Three women strode through Checkpoint Delta-Seven with just the flash of a badge and a pretty smile, exactly as Gracia had said. Those more attuned to the electronics could feel the change, the scanners flicking off for the briefest of moments as they walked, not a single bell or whistle alerting that they were dolls, or more importantly, that they were armed.

A sense of purpose as they moved too. Gracia in that high-heeled, authoritative strut, Nina with the excited bounce to her step, and Tiss…

Well, Tiss shuffled, with her head slightly bowed. She must look miserable, being dragged out by two much more confident women…

Couldn't be further from the truth though. Inside, her digimind was abuzz. A true mission, one that could finally put her suite of covert operation programs to use. If they were to piece together a decent operational security around the commander, they had to be sure of who the opposing players were, and that meant intelligence gathering. Given options for a mission too? Free pick of what angle Tiss wanted to tackle?

While Nina wanted to root out the commander's potential enemies, Tiss settled for something more subtle: determining who local security forces were loyal to. If it was to the Supreme Soviet, then fantastic, they wouldn't make moves against Griffin and Kryuger.

But not everything or everyone was cut so black-and-white. Human morals and ideologies always get so convoluted when money gets involved, and out on a fortress-frontier city, money would always be there to tempt. Skullduggery, spycraft, the kind of dark mission that could end in a shootout like any good thriller would.

It was everything Tiss wanted.

"Here is where we will part ways for now. We will reconvene at eighteen-hundred, or if there is a change in the operation." Gracia spoke with definitive authority. No questions about the objectives or how to achieve them, just an expectation of results.

So Tiss took off, beelining straight to the local police station. Oversized jacket pulled tight around her, collar flipped up to hide most of her face from the perceived chill, passing civilians who were none-the-wiser. She ran the usual database trawls, pulling up a mostly-complete roster of the current officers in the sector.

She'd run a few probes, see if she could tap skimmable data from the police station, but that kind of network was hardened. At most she could get what was publicly available, for now. As she sat on a nearby bench, a frown crawled onto her face. If only she had gotten some electronic warfare components, then she could wirelessly crack it– probably. Parts of the network were still near military-levels of encryption… and that alone tipped Tiss off.

So she sat there on the bench for an hour, kicking her legs like she had nothing better to do, letting the cool Kazan air help regulate her processor temperatures as she ran scans and cross-examinations of the network's security. Not to try and crack it, the defenses would fry her immediately, but the very structure of it. It was a modified version of the Neo-Soviet Military's standard operating system… which was already weird enough for a police station, but a hardened version of that? Tiss had a sneaking suspicion that if she scouted out the networks at the local garrison, they'd be running a simpler version of whatever it was she was poking around.

This particular station, or someone within it, had some real itty-bitty secrets that they didn't want out. Someone connected with the military, but detached enough to not be operating out of the local garrison.

Or someone up to no good that they didn't want even the local military know-it-alls to find out?

Tiss mulled the data, delving down to Level Two to connect the lines on the proverbial cork-board when a proximity and audio ping yanked her back up to the surface.

"-ou okay? Hey, she's not responding, should we-"

"I'm fine." Tiss responds blankly, glancing at the one who was talking. Older man- police officer, one flanked by another.

"You don't seem fine." The other officer stepped in, eyeing her up with clear suspicion. Familiar face- she had seen their employee pictures in the surface-level data.

"I am fine, really, Officer Kuznetsov."

Her calling him by his name takes the more suspicious officer aback, and his partner seems all the more curious now about who Tiss was now.

"My mother speaks highly of you. Thank you for helping her with her market stall issue." Tiss deflected, having pulled up surface reports from Officer Mikhail Kuznetsov just seconds before.

"Oh uh… you're welcome?"

"See, Mikhail, the people do respect you."

"Not now Nikolay-" Officer Kuznetsov hissed as he waved off his partner's teasing. He tried to recapture that sharpness to his glare, but it's yanked out from under him when Tiss smiles so innocently- played exactly by her empathy module.

"Your residence?" He asked with a sigh.

"Apartment Block Six-Two-Two." Tiss answered confidently, having meticulously downloaded and analyzed the maps of Kazan while in Gracia's safehouse. A more well-to-do socio-economic grouping made sense with her disguise. The kind of people that the police didn't harass as much.

And the officers seemed to agree with Tiss' disguise as well. Lowered guard, less scrutinizing of Tiss' lies. Layer them on, chain them together with just enough plausible detail.

