A/N: Shit gets real here! Expect this to be a 2 part event chapter. A little humor and some significant meat on the bones of the main story arch. Also, google up the Buzludzha monument to get an idea for later in the chapter.

Ch 17: D-Day, Queen's Court

Day 59, Monday February 13, 2017

Did I ever mention how much I hated dogs?

Yeah, pretty sure I have. Like a thousand times over. A fact so well known you could probably google that shit. And this one is no exception.

The stupid mutt lets out a bark and weaves his way between Chad's knees looking for attention. But he keeps eyeballing me.

….

Let's hit rewind. Start at the beginning of the day, and see where shit went wrong.

….

Elle's got Whitney and myself hitting the PT room together on an unofficial "leg day." Stretches, squats, light leg presses, resistance work, and the stationary bicycle just to name a few. She's let her protégé take the lead when she steps out for a phone call. Once Jakob's stepped out of earshot, Chad strikes up an interesting conversation as always.

"You know what tomorrow is Johnny-boy?" Chad's leaning back on the cycle and juggling three tennis balls. Show off. The swelling around his brow is starting to dissipate, but it's left a nasty shiner in its wake that covers a good portion of the left socket.

"No Chad, enlighten me."

"Fuckin D-Day."

Even I know when D-Day is. I can't stop myself from shaking my head.
"You're off by a few months laddie."

"Get your head out of your ass and get ready to bury it in a pair of tits. It's D-Day motherfucker! Tomorrow, pronto!"

"I swear to- I really can't dignify your nonsense with a response." Conversations with Chad can be…mentally taxing to say the least. Entertaining, but exhausting.

"No need to. You'll be waist deep in so much Icelandic pussy when the Cavalry comes riding through, you'll be lucky to get a breath of air in. Why do you think I work on cardio so much?"

"I've got bigger things to focus on than getting laid." Like getting back to where I was physically and back home -if that was even an option at this point. Not that I didn't like the girls and the distraction they brought. When I was held up in the Russia hospital after my first serious brush with death, I couldn't deny I had strayed from the path a few times. Dangle a piece of meat in front of a starving dog's face long enough, he's going to go for it.

Chad stops juggling and starts chuckling in that deep gruff way he does. It's ominous, and can only mean our conversation is going to derail something fierce. What ungodly hell did I just unleash on myself?

"Oh that's right. You got a date with pound-town and Miss Elle."

"Where even do you come up with this shit?" I throw my hands up at his unfounded accusation.

"The boys and I have a pool started. Ten to six odds says you get a pity fuck by the end of tomorrow night."

"Really Chad? You seriously need to get out of your room more." If this is what boredom looked like, I needed to put a bullet in my head now and save myself from slipping into the slow progressive decay towards the funny farm. The fact that I was entertaining this conversation was the first sign.

"Don't lie to me and tell me you haven't thought about it." The comment feels backhanded. As if it were wrong if the notion hadn't crossed my mind.

"I'm not going to discuss 'what I think about it' with you."

"No need to get defensive Johnny-boy. Just wanted to know if you were interested."

"I've said it before Chad, I have bigger things to focus on. Unlike you, I didn't just get my knee banged up."

"Well," he grunts rolling his shoulders, "If you're going to pass on her, I'm going for it. I know I can tap that. She's in my league."

"You're going to leave her out of this." I say it calm, cool, and collected. Maybe a little bite to it.

"Did I just hear a growl? That a threat John?" He's giving me that look, but the façade fails him and I see the corner of his mouth pulling into a hesitant grin.

I'm not sure when I started feeling defensive on the subject. No doubt there was something special between Elle and myself, and I had spent countless hours reflecting on it in silence. I wasn't about to let Whitney slander Elle in the crude context he had the tendency to lead our conversations in. She deserved to be respected, not reduced to the subject matter of placing bets.

"You tell me, Chad." We stare each other down for a good moment. The more I think about it, the more I feel like giving him a matching black eye.

There's an ominous jingle in the hallway. One that causes the hair to stand up on the back of my neck. Elle's returned with someone I've never seen before and waves cheerfully from the doorway.

"Mr. Whitney, I have a surprise for you!"

