head.

“Kinda? It was hell, living purely on MRE’s, we lived in a ruined building, and we were getting shot at almost every day. Trust me, I have plenty of fears, being by myself, having you get hurt, and going back to that mess. Speaking of that, what’re your fears?” Yours? That was a question people didn’t ask you, and for good reason. If some douche came up to you and asked that, you’d crush his throat right then and there, but with Mila, it was much different. It wasn’t a way to get power, but a way to learn more about to, to bond together. You couldn’t just say no.

“I have some. No doubt about that. The biggest… is fear that everything will come to a horrific end. I worked so hard to get where I am, and there’s plenty more to work towards. Losing it all scares me beyond no end, so I like to make sure that’ll never happen. Secondly, losing anybody close. You, Dimitri, and a few other friends I have back in the Syndicate’s base of operations. That’s… the end of meaningful relations for me. You know how I am. If I even tried to get a new friend, I promise you it’d be out of fear rather than actual friendship. Besides that, I fucking hate the ocean. Thalassophobia. It sucks.” Mila nods to your rant, seemingly digesting your information.

“The first two, well damn. That’s deep, and I can’t say shit about it. I guess that just makes sure things go well, right?” You give a thumb up, too bummed to speak. “But yeah, the ocean is freaky. Drowning sucks, pressure crushes shit, and who knows what the fuck is in it. Ugh.”

Yup, that about sums it up. “Yeah. I know it’s hard to think about this shit, but thanks anyway. So, we got around five minutes before we make it to the town. There should be some groceries that sell good food, so we’ll stock up, got it?”

“Yup.” Good. Laying back into the seat, you close your eyes. The rumbling of the car on the road is familiar. Too familiar.

---

“<So, you’re telling me he fucking punched it so hard, that it exploded? Bullshit.>” Klaus smirks as he turns the steering wheel, cutting a hard right onto another road.

“<Yes, I am. The dude had brass knuckles on, and a spark lit the whole thing up. Takes explosive anger issues to a whole new meaning, right?>” You groan at the attempt of humor, and Viktor smacks him on the back of the head.

“<You deserved that. Viktor and I have the right idea, it’s a load of crap. I know the man is fucking apeshit crazy, but come on, no way that’s how he disappeared. Fucker probably got drunk and wandered into the snow. Maybe they’ll dig him up in spring.>” Hans takes a puff from his cig and speaks up.

“<He probably did. He’s a heavy drinker, and with his messed-up brain, I’d say that’s the most likely cause of death.>” Well, he had a point. Wait, the fuck are you talking about?

“<Hey, shouldn’t we be talking about how we’re going to break into the vault?>” Everybody suddenly quiets down. Goddamn it, that was too much time wasted.

---

“Hey… Hey. HEY!”

“What?” You jump up from your daydreaming and stare at the red panda who was yelling, annoyed as hell. “You could’ve just tapped on my shoulder you know.”

“Hey, it was easier this way.” Lazy fuck. “You got the cash for the trip?” Yup. Pulling out your wallet, you toss her a bundle of bills, all five-thousand-ruble denominations. “Damn. That’ll do. Alright, I’ll be back.” Mila opens the door and walks out, heading for the first shop. Sitting in the car, you look around at the town you’re in.

It isn’t lacking, that’s for sure. The roads are well paved, the buildings look new, people chat in the streets, and your men are keeping the peace. It seemed like just another town before the war, but now, it’s a beacon of prosperity. Lucky people lived here, and you planned to keep the luck up.

Still, there was plenty of signs that these weren’t the old days. Firstly, being some Syndicate men armed to the teeth, making sure no trouble was being in town. Sure, back in the day you might have the odd cop who brought an AK on patrol, but when the entire ‘police’ force has body armor and carbines, it displays the dangerous land Russia has become. Plus, this town isn’t entirely tamed. Back alley deals for various small bags of dope seem to be common, despite you having a ban on local drug dealing. They’ll get their beating soon enough, then they might end up in the work sites.

With a shiver going down your spine, the horrors of the worksites pop into your mind. It seemed like a normal name, something some construction workers might go to, but it was far from that. Enemies of yours, people who didn’t listen to your word, and those who knew too much were all sent there. Forced labor, and not the best conditions. They wouldn’t die, but they wouldn’t want to live anyway. The wardens would break any man. The freezing winds, bland food, beatings, and grueling work. Unethical, sure, but it was important in rebuilding the lands you have taken.

A bell rings, and Mila walks out of the store with a few bags, smiling. “Hey, I finally get to have authentic Russian food, how about that?” You smirk and throw a thumbs up.

“Are you talking about the rural diet or the canned good delights you find in warehouses? Both are authentically Russian as can be, just in different ways.” Mila pulls out some bread and sausage, giving you an answer without saying a word. “Nice.”

