Roberta opened her eyes. It took just a second for her mind to clear, and to take in the room to see if there were any threats. There weren't any, but her sight did land on Ethan for a second. He had taken his shirt off before he had leaned himself up against the wall to sleep. She could see the faint ghosts of scars covering his body, and the way his body was defined.
She had almost expected him to be one of those people who tried to impress people with hardened six pack abs that could deflect missiles, so she didn't expect the soldier's physique. It made sense though, given that he was effectively an old man in the life he lived. Honestly, she found it, much more attractive than the musclehead look that was so common in the world.
"It isn't polite to stare," Ethan didn't move as he spoke.
"Lo lamento. ¿Dormiste bien? (I'm sorry. Did you sleep well?)," She asked as she sat up on the bed.
"Better than I thought I would. Guess the exhaustion and surprise caught up to me. Shit, it's nighttime. Fuck, we need to move, we spent to long here," he replied once his eyes opened.
Roberta looked up to the window and noticed the street lights. She was amazed that they were still on, though they were probably as much an advantage for the Russians as they would be for them. Actually, they probably shouldn't move.
"We shouldn't leave here. The lights will make us easier to see. We should wait until morning...," she started to say as a noise was heard downstairs.
Ethan let his voice go quiet, "Shit, did we clean up the leftovers before we came up here?"
"No, we were too tired. Hijo de puta, you were right," she replied as she checked the magazine on her AK.
They both moved in tandem, readying their weapons, and fixing their clothing. They took up positions on either side of the door, and Ethan put the headset of the radio on his head. Minutes passed and the man relaxed.
"They think that we moved on already. Or they are entertaining that we may have a radio and are going to walk up the stairs thinking they are going to catch us- yeah, there are the stairs making noise. Three men, one woman. Woman sounds loaded down, so maybe a field radio, more powerful than this one. Get ready," he said as they aimed at the door.
The second the door handle turned, Hell let loose. Sixty rounds sprayed through the wall, and the sound of four bodies hitting the ground within the pops gave them a little relief, as they reloaded and started approaching the stairs.
The woman was still alive, and didn't appear to be in mortal danger at that moment. She had been facing away from the door, and the radio on her back had taken the rounds. It would have been lucky for her, if, she wasn't now being confronted by two very dangerous people.
Ethan knelt down next to the girl, "Malen'kaya devochka, ty ponimayesh' angliyskiy?
(Little Girl, do you understand English?)"
"Nyet," she answered, her breath coming very shallow.
She saw him roll his eyes, "Oh mother fuck me. Khorosho, eto byl ves' vash otryad? Naskol'ko blizko nakhoditsya blizhayshaya rezervnaya kopiya, kotoruyu vy mogli by imet'? (Ok, was this your entire unit? How close is the nearest back up you would have?)"
"Da, eto byli vse my. YA ne znayu, naskol'ko blizko blizhayshiy blok. Pozhaluysta, ne ubivay menya. Pozhaluysta. (Yes, this was all of us. I don't know how close the nearest unit is. Please, don't kill me. Please.)," fear filled her like she had never felt it before.
Ethan looked down at her, "Nazovite mne ochen' veskuyu prichinu, pochemu mne ne sleduyet etogo delat'. Ty prinadlezhish' k lyudyam, kotoryye pytalis' menya ubit'. Za to, chego ya dazhe ne delal. (Give me a very good reason why I shouldn't. You belong to the people that have been trying to kill me. For something that I didn't even do.)"
She started crying, "YA prosto posledoval za svoim bratom, kogda on skazal, chto my dolzhny sledovat' za polkovnikom. YA ne khochu umirat'. (I just followed my brother when he said we should follow the Colonel. I don't want to die.)"
"What is she saying, also what are you saying," Roberta asked after a while.
"I'm trying to get info out of her, and she is about to shit herself and is begging us not to kill her," Ethan looked up at her.
"Are we going to? She doesn't seem like she is that much of a threat to us, if she can't take the rigores del combate," something tugged at her conscience, something that had only begun to occur in the last couple of years.
"I thought you were supposed to be a souless killing machine? We don't have a reason to leave her alive. She represents a clear and present threat if we leave her alive. She would have first hand intel on us, and can relay that to her superiors. You should know all of this," Ethan turned his attention back to the woman.
Roberta looked down at the woman, well not even a woman. The girl must have been eighteen or nineteen years old. It was also obvious she wasn't putting on an act, Roberta had seen that enough in her life to tell the difference. This was just a scared girl in a place where she didn't belong.
"¿Me concedería Dios que pueda arrepentirme de los pecados que he cometido? (Would God grant that I may repent the sins I have committed?) Don't kill her, not when she won't fight back. What left of your soul is there, deberías quitarle la vida?"
Ethan took a very hard look to his face as he looked down, "Estás asumiendo que ya tengo alma. Regardless of whether she is willing to fight or not, letting her live, is too much of a risk."
