Prologue, part 2- Extraction
Leona was out ahead of her teammates, running impossibly close to the ground and coming up quickly onto the mystery man. She brought her left arm up towards her right shoulder, her hand and fingers as rigid as a board. This was the set up for one of her techniques, Grand Saber. She hoped to surprise her adversary with such a strong initial attack. Even if he blocked, she knew Ralf and Clark were right behind her. He'd never have enough time to defend himself against one of their grapple techniques.
The man stood his ground. Leona focused everything into this attack, and as she was running, everything around her seemed to melt into oblivion. It was like tunnel vision, and this man was the only thing at the end of the tunnel. She would wait until the last possible moment to attack.
That last possible moment came and Leona slashed downwards. She struck nothing but air.
'Impossible!' she shouted inwardly. Her momentum carried her beyond the point of attack and she began to skid to a halt. That was when she felt a titanic blow land just below the back of her neck. Grand Saber always left her perilously off-balance, and this blow sent her hurtling headfirst into the pavement.
"Oh shit!"
Ralf caught a massive boot to the jaw. The very next split-second, he was lying dazed on the deck. Clark was now vulnerable to this monster.
He was stopped dead in his tracks by the monster's hand. It slammed hard into his throat and as easily as raising his finger, the man lifted Clark at least a foot off the ground. At this point, Clark realized he was not facing any ordinary man. He, Clark, was 6'5" and weighed close to 240 lbs. This man could have been Goliath and still shouldn't have been able to lift Clark that easily with one hand.
Clark desperately chopped at the branch-like arm with both hands. He may as well have been chopping at a steel girder; this arm was not going to move for anything. Clark couldn't do anything else. It was either fight however he could at the moment, or get his candle snuffed quietly.
The man began to laugh quietly again. Clark rose helplessly higher, still in just the one hand. He tried to get a better look at his attacker's face, but it was well hidden underneath the wide-brimmed hat. Then he felt an almighty lurch, and the iron grip around his neck loosen. He looked down, and saw Ralf had plowed into the man's considerable torso. His right shoulder was firmly entrenched into what must have been rock solid muscle. His arms were locked around the lower back and his legs churning hard, trying vainly to drive a mountain into the ground.
Meanwhile, Leona was slowly getting up from her brutal tumble, only to jump right back into the fray. The man's back was facing her, but she knew even it wasn't that vulnerable. Without thinking, she leaped onto the man's back and locked her arms around his neck in a chokehold.
Ralf disengaged from his tackle, only to pump himself forward once more, this time into the man's knees. This time, the man fully let go of the dangling Clark and began to topple forward. All three mercenaries could literally feel the ground shudder from the impact of the man. Ralf held on for dear life onto the man's legs, fearing he would get up as easily as he had swatted Leona away earlier.
Clark rolled sideways and jumped up as fast as he could. Ralf and Leona provided him with an opening. As soon as he got to his feet, he went down again, but this time led his elbow into the man's back.
"AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!" came the roar. The man forced his arms into the ground and popped himself up like a pneumatic spring. Ralf, Clark, and Leona hung onto him like monkeys. He punched downwards and connected squarely with the back of Clark's head, instantly dispatching him face first into the pavement. He then reached behind him and tore Leona off his back. In the same fluid motion, he flung her over his own head into a brick wall. She hit the wall with enough force to keep her temporarily stuck in the crater she made before sliding down headfirst. The man then turned his attention to Ralf. But Ralf wasn't at his knees.
At that instant, Ralf flew upwards, arms behind him, and felt his shoulder connect squarely with a big face. The man staggered backwards, holding his jaw, but was immediately struck by another blow, this time a Blitzkrieg Punch coming out of the air and into his chest.
Ralf followed his attack to the very end, striking the ground before jumping backwards. He landed with his sidearm drawn, and the man a safe distance away from him. He cocked the hammer back. If the man made a sudden movement, the hair trigger would promptly blow him away.