Chad starts laughing. Gets ready to punch my shoulder in play but thinks twice about it when I give him a warning look.

"Told you John. One step closer to pound-town." He winks and makes that clicking sound like you would to a horse to get them to move. Jakob walks back over and jots down the information from the machine into Chad's charts, then onto mine. Once we get our feet firmly on the ground and starting to cool down, Elle enters the PT room with the visitor in tow.

And a fucking dog.

The biggest GSD I have ever seen as a matter of fact.

He's on a short leash with the newcomer who must be the handler. Chad crouches down, kicks his bad leg out straight in a traditional runner's stretch and holds his hands out, giving a command in Czech. The dog sits, waiting to be released from his order and the handler drops the leash. And when Chad gives another command, the dogs trots right over to him, tail wagging and sniffing every square inch. Then the dog bolts back over to Elle.

"Isn't he just the cutest?!" Elle's voice has reached a whole new octave that fails to register on any sensor. She's crouched down and has her face in the black and tan German Shepherd's business end, getting slobbered all over by his tongue. I involuntary shudder at the act. Just another one of the many reason's dogs are dumb and disgusting.

"He's perfect. I can't thank you enough Elle." Chad's grinning ear to ear, clearly just as thrilled about the dog's presence. It's the happiest inflection I've heard from his usual hoarse uncanny accent. A complete paradigm shift from the cocky bastard I was just talking to a moment ago. If he had a tail, it'd be wagging too.

"He needs just as much help as you guys do around here. The kennel master said ever since he's lost his handler, he's just been moping around."

"A working dog needs a purpose. Otherwise they get fat, lazy and useless. Much like us guys."

"Speak for yourself Chad." I interject. I didn't deny he was right with what he was saying, but that dog could have stayed right where he was in the kennel. I didn't like where this situation was going. Elle's overcome with laughter when the mutt keeps licking her face, right across the her lips nonstop. Whitney calls the dog back over to his side, who's charmed Elle in tow.

"What's his name?" Chad asks, running his hands down the dog's back and over his haunches, a poof of hair taking flight and landing on the floor. Another reason dogs were a terrible idea. The two of them start fawning over him.

"The official documents have him listed as Wallace." The handler announces. He's a big guy but he's definitely not ex-military. Probably just one of the workers at the kennel.
"But everyone's been calling him Wally."

"Wally? I think it's suiting. Smart, strong, sophisticated. What do you think John?"

Chad looks like a kid at Christmas who's gotten the puppy he's been pining after for months. I take another glance at the overgrown furry beast. For some reason the GSD stops paying attention to Chad and looks directly at me. Like he knows I'm passing judgement on him. Just stares at me with those big brown eyes like Chad is, seeking approval. Sophisticated was the last thing this mutt embodied. More like stupid. William Wallace was rolling in his grave somewhere.

"I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Chad's face is priceless. Elle and him both shoot me dirty death glares simultaneously. Clearly I'm out numbered and my honest opinion unwelcomed.

"John!" Elle scolds, hugging the shepherd tighter. Even when he sits he stands taller than Elle kneeled down.

"You'd understand where I was coming from if you were bit as many bloody times as I have." Chad seems to be petting Wallace defensively. Pouting even. As if my approval held weight somewhere in his book.

"I'm not talking about the neighborhood terror. I'm talking about military K9's like him." I find myself rubbing along my forearm, some of the punctured scars having left dimples in their wake. Wallace gives me a blank look. I don't think this dog was capable of harming a flea. The three of them are staring me down, and it's getting uncomfortable.

"Look, I don't need to justify myself to you, or you, and…" I look at Wallace, who's tail starts wagging ecstatically when he realizes I'm acknowledging him.
"…especially you."

Wallace lets out an unexpected bark and whines, taking a two-step towards me. My whole body tenses up. I'm ready to punt this dog into the next life.

Chad whispers something, and Wallace approaches me. Tail wagging, big eyes pleading, his wet nose touching my calf. Puts all his weight against my legs, then throws himself on the ground, rolling on his back to get rubbed. Yeah, there was no way this dog could be a military K9. Disciplined, yes, but too big, and too goofy.

