Hitman - Instinct

"Hitman," - Rock's Thoughts during Instincts

"Hitman" - Enemies speaking during Instincts

Ch. VI: The Fallen Rulers

"How are we looking on time?"

*Click, Clank*

"Three hours. Their meeting is scheduled for 4:10 pm."

Humming softly, Rock loaded the magazine into Silverballer before taking a drag of his cigarette. Looking to his left, he stared out at the snow-covered city. Exhaling, he watched as the smoke slipped past his lips, blocking his view.

"We're about to ruin this country, aren't we?"

"That's how it will look to the public, Rocky-boy."

"First, never call me Rocky again," Rock frowned over the snickering, placing his gun into his jacket. "And second, we're only doing this to find Smith and complete this mission. Has our puppet done their job?"

"The bug has been planted & our message will be aired soon. All that's left is our finishing touch. The moment it goes down, we'll have everything we need. Good Luck, 47."

Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, he approached the window and leaned against it as he held it outside.

"Mission Starts," 47 whispered, lifeless eyes holding a dark gleam. "Now."

"The roads are becoming challenging to navigate," The Driver said, looking back at his employer. "I really don't understand why this meeting has to be done in person, Sergei."

"That's because you're just the driver, so just shut up and drive," Sergei Zavorotko scowled, looking at the white sidewalks. "My brother asked me to attend this meeting in his stead. Apparently, these идиоты(idiots) screwed them over with a product."

"Mad?"

"Oh, Arkadij is pissed. The details elude me, but my informants mentioned that Zilvanovitch is dead, and his factory in Roanapur has been cleared out by that Commie motherfuckers, Hotel…something?"

"Oh, oh shit," The Driver snickered. "Итак, клоун наконец-то укусил пыль. Слава гребаному Богу!(So, the Clown finally bit the dust. Thank fucking God!)"

Snorting, Sergei smirked. "I wouldn't let my brother hear that. Unlike us, he liked that bastard's antics. It was amusing. As if he was the jester to his royal court. Those guns and money can be made back in about a month, but comedy? That's something my elder brother can't live without. And the clown was right up his alley."

"Strange to hear that about such an infamous arms dealer?"

"Well, that's my brother for you."

As they turned the corner, they found a security checkpoint waiting ahead of them, bollards blocking the road. Driving up to the checkpoint, the driver rolled down his window as a guard approached.

"Здравствуйте, господа. Могу я спросить, что ты здесь делаешь? В настоящее время действует военное положение, и гражданским лицам не разрешено входить на площадь Вороний. Пожалуйста, отвернись. (Hello, gentlemen. Can I ask what you are doing here? Martial Law is currently in effect and civilians are not authorized to enter Varosnij Square. Please turn away.)"

"Действительно? По чьему приказу? (Truly? On whose orders?)"

"Генерал Владимир Жупиков. (General Vladimir Zhupikov)."

"Well, it seems like your Боссы(bosses) forgot about our arrival," Sergei called out from behind as the guard turned to face him. It only took one look at his withered, war-torn face to recognize the man before him. "Why don't you get Zhupikov on the line? I'd be honored to hear from such an exalted figure."

Before the guard could do anything, his partner pulled him from the window.

Tugging on his control, they watched as the bollards descended to the ground. "Apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Please have a safe trip ahead."

"Thanks," The Driver said, smirking.

As they watched the car move into the distance, the Partner sighed. "We didn't see anything. We won't report anything. No one came through here."

"But, Igor! That Was…!"

"IIya. If you want to keep food on your family's table, do as I say," Igor breathed out, rubbing the veins on his forehead. "Cause even if we report this to their superior. It will be us who get court-martialed, or worse. Believe me, friend…"

IIya grimaced, clenching his fist tightly.

"Those on the top can do whatever because they are the ones who make the law, not obey it."

C: According to our sources, the meeting will occur thirty minutes at the Pushkin Building on Varosnij Square. The room is on the second floor in the west wing, overlooking the square. The meeting has been scheduled to last 5 minutes.

Understood. I went ahead and surveyed the area. There's an apartment positioned directly across from the meeting area. It seemed occupied, but the guards must remove residents from the site if the security level is high enough.

