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Anatoly kicked the man's face, and his head snapped back in response, connecting with the pavement. The man who had their parents killed was finally going to die. He was going to taste justice – or vengeance. Another guard came at him, and he swung around, a right hook catching the new attacker on the jaw.
He just had to give Vladimir enough time to end it. To end him. He heard the sound of a drop, and rope pulling taut; it told him he wouldn't have to buy much more time. His back was slammed up against a wall, and he somehow turned it around to where the newcomers back was shoved against it. He gripped his hair, hitting the man's head against the wall several times. Then several more times.
Gagging filled his ears, and he didn't have to turn to see what was happening – he could already picture it without having to see it visually. And another sound came; this one the sound of a door being kicked down. For the first time since they had come in, Anatoly and Vladimir locked eyes.
Vladimir's expression was grim – lips pressed together, eyes narrowed – his face twitched in some form of anger.
The man now hanging from the roof was staring lifelessly, body slowly spinning as though some sick music box figurine. Anatoly felt a spark of satisfaction at seeing the one who had destroyed them as he now was.
Anatoly was wrestled to the ground by men in green – men being of the Russian Military Police. A sneer of disgust made its way onto Anatoly's face and he stared the only way he could stare as his head was held against the cold concrete.
It seemed that Vladimir was now in the same predicament.
Once again, their eyes met. A sense of victory was passed between them, despite the looming future of prison.
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