A.N: A friend made me realize during the day that readers can only do one review, so I'm going to delete the voting polls and see if that works. If it does, then sorry about that. The results of the survey are already known below for anyone who wants to know

Ch. V: The Rarest Kind Of Human Is A KindOne

A trail of smoke burst through the air, vanishing as the cigar was crushed under an ashtray, and a thick sigh filled the dark room.

With withered eyes, he watched as the man across from him bled on his lovely mahogany table. With a careless wave of his hand and a nod from its recipient, their guest bowed his head against the mahogany table. Making a bigger mess with his blood.

"That will be a hassle to clean. I hope you realize that?" He sighed like this was all pointless. "If you only told us what we want, things wouldn't have to go this far."

"Yeah," Their guest gasped, his slight grin displaying the stains on his teeth. "Well, having my skull rattled is better than putting a bullet through my brain. You haven't moved to more extreme methods because there's a chance of killing me. And you can't have that."

Parting his lips, a glob of blood landed near the host's hand, and the guest widened his grin as he noticed that subtle twitch of the brow. It was well worth the brutal punch to his face, and he laughed out specks of crimson. "Not until you know what I know."

"Quite a cocky statement," The man to his right scowled. "For a Кусок дерьма!(Piece of Shit!)"

Raising his hand, the Host stopped his comrade with the slightest of stares, making him grit his teeth. Looking back at their guest, he exhaled. "If I recall correctly, your resume has you labeled as Rastorguyev Gleb Romanovich. Right?"

"Most friends call me Raz."

Humming softly, the Host nodded. "Right, friends. Friends who live out of the country. Who you often make calls with once a day, specifically after working a full eight hours at the embassy as a stock clerk. Your bachelor's lifestyle apartment is five streets away from our army center for citizen recruitment. Where we managed to notice a covered window gleaming with a reflective glow of a telescope, oddly positioned on our upper floor," Reaching for another cigar, he stared at Raz's smirking visage. "A telescope that was carefully hidden in this very apartment."

"An apartment you and your men broke into and assaulted its owner," Raz curled his lips; his swollen eyes couldn't conceal the amusement within as he shook his head to the best of his ability. "That doesn't look good on you, General."

"Capturing an American spy dwelling amongst our people makes this rather appropriate," The General counters, rising from his seat and moving towards the window. Staring out into the blizzard night, he says. "What will it take, Raz? For you to give us what we want. Your life?"

"As you would, my life isn't worth anything, even to me!" Raz laughed cheerfully; even as the assistant looked ready to one between his eyes, the grin never faded.

"Can't we check his-"

"Destroyed. Before we breach, I must commend you for your quick thinking, if not your dedication to your country," Glaring at the reflection, the General exclaimed. "However, there are limits to how much people endure for that dedication, and if you don't answer our questions at this very instance, then you'll live the rest of your time in agony."

Snorting clumsily, Raz peeked at the elephant statue resting on his bookshelf. And how it gleamed in the barely lit room.

"I don't mind a little pain," Raz muttered, jerking his head ever so slightly. "As long as my flag is still red, white, and blue, then what's a little pain compared to that. What do you say to that, Rinat?"

"Spoken like a true Patriot," The General scoffed, jerking his chin to the door. "Возьми его. мы покажем ему, что означают патриоты в этой стране (Take him. We'll show him what Patriots mean in this country)."

Taking Raz from his chair, they never noticed the elephant's eyes as they slowly watched them leave the room.

"As long as my flag is still red, white, and blue, then what's a little pain compared to that. What do you say to that, Rinat?"

"What do you say to that, Rinat?"

"Rinat?"

"Rinat?"

"Rin-" Replaying the footage several times, Rock finally concluded the recording before asking. "Do we have any idea where they took Smith?"

