The timeline has shifted, did you feel it? Two chapters in one week!

V was her name. She was leaning on the station's wall near the entrance of the bunker. Anatoly hadn't even acknowledged her presence initially, and neither did she, not at first. But eventually, she spoke up. "Life's a transaction... my old man used to say that." Her voice was slightly raspy, expresive and edgy.

"A wise man's words!" said Anatoly, typically cheerful. V joined them without asking, walking towards town.

"Except, he was drunk most of the time." She reminded.

Anatoly laughed, grabbing her by the shoulder. "A drunk wise man then! They exist."

"You being one of them?"

"Kha! Who says I'm wise?" He trailed off.

V was taller than average, easily maintaining eye level with Kusma. She was lean-ish, hard to tell under all the clothing, people's physiques can undergo radical change when frozen for long. She had dark, dreamy hair... bluish eyes, those stood out. Hunter's eyes always left scanning for threats. And they were aimed in his direction at least twice. Her fists were clenched, shoulders raised, on edge but for what reason Kusma couldn't guess. Perhaps she was nervous, force of habit? She had well-defined cheekbones and jaw, full lips, and her modest nose was red as a reindeer. Unfamiliar with the cold then, a Californian would be... But he didn't see the Mexican connection, her skin was far too pale and the eye colour didn't match. Kusma saw a looker, not a fighter, he saw the corporate in her but not the mercenary.

"So... why'd you come back?" Anatoly coyly asked.

"You know fully why."

"Yeeees, hmm-but I want to hear you say it."

V took a deep breath before replying to Anatoly's question. "I needed to conclude shit on my own. I can't stand being forced to do someone else's bidding. I hope we're clear on that front."

"Perfectly. Not my first rodeo, as you'd say." He said with a smile. It was true, Anatoly had about 30 other 'patients' as he called them under his belt. Most joined up, and the few that didn't he made sure to disappear.

"Just... treat me like a merc. Give me something familiar to work with."

"Aha, way ahead of you!" Anatoly said, clapping hands together once in delight. "Let's talk hitjobs then."

Anatoly went on to explain her target. Burak. A russo-turkish mongrel, born in Georgia, a despicable man not even fit for the local mafia as he was excommunicated in absentia. Living on borrowed time with a target on his back he fled far as his feet carried him and landed him a criminal land of opportunities. Petropavlovsk. His preferred trade? Pimp, with a serving of drugs on the side. Burak managed to establish a reputation, for bedding beautiful ladies, and it wasn't due to his, looks. V was opposed somehow to Anatoly's flattery, Kusma saw him grinning ear to ear but made assurances that there would be no bedding. Kusma was to be that assurance. He wanted to pretend to pimp out V, while she would get the chance to stab Burak in the back, literally.

Burak had his very own drinking hole. He hated the drink, loved the sense of security it gave him. "A proud business owner." Anatoly sniggered. Their apparent shared history would get his attention, and likely him offering the trade.

According to his timetable, he would be there, Anatoly would make the offer, and V would do the killing. Job's done.

Sounded simple, and likely was. The target after all was simple himself. Kusma agreed but kept seeing the intention behind Anatoly's plan. This was an oddly specific way of killing him, though to be fair he knew his friend as a lover of irony.

As he finished laying out his plan, he told V to open her palm. He gave her his knife and closed her hand. "All yours now... Kusma!" He suddenly called. "What are you mopping about? I wanted you on overwatch yesterday!"

"Oh, yes sir!" he snappily replied and turned his heels towards the forest. Jogging through the deep snow until out of sight.

"So he'll be ghosting us," said Anatoly. "He's got one of those fancy wall penetrating rifles and a terahertz scope," Anatoly informed V as they walked on. "He's a pretty decent shot, so don't worry if something goes wrong."

