There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal a broad-built man with a large scar running from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek. Looking calm and cool as a cucumber, he spoke with a deep Russian accent, "Kaptain, we have a problem."

Said "Kaptain" was a blonde Russian woman who looked to be in her 30's, who had burn marks that were mostly on the right side of her face, neck, chest and leg. Her name was Balalaika, former Captain of the USSR.

She looked up from the paperwork on her desk and asked, "What seems to be the problem Sergeant?"

Sergeant Boris signaled with two fingers as two men came in dragging in a person who had a black bag over his head, his hands zip cuffed behind his back and blood on his clothes which consisted of black Converse sneakers, dark blue jeans, a dark grey hoodie and a tactical vest over it. The vest had empty compartments save for one.

"We caught this intruder inside the building."

The scared face woman raised an eyebrow. "How did he get in? If anything he should've been dead by now."

Boris shook his head. "That's what we're currently trying to find out. He gave himself up so easily. Although..."

Balalaika's narrowed. "What is it sergeant?"

"He did say he would, but only if he spoke with you."

"Sergeant, you know the basic policy if someone were to infiltrate this base. Kill on sight, no exceptions."

"And we would have but after he made his request he said..."

It was here Boris went up to his captain's desk and whispered something into the woman's ear. The former captain's eyes widened as her sergeant pulled back.

It was silent for a few minutes before she said, "Leave us."

"Kaptain?"

"I would like to speak to our..."guest" alone."

Boris bowed his head. "Of course."

The sergeant and the two men walked out of the room and closed the door. As soon as they were out of the room, the blonde let out a sigh.

"You know, if you were just another small timer trying to make a name for himself, I would've had you killed."

The covered head moved to the direction of her voice.

"But you're not." Balalaika got up from her seat as she took out a cigar from her desk draw and lit it. Taking a drag from it, she continued. "I'm not sure weather to thank you or kill you at the moment. For one you've solved a few of my problems that would've most likely taken the lives of my men. But you managed to pull it off alone. Not only that but also eliminated unreliable and lecherous loose ends."

She moved from behind her desk and stood in front of the kneeling figure. "So who exactly are you?"

Balalaika then removed the bag over the persons head to reveal...a teen. A 19 year old boy of a mixed heritage of African American and Puerto Rican. He had dark curly black hair and tanned skin. His eyes were a chocolate brown, but one of them, by the looks of it, had been punched giving him a black eye. With his one eye he looked up at the older Russian woman and gave her a grin. Not a smug one, or a toothy one, just an average grin.

"Isn't that the billion dollar question now a days?" He said.

Taking another drag from her cigar, she replied, "Flattery will get you nowhere young man. Now tell me," She got a few inches close to his face and let the smoke seep onto his face. "Who are you?"

The grin from the teens face disappeared into a stern military grade face. "Lieut. Col. Dante James Price of the United States Military and British Army."

Balalaika lowered her head as she started to chuckle and then break out into a full laugh.

"Hahahaha! Am I suppose to believe that a kid like you is supposed to be a colonel of two of the greatest world powers armies? Hahahaha!"

SNIK

Suddenly a flash of light passed the Russian woman's head as she looked back to see a pocket knife imbedded into the wall along with a few strands of her hair. She turned to see the teen standing up and rubbing his wrists as the zip cuffs that we're once holding them dropped to the floor.

"I'm not saying you should, but I am saying you could. As the saying goes, seeing..."

He then pushed his left hand up as the Tokarev TT-33 that was drawn by Balalaika was knocked out of her hand and went into the air. After a moment or two of air time, it came back down into the hand of Dante as he pulled back the hammer.

"Is believing."

The two had a stare down as the Russian's cold blue eyes meet Dante's piercing brown eyed gaze. After a few minutes, Dante smirked and cocked the hammer of the gun back and set on safety. He flipped it over to where the handle was facing Balalaika and the barrel to him. The woman took the handle and holstered the gun into its home.