"Freeze!!" bellowed Ralf, his voice resonating through the night air. He had his .45 aimed at the head this time. Following the fight, he doubted whether a shot to the chest would have enough stopping power, even at the almost point blank distance. "Who the hell are you?!"
Ralf heard two more side arms come up. Leona and Clark were back in commission. "You guys alright?"
"We'll live," Leona answered. "He probably won't." she added dryly.
Once again, the man's baritone laugh reached their ears. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said, a sneer forming on his mouth. He tore his hat off and flung it to the ground, finally revealing his face.
He was a black man, and judging by his accent, probably from the American south. His head was shaved cleanly bald. His face was long, ending in an impossibly square, sturdy chin. His nose was flat and broken, probably from the many fights this man had undoubtedly got into. However, the most distinct feature was his eyes. Both were a deep brown, but his left eye had no pupil. Even still, Ralf figured he might not be blind out of that eye.
"I'll ask you once again," Ralf said, clearly irritated. "Who the hell are you and why are you here?" Ralf's voice dripped with authority. When he sounded like this, Clark knew it was unwise to piss him off, even if the one about to piss him off was bigger and possibly more than dangerous than he was.
Silence prevailed amidst the din of the loudening war being raged all around. The monster man stood his ground, defiant of the orders from a man aiming a gun at his head. Clark didn't like this. He felt the man might have another card up his sleeve. He glanced sideways at Leona, noticing she was visibly shaken. Her aim looked shaky, her eyes bloodshot.
The silence was broken by a whining sound ripping through the air and slowly becoming louder and louder by the second. It was followed immediately by identical sounds. Ralf released his steely glare to look around him, and when he looked back at the man, he was laughing once again, this time with his hand on his forehead.
"I suggest you run, little man."
Ralf gave a puzzled expression, followed by one of utter horror. He put his gun back. "Duck and cover!!" he yelled, running away from his position and motioning Clark and Leona to do otherwise. Clark did as he was told, but Leona stood rooted to her spot, sweat rolling down her face as if someone threw water in her face. Her face was one of fear and incomprehension.
"Leona, move it! Now!" Ralf screamed.
She shook her head. "Th-th-that man..." she stammered. "He...he...he..."
"We don't have time for this!" He said, now making a beeline for Leona. He grabbed her in mid-stride and ran with a petrified Leona over his shoulder.
The whining got louder, then ended with a deafening "BOOOOOMMM!!" The concussive forces of what he now ascertained to be artillery shells landing all around him threw Ralf forward. He rolled with the fall and kept going, Leona still in tow. Clark was way ahead of him.
Ralf sprinted hard, not caring about the destruction the shells were causing all around. It wasn't a big deal for him. He'd had shells blowing up around him for half his life. It was easy for him to ignore the shell that blew up two meters behind him, or the shell that decimated a building on his right. He just kept running until the explosions were several hundred meters behind. Clark had made a left and run down a small street before stopping and hugging a wall on his left. Ralf did likewise, and set Leona onto her feet.
They didn't really need to catch their breath, but no word was spoken until Ralf broke the silence with a confused muttered, "What the hell?"
"I reckon someone knew we were gonna be there," said Clark matter-of- factly, simultaneously drawing his sidearm and scanning down the street.
"Yeah, no shit," said Ralf, the dry resentment only so obvious in his words. "I wanna know the hell that giant bastard was, 'cause he definitely knew where we were gonna be."
Leona was slowly recovering from her momentary paralysis, her gun still tightly gripped in her hand. "I also wanna know," Ralf, continued, turning to his teammate, "what made you act the way you did. It sure as hell wasn't combat nerves. I'll bet my ass that our friend back there had something to do with it." He looked right into Leona's eyes. It wasn't a reprimanding look, just one of concern. Ralf knew there really wasn't any need to chew her out. The circumstances had been unusual, and Ralf knew it. He felt something peculiar about that man, but couldn't put his finger on what it was. He figured that odd sense must have affected Leona worse. The real question was why.