They were headed to a still-standing warehouse in Petropavlovsk, in the basement Burak ran his own little private brothel for clients of higher standing. It was in the most deserted corner of town, on Victory Avenue, specifically on the site of an old army depo. Anatoly explained to V of his one-time invitation he received some moons ago, the details of which he claims to forget. But V was getting the profile on him, there were obvious signs of Anatoly not disclosing the whole truth, the man thrived on details.

"Should be just around the corner," Anatoly said with confidence. They were on a footpath, avoiding traffic, though it was light. They weaved through broken, torn-down shacks and family homes. The place was overgrown and buried in snow. A few locals wandered about but none seemed interested in talking to strangers. The few that had gone past them looked old and tired, there was nobody here but old folk. Some didn't even bother to look at the two, more like they were trying to avoid eye contact. Any contact.

"You'd tell me everyone was born old here I'd not even blink twice." joked V.

Anatoly smiled back at her. "True, most of the population is ageing or has aged already. Remember I told you about those lovely places, like the swimming pool? You'd not want closer look, let's keep it at that. The city is doomed without outside help, nevertheless, I know how that ends..."

They crossed the road and approached a side street where a beaten-up gate, made from scrap metal was covering the entrance into the industrial compound. An abandoned building site to be precise, right next to an albeit small high-rise hotel. It was an odd sight, the hotel was almost out of place, with a barely paved road, no car park to speak of and flanked by birch trees from all sides. A cold breeze blew between them, V nuzzled her chin against the crimson scarf she had been given. Her ears popped slightly when she swallowed. Anatoly found an opening in the rusted chain link fencing surrounding the entire property and pulled it aside for V to enter.

Burak's warehouse was situated in the far corner of the site and appeared to be the only building that wasn't crumbling to shit. The reinforced doors stood closed as usual, with security cameras watching over its surroundings. No guards either that he could see. Anatoly said that Burak preferred his privacy so little attention would be drawn towards him.

Anatoly knocked on the door twice before it opened. He entered first, looking around at the interior, his head moving left and right. V followed closely behind, ready for anything. There were three men inside; two older guys sitting at a table, playing cards while smoking a cigar, and a third guy cleaning a rifle. One of the grandpa's ones glanced up briefly then focused back on his game, saying nothing. The man cleaning the gun continued sweeping down the length of his barrel with a rag, not bothering to look up or greet their arrival.

"Good day, gentlemen!" Anatoly announced himself to the room, receiving blank looks in return. "I'll cut to the chase. Where is Burak?"

"Who wants to know?" Came the curt reply from one of the card players, a bearded fellow.

Anatoly's hand slid into his coat pocket and he withdrew a bundle of paper cash from his pocket. "A guest, perhaps a business partner?" He explained politely, producing an aqua-blue envelope from his coat. "I was invited." He added simply. His fingers slowly placed it on top of the green baize surface of the table.

One old geezer picked it up, peering curiously at what looked like an invitation letter. "It's been four, maybe five months?" He said out loud before handing the paper over to his peer. The second old-timer nodded in agreement putting his unfinished cigarette in the ashtray. They both put down their cards and looked at each other, communicating something to each other non-verbally. Meanwhile, the third man finished cleaning and holstered his weapon. A well-worn knife rested in a strap on his boot. Anatoly watched with interest as they made for a door behind them which lead deeper inside the building. "He's downstairs." The guard grunted. Anatoly and V promptly followed the armed henchman while the other two returned to their game.

Downstairs proved more of the same; a sleazy bar only this time lit in neon red light from within, there was a dance floor, a dance pole, and a couple of the working girls giggling around a round table. The guard leapt behind the counter, storing his rifle under it and began washing glasses, the barkeep then. The music was off, as the place hadn't opened yet. However, the sounds of women moaning could be heard coming through the walls, accompanied by muffled conversation and laughter. All the lights were dimmed except for those above the stage, despite nobody being there.

"So, what do you rate it, V?" Asked Anatoly. She just shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Known worse dives."

"Kha! I bet you did."