“Finally, right? That hospital food might as well be baby food. Shit sucks.” Correct. The food they served there was as if they got reject food from factories, then proceeded to piss on it and microwave it for five goddamn minutes before they served it to you.

 “Don’t even get me started. I’ll be liable to kill a man.” Mila gives you a look and you put your hands up. “Joking, joking. I’ll only kill them if they poison me, that’s all.” She rolls her eyes and puts her hands on the wheel, cranking it hard.

“Let’s get back quick, I’m fucking hungry. I call dibs on the Chicken Kiev.”

“What? Come on, I wanted that!” She shrugs and starts to put pressure on the gas pedal.

“Hey, you really going to keep all the food to yourself?” Fuck. She had a point. As much as you wanted some shashlik, you couldn’t eat too much if you’re just sitting around all day.

“Fine. Just get us home quick, alright?” That wasn’t the greatest thing to say, as Mila steps on it.

“If you say so!” The car goes from zero to eighty faster than you could say ‘JESUS CHRIST YOU’RE GONNA HIT THOSE PEOPLE YOU CRAZY BITCH!’. Luckily, there wasn’t anybody on the road, negating any chances of you yelling out. Plus, you weren’t concerned about them, it was that repairing the car is fucking expensive.

“Jesus, keep it easy on the gas!” Mila doesn’t listen and keeps a high speed, unconcerned by your words.

“Hey, the roads are empty, don’t worry about a thing. See, I’m a natural at this!” You wish you could agree with her, but you’re left grabbing the seats in worry of this red panda flinging the car off the road.

“Goddamn it, Mila. Fucking chill!”

 “Hey, I think you need to chill, I’m calm as can be.” Yeah, either she’s oblivious to the dangers of hitting something really fast or is overconfident in her skills. Hopefully, she actually has the driving prowess to back it up. She won’t budge, so you decide to rest your head back and wait. If she’s not going to slow down, you can at least try to relax on the trip back.

That is, until Mila slams on the breaks and you’re sent forward, inertia launching you off until the seatbelt constricts you, feeling like a crushing rope. “FUCK FUCK FUCK!” You keep that way until the car collides with an ambulance, just outside of the hospital. Well, fucking perfect. At least the care will be quick.

“Augh… Mila… the fuck happened?” She pushes herself back and gasps, trying to keep her calm. “Mila? Are you alright?” Then, it all comes out, like a broken dam.

“FUCK! Oh fuck, Mikhail… I’m sorry, it came out of nowhere! Shit, I… I didn’t mean to, I know how expensive it is! Please don’t freak out!” Expensive? That was her first thought? The cost of the car?

 “Hey, relax, just get us out of this first. The car isn’t important, you are.” She rushes out and runs around the car, pulling you out of it. And fuck. The front was screwed up. Luckily, the ambulance is pretty much unscathed. Lucky for them. “Holy shit. Thank god we weren’t going faster…” Mila stays silent. You were happy beyond belief that you didn’t meet a sudden end, but your anger soon seeps out. “Did he fucking pull out without looking? Christ, and we’re the ones who’ve been drinking!” Mila drags you out and the ambulance crew stares in fear when they realize they crashed into you.

“<Boss!>” You put a hand up and they fall silent.

“Get me a wheelchair, and bring the food to my room. Fix this shit up, and I might keep your ass off the burner.” They rush to the sound of your orders, hoping to save what left they have of their career. With them rushing into the hospital, and Mila pushing your wheelchair, you notice that you don’t feel any worse for wear. Guess you two got off scot-free.

“Well. That was one hell of a trip, huh? Some vodka, a fast car, driving speedily, and an accident. Man, is this what your party life is like?” Well, not really.

“There’s usually an actual party and not a boring hospital, but besides that, yeah.” The hospital staff keeps pestering you over the crash, driving you halfway to insanity. ‘Are you okay?’ this, and ‘Do you need anything?’ that. Yeah, fuck off. “Christ, get us to an elevator, quick.” Mila pushes faster through the crowd and makes it to an elevator. When the staff tries to enter, you pull out a handgun and shoo them off. Annoying pricks.

“Y’know, I’m not even surprised at you at this point. You’re a goddamn commissar, you know that?” You twirl the pistol and place it right back into its holster, stereotypically western as can be.

“In that case, I’m leading a penal battalion. Sometimes, you gotta put some fear into your men to get them into tip-top shape, you know?” She only rolls her eyes as the elevator finishes its rise to the top. When you make it to your room, the worried hospital staff have already put the food in your room, and a note promising to get a new chef. Good, heads wouldn’t be rolling. For now, at least.

“So, more Kauffman and dinner?” You smile. She knew you too well.

“Until that console gets here.” It was one hell of a night.