"We're not certain at the moment, but our satellites are going around the clock trying to track him down," Clera reassured, worried. "I know Smith is an associate of ours, but I wouldn't worry too much. Hummingbirds like Smith are too valuable for them to die simply. He'll do what he can to delay the inevitable. Hopefully, long enough that we can extract him."

"I'm sure Carlton can keep them interested, but my concerns are more towards his interrogator. Does the Agency possess any file on the assailants? What were they after?" The Hitman questioned, tapping his chin as the nearby body shifted slightly, a silent murmur coming through trained ears.

"We went through the data Mr. Smith transferred, but it's incomplete. He had to destroy his phone before the transfer was complete. That said, we found something interesting. His employers had sent him to Russia to find leads on the Fallen Ruler's case, and he came up with something. Sadly all we have is a name. Операция "Скрушенная слава;" Operation Shattered Glory."

"Charming."

"As for his assailants. We only managed to draw up one possible lead," A monochrome image of a young Soviet soldier appeared on the screen. "Rinat S. Rumyantsev. A General who operated during the Soviet Union, who passed away after the Afghanistan War."

"If you have been born only once, you will have to die twice," Rock quoted as a soft groan filled the air. "Either someone is using a dead man as a cover, or Rinat faked his death."

"Either way, the CIA wants us to continue his work by locating those responsible for providing Jegorov with those nukes and seeing to their departure," Clera stated anxiously. "You're expected to arrive in St. Petersburg by the end of the week. We'll have more instructions once you've gotten settled. Confirm?"

"Understood. Until then," Rock concluded, shutting his laptop and sighing. "Been wondering why he hasn't annoyed Clera into getting my new contact info. So, Carlton is once again in trouble."

Feeling a sudden weight on his lap, his roommate asked. "This Carl guy? A friend of yours?"

Looking down, he found Revy, clad in bra and panties, resting her head on his lap as her feet dangled off the side of their couch.

"She's been staying here since her landlord kicked her from her apartment. Brave old man, but then again, I'd do the same if she shot up her apartment in a fit of drunken rage after being gone for weeks," Rock reminded himself, thinking back to how she arrived with a backpack and a load of shits bulging out of a barely contained rolling case. "I guess it helps us both? She's been spending more time here, closer to Lagoon's office. Plus, I have someone to keep an eye on the place without finding missing materials when I return, so it's a win-win for both of us."

And the fact you get to see her day and night. His inner Clera was quickly sent back as he answered. "Carlton Smith is an ICA Hummingbird. Agents who were major clients acted as a bridge between them and the ICA. Out of the entire Avian System, they're the only unit personally trained by the Agency alongside the Ravens. He was…my senior back when I was still a recruit."

"Sounds like you two were close," Revy yawned, stretching her arms as he leaned away.

Petting her hair, Rock scoffed. "Hardly. Smith was an oddity among his fellow trainees. Always smiling, trying to get on everyone's good side. Never leaving me alone when everyone was afraid of me. Always bring apples when I skip meals. He was just…." He sighed, eyes closed. "Annoying."

"Sounds like Nate, just without Red following him like a dog in heat and looser screws."

"Could it be? I don't know your friends as well as I'd like. Before you, the only person I contacted regularly was Clera," Rock sighed fondly, barely noticing Revy's lips pull back slightly. "You don't have to be jealous."

"I ain't fucking-" She growled only to subside as his hand rubbed against her hair. "I don't like the idea of some bitch-"

"One, it's because of Clera that we're together, so please rephrase that statement," Rock scolded before sighing. "Besides, Clera is more of a sister to me, and no offense to her, she isn't as…."

Grinning savagely, Revy pressed her thumb against her Excellent tits, maybe a cup smaller than Eda's Fakers or Big Sis's Giants, but you try finding a bitch in this city who had natural tits, especially at her size. And lest not forget her finely toned ass, built from years of surviving in this shit hole of a city.

Despite giving minimal shits in the past, Two Hands was very confident in her fucking looks.