C: With martial law in effect, you bet that will be the case, so avoid all contact with soldiers and guards. As you said, they've been instructed to remove civilians from the area. Furthermore, the building is the former KGB headquarters with a single main entrance and a back entrance - both heavily guarded by FSB paramilitary personnel. Only Rinat must be eliminated, and only Rinat. This is very important for our plan, 47.

C: Once you arrive at the metro, the Agency will have your requested equipment in locker # 137. There should be an entrance into the waterway in the southern metro area. Make sure to check your digital map. Your escape route is returning with the train, which will return in half an hour.

That's easy, but what about my request? I still haven't received any new information on the Russian Generals and their backers, nor any potential locations for their base. It's better to have backup plans and all.

C: Yes…they've been denied.

Blinking, 47 looked around at the half-empty train cart before looking back at his phone with slightly curled lips.

They've been denied?

C: Yes.

We've been denied? Us?

C: The request was sent through the Arcana, so…

Death.

C: Yeeaaah.

Bold.

C: That's true. Don't worry. I'll contact Fool and let him handle this.

C: For now, All we have to rely on for information is Smith's research.

At least we can rely on Smith's eye for detail and intelligence gathering.

C: Certainly not his discretion. :) Good Luck, 47.

Feeling pressure on his right shoulder, the legendary assassin found a slumbering man drooling on his winter jacket. Exhaling through his nose, 47 wordlessly pushed him off & on to their fellow passenger.

"St. Petersburg. It's seen its share of bullets and betrayal over the years and is not an easy place for a rescue mission. I suspect guards and soldiers will be well-trained and highly suspicious of foreigners. I have to rely on the element of surprise. They don't expect me, and if I keep it cool, clean, and quiet, they'll never know what hit them." As the train came to a halt and the door opened, 47 walked out. "Now, let's find locker#137."

Entering the station, citizens roamed the area, brushing against him as they spent their days. Slipping through the crowd, he walked through the station, glancing at the two guards at the stairwells before noticing the luggage storage area. As he searched for his locker, he allowed his mind to wander to places unseen.

"No cameras located anywhere, fitting for an old station. They've offset that by adding armed soldiers at checkpoints and restricting access to certain station areas," 47 thought as he found locker#137 tucked away in a dark, secluded corner, away from any prying eyes. Entering the combinations, he opened the locker and took out a large duffel bag before putting it over his shoulder. Afterward, he pulled out his phone and memorized the area's digital. "They're well-positioned, but with proper timing, I should be able to slip through without worry."

As 47 leaves the luggage room, he glances at the happy family approaching him. Their smiling visages, the bright light within their eyes, the laughing welling within them and released into the cold station.

It brought a strange feeling through the legendary hitman.

Pushing it aside, 47 closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. As the family passed him, their younger daughter looked back as the strange man vanished from sight, tugging at her mother's sleeve, only for her to rub her head affectionately.

Meanwhile, the guard on the right suddenly felt a trembling in his pocket.

Pulling out his phone, he gasped softly. "О, Черт (Oh Shit)."

Sadly for him, the female guard across from him scowled as she marched over and pointed. "Ой. Ты, придурок! Ты Серьезно? (Oi. You Jackass! Are You Serious)?"

"У моей племянницы скоро будет ребенок, поэтому я хочу получить уведомление (My niece will have a child soon, so I just wanted to be kept notified)."

"Ну, ты не можешь подождать до окончания смены (Well, can't you wait until after your shift)?"

"Просто это не то же самое (Just ain't the same)."

Sighing harshly, She glared sternly. "Ты должен сосредоточиться! Страна находится в чрезвычайной ситуации, поэтому мы должны держать глаза открытыми (You got to keep focus! The country is in an emergency, so we must keep our eyes peeled)."

As they argued, a shadow slipped into the left stairwell, heading into the restricted area.