Leona spoke softly. "I don't know, sir. I felt something. Something familiar. I didn't like it." She turned away, maintaining her trademark stoic expression. Ralf knew better than that. He knew something was bothering her immensely, but he decided not to press the issue. Right now, he needed to abort the mission. They had an extremely close call, not to mention the fact that they had lost their primary weapons. Handguns would not be sufficient in this situation.
"Clark, radio the chopper to the EZ. We're aborting this fucked up mission. We'll get the hostages tomorrow night," said Ralf as he was checking his .45. Clark pulled out a tiny radio strapped onto his belt.
"Hotel, hotel, we're pulling out, I repeat, we're pulling out. Mission is a no go, I repeat, no go. Pick us up at EZ, over."
The response came back. "Ground team, roger that. Expected time of arrival is 30 minutes, I repeat, 30 minutes. Get your asses in gear, over."
Clark smirked at the radio. "Smart-ass," he muttered.
Ralf snickered, and then checked his map and compass. "Lucky us. The yellow brick road to the EZ is only a half click that way," Ralf pointed east. "We go right now and we can still catch the game," he finished sarcastically.
The three shaken, but still alive, mercenaries began heading east. The EZ was a small soccer field. It was a horrible place to evacuate, seeing as how there was nearly no cover available. Thankfully, they had come across a small Chechen patrol on the way, and by means readily available at their disposable, were able to procure 3 old AK-47s and some ammo. It was a sorry rifle, but any rifle was preferred to any sidearm in extreme combat situations.
As the soccer field was in view, Leona, the point, stopped abruptly and took cover in a pile of rubble. By now, the sun was beginning to come up, and the daylight was going to compromise them even more, but this wasn't why Leona stopped.
"Look," she said simply, pointing at the soccer field.
There were nine bodies lying face down all around the field, and judging by their black uniforms, it was obvious who they were.
"Bastards!" exclaimed Clark quietly. "Goddamn cowards!"
"Well, we found the hostages," Ralf deadpanned. "Shit, let's go, we don't have a choice. Damn it, I had a feeling something like this'd happen."
The mercenaries cautiously approached the bodies, rifles covering them despite the fact they were dead. Then again, one didn't take chances in this line of work. Ralf kicked one body over onto its back. "Aww, fuck me!" he swore loudly.
The body was badly decomposing, and smelled like a combination of vomit and rotting vegetables. In one instant, Ralf immediately came to a conclusion.
"This is a trap," he said quietly. "Someone killed our hostages a while ago and left 'em here. Someone knew we were gonna be here. Someone is a goddamn spy!" he thundered angrily. "Shit! And they're gonna be here soon. Get their tags, and get ready for an assault. This is officially a hot extraction."
The dog tags were gathered up, and the mercenaries formed a morbid defensive square made up of the bodies of their former comrades. Out in the open, there was no other cover.
They lay prone, rifles trained in three triangular directions, awaiting the onslaught. If the field had one advantage, it was that they could see anyone who was coming.
The promised onslaught seemed to fail to materialize before all three of them heard the reassuring whirring of helicopter blades in the distance, coming to take them away from a seriously Snafu'd mission. They waited in earnest, the helicopter coming within 1000 meters, then 500, then 300, then hovering above them and ready to touch down. Right when it touched down, Leona fired three shots. Three Chechens immediately fell where they had once been standing. The assault was coming late.
All around them, Chechens were charging wildly at their position, getting picked off by the expert marksmanship of Ralf, Clark, and Leona. As the helicopter touched down behind them, Ralf ordered Clark and Leona to get inside. He would provide the covering fire.