Noticing her shit-eating grin, Rock sighed. "Not that, stupid. Clera's nineteen years old. She's my Handler."

Revy rose from his lap and stared at him, losing her grin for a gaping mouth.

"So, wait? You said you've been with them for ten years. Does that mean-?"

"-She's been with me since she was nine years old? Yes. I was fifteen when we met," Rock concluded, cracking a slight smirk. "What's it like? Feeling threatened by a woman four years younger than you?"

"Fuck off," Revy scoffed. "What the hell was a little s-girl doing with some big-time assassin group, anyway?"

"Clera's history isn't something we're going into. Just know that she forced her way into the program with no short help from familial connections."

"Familial?"

"It's an open secret at the Agency that Clera is related to the Death Arcana."

"Arcan-what?"

"The twenty-two Major Arcana Tarot cards represent the life lessons, karmic influences, and the big archetypal themes influencing our lives and the soul's journey to enlightenment. Starting with The Fool as the zero cards, the remaining Major Arcana represent the journey through each of the cards, meeting new teachers and learning new life lessons, and eventually reaching the completion of the journey by attaining the World card," Rock explained before gesturing at his laptop. "The Arcana is the Board of Directors, the highest authority outside of the World, the chairman of the ICA, and the Fool, acting second in command. The Arcana are extremely secretive, so only a handful know, even three out of the twenty-one. No one, not even Clera and I know the identity of World, but we know they're more aligned with her ideology since we get away with our antics."

"So, Clera is related to one of the big wigs?"

"Don't go thinking that it was easy. Death has no love for her, and he despises me. Always has ever since I started rising through the ranks faster than he would have wanted," Rock stated, hands clenched together between his knees. "She and I were the outcasts back then. Too young to be taken seriously, considering everyone else was in their mid-late twenties, at least. Only after passing the training tests with the highest scores imaginable everyone started to see that we weren't jokes."

"I know the fucking feeling," Revy groaned, scratching the back of her head. "I was seventeen when I first came to this den of pedos. Everyone kept thinking I was a shitty brat with an even shitter mouth. Some dipshits even tried offering big bucks just to shut my mouth. I took their cash, but they never got to put their dicks anywhere near me, if you catch my meaning."

"I do," Rock smirked, looking through his phone.

Smirking at her boyfriend, She continued. "It took meeting Chang and doing some jobs for him for everyone to see that I ain't to fuck around like some cheap slut. Didn't stop jackass from trying to treat me like one," Revy scowled briefly before curling her lips with what could be called fondness. "Would've been treated to a bukkake show if it hadn't been for Dutch. Big bastard showed up when those pieces of shit were pulling me down and popped them with his revolver. With the two of us, those bastards were the ones getting their holes filled. After that shit, Dutch was naturally impressed with my badassery and offered me a place in this fancy little company he was building up, and being the kind soul that I am, I accepted. From there, we found Benny, and boom, The Lagoon Company was born."

"Interesting story," Rock nodded. "Any of those rapists breathing?"

"They ain't, and they're better off dead," Two Hands shook her head before leaning toward her man. "Seriously, I shot off the dicks and balls of every prick that copped a free feel. If they didn't scream after that, then they were already getting fisted by the devil himself."

"Good to know," Rock sighed as they heard a ping from his phone. "Clera secured my transport, and I'm leaving tomorrow night."

Failing to hide her grimace, Revy muttered. "That's… quick. You sure you can't wait…till the end of the…week."

Pulling her close and lying together on the couch, Rock said. "I'm not going away forever. At best, a month or two. Clera and I operate on a different level than most in our line of work, so I promise you that it won't take long."

Leaning into his chest, Revy whispered, almost vulnerable, only around him. "Promise?"

Kissing her forehead, Rock smiled.

"Promise."

"Your trigger fingers are twitching, Two Hands. What's eating ya?"

Twitching it again, she leaned into the plump seat under her and clenched her glass tightly.