Climbing up the escalator, 47 found the entrance to his left but immediately pressed against the wall as a guard appeared around the corner, laughing at the distant voice below. The guard turned back, only to shrug once he found nothing behind him and continued. Peeking from the wall, 47 watched the guard go around the northwest corner before glancing down the stairway as the lower guard readjusted the straps on his AK-74. Once satisfied, he resumed his patrol, unaware of the intruder walking carefully down the steps and sneaking behind him until they reached the door on the right. Trailing to the door, 47 quietly picked the lock before entering the room. As the door closed and locked again, the hitman released an inaudible sigh of relief before lowering the duffel bag.

"Rinat was said to have passed at the age of fifty-nine, but since his death was faked, it's very likely that he's in his early sixties, possibly sixty-one," The Hitman thought as he pulled out a long, thick gray coat and matching ushanka. "Information is limited, so I'll have to rely on the intel Smith has gathered thus far. From there, I can build an ID on the target and strike."

Pulling back on the chamber, 47 gripped his Dragunov SVD tightly.

"Alright," He frowned darkly, pushing the door into the sewer entry tunnel. "Time to make 'em sweat."

"Affirmative. I have a visual on the targets. They're exiting the vehicle, and the subject matches the description. Male in his late forties, over one hundred and ninety centimeters in height. Dark red leather coat."

"That's Sergei Zavorotko, alright. Bring him inside. This meeting is supposed to last five minutes at minimum, so the quicker we can get this over with, the better."

"Understood," As they approached the Pushkin Building, the guard held the door. "Здравствуйте(Hello), My commander sends his regards for your arrival and expresses his deepest apologies for taking your precious time."

"Well, if he didn't want to-"

"Kirill," Sergei frowned, silencing his bodyguard before facing the soldier. "I understand, comrade. If you would be so kind as to escort us to the meeting room. I'd like to have this matter resolved as quickly as possible."

Nodding, the guard guided them upstairs before opening another door, leading them into a relatively small room with a large table. The three generals in Russia's military forces were at this table. At the head of the table was a ghost of war, staring them down with cold precision.

Lowering his glass of whisky, Rinat rose from his seat. "Mr. Zavorotko, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you know my associates."

"Yes," Sergei nodded shortly, glancing at each general as they exchanged quick greetings before taking his seat at the table. "I'm quite familiar with each of them, but you are not someone I'm familiar with."

"Not surprising since I'm the one who manages everything while they operate in the open."

"So, you're the boss?" The Arms Dealer asked, much to the discomposure of the other general as Rinat nodded. "Well, then, I suppose you can explain why your latest transfer of products ended up costing us Zilvanovitch and our connections in Roanapur. My brother was promised that the supply would be handled with absolute discretion. And yet, not only has Yulian ended their ties with my brother's services, but somehow, Hotel Moscow was brazen enough to instigate an assault against Zilvanovitch. All on the same day, your Pensley was supposed to arrive with our shipment."

"Quite pretentious of you to assume this was our doing," Mikhail countered, staring blankly. "Especially since our own informants describe Mr. Zilvanovitch's uncouth behavior towards the local resident of Roanapur."

Makarov nodded. "Really, with how much poking he did, you shouldn't be surprised that he found himself mauled by a scarred Kamchatka Bear."

"You won't find any disagreements from me, so I'll give you that one," Sergei confessed, taking the cigar his bodyguard offered as it lit for him. "But I was referring to…" Leaning forward, he glanced around at the four generals. "Was the attack on New York City days ago."

A tense silence filled the small room as the generals glared darkly at the Dealer.

"Did you think my brother wouldn't have noticed? Selling your arms to us only to repurchase them under a different alias. It would've been ingenious if it was so obvious. Considering the panic flowing through these streets, would my brother be right in assuming that this attack wasn't committed under your order, General Rinat?"

"Держите острый взгляд. Я хочу, чтобы два человека патруля лись за каждым углом и пять снайперов внутри соседних многоквартирных домов. Внутри этого здания находятся три старейших генерала России. Нынешняя ситуация сделала безопасность главным приоритетом для нашей родины, и эти генералы являются старшими из наших сил (Keep a sharp lookout. I want two man patrols around every corner and five snipers inside the neighboring apartment buildings. Inside that building are three of Russia's oldest generals. The current situation has made security the top priority to our motherland, and those generals are the eldest of our forces)."