Ralf wasted at least 5 more Chechens before he too piled into the copter and it sped upwards and away. The Chechens fired wildly in the sky, their bullets occasionally careening off the iron skin. Clark leaned out of the chopper and fired one shot. One Chechen fell dead on the spot. As the chopper flew back towards safety, the three Ikari Warriors went to their respective corners of the holding bay and remained silent for the entire trip. This mission, they quietly agreed, never happened.
"Right on time," said the giant man to himself as he casually observed the barrage of artillery creating a buffer between himself and the three whelps who he had been fighting with. He walked away, certain that no one would bother him. After all, he had a guardian angel perched on a building with a high-powered sniper rifle watching his back.
As the sun was beginning to dawn on the dying city of Grozny, the giant man stood on top of a building with his guardian angel.
"How did they do?" asked the angel coldly in a thick Russian accent.
"Better than I thought, Vikodin, better than I thought."
The angel, now known as Vikodin, sneered. "The men are supposed to be legends in the mercenary underground. They're formidable King of Fighters competitors. Are you trying to tell me that you pretty much had your way with them?"
The giant shook his head. "They were tough, especially together. They're not like other fighters, who seem intent to wait their turn. I had all three of them on me at once. Then again, it must be the soldier inside them. They realized the situation at hand and adapted. If they get caught up in the plan, we'll have a tough time with them."
Vikodin scowled. "The matriarch would be displeased if that were to happen."
"I seemed to scare the shit out of the girl though," added the giant. "Then again, we've been having that effect on the other ones as well. Interesting. That could be an advantage."
"It is an advantage," said the Russian. "The Todo girl acted the same way with me. It made my job much easier. However, Thompson, I'm disappointed you didn't capture this one."
Thompson shook his head. "The matriarch wants that particular one later. I don't know why. She said that she needs a certain six for the very last, but I don't know exactly why. But I guess it's not our place to decide what to do."
"No, it is not. Well then, Thompson, if you're done here, I'll be on my way. I'll see you in Southtown."
Thompson smiled wickedly. "Hmmmmph. Southtown, huh? We've been waiting too long before we all got a crack at Southtown. I'm tingling at the thought of our final victory."
Leona was out ahead of her teammates, running impossibly close to the ground and coming up quickly onto the mystery man. She brought her left arm up towards her right shoulder, her hand and fingers as rigid as a board. This was the set up for one of her techniques, Grand Saber. She hoped to surprise her adversary with such a strong initial attack. Even if he blocked, she knew Ralf and Clark were right behind her. He'd never have enough time to defend himself against one of their grapple techniques.
The man stood his ground. Leona focused everything into this attack, and as she was running, everything around her seemed to melt into oblivion. It was like tunnel vision, and this man was the only thing at the end of the tunnel. She would wait until the last possible moment to attack.
That last possible moment came and Leona slashed downwards. She struck nothing but air.
'Impossible!' she shouted inwardly. Her momentum carried her beyond the point of attack and she began to skid to a halt. That was when she felt a titanic blow land just below the back of her neck. Grand Saber always left her perilously off-balance, and this blow sent her hurtling headfirst into the pavement.
"Oh shit!"
Ralf caught a massive boot to the jaw. The very next split-second, he was lying dazed on the deck. Clark was now vulnerable to this monster.
He was stopped dead in his tracks by the monster's hand. It slammed hard into his throat and as easily as raising his finger, the man lifted Clark at least a foot off the ground. At this point, Clark realized he was not facing any ordinary man. He, Clark, was 6'5" and weighed close to 240 lbs. This man could have been Goliath and still shouldn't have been able to lift Clark that easily with one hand.
Clark desperately chopped at the branch-like arm with both hands. He may as well have been chopping at a steel girder; this arm was not going to move for anything. Clark couldn't do anything else. It was either fight however he could at the moment, or get his candle snuffed quietly.
The man began to laugh quietly again. Clark rose helplessly higher, still in just the one hand. He tried to get a better look at his attacker's face, but it was well hidden underneath the wide-brimmed hat. Then he felt an almighty lurch, and the iron grip around his neck loosen. He looked down, and saw Ralf had plowed into the man's considerable torso. His right shoulder was firmly entrenched into what must have been rock solid muscle. His arms were locked around the lower back and his legs churning hard, trying vainly to drive a mountain into the ground.