The smell in the air was musky, with traces of alcohol on the breath of the patrons present. There were six tables spread throughout the room. Aside from the prostitutes and barman nobody else bothered to show up. Anatoly sat on the bar stool, cosying up to the counter, stereotypically ordering a shot of vodka. V split off took a seat at a nearby table then waited for Burak to arrive. A tall blond woman who wore a tight-fitting leather bodice and skirt stood up from her group and came over to Anatoly, she introduced herself as Bela.

She had a deceptively easy smile, but there was something dangerous lurking in those dark green eyes as she spoke. "Who's your friend? Is he someone important?" Her accent sounded Germanic which was strange considering the locale. V was just about in earshot and could faintly hear bits of their conversation.

"I like him better than your other boyfriends," Anatoly replied cheekily before ordering another drink for himself.

"Not sure if I should take that personally or not..." She paused her train of thought. Then after taking a swig of her drink turned back to Anatoly, this time more serious, "Burak will see you soon enough, he always has time for business." She put her hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze, making eye contact with him, whispering something in his ear. He grinned and shook his head slightly, whispering a few words back. The blond got upset by his reply and stormed off to her friends. Anatoly suppressed his maniacal laugh by having another drink.

It didn't take long until the door opened again, revealing a burly if a bit fat black haired figure who appeared to be somewhat stubby compared to Anatoly. Burak looked every bit the part of an Eastern European gangster. His suit was ill-fitting, expensive looking but old. He had an ugly leather brown flat cap. A cigar was gripped between two fingers while he strolled through his fine establishment. He stopped right next to where Anatoly sat, grabbing one of the barstools and resting his meaty arm across his back as he placed his cigar into his mouth.

"Well well my good man, you came to see me after all?" Asked Burak with a thick accent, it wasn't Russian, must've been the translator software messing up. Anatoly somberly nodded in response, holding the empty drinking glass in his hand. "He, he. Knew you'd come to your senses." Burak chuckled at his own remark. "What can I do for you today? Do you need a place for your operation? I have some... unusual girls that might interest your tastes." He paused for a moment, still chuckling away. His voice was deep and loud, with heavy breathing accompanying each word. She couldn't hear Anatoly reply to him anymore because someone was messing with the DJ equipment on stage. She could only make out snatches of what they were saying over the music, "Might want them here too..." She heard Anatoly say, who had raised his voice.

Burak grunted in agreement then said something about needing time. "You are so curious, it's the one vice this business can't tolerate." The bartender brought another bottle of vodka from behind the counter and poured a shot into the glass before handing it to Burak. He and Anatoly clinked glasses, and both quickly drank their share, Burak smacked his lips together afterwards. His eyes scanned around the room again. V waited patiently until Burak noticed her. He did not look surprised or happy, but V instantly knew he was checking her out.

"And that's her? She looks like a street whore! And I should know!" He spoke aloud once he had made eye contact with her while leaning forward enough that she could easily hear his words. He turned to Anatoly, gesturing wildly with his hands, but lowered his voice, not by much. "To be fair. Looks more supple than Bela. Heh! She's had more cocks through her than I had vodka's through my bladder!" Burak guffawed at his joke. Anatoly kept up appearances well, however, a let out his maniacal laugh reign supreme.

The blond girl who called herself Bela got up off the table, obviously displeased, the other girls at the table stood as well. They left in a huff, disappearing behind the back door.

Burak shook his head disapprovingly and downed the rest of the bottle of alcohol, throwing it into the air and catching it deftly. "Pft. Women I say!" He put on an overly dramatic accent, much to Anatoly's amusement and annoyance at the same time.

"Anyway, probably should get to business." Anatoly started after clearing his throat.

"Ah yes, fine. I will try out your merchandise in the back room, then we talk pricing and other bullshit." Burak said dismissively, making V perk up. Likely her queue. "Wait here." He commanded Anatoly, whom just raised his thumb and continued drinking.

He walked over by V and tugged her arm, "Come on then, you know the drill."