"John, he wants you to pet him." Elle croons, the cockles of her heart clearly melted by the antics of this dopey mutt.

"No." More whining from Wallace as he's looking at me, tongue lolling out the side of his face like an idiot. I don't negotiate with the terrorist dog's demands. Elle comes over and starts rubbing his belly to appease him.

"Well, you better to get used to him Johnny-boy. He's here to stay." Chad delivers with a smile.

Something in me snaps, and I'm about ready to lose my shit in there. It was like my worst nightmare was about to coming true. Not only was I trapped here, now it's with a dog, and not just any dog -but the breed I despise the most. No wonder Elle kept my pistol in lockup. I'm so frustrated I'm rendered speechless. My anxiety is through the fucking roof.

I start to say something to Chad, and I can't find the words. When I look to Elle, I get the same way. And Wally rolls back over and is up on his feet, sitting obediently still waiting for me to pet him.

"Nope. I'm done with this conversation." I'm checked out. This day went from bad to worse in less than 15 minutes.

"Oh, John." Elle says my name in the chiding way a parent does when trying to convince their child to do something they don't want to. She gives Wallace one last pet.

"His paperwork is all checked out and approved for transfer to Charles Whitney as his new official handler. Congratulations Mr. Whitney." The guy from the kennels hands the leather lead over to Chad and the contract is completed when they shake hands.

"Good luck with your new K9 partner."

Somewhere in Russia

To an outsider, she appeared elegant in every sense of the word as she sat there, poised and seated at the head of the roundtable like a Roman statue about to be set in motion. To everyone who was acquainted with her, knew her otherwise as the Hydra.

"My lady," Yevgeny entered the large hall with a brisk curtsy. The dark haired woman lifted her green eyes from the maps she was pouring over in acknowledgement. She smiled when she saw him, tight lipped, but that was the best anyone had seen in weeks.

"Yevgeny. Come in." her voice was soft and purring like a kitten, but there was the sharp razor blade edge behind it. Yevgeny did as he was told, sweeping alongside the large chair and placing an affectionate kiss to her forehead.

"Please tell me Midas is on his way?" she asked.

"He's downstairs. Everyone is on their way up. Even Jericho."

"I have not seen his face in so long. Not since before…" her voice trailed off, reined in by a moment of sorrow. Yevgeny's hand found its way to her shoulders to give an encouraging rub.
"Not since before I left Vladimir in Arabia with Jericho when we stopped by to visit the recruits. That was the last time I saw him."

"Makarov's still with us. You carry on his legacy Sofija. You do him proud."

"I want them dead." Her voice suddenly turned cold and hard like frozen steel, her nose upturned in the air.
"I want that man brought to my feet. Alive. He will pay for what he has done."

"All in due time, my lady. Capricorn is infiltrating Western front lines and intercepting intel through known resources. She'll be your most direct route to the justice you seek."

"I do not like her." Sofija spat, sounding like a fussy child.

"You do not need to like me in order to trust me. Just let me do my job." Capricorn pushed her way through the door, followed in by another man.

"Capricorn, how unfortunate for you to join us." Sofija complained, the sound similar to a raspy hiss.

"My lady." Capricorn gave a swift sharp bow before kicking a chair out from under the table with the kind of reckless powerful and fluidity only she could possess. She flopped in the chair with a heavy thud. The gentleman that had come in behind her was dark skinned with jet hair, tucking his sunglasses into the pocket of his heavy parka. Capricorn motioned to him to take the seat next to her before throwing her heels up on the table, mud and snow slipping dangerously onto the antique mahogany table top.

Yevgeny scowled at Capricorn silently, his face hidden from view of the Hydra. His Zvezda sure knew how to tempt fate with their leader, who was already lacking the fondness for her. Even the best, most experienced goats could slip and fall from the thinnest of edges. Several more people filtered into the room and took their places at the round table. Yevgeny took his seat on the opposite side from his Zvezda.

The Queen's Court was now in session.

Sofija cleared her throat, head held high, and let her eyes sweep across the room, being sure to make contact with everyone. She spoke slowly and clearly, her voice rolling like a building thunderstorm.

"I would like to extend my gratitude for everyone who is present here today. Your dedication to our cause does not go unnoticed."

