Chapter 18

The collision with the ground caused her to let out a gasp as the air exited her lungs. Her vision was getting blurred by the rain as well as her fatigue and all she could see above her was the smeared image of her opponent. "Nina…," the fallen woman mouthed.

"Tch. What a nuisance," the blonde woman muttered. Leaving the brunette on the water-soaked gravel, she turned on her heel and began to walk off.

Anna, despite all her injuries, forced herself up, using one arm as leverage and stared at the parting figure. Suddenly the scenery around her began to change into that of a flower field and the departing silhouette was sharpened until she could see a little blonde girl. "N-Nina…" Anna repeated, reaching her hand out towards her sister. The fair-haired child didn't hear her younger sister calling out for her and continued to walk until a man, their father, appeared and scooped the girl up into his arms, ignoring his other daughter who was still reaching for her sister…

Anna dropped her hand and the image of the flower field and the little girl shattered, the surroundings returning to that of the rain-splattered city. No matter how much time passes, that scenario always seemed to find a way to replay itself. Looking back up to her fading sister, her eyes narrowed in anger. She was sick of it. She picked herself up onto her feet. For once, she wanted to be the one to walk away while Nina watched.

With renewed vigor, the young lady ran back at her sister who, not expecting her to get back up, received a kick to the back and was sent sliding face first onto the gravel. The fallen blonde looked over her shoulder at her sibling and narrowed her eyes. Her younger sister, although scratched and bruised all over, stood tall and proud before her.

Cautiously getting herself to her feet Nina soon found that they were standing face to face. She looked into Anna's icy blue eyes and almost found the stare she returned to be intimidating. As for Anna, she noticed that her sister's gaze had just wavered before her. Those weren't the eyes she was used to looking into growing up.

Shifting her gaze downwards, Nina muttered, "You don't learn, do you?"

"Not at all…Sister." Anna smirked.

At seeing the smirk written on her soft pink lips, Nina snapped and began trying to land lefts and rights on the brunette.

Smoothly blocking each of her blows with her quick acting forearms, Anna said through the fists, "Do you really hate it that much when I call you 'sister'?"

"Shut up," Nina responded. "You'll be lucky if you get out of this alive!" She threw in a kick to her series of punches, hoping to catch Anna off guard, but found that she had caught it between her hands. Before she could react, the younger sister twisted it, forcing Nina to stumble and land on her front while Anna sat herself on her sister's back, pulling the captured leg up towards her head. Even with her flexibility, Nina could feel a few muscles and tendons being torn as the girl continued to pull the limb. Before Anna could cause some major damage to her, Nina forced herself onto her back, throwing Anna off, and staggered onto her feet.

Anna, smoothly, also got herself up, lightly brushing off her rear afterwards. She looked back over at Nina just in time to see a look of astonishment on her face before it faded into her usual scowl. "What's the matter, Nina? It's not like you to get caught by surprise…"

Nina remained silent to her sister's comment as she watched her face shift into a solemn one, a look she had never seen on her. "Well get ready for more," Anna continued to speak as she launched a kick into her gut. This time however, Nina managed to sidestep it and as Anna flew by, she snatched her arm, raised it and landed a hard elbow on her revealed ribs.

As the brunette staggered, placing a hand on her recent wound, Nina continued her assault by grabbing her hair, which she noted was now too long to be referred to as a "bob", and shoved her heel up against her spine, eliciting a yelp from her lips. Ruthless, she continued to yank, her pull getting stronger with each second, and in turn her heel continued to dig into Anna's back, leaving another bruise.

As Anna was sure she could begin to feel her hair being pulled out by its roots, she used her free hands to begin peeling Nina's fingers off. Once they were loose enough, she rammed her head up against the blonde's chin, breaking free from her grip. Before Nina could stagger away, Anna pulled off a spinning kick, delivering it right into her sister's stomach and sending her onto her side. Not wasting any time, she continued her assault by settling herself on her sister and dealt a series of slaps and punches to her face.