Cigar still in her mouth, she chuckled as she said, "An average colonel wouldn'tve been able to pull that off. You're more than just that."

"You have no idea how many times people have said that." Dante then pulled up the chair that was set to opposite to the side of the desk and sat down. He then pulled a cigar from his vest and placed it into his mouth. Balalaika offered her lighter, but he just shook his head and pulled out a box of matches from another pouch. Drawing the match on his shoe, he waved the flame in front of the head of the cigar until it was lit. Shaking the match, Dante extinguished the flame and tossed the match into a nearby garbage bin.

After taking a drag, he pulled the cigar out and let out the smoke. "Y'know you should never light a cigar with a lighter. A match does the job a lot better." He pulled out another one as the Russian noticed her own cigar was running cold. "May I?" Dante asked.

With a nod, he lit the match and waved the flame in front the cigar head and disposed of the match. After taking a drag, Balalaika rose an eyebrow.

"You see? Preserves the flavor. You only need a lighter when you're smoking cigarettes. In fact, judging by your ash tray, you haven't smoked a pack of menthols in your life. It's always been cigars."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Impressive. Anything else?"

Taking his own cigar out, he rubbed his chin in thought. "Well I'd say your opinion on them is that they're too weak. And who can blame you? You've most likely were brought up in a household that had a smoker or two that smoked nothing but cigars."

Balalaika took the stub of her cigar and placed it into the ash tray. She then crossed her arms and asked, "Alright then Mister Price, what business do you have with Hotel Moscow?"

Dante tapped his cigar and let the ash hit the tray. "If I am correct, there is a small faction shipping group by the name of Lagoon under your roster of employees."

"Yes there is."

"I would like to join Lagoon Company."

This statement surprised Balalakia as she rose an eyebrow and asked, "Why come to me? Why not ask the head of Lagoon Company?"

Dante then placed his own cigar on the ashtray as he sat back down and folded his hands together.

"For two very good and obvious reasons. Reason 1: Simply asking to join them would be pretty boneheaded considering one of the employees has a rude attitude and an itchy trigger finger. Second reason is that if I asked the advisor/employer of Lagoon Company, I'd be able to get a better and straighter answer."

Balalakia put a hand under her chin as she thought for a few seconds.

"What have you achieved?"

"A lot of things. Assassinations, battles, fought in a few wars. But now a days I work freelance. Though I've always been curious what'd it'd be like to work with a team."

"Haven't you any team experience? That's what they teach you."

"They did. But not much. In fact most of the squads I was put into, either got scattered, killed or MIA."

Balalakia scoffed. "Bad luck?"

Dante just shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. But there is something I do have."

"And what is that?"

"Rules."

That threw her off a bit. A kid of his age had rules? You'd have to be in the military for years before considering those. Although she wouldn't press him about his experience any further, she did ask, "What rules do you have?"

"Pretty simple. First one: I don't kill for pleasure. I only kill when it's needed and if there isn't any other choice. Second, no women or children. I never use the innocent to my advantage or goals. I may bluff with threats, but it'd be hard to tell if they were real or not."

"Is that all?"

"Pretty much. Although..."

The blonde Russian rose an eyebrow. "Although what?"

"I may need a few supplies. Things like weapons, ammo and a place to call home."

"There are multiple dealers in this city that will supply you. As for accommodations...you'll have to sort that out yourself."

Dante nodded. "Of course. So," He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "When can I start?"

The head of Hotel Moscow sighed as she rubbed her eyes and muttered something Dante couldn't make out. Russian maybe?

"Tomorrow. For now, you'll be going to the dealers for the items you need. Boris will escort you there."

Dante's face sprouted a smile. Not a toothy smile, just a smile. A very mischievous one at that.

Balalakia then straightened out as she put out a hand towards him. "Welcome to Hotel Moscow, Dante Price."