"Nothing, skank. What about you?" Revy gestured around the small, well-fitting room with a window as the nun across from her took a sip. "Why are we drinking here? What? Afraid Christ is going to come down from that cross to bitch slap ya?"

Waving her finger, Eda counted. "There's a big meeting between the Sister and Hotel Moscow. Some dipshits are selling drugs without the Big Four's permission, and now the Russian is seriously pissed," The Nun sipped her drink, frowning. "Word from Haven says that the relatives of Hotel Moscow are having it tough in the motherland. Martial law has been implemented, and soldiers are starting to appear at every doorstep, looking for the Fallen Rulers. People who refuse to do their investigations are taken in by force, and most of their families are already in the slammer. Balalaika is pissed and looking for someone to vent all that rage on."

Shrugging, Eda concludes with a smirk. "Besides, I thought a private room would help with your confession."

"I ain't got anything worth confessing, Sister."

"Truly," The Sister hummed before briefly nodding. "So, then, where's that man of yours? I hadn't seen him in a week," When Eda caught Revy's finger twitching more violently, she scoffed. "I knew it. Something happened between you."

"Nothing happened!" Two Hands hissed before Revy leaned back and frowned. "His boss wanted him to do a job outside Roanapur, so he won't be…." Clenching her hand around her glass, she forced it out. "Around for a while. A month."

"Aaahh," Nodding, Eda lowered her glass. "You're scared that he's leaving you."

"He ain't leaving me."

At the coldest time she'd ever heard from Two Hand, the Nun offered her peace treaty in the form of more booze.

It was a success as the gunner pushed her half-full glass in favor of downing the whole bottle.

For your information, this was a 1.5-liter magnum bottle of Goslings Black Seal Rum, and this 5'5" woman of 128 "bs was downing it like a water bottle.

With an unrefined burp, Revy sighed happily, setting the empty bottle down. "Fuck! I needed that. Thanks, Eda."

Staring between the empty bottle and her empty glass, Eda gritted out. "No problem, Revy. Always happy to see that cast iron liver of yours at work."

Revy snickered at her friend with a slight blush, but it quickly died and was replaced with a flat look.

After five minutes of silence from Two Hands, Eda was about to wave her hand, but Revy beat her to it.

"You know, he and I are pretty far apart but so close that he's almost-"

As Revy pitched her brow, Eda twitched her lips. "Boozes. The best truth serum available," The Nun coughed. "Ever since Rock showed up in our little city, you have become less of a bitch. I mean, I get-"

"No, Eda," Revy interrupted lifelessly, creeping her out. "You don't. I've…I've always seen the world as thisss paradise. A garden of roses. A garden…that I was kicked from…and I've always been frustrated because I knew no one would care. Why would they? They live this life because they either were unwilling to live under some rich bitch's foot, want to be that rich bitch, or are so fucked in the head like yours truly that this was a better option than anything else. A city of immorality," Two Hands snorted deliriously. "This city was meant to be my last stop before I finally leave this hell for a better hell. I didn't put the bullet in myself because that would've been too good for secondhand trash like me."

She walked up towards a broken mirror, expecting to find herself cracked, but she found a man standing before her.

Reflections off a cracked mirror.

"What makes Two Hands feared across Roanapur is her skills, but it goes much deeper than that," Eda grimaced, adjusting her shades. "Her greed & anger means she does whatever is necessary to max out her pay and will kill anyone who looks at her funny, but her nihilism truly makes her feared by the more experienced members. She goes into fights with everything she has, but if Revy ends up outmatched, then I know for certain she wouldn't give a shit. Every pro enters a fight knowing they could die, but Two Hands takes it a hundred steps further. Revy will get into a fight and give it all because she's hoping she'll die."