"My mother told me to wait by the station while she went back for our papers. She said it was safe here." Her lie had an eighty percent chance of success according to the current empathy and prediction runtime; sixty if he had still been in a heightened state of suspicion. But human logic was a flawed thing, always latching onto even the most tangential facts as if they were concrete. Strange behavior of an unfamiliar girl explained away so simply, none the wiser that she had metaphorical fingers dipped into their station's network.

"Right then. You have a good day then…"

"Anika!" Tiss pipped happily, adding a bit of bubbliness that she knew would twist at the softer officer's heartstrings. A wave goodbye on the surface while her consciousness slipped back into Level Two- but she noted that she couldn't stay for too much longer. Just enough to start mapping the network, to paint a digital picture that the rest of them could go over when they could put all of their processing together.

There was definitely something suspicious though, exactly as Mister Kryuger had suspected. All Tiss needed to do was crack it open, see what secrets lie inside. Something valuable no doubt, something vital.

And the anticipation leaves her abuzz.


"Hey there sweet thing. How about you come with us, we'll show you a good time." He said with a grin. What he thought must have been as smooth as butter came off as thick as frozen motor oil to Nina. She simply held up her hand, showing the silvery band on her ring finger.

"Sorry, but I am happily married."

A twisted truth- she wasn't married, nor was she Oathed to her commander, but she was nonetheless dedicated to him as if she were. It's an answer that these men don't seem to mind though, the chuckles and leers only growing more sharp.

"Oh we can make you forget all about him."

According to her empathy systems he's not lying, and according to disappearance reports and human trafficking data out of this city, he's certainly not joking. Nina simply sighs, shaking her head.

"I really doubt that. My husband is such a kind, caring, loving, passionate man-"

Her processors heated up thinking about it, about being with him, and with that sudden rush of computing power comes the booting of her combat systems.

"Well, we weren't asking, now were we?" growled one of the men moving to flank her. A not very subtle attempt to surround her. She wanted to go for her rifle, but she was hard-locked on her Asimov Protocols, and until she received the override, she couldn't kill them.

But she could certainly pacify them.

The click of a knife flipping open, the shuffle of men inching closer.

"Well, girl?"

"As I said…" Nina smiled, "I am happily married."

The first lunge came from behind- and they got an intimate kiss with her elbow. Second and third came in, still not realizing that as humans, they are woefully inadequate. One ends flat on his back the next instant, groaning as Nina grabbed the other and slung his momentum towards the next thug who dared accost her.

"Bitch!" The ringleader growled as he cut in with his knife.

Nina caught his arm, bound the wrist, and in one swift motion, relieved him of his weapon.

"That's why you stab with a knife instead of cut." She said with a smile.

Being a gracious instructor, Nina only jabbed him in the solar plexus instead of putting his knife through him. As he staggered back, she slipped over to the two still getting their footing and drove into them. Her frame, though certainly smaller than these men, was far denser, and it showed when her shoulder tackle slammed one into the brick wall hard enough to hear bone crack. When his friend swung in, she swept low, delighting in the surprise on the man's face as he suddenly went horizontal onto the ground.

Never even had to go for her rifle.

Nina didn't want to start her investigation in an alley surrounded by groaning men- especially ones who were not her beloved Commander… but, well, here she was. Some quick pat-downs relieved them of their weapons as well as their wallets. Two handguns, a matching set of knives, multiple cell phones and a good amount of cash- perhaps too much for this particular demographic. The real treasure was going to be the intel though, and when there's nothing immediate on them, Nina stepped up to the next means of extraction. The ringleader protested, but the racking of his own pistol in his face was enough to shut him up quickly.

"Where's the nearest Face?" Nina growled.

"This is how you ask for directions!?" The leader sputtered, but Nina could prove to be quite… coercive . Even as some of the mooks started getting their act together, none dared make a move while a gun was in play.

"Which 'Face' you answer to?" Nina asked again, this time her smile faded.

"We call her Romanov. I don't know her real name-"

"Think really hard. Is she cuter than me?"

"Wh-what?"

"Is. She. Cuter. Than. Me?" Each word ended with a tap of the pistol's muzzle against the top man's shaved head. When he freezes up, Nina's empathy protocol flags him as being deceptive. Sensors heightened, combat protocols still wound up and ready.

A flinch, a micro muscle movement that's the giveaway. When he went for the gun, Nina pistol whipped him across the face and, in one fluid motion, drew her boot-knife.