"Что там вообще происходит (What's even going on in there)?"

"Классифицировано. Все, что вам нужно знать, это ваша работа (Classified. All you need to know is your job)."

As a group of soldiers moved supplies out of a truck, they never noticed the nearby manhole shift as it was quietly pushed to the side.

"Based on the heavy military presence, I must be close to Varosnij Square. Now then, to locate the Pushkin Building and reach the apartment adjacent to the meeting," Climbing out of the manhole, 47 slid the cover back on, dusting himself off until a soldier caught sight of him, and his Dragunov SVD, laying on the snow-covered ground.

"Привет(Hey)," The soldier shouted as the Hitman casually turned toward him. "Разве ты не слышал командира? Команда снайперов обустроились в квартирах. Если вы не хотите провести следующий месяц, убирая уборную чертовой зубной щеткой, двигайся. Поверь мне, это не то, чего хочет любой здравомыслящий человек(Didn't you hear the commander? The Sniper Team set themselves up in the apartments. Unless you want to spend the next month cleaning the latrine with a fucking toothbrush, get moving. Trust me, it's not something any sane man wants)."

Briefly saluting, 47 picked up his rifle and brushed past the soldier, exiting the alley as he passed a pair of soldiers. As their eyes trailed across his form, he tilted his head and avoided eye contact.

The frozen wind tried to bite him as it did the others moving around, but the cold never bothered him anymore.

Turning the corner, he lifted his head and exhaled softly as the Pushkin Building. Letting out a breath of hot air, the Hitman continued around the circular sidewalk until he found a familiar apartment, now covered with two guards at the front entrance. Making his way towards them, he noticed them eyeing him suspiciously, but he instinctively knew that he could infiltrate the apartment. Giving his best smile, he reached over to them and began making his cover.

Within the condo were exactly five sniper positions suitable for security detail. True to the point, those positions are filled, but only four out of the five. This is because the remaining sniper nest faces directly across from the meeting room. With all this security, having a sniper watch over the meeting would be considered overkill, but they won't need to know that. I'll just have to make them believe the commander issued me to watch over the meeting as additional support should anything happen to the generals.

And sure enough, they bought it, holding the door open for the legendary assassin.

"Спасибо(Thank you)," 47 smiled, only for it to fall once the door was closed. Jogging down the hallway and turning right at the corner, he quickly found the stairwell. After climbing two sets of stairs, he stopped at the door in front of the stairs; he peeked inside, 47 saw an empty kitchen, and instinctively knew that this apartment was barren.

The snipers were located on the fourth and fifth floors, and half a dozen guards lounging around in the low levels.

"Judging distance and their potential movements, I'll have approximately two minutes and fifty-five seconds before my position is compromised by my first shot, which means my first shot must be my only shot," He frowned as he moved past the kitchen and entered the living room. Taking a moment to feel his environment, he noticed a slight chill coming from the next room. Following this cold sensation, he found himself in the bedroom and smirked at the open window, which, as he put his head through, found a group of people engaging in a heavy discussion in the building across.

"Clera, I've made it in time. It looks like the meeting has just started," The Hitman stated, crouching down as he poked the barrel of his rifle out the window, leaning into his scope. "It seems like things get heated there. Multiple generals are attending this meeting."

"Think you get the job done?"

Zooming in on his meeting, his pupils shrunk into pinneedles.

"Always."

Four Red Beings sat around a table as Six Yellow Beings surrounded them, with one at the head of the table.

*Pen Scribbling*

Day 10: I finally managed to break a break in the Fallen case. During my shift at the embassy, a strange man was seen walking with an escort, a well-armed one at that. He seems well known by the upper echelon, but I'm not sure in what way. When offered a cigar, he politely refused, claiming he had complications with his lungs and tried to avoid such material. While signing off some documents, he wrote with his right hand. I managed to sneak a peek at those documents. They were shipment records, but no freighters were heading to those locations. Suspicious, right?

"Non-Smoker, Right-handed."

Two Red Beings were turned Yellow, making it Eight.