There was a whispering acknowledgement from the group.

"First and foremost, I'd like to extend a special welcome to Jericho for his continued hard work in the Middle East, and stretching our circle of influence into northeast Africa. Would you care to share your latest information with everyone?"

The dark skinned man next to Capricorn sat up in his seat. He was a middle eastern decent, and one of the strong-willed youths from Khaled Al-Asad's original following. He had grown up under the founding of the Ultranationalist movement in his home country, and when the prominent leader had met his untimely death in the clutches of the 22nd S.A.S. operatives, it was Jericho who kept the idea alive and strong.

"Last meeting we had when I was present, I had managed to hold out at fifty three hundred strong. I've amassed our standing army to fifteen thousand in Serbia alone, another twenty eight hundred in Croatia, eight thousand in Turkey. There's an additional seventy seven thousand in Syria and Iraq. Additional two hundred thousand between Saudi and Iran. Another hundred thousand in Ukraine keeping the rebels on the move. Poland is backing the Ukrainian Rebels."

"I figured those Polacks would stay out of it. Finally found their spine I see. We'll send them a message from Russia when the time is right." Sofija announced.

"Jericho, I want you to make sure we have enough on the Western Front to roll them under when we make out move. Scratch that, I want them at the top of the list."
Sofija scribbled a note on the map, marking several X's inside Poland's borders, while others around the table jotted the information down as well.
"Speaking of the Western front. Capricorn, I've been eagerly awaiting good news from you."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Capricorn challenged with an equally snarky tone.

"Yes it has." Sofija growled in a low menace, her eyes narrowing on the old German.

"My team has successfully extra both torpedoes, intact, from the K-278 remains."

A rush of murmurs flowed through the room like a buzz of angry hornets. Even the Queen Hydra struggled to hide her look of surprise.

"We're entering Phase Two of the extraction. We're securing the coolant lines to minimize leakage, which would set off the sensor buoys in the area. We've already secured warheads from the K-219 wreckage, the Kursk K-141, and stripped the reactor from Kit K-159."

"What are we totaling?" A bearish man who sat offside of Yevgeny piped up. He fashioned himself as the Rook, a dealer of arms and managing the firepower resources of their movement worldwide.

"Two nukes were recovered from the K-278 wreckage and the reactor salvaged. One reactor from the Kit K-159. K-8 yielded all four nukes. The Kursk K-141 produced 22 Type 65 torpedoes, 10 were equipped with nuclear warheads three of them damaged but salvageable. Drake is with my team now still extracting munitions from the Kursk wreckage. 31 nukes were recovered from the K-219 along with the reactor."

Rook's face looked blank, but he was too busy crunching the tonnage of power now at their fingertips.
"47 nukes…"

"47 nukes, and some of those were unclassified. We're talking sizes that were too sensitive to even be written down for fear of the information getting out. Not including the salvaged firepower we'll be gaining from the reclaimed torpedoes." Capricorn finished. She swiveled in her chair to stare the room down, noting the speechless faces and slack jaws.

"You're welcome." Capricorn proclaimed harshly and sarcastically, falling back into her seat. Her work here was done. In her mind, she saw herself flipping the enormous table over and walking out of the grand hall like a boss.

The room was oddly silent except for the squeaking and squealing of several chairs as the heavy information settled in.

"You live up to your reputation Capricorn. Do you have any additional information to report from the Western Front?" Sofija pressed, her mood and inclination toward Capricorn clearly lifted.

"I'm still trying to dredge up the old hound. My one source indicates he might be in the UK under close watch. I'm working on a plan to draw him out of hiding and play him into our hands. Right now I'm closing in around his Achilles heel." Capricorn liked to keep her work vague. She rarely shared the details of her information with anyone unless it was pertinent to them in particular, or out of absolute necessity. Many age old secrets would follow her into the grave -from frivolous scandalous affairs to the most horrific undocumented war crimes of the century. Secrets that have only been uttered once before their source's life had been snuffed. Sometimes by her own hands, sometimes by another's.

"Midas?" Sofija arched a brow to the man sitting directly across from her at the round table with a laptop in front of him and a folder tucked along the side.