In the next blink she's got the muzzle aimed at one of the mooks ready to lunge at her and the knife's point at their leader's throat.

"Sh-shit! Fuck! Okay okay okay!" the man earnestly yowls, hands up at the point Nina's made.

"Description, please?"

"B-Blonde, big, full tits, looks good for middle age-"

Nina huffed, waggling the knife in front of his face.

"Defining features?"

"Green eyes, beauty mark under the left… uh…"

"She's got three ear piercings, two on the left and one on the right." Another chimed in. He seemed to be hoping that cooperation would get him out of this situation quicker. A smart idea. Nina backed off slightly for that, kicked his wallet back over to him as a sign of good will.

"Taller than you too, long legs, thin waist-"

Nina rolled her eyes– but she was still managing to build a profile in her head.

"High cheekbones. Kinda looks like an older version of that model, what's her name…?

"Oxanna Popov?"

"Yeah, you see her last spread?"

'Model' was a polite job description when Nina did a quick look-up, but the mooks all seemed eager to help out now, chattering about this "Romanov" contact and leaving Nina to filter the useful from the garbage. Just showed how loyal the Vor muscle was to the local secret po spooks.

And as thanks, she decided to do a little redistribution of wealth. Wallets passed back, but she threw the rest in her backpack. Once she disengaged, she'd have… a good twenty minutes before the local cops were contacted, probably a half-hour before this "Romanov" was tipped off that someone was looking for her. A bit louder than Gracia had implied, but it got the job done, right?

Besides, Nina's got a good lead, and knew that once she trawled through the "work phones" of these guys, there'd be no doubt the combined intel from the team would have this sector's Face and all her little worker ants under surveillance even if she did go to ground or start sniffing around.

"Thanks for the warm up. It was fun." Nina giggled before she tossed all the ill-gotten goods into her backpack. A quick getaway before any of these guys could make a scene, running zig-zags through side streets to throw off any would-be pursuers- especially those that didn't have an internal GPS connection to correct themselves. Made a quick drop of the pistols and knives, disguising and digitally pinning them to a trash bag, just in case she needed some backups.

And she vanished in broad daylight, gone to the underground with a goldmine of intelligence and all the time in the day to dig away at it.


Groza– Gracia laughed with as much mirth as her empathy module could let her. Really just layed it on thick as she leaned in, twisting a bit of her hair as she did so. The man who sat opposite of her leans in too, the blush on his face growing brighter. Accelerated heart rate, and not all of that blood going to his head.

"I know a place." he hinted in the sleaziest way imaginable– the kind of suggestion that could make even a doll's epidermal mesh crawl. Leave it to a Vor to be as forward with their machismo as possible.

"I must wait for my friend."

A punctuated sigh, a finger that traced the rim of her drink, that little bit more of an invisible tug.

"I'm sure they'll understand if you have something more important to do."

Presumptuous. He's got the confidence that Gracia liked, but none of the humility– how dare a man assume that his time is more important than a woman's.

"She will wonder where I am."

"She could join us-"

A response that gets a reflexive raise of the eyebrow– she hadn't predicted that kind of response, but she can keep the lummox spinning for a bit longer.

"I'm sure she'd be most interested… but then we should wait here, yes?"

The man fidgeted, but he kept the smirk still. Leave it to a human to act purely on their hormonal needs.

"Besides… I could use another drink."

She scooted her empty drink between them, that little bit of rosé still at the bottom. A suggestion made with a promise as empty as the glass.

"Voracious, aren't you?"

"Absolutely ravenous." Gracia licked her lips, and that got the Vor leaping from his seat to get her another. Human males were as predictable as the sun rising and setting.

A ping on the network sent a jolt through her systems. Quick as a blink she pinged back, drawing the connection and a packet of information slid into her digimind.

Nina beat her to the extraction of information… but damn did she do it in the noisiest way possible. Between Gracia, Tiss, and Nina they could parse and extrapolate, but a half hour hard limit would be… difficult.

It also meant that Gracia didn't have to entertain this farce anymore. She slipped from the bar as easily as she would shed her coat, quick and confident strides to duck into the alley beside the bar. Not tailed yet– the Vor thug probably just now figuring he'd been played for a free drink from a pretty lady. Grabbing her bag from the dumpster, Gracia swapped out her outerwear as she moved. By the time she pinned up her hair, she'd established a closed connection with Tiss and Nina. They just needed to connect their processing and-

A cold shock ran through Gracia's systems when she pinged again.