"And then, I find someone worse off than me," Revy giggled miserably as Eda winced. "And someone who for all the shit life has given them…is caring, generous, and…helpful. I've seen that bastard helping Natty and Gin with those little shits and doing it with a genuine smile. And when they wanted to pay him back, he refused," Two Hands waved her hands wildly, actually astounded. "Someone in this GODDAMN city of GREED didn't want any compensation, and this prick was willing to pay THEM for their efforts at the orphanage. A fucking Human who does so much for others, never existing anything in return. That's the Rarest type of human fucking around, and I've never seen that in this fucking city, much less my crap hole of a life."

"He's the person you wish you could be," Eda shrugged awkwardly.

"Like hell," Two Hands flipped her off. "I'm far too fucked to be like him…as much as I'd like to be. I lo- looov…. wanted him the moment he told me I could be something more than I am. I don't know how much of that I'd believe, but I could tell that he meant every. Single. Goddamn. Word. That moment made me realize that I wanted him for that because I knew that as long as I had him in my life, I could actually be better. It ate me for weeks because I didn't know if Rock would want a hot mess like myself any closer than I was, but after hearing his sob story, I knew I had to risk everything on a single chance," Pointing to herself, she leaned forward, hissing. "And in what could be the first miracle of my life, I claimed him as mine,…and HE ACCEPTS!?" Revy paused mindlessly, looking away to punch her arm, and winced. "Not a dream, but it's going to be my nightmare…." Lowering her voice to a whisper, she concluded. "…till he comes back."

Hearing her, Eda came to a realization. "Him being gone doesn't piss you off. It terrifies you. You're scared because you didn't want him to leave you behind."

"As long as he is around, I have a chance. A chance of feeling something …positive, but now that he's gone, I feel worse than I ever did," Revy groaned, an arm over her eyes. "If he doesn't come, then I'll be…left alone…in the abyss without anything to keep me sane."

As her head dropped slightly, the Gunner looked up when her friend snapped her fingers.

"Two-Revy, you're not giving enough credit here," Eda said, lowering her shades to show her icy blue eyes. "You've been improving a lot since he came into our life. I say for damn sure that the old Two Hands won't hold in her feelings as well as you do now. Whenever you were like this, you'd go to Balalaika or Chang, ask them if they wanted anyone dead, and let out all your feelings in what Dutch call Whitman Fever."

"When was the last time you wanted money just to have it?" The Nun asked, watching as Two Hand scrunched up in thought. "When was the last time you lingered around the city, looking for skulls to fuck? It's been weeks since the mortality rate has gone up by yours truly, and you can be sure as shit that the city breathes a bit easier because of that."

"What the fuck am I to you people? The grim fucking reaper?" Revy whined bitterly. "I'm not saying that I haven't changed, bitch. I know I have. I just…" Raising her right hand, she let it fall limply. "…I can't do it. Not by myself. And we both know that there isn't a goddamn soul in the city that would help, not without taking advantage of my fuck up mind."

"He'll come back," The sister reassured, looking out at the horizon ahead. "Men like that don't just fuck off and die…."

"Not when they've got someone waiting for them."

Throwing off her veil, Eda sighed. "Fuck this! This is why I will never be on a one-night stand. Even fucking strangers could leave too deep shit like this. If a night with Handsome can cause you to act like this, then shift! It ain't worth it."

"Bitch, please. You're as loose as a rusty screw, so why are you talking like you haven't had half of the men in this city in your gooch," Snorting and secretly pleased by the topic change, Revy jeered. "But for your information, Rock and I haven't done anything like that. The most we've seen of each other was the shower."

Okay. You know that there's juicy gossip to spill when Eda sputters like she's choking on cum.

"Shit, I fucked myself here."

"Well, well, well," Eda leaned back with a cocky smirk that Two Hand instinctively wanted to pimp slap off that bitch's face. "And here I was starting to think you two were beyond the base instincts, but it looks like I was wrong. Two grown psychopaths leaning into each other in a hot shower…."

"Shut the fuck up, Eda! YOU PERVERTED EXCUSE FOR A NUN!"