V followed him through the door the other women used moments before, she found herself in their private quarters. There were a number of them, each with their little beds. It looked like they lived there. A small kitchenette with a sink, fridge, microwave, and coffee maker, was off to one side. Mirrors, tons of makeup boxes, clothes racks; lingerie and dresses mostly but also some casual wear. They passed their room straight towards Burak's office which was right across from it. The entire place smelled stale, filled with various unidentifiable smells, sweaty leather and cheap cologne.

A heavy black desk dominated the centre of the room with a large computer screen sitting upon it. In the corner sat what seemed to be an expensive customised safe, protected by an unidentifiable energy field around it. To the left was an old wooden cabinet, and his double bed lay along the wall on his right-hand side, covered in various trinkets, wares, and weapons scattered about in front of the wardrobe doors. At the end of his bed rested his guitar case on top of his backpack as well as other assorted items that he must have had for work.

"Your name?" Asked Burak, pointing at the bed. While he tended to his wardrobe, he began undressing.

"V."

"V? Wh-what does that stand for? Viagra, vagina?." Burak laughed to himself, picking up a silver chain from atop the dresser, and tossing it in her direction. "There we go, enjoy your moniker then, it's now on your collar." V caught it mid-air, taking a look at her new necklace. It had her initial, a heart with two colours, "V" in silver and the top in gold. Tacky, just like the rest of him...

She silently unveiled her knife and set eyes on the side of his thick neck. She slowly snuck up behind him and watched him intently as she approached. In the span of a second, she pressed with all of her force the blade against his exposed jugular vein. Burak's breath left him, warm blood outpoured fairly quickly. V stabbed him through the hand he held his throat with, and sliced his second one wide open, preventing him from retaliating, or even the chance of him using any first aid. Even gurgling for him was nigh impossible. His arm turned limp and his eyesight grew blurry for a few seconds until his brain shut off. Already crumbled on the ground, V threw the silver chain at him.

She stood in silence for a while, watching over his corpse, half expecting him to rise from the dead. She grew anxious about the utterly soundproofed room. The clock read 12:14, V used his sink mirror to spot any blood splatters on her clothes, and clean them while at it too.

Anatoly calmly finished his bottle. The bartender stared wide-eyed at the fact he was still sober after knocking back so much vodka. Anatoly would have had a hearty conversation with him yet he didn't have it in him anymore today. This was no happy affair they had, V would've likely taken down the fatso by now. This only left the cousin. Anatoly however had to wait until Bela went away before finishing the deed, to spare her the sight. Wouldn't take long though.

"Ah! Ah!" She coughed loudly into her hands. Her face was red and tears already forming on her cheeks. "Oh my god, not again." She whined as she disappeared upstairs.

Luckily, the issue took care of itself. Anatoly then got up, and stood in the middle of the hall, the bartender keeping an eye on him. He then turned around and made pew noises, pointing his finger gun at him. The bartender shook his head, "Alright you dru- " He'd never finish that sentence. A very real piece of tungsten the size of his little finger crashed through the floor, and deposited directly into his cranium. The bartender fell limp, spreading along the floorboard, dead on the spot. He took some of the dishes he was holding down with him, a few of the plates made a clink as they hit the ground, and a glass or two broke on impact.

Anatoly wiped off his hands and straightened his coat, "I do hate when it gets messy."

"What about the other two? They're headed downstairs." Kusma came on his earcomm.

"Good! The cleaning detail."

Sure enough, Anatoly heard their stomping. Their boots clunked loudly and they burst through the door. The two geezers noticed the blood pool gathering around the bar counter.

Anatoly crossed his arms, "Nothing to worry about. Just someone had too much to drink!" He leaned on the nearest table, looking smug as per usual.

The pair looked at each other confused, "What'd you do?"

"What does it look like?"

V emerged from backstage, the door squeaking behind her.

"Burak?" Anatoly raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, afraid he's down for the count," V said with her blood-stained knife out.

Anatoly then pouted, "Shame that. What about you fine gentlemen? Want a go for a tumble?"