Day 18: I've begun to suspect this person is someone with high influence in certain social circles. My reason for this is that after careful surveillance, I found him conversing secretly with several military figures. Even now, he is currently in heavy discussion with General Makarov, former KGB, now top-ranked General within the Russian army, at this fancy ass restaurant. Side note: this guy has no hair on his head but a thick mustache under his nose. Also, this bastard is a heavy drinker. Downed six glasses of vodka and still going strong. Is he like that certain someone I know and doesn't know what intoxicated means?

"Bald, Facial Hair. Heavy Drinker."

Two more beings were turned Yellow, leaving the final Red sitting on the far right.

"Hello, General Rinat S. Rumyantsev," The Hitman monotoned, zooming in on the target's face.

Day 36: I'm afraid to say it, but this might be my final entry. Today, my coworkers were acting strange throughout my shift. They can try to hide it, but a professional like myself can tell when someone is trying to play cool, and these guys are sweating more than pigs in an oven. After work, I noticed someone tailing me for half an hour. I managed to give them the slip, but it's become inevitable that my position is compromised. I'm attempting to transfer the data to the Agency, but I'm unsure how much time I have left before they reach my location. In the worst-case scenario, I've already activated my surveillance camera. It should transmit the footage back to HQ. I'll conceal the journal within the panel behind my bookshelf for added assurance. It's not the most secure spot, but it should be a while before they locate it. However, knowing the Agency, he'll find it long before they do. So, if you're reading this, I only have one thing to say.

Squeezing the trigger lightly, 47 narrowed his eyes as the target pulled his head forward, out of the way of his fellow compatriots.

Give 'em hell, 47.

*Bang*

"How can you address the mountain of merchandise used by the Hotel Moscow, Rinat?"

While Rinat opened his mouth, the words would never be known as the glass window shattered to bits and the general's head slammed onto the table.

*Silence*

Time seemed to halt as crimson steadily poured from Rinat and spilled onto the pristine floor beneath them.

Slowly, their eyes were drawn towards the window, where they managed to catch the gleam of a scope aimed directly at this very room, and the sniper wearing a Russian officer uniform stared back at them.

The sniper waved.

At this moment, as guards rushed into their door, Kirill pulled out his 9mm pistol.

"Shit!" He cursed, opening fire at the sniper, only for him to dive out of sight, no doubt trying to escape.

"The apartment has been compromised!" Mikhail shouted, quick to take command. "All soldiers, push the building. I wanted all soldiers taken in and accounted for. GO!"

As their troops rushed the building, Vladimir gripped his head nervously. "There wasn't supposed to be a sniper nest in that room. Why-"

"Because that wasn't one of our men." Makarov scowled tightly. "We were being watched this whole time. We set up!"

"Sergei!"

Calmly, Sergei shook his head as he rose from his seat. "Not my problem. We wouldn't be having this meeting if my brother wanted you all dead. So, that means that this attack was done by a third-party group."

"No shit, but-"

Waving off his concerns, the Arms Dealer looks back at the Generals, sighing. "Well, it looks like our partnership has come to an end. Jegorov won't be pleased, but I'm sure he'll understand." As Sergei and his guard made their way out, he left them with this.

"I hope that in the future, we'll continue our business under favorable conditions. Farewell."

As they walked down the hallway, Kirill leaned in close to Sergei.

"Are you sure this was wise?"

"Absolutely," The Arms Dealer stated without hesitation as he steeled his nerves. "Get in contact with my brother. Let him know that I've spotted my nephew."

The perpetrator was never found despite having more than one hundred personnel on the scene. The soldiers had confirmed that they came into contact with the shooter, and they allowed him to enter under the assumption that he was ordered to monitor the meeting. Despite being in close contact, neither of the soldiers was able to recall any notable features relating to the shooter. Those soldiers, along with everyone else inside that apartment, would later be court martial for their failure and end up being dishonorably discharged from the military.

Compared to the firing squad, this was a generous end to these soldiers. They would be allowed to live and continue their life, find new jobs, and remain with friends, family, and loved ones.

