The Ring
People's Victory, Shadow Republic Of Sjenska
The body was handcuffed to a chair, slumped backwards and gagged. That in itself was not an unusual sight - what unnerved everyone present at the crime scene was the huge pool of blood covering the floor. And the wound which caused it.
"The cause of death is pretty obvious, you see", the local coroner explained matter of factly, pointing to the amputated penis, "He probably bled to death in minutes. However, you can see clearly that he had a tourniquet applied to the stump, which was later removed."
The
militsia lieutenant shook his head in disbelief. That crime spree had to be connected: not only did it happen barely hours apart, but both the double murder and this were exceptionally brutal.
A commotion at the door signified arrival of NOD investigators. To the young lieutenant, this proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that something odd was going on. He also recognized the officer in charge - it was the same man he's talked to before, at the double murder scene earlier that night.
Javor Belic froze when he entered the basement. He actually recognized the man: Asim showed up a few times during his meetings with head honchos in the organization. That meant he knew their faces, and the address of the safehouse as well. And if he knew that, Ana did.
It was at that point that he made the decision to run. Before the militsia officer in charge could brief him on the case, he barked a few quick instruction to his subordinates and left in a hurry. He had to get the hell out of the country...but for that, he needed money.
Fortunately, even Ana had to sleep. He hoped this would give him enough time to collect his cut of the business and get as far away as possible.
People's Victory, Worker's Way
Amphetamine made her senses sharp and her mind clear. She knew she'd regret using it, but there was no other choice: Ana's wasted enough time already. Each passing hour increased the chance she'd never find Nadya again.
She'd been observing the house on Worker's Way for several hours now. Asim told her everything she needed to know about the place, including names and descriptions of the people who usually met there. From what he said, she was just two steps away from her sister.
Another car pulled into the driveway. It was interesting that in a country still mired in poverty and starvation, there were people willing to spend enough money on prostitutes to buy so many cars for the criminals providing these 'services'.
Ana watched the latest arrival closely, and for the first time in many days, she froze in shock, seeing Javor Belic get out of his new Lada and knock on the door. It took her a while to snap out of it, and shock soon gave way to burning rage.
She got up and grabbed her gear. There was no point to waiting anymore.
Damascus, Syria
The girls arrived several days beforehand, ferried in discreetly via a military transport plane to one of countless airbases. The cargo handlers had no idea what was inside the olive green unified transport container when they loaded it onto a truck and drove it across the city to a holding facility owned by the security services. From there, the 'merchandise', kidnapped from all over the Old Continent, drugged and bound, was driven over to one of the countless palaces owned by prince Issam. The girls were washed, given food and fresh drug injections. Guarded by the Prince's trusted men, they would await their fates in a murky, dark cellar below an opulent palace.
For Karim Saffayed, this was just part of everyday business. He held no illusions about the morality of what he was doing: but he could get away with it, and the money his organization was making did its part to quelch any remorse.
The Persian smiled wickedly, watching the reception hall fill up. At least he wasn't a hypocrite like these people - men of high stature in Syrian society, wealthy businessmen and politicians, often preaching morality and family values and scorning others for straying from the true path. And yet, here they were: attending a party with their wives and lovers, only to head backstage at a certain point to buy and sell young women to abuse and discard like cheap gadgets. In many ways, these people were driven by their base instincts far more than Kamir ever would be.
"Quite an impressive amount of guests", Kamir observed dryly when the Prince arrived and stopped briefly at his observation point above the hall.
"Yes...most of them are important to my position in one way or another. Only a few will win the...priviledge of participating in today's auction."
Kamir smiled again, before turning his attention away from the teeming floor below, "Before you go entertain the guests, there is a small matter I need taken care of", he said to the prince.
"Anything within reason"
"There is a nosy Byzantine diplomat who has recently become...inconveniently interested in our operations here in Syria. I suspect he's actually an intelligence officer at their embassy here."
"I see. This can be a dangerous situation."
"Yes...their police are already troublesome enough as it is, it won't do if our connections to your government are discovered. You see why this matter needs to be taken care of."
"Of course. Give me his name."
Kamir handed a prince a business card.
"I'll make sure he's not an obstruction any more."
Fabowice, PeZookia, District Courthouse
The District Prosecutor was out of his office, Sebastian was told by his assitant - in Syria on some liaison mission or another. Fortunately, he left his deputy in charge of the office.
"I need an arrest warrant", the police comissar said before the deputy could ask a single question, "And fast."
"Wait...weren't you here yesterday? Yes, you were!", the assistant prosecutor said sarcastically, "In fact, I have right here clear instructions on the case, and they say you're not getting a warrant unless you provide us with actual evidence of wrongdoing."
"Right here, Prosecutor" ,Sebastian laid a folder on the man's desk, "A girl was murdered in the back rooms of the bar Brzytwa used to frequent, by one of his bodyguards, under his orders. Good enough?"
The deputy took some time to read the case report, but finally nodded.
"You got your warrant, comissar. Bring him in."