Neither of the men responded, the one with the beard slowly walked to the corpse of the bartender. "This what you call, business?" And he then saw the bullet hole from above.

"No, I call this an act of mercy, the real question here is, how expensive was your loyalty?"

"Hah!" The other one chuckled. "Loyalty. Burak was hardly a pal of mine. And barely an employer."

"My thinking exactly!" Agreed on the other.

The women entered the room and they whispered through the squeaking door. Anatoly kept his back to them because Bela came back.

Anatoly smiled, "What about you girls? Want to better your prospects?"

They were shocked at this sudden offer, and looked to each other, wondering if he was serious or not. "W-what is your-r offer?"

"You replace Burak. Yes, you Bela. Keeping an eye on my interests, informing me when something goes haywire. You get to keep 85 per cent of all of your proceeds, the rest goes towards making sure this shithole runs properly. I freeze all your debts, you and the ladies pay it off. Afterwards, you can pack your bags whenever. Or stay for all I care. Sounds fair?"

Bela nodded her head slowly in agreement with every word he said, "Okay... what?" Bela stood there, flabbegasted.

But Anatoly clapped once, "Good! Be seeing you then." He got up from the table and headed out, but not before reminding his new bouncers... "And you gentlemen, keep the ladies safe." He cheerfully patted the one by the door, as he exited the poor excuse of a nightclub. "Come on V! Had enough of this hovel, yes?"

"So... That just happened." V blurted out after minutes of blissful silence.

"Just so happens you happened!"

"What does that even mean?"

"Just gunning someone down, tsk, tsk. Too common. I came along, offered a better deal at life, a look what kind of saint I am! With more than a few methods of enforcement."

"A saint... compared to little more than a caricature. Nobody even shed a tear for him. Makes you think..."

"Why nobody had the guts? He was connected, everyone with a good sense of self-preservation is."

V and Anatoly were atop the city's most southern observation tower, built recently. Kind of a local wonder, that anything even got built around here these days. It was nice and calm, the wind wasn't blowing so the cold didn't bother V. The sun was going down, rest of their day Anatoly took her out for a walk around the place he dared called home.

"Won't that come to bite someone in the ass?"

"Nah, being connected? Great for business, but the protection offered is good on paper at most. Most people tend to their interests and the revenge business just so happens an expensive endeavour. His cousin, the bartender, only other obstacle we had, and he's lobotomized."

V glanced down to the streets below them, "You had beef with him, didn't you?"

"Burak? After a few encounters, I was seeing someone. Never amounted to anything, but I liked the lady, met her through him. Burak offered her a job, she was on the downturn and I had to travel during her hardest struggles. It got worse, she turned to drugs, and one thing led to another. Overdose. Burak seemed small fry, a symptom not the cause, there's a dozen like him just in this city. I was angry at the time, I tried to get even with him or make him suffer. But the bigger picture got in the way. Why now? Saw him as good target practice for you."

"And the whole, taking over of his business?"

"I mean, if I don't we'll have another 'Burak' on our hands. No thanks."

"I see..."

Anatoly looked out over the cityscape, "Let's put this behind us. You're alright V, enjoy working with you. Tomorrow I'll call my guy, he'll set you up with mods, he's got varied selections. I'll check out a weapons cache of ours, promote you from knife-for-hire to gun-for-hire, and a... ehm. A 'piece' or two should be enough. Yes?"

V smiled, "Sounds nova choomba, I could head for some preem iron."

Anatoly let out a dissaproving sigh. "Dear god. Deliver me from this world."

Helgi Olegov - V dvenadtsat' chasov / At twelve o'clock

Heh, dispensing with the AN's... can't stop bullshiting, even myself. I'll be trying to catch up the story to where my outline ends, so... and I am hesitant to write this. I'll be, ramping up production. So to speak.

Now watch how I dissapear for another two months. All I do is shoot myself in the foot repeatedly with these forecasts.