Startled by Anna's sudden animosity, Nina wasn't given the opportunity to counter any of her strikes until she was already dealt a good mixture of five or six punches and a countless number of slaps. She had caught the brunette's right hand with her left and tried to reverse their positions only to find that while she was pushing Anna down, Anna had snuck one of her long legs over her head and shifted to the side so that she had Nina ensnared in an armlock.

Despite the sudden increase in pain to her left arm, Nina still had the time to wonder how Anna had learned how to perform such moves. She was usually a simple fighter, using only her fists and those mile long legs as her main weapons. But now she was using locks and dislocating limbs. Had she really acquired a whole new technique just to best her?

Too busy contemplating Anna's new asset, she almost didn't notice it when the pull on her arm and the legs around her neck strengthened, causing her to gasp. Upon hearing the gasp, Anna let out a smirk. "How does it feel Nina, to be bested by your little sister?"

"Shut up…" Nina muttered angrily beneath her breath. "You're no sister of mine…" Anna flinched at the words but continued her armlock nonetheless. However, as she did so, she suddenly found that she was looking down at a handgun aimed straight at her in Nina's free hand. She didn't have time to react when she heard her sister whisper, "Now die."

The infiltration of SPETSNAZ was soon to take place. Within the last day, Sergei and his top two subordinates had been planning from sunrise to sunset, the actions they were going to take on the supposed "Day of Reckoning." They had taken into account every possibility and detail when they were designing the plans until, at last, they were able to deem it as perfect.

Now with nightfall already befallen on them, Annessa had set out sleeping spaces for the boys in her living room and demanded that they be asleep before midnight.

"Almost like a mother…" Anton muttered as he began tucking himself in under one of the blankets Annessa had left for them.

Markov passed him a gentle smile before turning to Sergei who was standing beside the window. He was posed like a statue and could easily be mistaken for one if it wasn't for the slight up and down movement of his chest. He was looking up at the stars from the looks of it.

"Commander," Markov asked, "what are you doing?"

He didn't give a response as he continued to gaze at the snowy night sky. It was almost a romantic view, but there was no one to share it with. Now that conditions have calmed, Sergei let his mind wander back to the woman who caused all of this change to begin with. He wondered where she was and how she was faring. He wondered if she had him on her mind at all…

Suddenly he found Markov standing beside him, his gentle look plastered on his face. "Are you feeling alright, sir?"

He gave the boy a nod.

Accepting his answer, Markov too looked out of the arched window at the Christmas-like scenery and asked, "Are you thinking about her, sir? Miss Anna?"

Spot on. Just as he always is. "I'll see her again…" Sergei whispered to no one in particular. Seeing as how Markov had no plans to head to bed yet, Sergei thought it was time to ask him the question that had been plaguing his mind since he had heard the radio broadcast. Shifting his eyes from the stars to his lieutenant, he asked, "Do you really think I've changed, Markov?"

The question caught Markov by surprise. "Huh?"

"You said I had changed, that I was headed towards the light. Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do, sir. The proof is right here, in the way you speak. Would the Sergei from all those years ago even bother to let anyone hear him breathe? I'm sure even you see how much you've changed."

Sergei narrowed his eyes. Markov was right. Throughout this long journey, he had gone through events that had woken up his feelings that had long been chained away. He made friends, smiled, and found love. He felt the emotions of happiness, sadness, anger, and even yearning. He didn't want to say goodbye to any of it.

The next morning, a letter was delivered to SPETSNAZ. It was addressed to a specific department; the department who was currently lacking its leader. A soldier noticed the letter and snuck it into his pocket as he saw who had delivered it.

Casually, he made it to his department's main office, which was now dusty after its occupant's three-month long absence and, while cautiously keeping his eye on the door, he pulled out the envelope and carefully ripped it open. Inside was a handwritten letter stating instructions and orders from a specific man who had gone AWOL. His Commander Dragunov had returned.

Mikhail, after having sat in his office for over five hours, decided it was time he stretched his legs. Rising to his feet he made his exit, passing by his phone which now lay in shambles on the floor. Since early this morning he had been getting call after call, one after the other. Who was to blame him that he decided to toss the appliance across the room?

