Chapter 15: Unite

As the images and memories flashed through Balalaika's mind, she started to zone out completely and Boris's words might as well have been going in one ear and out the other. She had her elbow on the door of the car and was massaging her forehead. While she was normally incredibly level-headed and collected, recent events were making the stress set in more than usual. Usually, she would have been able to cope rather well, but it had been a long two years. Things had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped and certain status quos had fallen apart as a result of the conflict that had plagued Roanapur. It had all become a bit much to manage. That fact was exemplified best by the current situation with the Task Force 216 and their hold over the police. Though it seemed like a minor thing, the understanding with Chief Watsup was the biggest advantage the criminal factions in Roanapur had. The police allowed the city to continue functioning as the breeding ground for crime that it was and they received sizable compensation as a result, making sure that larger, more powerful organisations did not get wind of what the city was really like. Now that that safety net had been taken away and the very thing that kept the status quo safe had been turned against them, the ruling factions were running scared.

Balalaika was never one to back down from a fight, but there would be no fight with the 216. There was no easy way out. She closed her eyes and saw the Grey Fox team fleeing the Bloodhound of Florencia and escaping what could have been a bloody conflict with Hotel Moscow had they not decided to assist the Americans. She saw Kane Archibald at the head of the Black Marchers, followed by Lucille and Godswrath. She felt the sting of the metal spikes shredding her face as Hunter Woods pommelled her relentlessly. She had had one too many close calls in the past, as had the city itself, and even though she was loathe to admit it, she wasn't sure if they would be so lucky next time.

"Kapitan?" came Boris's voice. Balalaika snapped out of it and cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Comrade-Sergeant," she said politely. "Forgive me. My mind is elsewhere this evening. You were saying?" He did not continue, having noticed her reserved mood as of late. Their relationship had always been very professional, but Boris and Balalaika served together in Afghanistan and he was quick to return to her side when she came calling. They were undoubtedly close.

"Nothing important," Boris told her. "Just an update on the situation in Hong Kong. I can move onto something else, if you prefer?"

"Once again, you'll have to forgive me. I haven't quite been myself lately."

"That's understandable. Given everything that's going on, I'd be concerned if you were taking it in your stride."

"Hah! Is that mockery, I wonder?" she asked playfully. "We've never let anything or anyone rattle us before, Sergeant, why should we start now?" He knew why, as did the driver and everyone else that worked for Balalaika. None of them had any delusions about the seriousness of the Task Force's presence in Roanapur. They all knew this was not like previous situations they had been in.

"The rules of engagement have always been clear," Boris offered his analysis of the issue at hand. "It's easy to deal with an enemy head on, to predict their next move and act accordingly. Or to retaliate when they make a move against you. This isn't the same. How can you engage when there are no rules of engagement?" Balalaika smiled, her eyes looking through the window as the car sped on towards the city. They had been outside Roanapur for a brief period on business.

"That's precisely the predicament we find ourselves in," Balalaika replied after sighing. "We are the dominant presence in this city. We have eyes and ears everywhere and we know when anyone does anything we don't like. By all logic, we should hold all the power. But we can't lay a finger on these little rats. And that worries me."

"Has there been any word from the Triad?"

"Nothing," Balalaika told him, disappointed. "Not one word." That, too, was worrying. It seemed like there was genuinely no way out of this, no solution that would eliminate the threat of the Task Force while avoiding further investigation by Interpol, or worse, other organisations of justice from the west.

"It's never easy."

"Never. There is a war coming, Sergeant. A real war the likes of which we have never seen." Boris seemed confused by that.

"With the Task Force, you mean?" he asked. Surprisingly, Balalaika did not agree with that and remained absorbed in thought for a few moments.

"Not necessarily," she finally answered. That sent shivers down Boris's spine.

Their contemplations were cut short as the car began to slow to a halt. They had just crossed the Slip Knot Bridge when the driver stepped on the brakes and they were suddenly immobile in the middle of the road.

"Why are we stopping?" Boris asked.

"Apologies," the driver told them. "There appears to be a…well, a roadblock." Balalaika was about to respond when she saw the flashing blue and red lights. Her stomach tightened as she came to a disturbing realisation, but she would not jump to any conclusions just yet. She opened the door of the car and stepped out to see for herself what was happening. As she suspected, there were several police cars blocking the way with their lights on and a line of officers across the road. While the police had been increasing their presence on the streets recently and some of the smaller criminals ended up being followed and watched by the authorities, they had not been bold enough to actively pursue the ruling factions. Now, though, it seemed all bets were off.

Chief Watsup stood in the middle of the line with a baton in his hand. Balalaika had some words for him, and he was going to listen if he valued his place in the world.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she roared, coming forward and coming to a stop in front of the car. Boris emerged and came to her side as she confronted the police officers.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Watsup replied somewhat flippantly. "We've got orders to lock down the city until further notice. Nobody comes or goes."

"On whose authority?!"

"My own," Watsup told her.

"Explain yourself, Chief Watsup," Boris told him.

"Yes, do explain," Balalaika added, her own voice much less calm and full of malice. "Explain to me why you've taken the opportunity to foolishly piss off the people who line your pockets." That was no secret to any of the police officers present, but anywhere else that would have been sensitive information.

"You know why," Watsup said. "Didn't you hear? We're under new management down at the station. The 216 call the shots, now." Balalaika was barely containing herself as it was, but she was getting dangerously close to completely losing it now.

"Listen to me, little man," she began, "you are going to go back to whatever disgusting shithole you crawled out of and let us through, because that's what we pay you for. And then, you're never going to come within a mile of me again, or you'll wish you'd died a long time ago."

"Don't threaten me," Watsup warned her. "You want to point the finger, you go and find a mirror somewhere."

"Excuse me?!" Balalaika hissed.

Boris placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to calm herself. It was a tricky situation, and if she lost her temper it would only become trickier. They needed to keep their heads and talk this through.

"Maybe if you'd done your job properly," she went on once she was more relaxed, "this Task Force wouldn't be here right now. Then, we'd all go about our business as normal."

"You think so?" Watsup asked, thoroughly annoyed now. It had started to become personal between them. "I wasn't the one who decided to wage a fucking war in the middle of the city. Ain't no paycheck that's going to keep that shit under wraps. I'm a police chief, not a fucking genie. You haven't made this easy on me."

"What we get up to is none of your business," Balalaika said warningly. "You are paid to do a job, one it seems you aren't competent enough to do anymore."

"You watch your damn mouth," Watsup snapped. "If you think you're getting into the city, think again. Things have changed, Balalaika."

"Is that so?" Balalaika asked, a sinister smile spreading across her face. "Oh, I don't think things have changed at all. You see, Hotel Moscow still hold the power to destroy anyone in our path at a moment's notice. Like it or not, that remains the case. I wouldn't test that theory, if I were you, Chief Watsup."

"You wouldn't try it," he presumed. "I have ten men blocking the way. Even you must know when the odds are against you."

"You're playing a dangerous game, I assure you. When this blows over-and I promise, it will-you will regret this. You will regret the day you were born."

"I doubt that," Watsup told her confidently. "Every road in and out of Roanapur is blocked off, just like this one. We've been told to halt the movements of any persons of interest. That includes you, Miss Balalaika. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us." Watsup's voice was not filled with confidence, almost like his heart was not in this, like he was just going along with it because he had to. But, when all was said and done, he was still doing just that; going along with it. And Balalaika knew that if she responded with violence there would be hell to pay later. The Task Force would come for her eventually. Still, she couldn't just back down, not now when things were already so tense. Something had to be done, and Hotel Moscow had little in the way of options.