Meanwhile, Leona was slowly getting up from her brutal tumble, only to jump right back into the fray. The man's back was facing her, but she knew even it wasn't that vulnerable. Without thinking, she leaped onto the man's back and locked her arms around his neck in a chokehold.
Ralf disengaged from his tackle, only to pump himself forward once more, this time into the man's knees. This time, the man fully let go of the dangling Clark and began to topple forward. All three mercenaries could literally feel the ground shudder from the impact of the man. Ralf held on for dear life onto the man's legs, fearing he would get up as easily as he had swatted Leona away earlier.
Clark rolled sideways and jumped up as fast as he could. Ralf and Leona provided him with an opening. As soon as he got to his feet, he went down again, but this time led his elbow into the man's back.
"AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!" came the roar. The man forced his arms into the ground and popped himself up like a pneumatic spring. Ralf, Clark, and Leona hung onto him like monkeys. He punched downwards and connected squarely with the back of Clark's head, instantly dispatching him face first into the pavement. He then reached behind him and tore Leona off his back. In the same fluid motion, he flung her over his own head into a brick wall. She hit the wall with enough force to keep her temporarily stuck in the crater she made before sliding down headfirst. The man then turned his attention to Ralf. But Ralf wasn't at his knees.
At that instant, Ralf flew upwards, arms behind him, and felt his shoulder connect squarely with a big face. The man staggered backwards, holding his jaw, but was immediately struck by another blow, this time a Blitzkrieg Punch coming out of the air and into his chest.
Ralf followed his attack to the very end, striking the ground before jumping backwards. He landed with his sidearm drawn, and the man a safe distance away from him. He cocked the hammer back. If the man made a sudden movement, the hair trigger would promptly blow him away.
"Freeze!!" bellowed Ralf, his voice resonating through the night air. He had his .45 aimed at the head this time. Following the fight, he doubted whether a shot to the chest would have enough stopping power, even at the almost point blank distance. "Who the hell are you?!"
Ralf heard two more side arms come up. Leona and Clark were back in commission. "You guys alright?"
"We'll live," Leona answered. "He probably won't." she added dryly.
Once again, the man's baritone laugh reached their ears. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said, a sneer forming on his mouth. He tore his hat off and flung it to the ground, finally revealing his face.
He was a black man, and judging by his accent, probably from the American south. His head was shaved cleanly bald. His face was long, ending in an impossibly square, sturdy chin. His nose was flat and broken, probably from the many fights this man had undoubtedly got into. However, the most distinct feature was his eyes. Both were a deep brown, but his left eye had no pupil. Even still, Ralf figured he might not be blind out of that eye.
"I'll ask you once again," Ralf said, clearly irritated. "Who the hell are you and why are you here?" Ralf's voice dripped with authority. When he sounded like this, Clark knew it was unwise to piss him off, even if the one about to piss him off was bigger and possibly more than dangerous than he was.
Silence prevailed amidst the din of the loudening war being raged all around. The monster man stood his ground, defiant of the orders from a man aiming a gun at his head. Clark didn't like this. He felt the man might have another card up his sleeve. He glanced sideways at Leona, noticing she was visibly shaken. Her aim looked shaky, her eyes bloodshot.
The silence was broken by a whining sound ripping through the air and slowly becoming louder and louder by the second. It was followed immediately by identical sounds. Ralf released his steely glare to look around him, and when he looked back at the man, he was laughing once again, this time with his hand on his forehead.
"I suggest you run, little man."
Ralf gave a puzzled expression, followed by one of utter horror. He put his gun back. "Duck and cover!!" he yelled, running away from his position and motioning Clark and Leona to do otherwise. Clark did as he was told, but Leona stood rooted to her spot, sweat rolling down her face as if someone threw water in her face. Her face was one of fear and incomprehension.