"Relax, Two Hands. Sex can be wonderful if done with the right person. Think of it like an addiction. Getting so much pleasure from that one person that they can't get it from anyone else. They'll never leave if you've got what they want."

"That's a fucked up way of thinking."

"Yeah, well," Eda chuckled, half-lidded eyes staring into Two Hands. "Aren't you fucked up?"

Bitch had her there

"Пожалуйста, держитесь подальше! Это активное место преступления! (Please stay away! This is an active crime scene!)." An officer shouted through a megaphone, a hand held out towards the citizens trying to break through his fellow officers. "Жилой район на данный момент закрыт. Мы приносим извинения за то, как это может повлиять на вашу жизнь, но до тех пор, пока расследование не закончится, вам придется найти другое место для жизни. Это для вашей собственной безопасности". (The residential area has been closed for the time being. We apologize for how this may affect your lives. Until the investigation is over, you will have to find somewhere else to live. This is for your safety.)."

"ЭТО ВОЗМУТЕНИЕ!" "Я не могу позволить себе другого места!" "А как насчет моих вещей!" "Откуда мы знаем, что они ничего не украдут?" "Игрушки моего ребенка там! Я не уйду без них!" ("THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" "I can't afford any other place!" "What about my belongings!?" "How do we know they won't steal anything?" "My baby's toys are in there! I'm not leaving without them!")

As they protested, no one seemed to notice a hooded figure dropping from the fire escape at the side before leaving through the alleyways, carrying something in his arms.

Exiting the other side, far from the apartment, the figure skidded to a stop, pushing snow off his black boots.

Lifting his hood, Rock sighed, watching as warm breath filled the air and raised the worn journal to his face.

"Clera, I found Smith's journal. First objective: complete. It was close, though; I'm certain those soldiers would've found it with how they demolished his base."

"Right," His Handler sighed, frustrated. "But still no word on Smith's location. The only way we know that cheeky bastard is still breathing is his vitals on his ICA neural chip. Those things usually monitor our vitals and location, but wherever these pricks have him is either deep underground or they have anti-surveillance tech better than ours."

Pulling a cigarette from his box, Rock stored the journal as he bit it into the cancer stick. "So, there's the possibility of a secret military bunker lying under St. Petersburg, Venice of the North," Lighting the cigarette, Rock inhaled briefly before letting out a trail of smoke. "I'm seriously considering charging Smith for all these rescues. I might make more than I do from these assignments."

Clera scoffed. We owe him too much to be that greedy. Besides, you're worried about him too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone a week sneaking around St. Petersburg for him. Without sleep, if I may add."

Sighing, Rock looked up at the snowy sky.

It was always snowing at the training facility, but they always managed to sneak into the outer railway to watch the snowy slopes below them.

Nice and secluded, away from those annoying pests.

An apple, alongside some other snacks, was placed before them, but all they did was stare at it.

"It's an apple, not a hand grenade," A 24-year-old man with an amber buzz cut smiled brightly, wearing a black turtleneck and pants. "I noticed you and your partner tend to avoid everyone, so I thought it would be nice to sneak you guys some food. What do you think? Oh, I'm Hummingbird 9-2, but my real name's Carlton Smith. Future Hummingbird for the CIA."

Staring blankly, 47(age 15) grabbed the apple and examined it, sniffing briefly.

"Is it poisoned?" Clera(age 9) asked as her partner took a bite before looking at Smith, chuckling awkwardly. "Why are you trying so hard to be nice? Everyone knows what happens to recruits who don't make the cut, so they're trying to sabotage us for their own sake. Not you, though? A Hummingbird doesn't have to since they're glorified yes-men to our major clientele."

"I wouldn't say yes, men," Smith mumbled before grinning. "And I am just the type of guy who can't be satisfied unless everyone is happy. I don't mind getting into some trouble as long as you two are satisfied."

Waving him off, Clera scoffed. "Then we're pleased, now get lost. Your smile is burning my retinas."