Roberta watched as Ethan reached to the revolver at his hip, and before he could reach it, she put the muzzle of her weapon against his temple. He had only closed his hand, before the act even processed. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
"Roberta, would you truly kill me for the life of our enemy? Someone you owe nothing to, and only can blame for the situation we are in," Ethan asked as his eyes opened and locked with hers.
Her face was unreadable, "Sí, lo haría, porque me niego a ser la mujer que solía ser. ¿Aún deseas ser el hombre que eras antes? (Yes, I would, because I refuse to be the woman I used to be. Do you still wish to be the man you were before?)"
Ethan had to stop for a second. Was he really falling back into that? He hadn't noticed, even if it was necessary. Was this the man that was willing to live, knowing that he had a family that had chosen not to hate him when he told them what he was? No, this woman was right, he wasn't willing to be that man anymore.
"Alright. I won't hurt her, but, she needs to be secured somehow, so that she doesn't re-," he held up a hand as he heard something come in over the radio, "What the fuck?"
"Is everything ok," Roberta noticed the confused look on his face.
Ethan looked over with a bewildered expression, "According to the traffic, they just got hit by like, six hundred unknown mercenaries. Where the Hell, even with the sheer bullshitery this city is known for, would they have managed to find six hundred fucking mercenaries?"
"Mierda, la última vez que estuve aquí, las F.A.R.C me atacaron. (Holy shit, last time I was here, I just got attack by F.A.R.C.)"
The atmosphere in the room was, tense. There still wasn't that much trust for the American, but the crime bosses had very little choice in whether to accept his help or not. Regardless of their feeling, they did have to give credit to the abilities of his men.
"Well, Mr., Coffey,"Chang waited for the man to nod before he continued, "I have to admit, your men, have turned things around, if only slightly."
"Slightly? I haven't told them to do anything yet, they are just stretching. Wait until the fires get lit," the giant said as he studied a map of the area.
He was looking at the notations. Seeing where minor gains were made by both sides. Looking at casualty reports that were both encouraging, and concerning. None dead on the local side, but there weren't any walking wounded. Men in a hospital bed were just as bad as men in a body bag. Where though? There had to be a place where they could make a breakthrough.
Suddenly he saw something, "What is this right here?"
Ronnie looked at where the man was pointing, "Uh, those are, err... I am not sure, they are outside my, territory. Do either of you know," he looked over at the other crime bosses.
Balalaika and Chang looked down at the map. They looked at the area for a few seconds as the gears turned, then looked at each other with some concern.
"The locals call that Rattle Alley. It is a bunch of restaurants outside any of the organizations in the city," Chang said after a second.
"Rattle Alley? Why have I never heard of this place? Why do you look like it is the home of some ghost story," Ronnie tilted his head in confusion.
Chang grimaced, "The people there, don't like having a boot on their neck, and the ones who have made sure of it, have a very particular way of sending the message. They take anyone they see as a threat to them, skin them, and wire their skeleton together. Then they dress them in their clothes, and hang them from the rooftops. There is also a non-zero chance, they also end up on the menu. "
Ronnie turned both green and stark white, "Why are they allowed to exist like that? Have they done this to your people in the past?"
"Yeah. After a few, I realized that it wasn't worth losing people, trying to assert any power over them. I have warned every other member of the council, but it has been long enough I hadn't even thought of them when you arrived. I don't know if they would be able to survive the Russians if they aren't looking to take control of them, but I remember Ethan saying he had a favorite restaurant there," Chang looked over to Balalaika.
Robert Coffey looked over to one of his men that was standing in the corner of the room, "Captain. See this block here?"
The man came over and looked at it, "Yes."
"I want it."
"Any particular way you want it?"
"Preferably intact, but if it isn't possibly, I understand. I shouldn't expect too much."
"So no gloves?"
"Why were you wearing them in the first place, Captain?"
The man's face split into a gigantic smile, "Give us three hours."
The man walked out of the room. Chang and Ronnie were confused as Coffey and Balalaika shared a knowing smirk.
"So, want to let us in on the secret," Ronnie asked.
Balalaika looked over, "There are some forces that even the Red Army respected. One that we feared ever seeing over our rifles. US Marines that have been told to be creative, are terrifying."
"I don't get it," Chang said.
Coffey smiled, "I have made sure that these teams are immersed in the same culture that I was during my time in the Marines. If we are told to take it, we will. If we are told to defend it, we will. If we are told to get creative, we try to stop just before they have to amend the Hauge Conventions. What makes this worse, is that Captain Hallard there, is Canadian."
Balalaika's smile faded, and Chang couldn't help but ask, "Why does that make this worse?"
"Back in World War I, the Canadians once tossed a bunch of starving German soldiers cans of food, and then they were asked for more," she said.
Ronnie looked confused, "How is that bad?"
"The next round was made up of grenades," was her reply.
"Isn't that a-," Chang started.
Coffey simply chuckled, "It was after that."