A fate that these Generals wouldn't be enjoying as time went its course.

And three days from now, their situation went from bad to worse.

The world would soon bear witness to their troubles.

Outside their dock office, the Lagoon Company was handling maintenance.

"Jesus," Benny mumbled, looking over the morning paper. "Things are not looking good in the motherland."

"Benny, can you pass that wrench? Found a loose bolt in the engine," Dutch asked, holding his hand for the wrench that soon met his grasp. Getting back to work on their car, he continued. "The world isn't a safe place, Benny boy. Anywhere at any time, shit can go down faster than bullets can fly."

"Yeah, well, I think I'd prefer bullets being thrown my way than nukes. Didn't you hear what Balalaika found in the Clown's toy factory a few months ago? Nukes! Actual, fully functional nukes! Word is she's looking for someone capable of disarming them, but how much of that you want to believe is up to you. Let's just say no one's looking to pick a fight with Hotel Moscow."

Chuckling, Dutch closed the door of the Roadrunner. Looking back at the stairwell leading to their office, he found his gunner sitting on the top step, on the phone and looking seriously pissed if the scowl on her face was any sign of the obvious.

Following his gaze, Benny smirked nervously, "Wanna bet it's Rock she's chewing on? Still can't she's dating that guy."

"Revy's known for playing with fire, Benny boy."

"Yeah, fire, Dutch. Not Napalm," Benny muttered, rubbing his neck. "I just can't shake the feeling that guy is more than Revy can handle. I can still feel his hands around my neck. Don't you remember the mercs from a couple of jobs ago? Bao said that Rock took them on Revy-style without breaking a sweat."

"I get where you're coming from, but there's more to this than we know. For how feisty her attitude may be, Revy's a lot more observant than we give her credit for. If she wants to be with a guy like Rock, then it's because she sees something in him that we can't," Dutch remarked, stretching his arms. "Let's see, I've finished maintenance on the car. You're done with computer maintenance. Did Revy finish her job?"

"Revy, how are we looking on ammo?"

Pulling back from her phone, Revy shouted. "Good for now, but we need more 40mm grenades for the M37, and some Heckler & Koch G3A3 clips would be lovely."

Nodding, Dutch looking back at the hacker. "That just leaves the Lagoon."

"Want a hand?"

"I won't say no."

As they left for the boat, Revy hissed into her phone.

If she could spit fire, the man on the other side would be roasted by now.

"You're Roanapur's Best Informant, So Don't Give That I Don't Know Shit!"

"Look, Rev, all I can say is that things are going crazy in Russia. An assassination attempt was made on the three oldest Generals in their Military. The public is being told it was a failed attempt, but the whispers in the underground say this is a message from the Fallen Rulers."

She tilted her chin, muttering. "The Fallen…?"

"Rulers, yeah. It's being spread through all of Russia's criminal underworld. The Fallen Rulers are claiming responsibility for the attack, and they're claiming that it was a success. There's more."

"What?"

"They're planning another attack soon," Nate responded as Revy leaned forward. "The message will be aired on the news in a few minutes. Sending you the link right now."

Once Revy received the link, she immediately played the message and was stunned by the voice that came out.

Rock.