Once he took a step outside the door, he stopped mid-step and peered back in. "While I'm gone," he said with a grin on his face, "I'm going to ask you to stay quiet. But do whatever you please either way." He closed the door behind him, leaving his hostages alone in the room.

The soldiers who guarded his floor watched as he walked past them, regarding him with either a nod or otherwise ignoring him. Mikhail didn't seem to care whether they acknowledged him or not anyhow. To him they were all mere subjects, disposables, as with all in the human race. He entered the elevator and took it to the bottom floor.

The soldier who was standing guard at the elevator listened as the elevator headed downwards then pulled out his communicator. "It's all clear now. Head in."

The two soldiers who were waiting beside Mikhail's door gave a nod to one another before pushing open the great doors of the room. Almost immediately the captives caught their attention as wriggled and squirmed in the corner. Quickly, one of the soldiers ran to their side and began ungagging them. As soon as the reporter's voice was free, she hoarsely yelled through chapped lips, "Get away from me!"

The sudden outburst surprised the two soldiers, causing them to jump. "M-Miss," one of them faltered while holding out his hands as if at gunpoint, "Please be quiet. We promise to get you out of here." He made a move to untie her hands, but she shoved away from him.

"Get away, you monster!"

The other soldier, who was much calmer than his colleague, narrowed his eyes at the woman and sneered, "I suppose you'd rather have Mikhail release you then, eh?"

She gasped at the name but slowly lowered her guard. With her in this calmer condition, the other soldier got to work freeing her from her binds. As he did so, he whispered soothingly, "I know it's confusing right now, but you have to trust us."

"Trust you?" The reporter scorned, "How can you possibly expect us to trust you when your leader just kidnapped us?"

The soldier stared straight into her eyes and solemnly said, "Mikhail is not and never has been my leader. My true leader—our true leader is Sergei Dragunov. And he'll come save us, you can count on that."

As soon as the three captives were freed, the two soldiers were beginning to lead them out until a taller soldier, his uniform adorned with medals of a higher rank, began to approach them. He was one of Mikhail's personal soldiers. "And what were you two doing in Mikhail's personal office," he asked smugly as if he didn't know.

Sergei's two soldiers watched as he began to pull out his communicator but were startled to find the little metal fragment was shot out of his hand before he could speak into it. Turning to where the bullet was shot from, they found Lieutenant Anton gripping his pistol which was still smoking from its latest use. "Get down!" He called to the man.

Mikhail's soldier looked at the three soldiers and smiled as recognition hit. These three were Dragunov's men. Holding up his hands in surrender, he slowly dropped to his knees. "So he's back and playing the role of the white knight now, huh?"

While cuffing him with handcuffs the soldiers usually kept handy, Anton smiled. "White knight? Heh, I never thought of it that way, but sure. Now c'mon, up you go. We gotta' take you to your other friends." He looked over at the captives and told the two soldiers, "Take these three out through our department exit. Make sure no one else sees them. Take them to the hospital ASAP."

"Yes sir." The two saluted and they were off.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Anton let out a sigh of relief. The man in his grasp looked over his shoulder at him and asked, "So how did he know they were there?"

"Beats me. No matter how much he changes, you can never really look into Commander Dragunov's mind."

"That so? Well, I don't know what you guys have planned next, but I'm going to tell you that you should warn your commander to be careful if he plans on fighting Mikhail head-on."

Anton stared at the man's eyes and saw that he wasn't saying this as a joke. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think it takes a genius to see that Mikhail's a maniacal bastard, but even he knows when he's gone too far. As of now, he knows there's no turning back so he's going to take as much as he can with him before he makes his final plunge. And let me tell you, all of this; from killing Aleksander to persuading all of Russia to believe in him, it's all to get Sergei Dragunov riled up. Because to Mikhail, the most precious gift he could take with him to hell is his rival."

As things were being tied up at SPETSNAZ headquarters, Sergei was finalizing his plans back at the apartment. Not too long ago he had heard the news of his soldiers releasing three hostages from Mikhail Barclay's grip. It had caused a huge uproar and news reporters and civilians alike began to gather in numbers at the front of the gates, declaring to know the truth behind SPETSNAZ. They were all enraged and had gotten to the point in which they were becoming violent. It was then that the soldiers blocking the front had to raise their guns and threaten the people to step back.