"Leona, move it! Now!" Ralf screamed.
She shook her head. "Th-th-that man..." she stammered. "He...he...he..."
"We don't have time for this!" He said, now making a beeline for Leona. He grabbed her in mid-stride and ran with a petrified Leona over his shoulder.
The whining got louder, then ended with a deafening "BOOOOOMMM!!" The concussive forces of what he now ascertained to be artillery shells landing all around him threw Ralf forward. He rolled with the fall and kept going, Leona still in tow. Clark was way ahead of him.
Ralf sprinted hard, not caring about the destruction the shells were causing all around. It wasn't a big deal for him. He'd had shells blowing up around him for half his life. It was easy for him to ignore the shell that blew up two meters behind him, or the shell that decimated a building on his right. He just kept running until the explosions were several hundred meters behind. Clark had made a left and run down a small street before stopping and hugging a wall on his left. Ralf did likewise, and set Leona onto her feet.
They didn't really need to catch their breath, but no word was spoken until Ralf broke the silence with a confused muttered, "What the hell?"
"I reckon someone knew we were gonna be there," said Clark matter-of- factly, simultaneously drawing his sidearm and scanning down the street.
"Yeah, no shit," said Ralf, the dry resentment only so obvious in his words. "I wanna know the hell that giant bastard was, 'cause he definitely knew where we were gonna be."
Leona was slowly recovering from her momentary paralysis, her gun still tightly gripped in her hand. "I also wanna know," Ralf, continued, turning to his teammate, "what made you act the way you did. It sure as hell wasn't combat nerves. I'll bet my ass that our friend back there had something to do with it." He looked right into Leona's eyes. It wasn't a reprimanding look, just one of concern. Ralf knew there really wasn't any need to chew her out. The circumstances had been unusual, and Ralf knew it. He felt something peculiar about that man, but couldn't put his finger on what it was. He figured that odd sense must have affected Leona worse. The real question was why.
Leona spoke softly. "I don't know, sir. I felt something. Something familiar. I didn't like it." She turned away, maintaining her trademark stoic expression. Ralf knew better than that. He knew something was bothering her immensely, but he decided not to press the issue. Right now, he needed to abort the mission. They had an extremely close call, not to mention the fact that they had lost their primary weapons. Handguns would not be sufficient in this situation.
"Clark, radio the chopper to the EZ. We're aborting this fucked up mission. We'll get the hostages tomorrow night," said Ralf as he was checking his .45. Clark pulled out a tiny radio strapped onto his belt.
"Hotel, hotel, we're pulling out, I repeat, we're pulling out. Mission is a no go, I repeat, no go. Pick us up at EZ, over."
The response came back. "Ground team, roger that. Expected time of arrival is 30 minutes, I repeat, 30 minutes. Get your asses in gear, over."
Clark smirked at the radio. "Smart-ass," he muttered.
Ralf snickered, and then checked his map and compass. "Lucky us. The yellow brick road to the EZ is only a half click that way," Ralf pointed east. "We go right now and we can still catch the game," he finished sarcastically.
The three shaken, but still alive, mercenaries began heading east. The EZ was a small soccer field. It was a horrible place to evacuate, seeing as how there was nearly no cover available. Thankfully, they had come across a small Chechen patrol on the way, and by means readily available at their disposable, were able to procure 3 old AK-47s and some ammo. It was a sorry rifle, but any rifle was preferred to any sidearm in extreme combat situations.
As the soccer field was in view, Leona, the point, stopped abruptly and took cover in a pile of rubble. By now, the sun was beginning to come up, and the daylight was going to compromise them even more, but this wasn't why Leona stopped.
"Look," she said simply, pointing at the soccer field.
There were nine bodies lying face down all around the field, and judging by their black uniforms, it was obvious who they were.
