A/N: It took longer than I anticipated to add another post, meant to do it much earlier, didn't however. But now I did, it's part two of one scene. This post is rather 'visually strong' regarding violence and death. The fore token of things to come, I suppose. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

Eline: leuk dat je erbij bent om dit tweede deel te volgen, zo kan ik af en toe ook gewoon mijn moedertaal gebruiken om een en ander te verwoorden. Ben jij niet toevallig geregistreerd onder dezelfde nickname op de STFBE site? Zo ja, dan kan je daar de (herziene) versie lezen van het eerste deel. Ik ben overigens van plan om aan de Spring Shower Contest mee te doen op RFF, dus wie weet zie je daar een verhaal komen binnenkort. Lees ze.

oOo

The back of the head of the man exploded as the bullet smashed through the skull, a fine mist of blood, brain and bone spat on the RUF-member standing nearby. The other Mafiya that had escorted Sergei had his gun out too and fired three slugs in the head and chest of the RUF-member. The others ducked down and tried to get away to safety as from the surrounding area gunshots rang as the other hidden Russian gunmen were trying to gun them down.

One of the nearby rebels squatted down near the side of the car, and fired random shots into the dark surroundings not sure where to shoot at. Then a salvo ripped through the car's door and slammed into his back, he slid down to ground, eyes glazed, blood oozing down the side of his mouth.

The minivan started to back away, but the windshield shattered when high-velocity armor-piercing bullets smashed through the driver and passenger's side. It still traveled backwards, the engine gunning but rammed a pole and came to a halt there. Other rebels had started to shoot with Uzi's, aiming at the nozzle-flashes of the Russian guns.

But they stood no chance. The Russians were positioned in such a way known by Military Snipers as a 'Kill Zone', were crossfire covers every angle of the area, making survival or escape impossible.

One by one, bullets caught the RUF-gunmen. A rebel, his jacket hanging open, tried to run for it, his machine-gun blazing. He headed for one of the docks as his leg was smashed away from under him when a bullet hit. He toppled and fell, he started to crawl towards the edge of the dock. He was nearly there when a Mafiya gunman on the rusty coaster aimed for his head and shot it off. The limp body fell over the edge and with a dull splash it hit the charcoal water.

Another managed to reach a nearby crane, hiding behind the concrete foundation. He ran out of bullets fast, and he started to look for a way out when he suddenly heard a slight movement behind him. He spun round but was caught halfway when the Mafiya-gunner shot him. He slumped down near the wall, breathing heavily, life flowing out of him. The Russian stepped closer, he jammed the gun against the head of the man and pulled the trigger. The concrete was smeared with blood and brain-tissue as the body slid down to the ground.

Sergei saw one of them jumping over a low wall, heading towards the Tin Mill and he ran after him. The man was quick but afraid, and his movements were not't logical as he tried to flee. Sergei mercilessly chased him until the man made a mistake and fell, twisting his ankle as he landed on a concrete platform six feet lower. He tried to get up, but every quick movement was made impossible by his ankle. Sergei took the jump with ease and ran after him as the man tried to crawl over a wall of sand. He slipped and slid back down, his eyes wide in fear as he saw the Russian closing in.

'No please, don't kill me!' he began begging.

Sergei stopped. 'What? I couldn't hear you', he said and he shot the man in his other leg. The rebel howled in pain and slid back further down the dark, moist sand that came sliding down with him too. The next minute Sergei was next to man. His eyes wide, mouth twisted in fear.

'Please, no, have mercy,' he begged.

Sergei just smiled. He put away his gun. 'You're lucky, I'm not going to shoot you, I'm out of bullets.'

The rebel swallowed hard. 'Why?...' he asked his voice barely a whisper.

Sergei shrugged. 'My Boss hates people who don't pay when they're supposed to.'

'We gave you diamonds, we paid you...'

Sergei blew his nose as he stepped on the man's leg with his boot. The man howled in pain. 'That was tonight. I'm talking before and after. You'll just serve as a message.'

Then he pulled out a switchblade and rammed it into the man's stomach, and pulled it upwards to his heart, shredding tissue, organs and bone on its way up. The rebels' eyes popped out as Sergei held him upright, blood pouring over his lips. 'Pourquoi...?' was all he said as his eyes rolled away to white.

Sergei jammed the knife further upwards as he smiled. 'Business and Le Plaisir, c'est pourquoi.' And he let the man slide to the ground on the dirty soil as more sand streamed down the slope, over the dead man's face where it mixed with the blood and absorbed it. Sergei wiped the blade clean on the man's jacket and folded it again as he walked back to the docks.

Once near the cars he picked up the suitcase with the diamonds and walked towards a waiting car, and then they drove off. The frightful reminders of the horrible scenes were left behind as a token. A breeze picked up and blew over the concrete, sweeping up dust, ruffling up clothes on motionless bodies, as a last reminder of life that once possessed them. A freight train's horns blared as it rolled away over distant tracks and silence once again fell over the area.