An unknown digimind hissed into her local dummy network, slaved automatically to her master program. It was an unsettling feeling, one that Gracia couldn't put into proper words when she tried to parse it. Like… having an extra limb attached, but having it not respond to the mind. She could sense it, know its exact location and current protocols, but it didn't respond to the command stings.

So she settled for following the signal, getting just close enough to observe while she expanded the received data. Flawed Zenner protocols… a heavily modified firing core based off of Groza herself- that's why she could slave it, but not control it. From what Gracia had access to, it was obvious that this was a hacked doll, though not the usual hatchet-jobs that she'd see in black-market T-dolls. More… specific, for lack of a better term. Without even seeing the doll, she was able to keep tabs, tracking it to a more… seedy part of the sector. Back alleys heading towards the riverside wall.

Straight to a shed tucked into an inconspicuous and overgrown corner of an empty, dilapidated lot. A sheet metal shack that covered the entrance to an abandoned utility line, just the kind of place that she had shown Tiss and Nina earlier. Tunnels that predated World War Three, some of which had been make-shifted into shelters, and not every map had been updated to accommodate the changes. It was exactly the kind of place that people moved through if they were up to no good- not that Gracia had been up to no good either-

She tripped on the logic for a moment before simply flagging it. No time to delve into ethics when the signal was starting to disappear underground.

As exciting as it would be to meet a flawed sister of hers, the simple fact that there was an illegal T-doll meant that there was the very real possibility that there was someone who could do harm down below.

And amongst the other orders that Mister Kryuger gave Gracia, survival of her frame was second in priority. Despite being in Kazan proper still, she picked her weapon from the case, screwing the suppressor in place and securing her ammo harness beneath her coat. Yes, better safe and armed than sorry, and the Groza in her hands certainly instilled a confidence in the already assured Gracia as she descended into the darkness.

The abandoned line had the vestiges of utility, the hum of electricity running the emergency lights, all highlighting that this particular route was still in use. Combat protocols engaged, if only so that Gracia could get a boost to her audio and visual sensors. Lowlight became like day and audio sensors able to pick up even the gentle ripple of air down the corridor. It was hard to subtly step with her heeled boots on, especially when the slightest sound echoed both ways, but as long as she made less sound than the other doll, she could mask her movements.

It was only when the doll's signal stopped moving that Gracia had to slow her pace and really give thought to how she moved, but there was no rush to keep up now. The passageway opened out into a larger room, possibly an old bomb shelter given the bulkhead-style doors, but the whole thing was rusted open.

Rifle ready, she crept to the opening to peek. Lowlight conditions had Gracia adjusting her ambient pickups, but the doll was nowhere in sight. An obvious sleeping area set for a single person, opened boxes with familiar ration tins scattered about the other refuse, the space was well lived in. Rummaging in the back corner, the perfect opportunity for Gracia to slip inside-

And a sudden flash of light flooded Gracia's optical sensors from her right. Her tactical programming flagged the flaw in her operations far too late- never bothered to clear the corners before entering the fatal funnel.

Snap setting reset pulls the image of a sportswear clad blonde, buxom woman in the back corner. Clearly a doll given the proportions and the scant dress for her environment. Reminded Gracia of a fuller S.A.T.8, right down to the shotgun on the dolls back.

But the doll was not Gracia's biggest concern, but instead the one who was currently flashing a light into her eyes. A grizzled, worse-for-wear kinda man holding a worn, but well-loved Kalashnikov. Looked half refugee, half would-be-militia man with the tactical rigging straight out of the old Union, but he was aimed right at Gracia.

"You were followed." His words are growled, but Gracia's empathy module picks up the exasperation, the worry-

"I figured you had my back though. I felt her on the… well, it's hard to explain-" The blonde sighed as she held up an electrical lantern to further mess with Gracia's low-light settings.

"A 'doll' thing?"

"...yeah."

He waved it off, though the act of just moving his right hand… Gracia picked up that there was something wrong with the human.

"You, drop your weapon and hands up."

