"OK, easy there, big guy!" Piper protested, throwing up his hands along with everyone else, "We ain't gonna rob the place...!"
"You are trespassing!" Nikita snarled, keeping the shotgun trained on them, "What business do you have here?"
"We're trying to help our friend," Bret hesitantly stepped forward, "Hulk Hogan is not a murderer, contrary to what the police say. We're only here to try and prove his innocence."
"And don't think you can stop us, you big fat Ruskie, because we're finding out the truth, and you can't stop us!" Duggan threatened Nikita, waving his two by four at him.
"I'm not going to stop you, you fool, because I know Hogan's innocent as well," Nikita said flatly.
"Yeah, well I don't believe any of your government's tricks, because...!" Duggan continued ranting.
"Jim, hang on," Elizabeth held a hand in his face. "You said you think Hulk's innocent too?" she asked Nikita, looking more than a little surprised.
"Yes," Nikita said, a look of solemnity creasing on his face as he lowered the shotgun slowly, "I have traveled through America with Uncle Ivan on tour; I have seen all that Hogan has done for the wrestling fans. I know he would never stoop to murder, even if provoked. Unlike Uncle Ivan, or the bureaucrats at the Soviet sports department, I can see good in America, that it's not the dark side of the moon they all make it out to be."
"Well, good for you, trooper," Slaughter commended him, "Maybe there is hope for your country after all."
"I don't know, Sarge, I don't think we can trust this guy," Duggan still frowned at Nikita suspiciously.
"But if he thinks it's a frame-up job too, he could be of some help," Davey pointed out. "Tell us, Nikita, if it's OK to call you that," he asked the Russian, who nodded in compliance, "If you're convinced it wasn't Hulk, what do you think went down here tonight?"
Before Nikita could answer, a gruff voice rang out from the alley, "Nikita, what is going on in there? Why is the door wide open here?"
"Uh oh, Uncle Ivan," Nikita turned pale. "Hide, quick!" he told the Western wrestlers, gesturing at the nearest closet.
"All of us in there?" Piper frowned, "That's a rather tight fit..."
"You got a better idea in the clutch?" Savage grabbed the Scotsman by the hand and dragged him into the closet. It was indeed a tight fit, and Steamboat was just barely able to close to the door behind them. "This is wrong; he's just setting us up," Duggan grumbled darkly, "Ten bucks says he gives us away right off the bat; you can't trust the Ruskies with...!"
"Shhhhh!" everyone else hissed at him. They listened intently as heavy footsteps thumped into the gymnasium. "Nikita, put that gun away; all is well now," Ivan upbraided his nephew, "Who were you talking to just now?"
"Uh...hoodlums, Uncle Ivan; they had sneaked in and were going for the equipment; I chased them out the front door," Nikita said quickly.
"Crazy rabble; always perverting the Soviet system and stealing from those who have earned their worth," Ivan grumbled in disgust. He could be heard pacing around the room. "They are part of dangerous undercurrent trying to ruin the Soviet ideal, just like that terrorist Hogan, murdering Pyotr. He is proof of how low America stoops to gain its power. Oh well, he is finished now; he will serve time for his crime, and Nikolai Volkoff will be the world champion the world deserves."
"Are you sure that will be allowed, Uncle Ivan?" Nikita asked innocently, "I mean, don't international rules say that...?"
The corrupt international system doesn't go here, Nikita; you know that as well as anyone, and since they always rule against the Soviet Union, why should we bother working with them?" Ivan grumbled dismissively, "We are working to promote Russia in the world; they are only interested in money. Well, the money champion has fallen, and tomorrow, you and I will make fools of those capitalist pigs Duggan and Slaughter in front of all our countrymen."
"Why you rotten Commie...!" Duggan started to roar. A half dozen hands clamped over his mouth quickly, but unfortunately, it appeared Ivan had heard him. "What was that sound?" he groused, his footsteps coming towards the cabinet.
"Uh...mice, probably, Uncle Ivan; I thought I heard some earlier," Nikita rambled, nervous, "We'll, uh, we should call the exterminators in the morning."
"Mice you say?" the wrestlers' breaths caught as Ivan's hand could be heard clasping the doorknob, but after several seconds he released it. "Well, anyway, Nikita, there is more good news along with the fact Volkoff will be world champion; tomorrow, you, I, and every other Soviet participant in the Summit Series will be feted at a grand banquet by Comrade Menzhinsky; the General Secretary will be there as well, I understand."
"Ah, that is good news, Uncle Ivan," Nikita said in agreement, "I suppose the media will be covering it?"
"Absolutely; we will be awarded medals for our glorious work for the Soviet Union. Just remember, Nikita, be careful what you say in front of the press," Ivan cautioned him, "The American press will be quick to take anything out of proportion to slander us out of jealousy."
"In fairness, Uncle Ivan, I haven't once seen an American reporter treat us bad when we wrestle Americans..."
"Open your eyes, Nikita; they always treat us like dogs, run every story against us, just like their rotten fans that boo us every time we step into the ring!" Ivan thundered hatefully, "What has befallen Hogan is payback to all of America for opposing us and the power of Russia!"
Duggan roared in rage under the hands of everyone else; it took everyone's efforts to restrain him. "Well, I think it's time to shut down for the night," Ivan fortunately seemed finished, "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow..."
"Yes, and it's Christmas Eve too, Uncle Ivan..."
"Nikita, I have told you not to pay any heed to those bourgeois Western holidays," Ivan scolded him, "They detract and demean our socialist superiority."
"Sorry, Uncle Ivan. I think, I think I'll stay a little longer and clean up a bit," Nikita told him.