Fabowice International Airport
The huge BAMF airliner was slowly filling up with passengers, who actually had some trouble finding their assigned seats inside the monstrous plane. Brzytwa was leaning back in his chair, quite satisfied with himself. In a few minutes, the plane would take off, and the local police would never find him. He had enough money to start a new life in the Caymans, or maybe the IRT, free from the baggage he's acquired over the years. In a way, what happened to him was good. Chance for a new start.
His pleasant daydrem was ruined abruptly, when he saw a stewardess point him out to two men in leather jackets, who could only be cops. He bolted upright and started running immediately, pushing the boarding passengers aside.
"Police! Stop!", one of the men yelled, as both gave chase. It didn't last very long - Brzytwa made his way to the rear exit, ran across the boarding sleeve and fell straight in the hands of several airport policemen waiting for him there. Unarmed and backed into a corner, he surrendered.
As they snapped the cuffs on him, Brzytwa idly wondered if he'd live for very long in prison: his superiors in the organization didn't like people who endangered them, even if they said nothing during interrogations. They'd be pissed.
Shadow Republic Of Sjenska, Worker's Way
The two bored guards never saw it coming: the door opened just slightly, and a hail of bullets came through the crack, gunning them both down before they had a chance to react. A slender female shape, clad in improvised combat gear entered right afterwards and carefully closed the door.
She moved deeper into the house, her submachine gun at the ready. Another man was making coffee in the kitchen, and got shot three times - he was dead before he knew what happened.
When he fell, however,he dragged down a wide assortment of cups and plates, making a horrible noise. A thug came running down the stairs, and managed to get off a few shots at Ana's silhouette - alerting everyone inside to her presence.
She fell back across the kitchen, towards the building's central staircase. The house's guards followed her, running in a disorganized gaggle and yelling wildly.
Two floors up, she paused to catch her breath and threw one of her NOD-provided grenades down the stairwell. The blast threw shrapnel in every direction, piercing the rickety wooden structure of the stairwell, peppering the walls and blowing the few windows that still remained. She ran downstairs again, putting a round or two into every body that was still moving.
The kitchen was empty now, save for the dead body slumped over the electric stove. She moved out of the room, cutting across the interior stairs and to the living room.
Before she could open the door, an AK burst almost got her from behind - two men were firing on her from the top of the stairs, while three or four more hanged back, yelling curses. Bullets whizzed past, smacking into old walls and shredding furniture. Ana changed her position, with only luck saving her from getting fatally wounded, and returned fire with a long burst from her Bison, cutting the legs from under one of the AK shooters. The other decided to charge, and took cover at the last minute, before Ana could get a solid bead on him, but then stupidly stuck his head out to take a pot shot - and got a bullet right between the eyes.
Breathing heavily, she changed the magazine and readjusted the bandana covering her face. The men who were yelling bravely just a minute ago disappeared to somewhere - but Ana knew they didn't come down the stairs, and there were no exits on the upper floor. So she came to get them.
One was huddling in a niche in the corridor, right besides the stairs. He had a gun, but Ana took it from him almost effortlessly.
"Are you in charge?!", she screamed, pointing his own pistol at his face
"No! No, I'm not!", he squealed, covering his head
"Then you're useless to me", she answered and shot him. The pistol she discarded and proceeded to the nearest living room. She kicked down the door and found Pietia there, holding some girl as a human shield.
"Drop the gun!", he screamed, having heard the brief discussion in the corridor and thinking himself backed into a corner.
"Oh, not this again...", Ana murmured, levelling the Bison, "Are you in charge?"
"What?"
"I asked you a question. Are you in charge here?"
Pietia stared at the strange woman for a while. She shot Amur when he answered no. She seemed not to care in the slightest about the woman he was holding. There was only one way out of this situation, but he had to be fast.
"Yes", he answered and aimed his pistol at the woman. She squeezed the trigger, but at the same time, a shot grazed her back. The Bison burst went wide and ruined the wall behind Pietia, who in turn threw himself behind a heavy oaken desk.
Javor ran into the room, his pistol outstretched, frantically looking for Ana. He saw her drop to the floor - by all logic, she should've been there. But the amphetamine she took did its job well - she remained focused, changed positions and shot Javor in the stomach as soon as he came through the door. Pietia fired on her several times then, missing entirely when she ducked back into the corridor. Calmly, Ana walked to one of the dead AK shooters and then back to the room.
Pietia was reloading when an AK burst blew right through the desk next to him.
"Get the hell out of there before I blow you away! Hands where I can see them!", she shouted, staring down the AK's sights, "I won't say this a second time!"
Pietia cursed, staring at the huge, gaping holes in disbelief and shock. If that was the woman he was warned about, he underestimated her something fierce.
"Out! NOW!", came another command, punctuated by a shot. Pietia threw his pistol away and his hands up, cussing in disgust.
"Good boy. Face to the wall.", she pointed with the AK, "And you shut up!", she added for Javor's benefit when he moaned in pain, "I'll speak with you after I'm finished with him."
Pietia turned around and faced the wall, waiting for the woman's next move.
"Kneel", she hissed, even as she kicked away Javor's weapons, "And better start talking."
"
- PeZook
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