Gracia did as demanded, her Groza hanging from her shoulder strap as she raised her hands slightly. But when Gracia shifted towards him, the man reacted with the expected aggression, warning her not to even blink… but that was the data that she needed. Analysis: the man's primary hand was crippled, his reaction time for his offhand was delayed. Only factor was the doll, and if Gracia could override her autonomy-

She moved faster than lightning, striking at the man before his brain could even register her movements as aggressive. Slipped the barrel aimed at her, closed in a single bounding step past the killing arc of the muzzle, all before she collided with him. Forearm against his throat, Gracia's momentum drove him to the wall, her rifle's barrel jammed against his gut-

The doll shouts at her, reacting with near-inhuman speed as well, slipping point-blank beside Gracia. The barrels of that coach gun were leveled at Gracia's head, but before the doll could squeeze the triggers, the override was sent.

Locked up, just like that. Pretty face frozen in a fierce grimace, optical sensors wide and taking in every ounce of combat data, but ultimately unable to act until Gracia gave her the command.

"Any day now, Sasha?" The man grunted, but he knew that Gracia had his number. There was no surprise in his eyes when this so-called "Sasha" turned her weapon onto him as well.

"Well, figures this is how I'd go out." He scoffed, "Tell your FSB handler that he can go fuck himself with your body." He spat in her face, but Gracia didn't flinch and, to her credit, she didn't crush his windpipe yet.

"Well, aren't you a charming man?" She said with a poisonous smile.

"A perfect gentleman, isn't that right, Sasha?"

There's an impulse from the dummy network, the doll trying to react but slamming right up against the hierarchical structure she was a slave to.

"If you are a proper gentleman, then you'll start by dropping your weapon so that we can converse like civilized individuals."

"Your people would hardly call me civilized."

His words… prompted something, the closest thing to a human "hunch" as Gracia could equate to. Emphasis on the self- the self-deprecation and egocentric way he spoke… connecting with the note that he thought that Gracia was an intelligence officer's doll. In the fraction of a second, she'd taken a snapshot of his face and ran it through several databases. Iterations, edits, and approximations pulled up thirty-two hits, which she narrowed down to just two using StateSec's most wanted-

"Vasili Sokolov?" Gracia asked, curious to see just how he'd react.

"I prefer to go by Armen while in Kazan, but yeah, fuck it, you found me."

At that admittance, the gruff man tried to shove Gracia off of him, twisting himself to avoid the anticipated burst of rifle-fire… only for Gracia to hold her ground, merely pressing the muzzle back against him when he failed to free himself..

"F-Fucking… dammit. Why are you fucking things so strong?"

"Thank you for the compliment." Gracia smiled before nodding her head to the slaved doll beside her. "Sasha" lowered the coach gun at Gracia's command impulse, taking a single step back. "Now, please drop your weapon so that we can converse properly?"

The Kalashnikov clattered to the ground and Gracia kicked it deeper into the room. For her end of the bargain, she swiftly stepped back, letting Vasili slip to the ground. The Groza was still trained on him though, she never completed a pat-down but she had another… "hunch" that this man knew he was outmatched for now. He'd play nice until she gave him a chance, so he needed a tight leash. A command string to the doll named Sasha had the flawed T-doll disarm herself, the antiquated shotgun emptied and placed at Gracia's feet before she went and sat down beside Vasili.

"You wanted to talk, so what are we talking about?" Vasili grumbled, glancing over at Sasha beside him. He nudged her with his shoulder, but when there's no reaction from her, his frown only deepened.

"You thought I was with the 'FSB'. You are aware the FSB no longer exists as an organization?"

"And you think I give a damn? Same people, different name."

"There are… quite a few things wrong with your assertion, but let's start from the top. I am in no way affiliated with the local intelligence network nor the police." Gracia said proudly, but before she could announce her allegiance to Mister Kryuger, Vasili rolled his eyes.

That… soured Gracia quite a bit, but her empathy module flagged him three-times over as an individual with trust issues. An understandable assessment given his current legal statuses-

"I'm with a private contractor who's current objectives might not… align with the local authorities." She announced, understanding the potential risks of information leaks. Pride was a human emotion –a human flaw– and one that Gracia could frequently let override her more logical side.

Still, that little nibble piqued the man's interest, one that he quickly covered up in a convincibly trained way. Another anomaly to add to the file she was building on this man. One did not climb the top of the proverbial "charts" without having something extraordinary about them. Gracia regarded him though, finger on her cheek as she spoke, "While I am curious as to why a man of your… fame is here, I am more interested in building a mutually beneficial agreement. Your friend Sasha there, in particular."