"Very well. Don't be too late, then; you need rest for the big match," were Ivan's closing words as he walked out the door. Nikita pushed it closed softly. "Quietly, come on out," he told his guests.
Duggan flung the door open. "Get him back here!" he roared, waving his two by four wildly, "Nobody called Americans dogs...!"
"SSSSHHHHHHH!" everyone hissed at him again and tensed up; fortunately, though, Ivan did not return. "Hmm," came the Boss Man's voice from around the corner, where he was hefting a shell casing that had fallen behind the door, "This is from a Kalashnikov, not an Uzi. I guess they figured it wouldn't matter what gun was used."
"Still doesn't exactly prove innocence, Boss Man," Bret shook his head. "Tell me, Nikita, do you usually lock up firmly after dark?" he asked the Russian.
"Of course; Uncle Ivan doesn't want anything stolen," Nikita told him.
"Well, the door was unlocked and not broken in," the Boss Man informed him, "For the record, did you and your uncle have the only key?"
"Yes, we do," Nikita was frowning, "Are you saying Uncle Ivan collaborated...?"
"We're not jumping to any conclusions," the Hitman raised a hand, "We have to do this fairly. Did he answer any phone calls, or did anyone else come in?"
"Yes," Nikita nodded softly, "There was a phone call not long before closing time; Uncle Ivan took it and seemed rather agitated..."
He started pacing, fondling his goatee nervously. "You may be right; there could be a grand conspiracy here," he remarked to the Western wrestlers, "This could humiliate Russia if carried out in full. If you want to prove Hogan innocent, I wish to assist."
"Oh would you, please?" Elizabeth begged him, "Hulk's our friend; he's almost like a brother to us (Savage's eyebrows shot up again). Anything you could do..."
"Wait a minute, hold on," Duggan waved his hands wildly, "Aren't we forgetting, this man's a Ruskie; you can't trust the Ruskies!" he glared at Nikita, "Especially one who would implicate family by working with us; how do we know he's not setting us up?"
"If you must, how do I know you won't set me up if I agree, American?" Nikita glared back.
"Well, don't think any of us have forgotten Afghanistan!" Duggan bellowed, now glaring straight into Nikita's face.
"Much as we haven't forgotten Cuba!" Nikita leaned hard into Duggan.
"Or Berlin!"
"Or Zaire!"
"Or Czechoslavakia!"
"Or...!"
"Stand down, men!" Slaughter pushed between the two men, "We're on a mission here, we can't jeopardize it through infighting. Now, Mr. Duggan," he gently took his partner aside, "Reconnaisance will be a big part of this mission; out of military necessity, it would be helpful to get a mole on the inside. Mr. Koloff here," he pointed at Nikita, "fits the bill. Now, it occurs to me that he may be able to get close to the apparent perpetrators here, and get either evidence or a confession. Now, in times of war, it's best to use all options that can be used to our advantage. So let's not let this opportunity go by, especially if he genuinely wishes to assist. Am I correct?" he asked Nikita.
"Yes," Nikita nodded firmly, "I don't like to see an innocent man go to the gulag. And besides," he frowned deeply, "I don't want to see Volkoff as world champion; the man is a blathering idiot undeserving of the belt."
"Amen to that, yeah," Savage declared. "OK then, Sarge, since you're in charge, what's the operation from here, then?" he asked the former Marine.
"Tomorrow morning, Mr. Koloff will attend that breakfast banquet," Slaughter told him, turning to Nikita, "He will gather whatever intelligence he can. At the same time, one of us will go undercover to do their own gathering. Mr. Koloff, meet me at our hotel-the Krupskaya-at six hundred hours; we'll go over more specifics there. You are dismissed, soldier, and thaaaaaaat's an order."
"Good evening, Mr. Slaughter," Nikita told him, walking towards the front door. The wrestlers filed out the back door. "I still think we're making a mistake trusting this guy," Duggan continued griping, "He ain't gonna turn in his own uncle; he's probably setting us up to be arrested too...!"
"A willing risk to take in the pursuit of justice, Mr. Duggan," Slaughter told him, "We'll assemble at my place at six hundred hours as well..."
"Speaking of which, Sarge, would you recommend any place for us to stay, if you know any?" Davey asked him, "We were sort of kicked out of our own lodging..."
"Not to worry, Private Smith; there's still spare rooms at our hotel," Slaughter assured him.
"Luger ain't staying there, is he?" Savage frowned deeply.
"Nope, no sign of him," Duggan told him, "Maybe a good thing too, given what Sarge told me happened earlier," he raised an eyebrow at Savage, "I just hope Hulk," his expression grew worried, "has a reasonable night's sleep given what the KGB's probably going to put him through..."
"In here with him," General Yermakov ordered his guards, who dragged Hulk into the interrogation room at the prison camp outside Moscow and shoved him into the chair at the table. "All right," the general glared down at the wrestler, "You will sign this confession that you murdered Pyotr Popov," he shoved a form onto the table in front of Hulk.
"Never!" the world champion snarled defiantly.
"Arrogant swine!" Yermakov slapped him hard across the face, "If you do not sign, you will see how justice is done here in the Soviet Union!"
"Do whatever you want, brother, but I'm not signing a false statement," Hulk folded his arms across his chest.
"Very well. Igor, Georgy!" Yermakov shouted into the corridor. Two giant, hulking, wild-eyed guards stepped into the room. "Prepare to give him the treatment," the general ordered them, "Do whatever you want to him until he signs."
"Go ahead; I'm not signing no matter what," Hulk spit at the guards, "And God bless America!"
"Put him through the wringer," Yermakov told his men coldly, striding out the door and closing it behind himself. He cracked a cold smile as the sound of blows being struck in the room rang out. Sooner or later, everyone cracked under the usual treatment...