"Bastards!" exclaimed Clark quietly. "Goddamn cowards!"
"Well, we found the hostages," Ralf deadpanned. "Shit, let's go, we don't have a choice. Damn it, I had a feeling something like this'd happen."
The mercenaries cautiously approached the bodies, rifles covering them despite the fact they were dead. Then again, one didn't take chances in this line of work. Ralf kicked one body over onto its back. "Aww, fuck me!" he swore loudly.
The body was badly decomposing, and smelled like a combination of vomit and rotting vegetables. In one instant, Ralf immediately came to a conclusion.
"This is a trap," he said quietly. "Someone killed our hostages a while ago and left 'em here. Someone knew we were gonna be here. Someone is a goddamn spy!" he thundered angrily. "Shit! And they're gonna be here soon. Get their tags, and get ready for an assault. This is officially a hot extraction."
The dog tags were gathered up, and the mercenaries formed a morbid defensive square made up of the bodies of their former comrades. Out in the open, there was no other cover.
They lay prone, rifles trained in three triangular directions, awaiting the onslaught. If the field had one advantage, it was that they could see anyone who was coming.
The promised onslaught seemed to fail to materialize before all three of them heard the reassuring whirring of helicopter blades in the distance, coming to take them away from a seriously Snafu'd mission. They waited in earnest, the helicopter coming within 1000 meters, then 500, then 300, then hovering above them and ready to touch down. Right when it touched down, Leona fired three shots. Three Chechens immediately fell where they had once been standing. The assault was coming late.
All around them, Chechens were charging wildly at their position, getting picked off by the expert marksmanship of Ralf, Clark, and Leona. As the helicopter touched down behind them, Ralf ordered Clark and Leona to get inside. He would provide the covering fire.
Ralf wasted at least 5 more Chechens before he too piled into the copter and it sped upwards and away. The Chechens fired wildly in the sky, their bullets occasionally careening off the iron skin. Clark leaned out of the chopper and fired one shot. One Chechen fell dead on the spot. As the chopper flew back towards safety, the three Ikari Warriors went to their respective corners of the holding bay and remained silent for the entire trip. This mission, they quietly agreed, never happened.
"Right on time," said the giant man to himself as he casually observed the barrage of artillery creating a buffer between himself and the three whelps who he had been fighting with. He walked away, certain that no one would bother him. After all, he had a guardian angel perched on a building with a high-powered sniper rifle watching his back.
As the sun was beginning to dawn on the dying city of Grozny, the giant man stood on top of a building with his guardian angel.
"How did they do?" asked the angel coldly in a thick Russian accent.
"Better than I thought, Vikodin, better than I thought."
The angel, now known as Vikodin, sneered. "The men are supposed to be legends in the mercenary underground. They're formidable King of Fighters competitors. Are you trying to tell me that you pretty much had your way with them?"
The giant shook his head. "They were tough, especially together. They're not like other fighters, who seem intent to wait their turn. I had all three of them on me at once. Then again, it must be the soldier inside them. They realized the situation at hand and adapted. If they get caught up in the plan, we'll have a tough time with them."
Vikodin scowled. "The matriarch would be displeased if that were to happen."
"I seemed to scare the shit out of the girl though," added the giant. "Then again, we've been having that effect on the other ones as well. Interesting. That could be an advantage."
"It is an advantage," said the Russian. "The Todo girl acted the same way with me. It made my job much easier. However, Thompson, I'm disappointed you didn't capture this one."
Thompson shook his head. "The matriarch wants that particular one later. I don't know why. She said that she needs a certain six for the very last, but I don't know exactly why. But I guess it's not our place to decide what to do."
"No, it is not. Well then, Thompson, if you're done here, I'll be on my way. I'll see you in Southtown."
Thompson smiled wickedly. "Hmmmmph. Southtown, huh? We've been waiting too long before we all got a crack at Southtown. I'm tingling at the thought of our final victory."