Fixing the glove on his hand, Sergei couldn't help but smirk. It was all coming together as he had planned. He wanted everyone to see the truth of Mikhail's reign, even if it meant slandering SPETSNAZ altogether. But perhaps, SPETSNAZ wasn't what it was all made out to be either.

There came a knock at the door and Markov, who had been watching the news, got up to answer it. Looking through the spyhole, he spotted a familiar face standing on the other end, a fellow soldier. Cautiously he peeled open the door and asked, "Did anyone follow you?"

"Not that I know of," the soldier replied.

"Alright then," Markov said, stepping aside, "come in."

The man walked in carrying a brown leather suitcase. He spotted Sergei at the window and gasped as if he had just seen a ghost. "I-I can't believe it…He really is back."

Skipping over any form of greetings, Sergei stepped over to the man and looked at the suitcase. "Did you bring what I asked?"

"Of course, sir," the soldier replied, placing the suitcase on the coffee table. He clicked open the locks and lifted the lid, revealing the contents inside. Weapons, from knives to guns, lined the inside and by the looks of it, they were of only the highest of quality. These were Sergei's personal arms given to him by Aleksander throughout his military career. He had meant to take these with him during his departure, but with the suddenness, he was forced to leave them behind. Now they were back in his hands.

Sergei lifted the knife from its place and gazed at it. They were all still in perfect condition, just as he had left them. He shifted his gaze to the deliverer and nodded. "Thank you."

"Uh…Anything for you, sir," he replied.

Taking the suitcase over to the window, he began to look over each of them, deciding what he would need to bring for his confrontation with Mikhail. If he could, he would plug that man with every bullet of all his guns. If only he could carry so much at once.

The razor-edged knife he had in his hands, he slipped into a strap at his calf while two handguns were secured to the belt of his cargo pants. With one final holster to fill, Sergei made his way over to the mantle where he had left his final weapon. Kliment's pistol. He opened the bullet cartridge and found that it only had a single shot left. He snuck it into his last holster and turned to look at his two soldiers.

"And SPETSNAZ? How is it going there," he asked his soldier.

"Mikhail's room has been searched and secured and all his personal commanders have been apprehended. Hostages have been returned to the public and all soldiers of the Public Safety and Support Department are positioned at the front of the building, holding back the crowd." The soldier answered.

"And Mikhail?"

"Anton said he last spotted him returning to his quarters. Most likely, he's already noticed the missing hostages."

Sergei nodded, glad to hear that all the preparations were finished. All that was left remaining was Sergei's part to play. Turning to the clock he saw that he still had more than five hours to wait until nightfall. Be patient, Mikhail…I'm coming for you…

Mikhail sat alone in his office, staring at the grandfather clock ticking away its minutes. When he had returned from his walk and had found the hostages gone and his commanders nowhere to be found, he knew right away, that he was back. So tactful and professional, leaving not a single stone unturned; only Sergei Dragunov could devise such a plan.

It was thirty minutes until midnight, Mikhail having waited patiently for over eight hours now. He didn't mind. He would wait another eight if he had to. After all, patience was a virtue, perhaps the only one Mikhail possessed.

Finally he smirked as he felt a shadow begin to hover over him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw, standing on the railing outside his window, the full moon behind him, was the one and only angel he believed in, the only one that could grant him his desires. The White Angel of Death.

Giving Sergei a grin that showed all his teeth, he rose to his feet and opened his arms, at the same time greeting ecstatically, "Welcome back, Dragunov!"

Author's Notes: Here you have it, Chapter 18! I hope you enjoyed! I had to let you guys know how Anna was doing while Sergei was in Russia so that explains the segment at the beginning. Don't worry, I know that both storylines kinda' ended in a cliff hanger (or at least Anna's) but I assure you, all conclusions will take place in the next chapter. And guess what? I finally got some art up on deviantArt so check that out if you like. You can find it under the keywords: Bluebird, Tekken. Like I said, I'm not an artist so prepare to be blinded once you see it…Anyways, thanks a ton for reading!