"Здравствуйте, жители России. Вы меня не знаете, но можете называть меня "Светвитом". И мы - падших. Заброшенные. Позорные. Но больше нет. Мы с моим товарищем больше не будем отодвинуты в сторону и не будем гнить после всего, что мы сделали для этой страны. Страна, которая спустилась со своего трона. Страна, где коррупция, а не контроль, правит своим народом, видя своих солдат как расходных пешек, которых можно выбросить в канаву. Наше нападение на американцев является доказательством того, как далеко упала наша некогда нетронутая нация. Оружие, ядерное вооружение, все, что осталось от нашего времени под руководством Советского Союза, который в настоящее время находится под контролем российских военных. И должно быть еще много того, откуда это взялось. Тем не менее, мы с товарищами поняли, что наша атака мало изменила социальную иерархию, которая формирует нашу страну, и, таким образом, мы пришли к ультиматуму. Как вы все должны знать, враг Падших уже достиг своего конца, и вскоре последуют многие другие. По нашему вероисповеданию, все враги должны столкнуться с нашей праведной яростью и быть наказаны за свою роль в нашем падении. Наши враги считают себя неприкасаемыми, но они быстро поймут, что их судьбы покоятся в наших ладонях. Их преступления будут раскрыты, и наша справедливость абсолютна. Прощай. Мы скоро снова поговорим(Hello, people of Russia. You do not know me, but you may refer to me as Svetovit. And we are the Fallen. The Abandoned. The Disgraced. But no longer. No longer shall my comrade and I be pushed aside and left to rot after everything we've done for this country. A country that descended from its throne. A government where corruption, not control, rules over its people, seeing their soldiers as expendable pawns to throw aside to the gutter. Our attack on the Americans is proof of how far our once pristine nation has fallen. The weapons, the nuclear armaments, all left over from our time under the Soviet Union, which is currently under the control of the Russian Military. And there should be plenty of more where that came from. However, my comrades and I have realized that our attack has brought little change to the social hierarchy that forms our country, and thus, we've come to an ultimatum. As you all must know, an enemy to the Fallen has already reached his end, and many more will soon follow. By our creed, all enemies must face our righteous fury and be punished for their part in our downfall. Our foes believe themselves untouchable, but they will quickly realize that their fates rest in our palms. Their crimes will be brought to the light, and our Justice is absolute. Farewell. We will be speaking again soon)."

As the video continued to play, Revy eventually ended it with a sigh.

As lovely as it was to hear his voice again, there was just one problem.

"Nate, I don't speak Russian. What the fuck are they saying?"

Sighing, Haven's Owner explained. "The Fallen has declared war against the Russian government. They have a list of demands to be met if the prime minister wants them to disband. Firstly, the release of all families that have been held captive since the attack on New York. Second, proper compensation should be given to the families and other members of the Soviet Union to make up for years of shameful poverty they've had to endure…"

"Bla Bla Bla Bla," Revy mouthed silently, half listening to all the crap filling her ear before interrupting. "That's it."

"…*Sigh* That's it, but the Fallen haven't ended their campaign," Nate revealed. "They want justice against those who lived leisurely while their subordinates suffered this indignity. They'll only accept anything once those people have been punished with death. These attacks have only just begun, Revy. Miss Balalaika is keeping an ear to the ground on what's happening in the motherland."

"Right. Good luck with the little shits," Revy nodded, ending the call before leaning back and looking up at the clear blue sky.

"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,"

With a slight twitch of her lips, Revy chuckled.

"So that's your plan."

"К сожалению, прежде чем мир сможет быть возвращен на гордую землю, мы должны сначала искать возмездие против тех, кто извлек выгоду из смерти наших павших товарищей. К концу следующего месяца виновная сторона получит наказание (Sadly, before peace can be returned to a proud land, we must first seek out retribution against those who have profited off the deaths of our fallen comrades. By the end of the next month, the guilty party shall receive punishment)-"

*BANG*

A bullet shattered the television screen as the shooter's associate shook his head in exasperation, turning back to the phone.

"Nothing, Artyom. I'm in the armory's shooting gallery, and a soldier nearby is practicing with their aim. Anyway, I need to continue the investigation. We need to locate the sniper as quickly as possible. Before the Prime Minister is forced to submit to the terrorists' demands," Mikhail requested, nodding at their response. "Thank you. I hope to hear from you soon."

Putting his phone aside, the one-eyed General stared blankly at his compatriot.

"I hope you have a good reason for doing that. Bullets aren't cheap, you know."

Curling his lips tightly, Makarov growled. "Are you trying to take the piss? Look At This! That message has aired on every news network worldwide for the past week! THE WORLD HAS TURNED ITS ATTENTION TOWARDS US!"

"Now I wouldn't say the whole world, definitely our country with the inclusion of the United States-"

"THAT'S NOT THE FUCKING POINT AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Losing his humorous tone, Mikhail frowned darkly. "Of course I do, but unlike you, I do not feel the need to shoot a television. The Fallen Rulers don't exist, at least now. Someone's pinning us into a corner, using our lies against us. With the Fallen Ruler's persona, they can operate in the open, and their actions can be led back to them. And we must solve this dilemma, and Preferably before the end of next month, since we supposedly meet our maker by then," he exhaled, rubbing his face. "I already have the Investigative Committee going around the clock to locate that shooter from before."