"Aaaw," He pouted childishly, compared to the stoic children. "You don't need to be so cold. Eh, eh?"

"Kill him," The little girl told the teenager, who was already in the process of standing.

Waving his hands, Smith apologized. "Sorry, sorry. A terrible joke, I know." Lowering his hands, he smiled fondly. "It's just…I'm not really cut out for this style of life. I've always been more of a klutz than an intelligence officer. I don't see why they recruited me, but considering my only option was to join or die. I guess I'm in for life."

Pausing, 47 glanced at his partner, who became strangely focused on the buffoon.

Looking out into the white mountain before him, Smith declared bravely. "It has always been my dream to be a part of something big, to help the little guy to save lives. To be a true patriot for my country. To live freely for the sake of helping others.-"

"Enough," Clera interrupted, picking up a granola bar. "Your naive idealism has tested my patience, but I can tell you're not speaking half-assed," Glancing back at her partner, she couldn't help but crack a smirk. "Besides, your words have clearly touched his heart. Isn't that right, 47?"

Frowning, he silently took a chunk out of the apple before chucking the core over the railing.

Looking back at Smith, who tilted his head in confusion, 47 finally spoke.

"Thanks for the apple."

"Smith is something that we could never be, Clera. You know that," 47 smirked darkly. "A human who lives for the simple reason of helping others. That idiot values the lives of those less fortunate over his own, but that has never stopped him. Even now, I'm certain he's smiling as his interrogators beat him down. Happy that his actions protect the weak while making the strong tremble in their boots."

Walking out of the alleyway and towards the crowded streets, the Hitman couldn't help glaring at the horizon ahead.

"Smith's a near-extinct species, and I'd rather not watch people like him die out."

"Understood. Let's go find our dumbass."

"Prodded with an iron rod."

Black marks scorched his skin.

"Nails ripped from their beds. Beaten half an inch into his life."

Blood poured from his bruised wounds onto the rope binding him to the chair.

"Waterboarded for TWELVE STRAIGHT MINUTES!?"

Water dripped from his crimson locks as he struggled to catch his breath.

Despite all of this…

"He's still smiling," The torturer grimaced; a haunted look towards his superiors told them that this affected him more than it did their prisoner. "A full week of interrogation, and he hasn't said a single thing."

"Are you freaking kidding me!? You're an interrogation specialist! Why haven't you gotten him to sing!?"

"He…he…just laughs….like it was…a game."

Raising his hand, Rinat said. "It's alright, comrade. You're dismissed. Go home and rest up. We'll handle things from here."

"Спасибо, генерал(Thank you, General)." The torturer saluted his superiors before dragging himself towards the door.

Once it was shut, a string of hushed curses slipped past the youngest of the four.

"Relax, Makarov," Rinat sighed.

"Relax!?" He hissed back, pointing at the one-eyed man. "We're fucked! Because this Muscal Mikhail decided to sell to the wrong buyer!"

"I know you aren't referring to me, Makarov," Mikhail warned, raising an eyebrow from his one good eye. "After all, who's to say you weren't the one to authorize that attack on the Americans."

"That's rich coming from the man who spends a full hour every day torturing the American spy without asking any questions, don't you think?"

I don't need to explain myself to you. My reasons are self-explanatory-"

"Yeah, you're a crazy fucker who wants the Americans burn on an old chestnut fire."

"Этого вполне достаточно, господа.(That is quite enough, gentlemen.)." Rinat commanded as his comrades reluctantly silenced themselves. "What has happened in the past will stay in the past. We cannot fix the mistakes of our younger selves, but we can prevent any jeopardies to our future. And we can start with a simple question."

Looking around the room, examining each of his fellow generals in the eye, Rinat inhaled slowly.

"Who authorized the attack on New York?" When there was an answer, he continued. "I don't mind that we sold products to that arms dealer, Jegorov. That's just common business. I can't stand that someone in this room allowed our soldiers to be deployed against the Americans."