Gracia's mention of the catatonic doll beside Vasili made the grizzled man visibly bristle. She cycled through the predicted emotions; disdain, frustration, exasperation… landing on a mix of concern and disappointment. Didn't hate the doll, just hated her failure-

So Gracia decided it was time to let Sasha speak for herself. Reactivation, but limited control-

"Sorry, Armen. I couldn't get her in time." Sasha sighed, leaning back until her head hit the concrete behind them. "She's in my system or something."

"To be specific- it's more that you're in my system." Gracia announced, lowering her weapon completely before eventually letting it dangle from her shoulder. Calculations showed the lowered adrenaline flow in the human, and from a cold start there's no way the doll could reach her weapon or Gracia in time. Curiosity from both at Gracia's admittance though- one through the Empathy Module, the other pinged directly from the doll's mind.

While she had no time to go into the specifics, Gracia could at least explain how whatever T-Doll programming Sasha was running, it was based off IOP T-Doll programming, but slapped onto a dummy's core. She was no mainframe model, and that… well that realization didn't really cause a sort of existential paradox in Sasha. No, the blonde seemed to understand that she was… nothing more than a convincing fake.

And Vasili Sokolov didn't seem to be the kind of individual who could hack a doll, evidenced by how he picked his ear or tuned out during the five-minute rundown– or perhaps it was how he blurted out right after Gracia explained everything succinctly-

"So Sasha's defective?"

"Who are you calling 'defective', cripple?"

"At least I can still shoot straight! That last run, how many did you miss, eh?"

Gracia pinched her nose, not that there was any particular reason for it, but for one of her idiosyncrasies the pressure helped alleviate some of the processor load on her empathy module. Predictions on how this argument would escalate were, well, predictable.

"Sasha was never intended to carry a firearm." Gracia hissed in interruption, "So it's a small miracle she can even handle one at all. Whatever it is the two of you are up to is your business, I just want some information."

Sasha is the first to snap out of the verbal fencing, flat out ignoring Vasili's current tirade and instead turning a smile towards Gracia. Curt, but polite, a business-like seriousness on her face as she answered.

"Funny you say that miss…"

"Gracia."

"Miss Gracia. We might have information, and you might have things we need." Sasha leaned forward, and when Gracia didn't react sharply, the flawed T-doll scooted a bit closer.

"I need a scrubbed doll ID. One that can get me through Checkpoint Delta on the north side. My– employer is unable to get me one."

It was like Sasha forgot that Gracia was in her systems… or were Gracia's threads still undetected? The neural network connection for her was… flawed, tampered, or otherwise not reciprocal; like Sasha was deaf to even a private connection, even if Gracia could still connect to her. A dangerous backdoor that Gracia kindly closed off… for everyone else but her.

"I can ask my employer for one, assuming that you're–"

"I won't be carrying anything illegal so there won't be any questions asked. I just need to… find some things in North Kazan."

"And what about our deal, Sasha?" Vasili butted in, cooled from the last argument but now finding something else to rev himself up about.

"Nothing's changed Armen. If anything she could get us closer-"

"You're just saying that to shut me up-"

"Maybe."

"A moment, please?" Gracia interjected again. The bickering stopped, but that was like saying Gracia had stuck a single nail into a retaining wall that was about to fail. She could force Sasha's compliance if she wanted, but Vasili… he was dead-set on something, and that is what made Gracia run further analysis on him.

He certainly had the airs of a wanted terrorist about him, but at the same time, Gracia couldn't get a full read. There was an earnestness to him that reminded her of Mister Kryuger or Miss Helianathus, another tag added to his file.

It was clear that they had the same enemies, and Gracia had the upper hand in knowing both of their identities… so perhaps that old, played out adage applied to this situation? Two new pieces on the board, even if they were nothing more than sacrificial pawns, would still prove useful. There were too many variables to properly predict any sort of outcome, but Mister Kryuger was always the one to tell Gracia that nothing ventured was nothing gained.

So she'll show her hand, for now. After all, she still had a few more up her sleeve.

"What do you know about a man named Federov?"

To that, Vasili's expression grew dark, harsh, a sneer that Gracia could very well juxtapose with that of a wolf. Even Sasha seemed muted, glancing over at Vasili with a nervous sort of anxiety.

And that is how Gracia knew that this was a fortuitous encounter, perhaps even fated if such illogical serendipity could be applied. A meeting that would pay off greatly.

In blood? Quite possibly.

But if her mission was completed, then who was to even ask the measure or the means?