Exhaling sharply, Makarov nodded. "Alright. I already have our head informant in the Russian mafia going over everything with a fine-toothed brush. Igor seemed confident that he could find something credible."

"Considering we're the ones keeping his sorry ass from the chair for the past thirty-two years, I sincerely hope that whatever he finds better will be worth our partnership."

"Yeah. Where's Vladimir? Don't tell that he's jumped ship already?"

"He's with the Prime Minister," Mikhail answered, frowning slightly. "That spineless fool wishes to comply with their demands, starting with the release of those families. I'm having Vlad delay this as much as possible until we can deal with these frauds."

"Delay?" With wide eyes, Makarov gestured toward the window of their office. "Why in the absolute hell would you do that? Haven't you looked outside? We have civilians protesting in the streets. Civilian discontent was already on the rise with the unfair arrests and martial law in effect, but now. Now we have a candle burning under our ass, and soon-"

"Which is why," Standing from his seat, Mikhail towered over the smaller General, his only eye gleaming menacing in the shadow. "We must strengthen our position as the major power within Russia. We are the Russian Army, the greatest force in the world. We don't negotiate with Terrorists. We don't tolerate disobedience from the populace. Our authority is unquestionable, and so when I say the captives will remain in their cells." Leaning closely, He said. "They will rot in those cells."

Pulling back, Mikhail walked over to the window, looking down at the masses protesting beneath him. "The Prime Minister will come around. After all, we still have connections with the Nomenklatura, and if they aren't sweating over this, he shouldn't, too."

Turning away from the window, the One-Eyed General marched past Makarov towards the door, grabbing his coat.

"Just complete your mission, Makarov. This will all be over soon."

"Of course," Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Makarov nodded, looking back at him. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about me," Mikhail responded, eerily chuckling. "I'm going to have a conversation with that American."

As the door shut behind him, he never noticed his compatriot giving him a fearful stare.

"Yeah. Where's Vladimir? Don't tell that he's jumped ship already?"

"We are the Russian Army, the greatest force in the world. We don't negotiate with Terrorists. We don't tolerate disobedience from the populace. Our authority is unquestionable, and so when I say the captives will remain in their cells."

"They will rot in those cells."

"The Prime Minister will come around. After all, we still have connections with the Nomenklatura, and if they aren't sweating over this, he shouldn't, too."

"Just complete your mission, Makarov. This will all be over soon."

"Of course," "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about me," *Eerily Laughter* "I'm going to have a conversation with that American."

Taking off the headphones, Rock smirked darkly. "The transmitter is working like a charm, Clera," Tossing a battered phone in the air, the Hitman quickly caught it. "Everything is going to plan so far."

"As it should be. We're lucky to have acquired Rinat's phone from his corpse before the morticians cremated his remains. Smart Bastard. He wanted to be cremated with all his belongings to reduce the chances of security leaks. Sad that we were prepared for such contingencies."

Making his way towards his bulletin board, Rock wrote some things on sticky notes.

Mihkail Bardachenko

Makarov Sokolov

Vladimir Zhupikov

Connecting these names with some string to another note, he wrote Operation Shattered Glory. Afterward, Rock joined Mikhail Bardachenko with a familiar name.

Carlton Smith

In between these two, he wrote 'Location?'.

Frowning at this, Rock sighed.

"How long till we have the location of their base?"

"Hopefully Soon. I will observe the tracer for frequent visitation from the three generals."

"I'd say keep a close eye on Bardachenko. He seems to have an obsession with Americans. If this conversation is anything, he'll likely be with Smith."

"Understood. Once I have a guaranteed location, I'll let you know. Clera signing out."

Looking out his window at the snow-filled sky, Rock picked up an apple.

"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.

Taking a bite from the crimson fruit, he whispered.

"Thanks for the apple."