"How are our finances looking?"

"Well, we've had a productive siphon coming out of the East -specifically China, thanks to Mr. Yaridovich being the humble ambassador that he is." Midas nodded in Yevgeny's direction in acknowledgement.
"After our next move, I expect it to put us over the nine figure mark. Enough to start a formidable mobilization by land and air, even by sea."

The conversations continued onward from there. The Fence was managing the oil pipelines. Delphi had a new launch in regards to Project Andromeda from the arctic regions. Yevgeny Yaridovich was getting cozy with the North Korean leaders and strengthening their alliances from age old Communist blood pacts.

Once the meeting of great minds and court was adjourned, Capricorn found herself occupying the great hall by herself. Imran Zahhaev had fashioned himself a luxurious building, modeling part of the interior after Bulgaria's Buzludzha monument that had long since fallen into decay. The great domed ceiling remained the centerpiece of attraction, bearing the Hammer and Sickle embellished with gold, black onyx, and some other precious red material to fill the rest. The entirety of the dome was done in red stained glass, which cast a soft crimson hue to the room at high noon when the outside arrays were pulled back.

"Zvezda."

Capricorn turned in the direction of the familiar nickname and the soft voiced marked by longing.

"Yevgeny." She replied, watching him saunter into the room and to her side.

"That's why she doesn't like you. You don't tell all of the truth." He started, giving his Zvezda that wayward look as he struck up a cigarette.

"I'm not lying either though, am I? I supply just enough intel to keep the beast off my back." she volleyed with a laugh.
"It's how I've always run my business Yevgeny. Making sure the right information doesn't get out at the wrong time. You know how I hate liars."

Yevgeny choked on a laugh.
"You realize how ludicrous that statement was just now? Our whole industry is nothing but bluffs, secrets and lies."

"Bluffs and secrets, yes. But even the so-called lies bear truths to them. Part of my job is to sort them out." Capricorn leaned back on her arms against the ornate roundtable, tilting her head back to admire the ceiling.

"You do a remarkable job my Zvezda. Tell me, how was your visit to England?" There was a touch of malice in his words.

"Yevgeny, if you want to know if I slept with my informant you can just ask me outright. I bear no ill will towards you."

Yevgeny looked like he had been caught red handed, the cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he regathered himself. Capricorn watched him take a long heavy drag, knocking the ash into an abandoned glass on the table. A long moment of silence passed between them.

"That's not what I was asking." He cowed.

"Then what were you asking?" she countered, loosening the trademark ring from her finger to crack the knuckle loose. Another long moment of silence passed, Capricorn patiently biding her tongue and time to see how he'd respond.

"Well, did you?"

"Hahaha, I knew it! I knew you couldn't resist asking. Oh Yevgeny, what am I to do with you?" she was laughing so hard she had the wipe the tears away from her lashes.

"My Zvezda," he sighed, his thoughts interrupted when Capricorn plucked the cigarette from his mouth and smothered it in the makeshift ashtray. She didn't need to repeat herself to him.
"Whose side are you really on?"

The words were all business now. Yaridovich had a way of dancing and flitting between the boundaries or work and play. It was what made him dangerous. He knew how to get to people on a personable level and establish a trust. Lull you into believing he was your number one ally. Backed his words and promises with something tangible. But he couldn't draw the lines between his personal feelings and his job. And neither could she. It was the very reason her and Nikolai boomeranged their relationship so often, despite the dangers or the conflicts of interest. They were human after all. The only thing you could do was run damage control on yourself. You had to be your own best advocate, because in the spy industry, any day you could get burned.

Capricorn just smiled at him.

"All in good time Yevgeny. Just make sure for yourself, when the moment of reckoning does come -and it will- that you know what side of the glass you're on. Eventually, we answer for all our sins."

A/N: This great idea was born from a movie search I did this afternoon for K-19 Widowmaker. All of the K-#'s listed in Capricorn's speech are of actual USSR/ Russian nuclear subs that have sunk in real life. The K-278 caught my attention when it stated that it went down with two nuclear warheads intact and thought, "OMG -what a perfect plot idea!" And it went from there. I hope you enjoyed the story arch development here, and let some light in on the darkside.