Narrowing his eyes, Rinat resumes with agitation in his voice. "Has it come to anyone's attention that the public is growing restless? While trying to protect our hides, we've been forced to pin our crimes on our fellow Soviet comrades. Comrades who've fought through the sands of that hellish war, who've returned from war only to receive not medals and admiration, but dishonorable discharge and shameful poverty after years of dedication."

"Funny coming from a man who died years ago," Makarov sneered, stressed as Mikhail sighed irritably.

"Someone had to keep our little project under constant care to ensure it never sees the light of day." Vladimir defended after refilling his glass. "I like that he's handling all the important matters in our business. I don't think I could handle all of that. I'm much better at passing arms to Rinat than-"

"Oh shut up, you drunkard," Mikhail said, glaring holes at the drinker. "You've only kept your position because your dirt on the nomenklatura, so I don't hear you acting superior in anything other than downing boozes."

"That's rude, Mikhail," Rinat scolded. "I know you may not like it, but Vladimir does more to assist me in these endeavors than the rest of you do. And in case you've forgotten, this little business was started because we needed money to make ends meet to keep our people safe."

Shaking his head, Makarov scoffed. "And how safe they must feel without our soldiers knocking on their door, hauling them away from their cozy homes and into cold prison cells."

"This leads us back to our original topic. I wanted to know who authorized the attack and allowed the Remote-Connection Detonator to be sold to Zilvanovitch," Rinat stated, catching their attention. "Nukes are one thing, but that Detonator was an important piece of Shattered Glory. If they were to learn the true origin of that device, I shudder at the possibility because that may become a reality."

"What are you-"

"Sergei Zavorotko, younger brother of Jegorov, contacted me this morning," The Eldest General revealed to their collective shock. "He mentioned they wanted to discuss the latest product they've received."

"Shit," Makarov summarized their thoughts perfectly as Vladimir swiftly downed his glass.

"Exactly. If this is what I think it is, then we are in serious trouble," Rinat declared, looking around his generals. "Last time, who authorized the attack? I know whoever created the Fallen was the same person who sold the Remote-Connection Detonator to Zilvanovitch. Which of us did it?"

"How do we know that this wasn't your doing, Rinat?" Makarov scowled bitterly.

"Agreed," Mikhail tipped his hat forward, his scarred lips pulled into a deep frown. "It seems like you're putting a lot of pressure on us while leaving yourself out of the picture."

"For all we know, it very well could be me. However, why would I be making such a fuss out of this if I were the culprit?"

"To shift the blame onto us perhaps, but then again, I've heard nothing from Vladimir," Makarov said, glaring at the drunkard.

Sweating under his gaze, Vladimir downed another drink to cool his nerves before shaking his head. "As I've said, I just handed over the weapons to Rinat. I've never actually sold any of them."

"Reluctantly, I can vouch for Vlad," Mikhail nodded. "He's far too incompetent to handle such a delicate matter as this."

"So, what? No one did it?"

There was a long pause as everyone glanced at their leader.

Finally, Rinat sighed, lowering his head. "I see, then."

When he raised his head, they could see disdain and treacherous distrust in his eyes.

"Well then, Gentlemen. There seems to be a traitor among us."

And that's it, the First new chapter of 2023. Sorry if it feels short. I thought it could fit what I needed in eight thousand words, but it turned six thousand was all it took. The voting ends with an overwhelming win for the Maid. Somehow I'm not surprised, but I still wanted to check with everyone to see if that was all right with them. Anyway, I hope you guys like what I've done so far. Especially with Revy's talk with Eda. I wanted to show how Revy has changed with Rock's help while displaying her weakness toward his departure. In the show, Revy seems to indicate this same unease with the thought of Rock leaving Roanapur, specifically her. I could be wrong, but that's how I saw it. What do you think?

Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day.

Bye.