Quaranteam: Ruins United
by Cy Borisson
Chapter 7
Ruins United
is a part of the
Quaranteam
universe created by
CorruptingPower
, written with his expressed permission. If you have not read the original or spinoffs by
BreakTheBar, AgathonWrites, BronanTheLibrarian, OtterlyMindblowing, SilverRyden, RonanJWilkerson, BirchesLoveBooks, The_Licentious_Laureate
,
DisquietCertitude
and
Percheron
, I would highly recommend you do that, not just to better understand the developments but also because those are really good and lots of fun.
I also want to express my gratitude to the QT writing group and especially
The_Licentious_Laureate
and
Alsith
for their immeasurable help with proofreading and editing.
xoxo,
Cy~
============
CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING:
death.
Dec 3rd, 2020.
??:??
Head... hurts...
Coming back into full consciousness was a mistake. Throbbing pain at the back of his head, somewhat dull now, was still there and still very strong. Blissful darkness was so much better, but it wasn't long. The van door slammed shut behind him and brought him back, and since then he was drifting in and out for what seemed hours. He remembered a short-ish fast ride, right-left-left-right sequence of turns, placing him in the Grey House. He remembered how two men, huffing and swearing, dragged him up the stairs - second floor, third floor,
oh what an honor to be in the lair of evil
. The same men untied his hands and re-tied them to the chair they threw him on, then left, leaving him in the dark.
Why it's so fucking dark in here?.. And it's hard to breathe...
He tried carefully moving his head.
Oh, I got a fucking bag on my head... Fuck... calm down, Dan, slow breaths. Ow... my fucking head...
His fingers, as far as the restraints would allow him, inspected the chair he was strapped to. Something that felt like thick wide cable ties cut into his wrists, keeping him in place. He felt his heartbeat quicken by the increased pulsing of pain in his head.
Chair... wood... calm the fuck down, your rage isn't helping... at least wait till they get the bag off you so you can breathe... What's this... is this a Vienna chair? Yeah, an old one... I remember this design... They don't make them like that anymore - solid wood, none of that glued garbage...
He tried to visualize the joinery, but focusing on something like that was an effort he couldn't afford right now - another wave of pain flooded his head.
Fuuuuck...
He heard the door open, then close. High heels clacked on the hardwood, from the door on the right to the center, then made a slow circle around him and stopped. Suddenly, the bag was pulled off his head - fast - and before he could close his eyes, bright white light from a table lamp pointed at him cut his eyes. His head exploded with pain once again.
Oh blyat...
"The infamous Danila Koval," she nearly sang.
"Infamous?" He grunted, trying to get his eyes to open. "The fuck you're talking about?"
Squinting, he looked up at her and his breath nearly caught in his throat. It's not like she wasn't attractive, just entirely not his type - fancy ugly hairdo that screamed 80s, dyed bad type of blonde, excessive makeup and cheap bijouterie - a woman he wouldn't give a second glance out on the street, but that tiny mole above her right brow...
"We know
everything
about you, Koval," she was power-tripping so hard she was obviously bluffing with a pair of threes against his full house. "No need to even ask you any questions."
"Good," he grumbled. "I'm not sure you can comprehend the answers, Frau Engel."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
She walked to the tiny desk near the wall and took something from it.
"Let's see," she turned. "Something interesting in here?"
Dan recognized his phone in her hands.
"Oh, it's locked. What's the pin code?"
Dan looked at her incredulously and shrugged.
"Try one-three-one-two."
She tapped the screen and frowned.
"It doesn't work!"
"What the fuck did you expect?" He chuckled.
BAM! She threw his phone into the wall across the office. The poor device bounced off and clattered across the floor, landing right at his feet. Dan followed the trajectory. The phone was absolutely, undoubtedly dead. He lifted his eyes.
"That was my favorite phone, you dumb bitch," he growled.
"I don't fucking care," she sauntered across the office with her hands behind her back, stopping right in front of him. She tilted her head left, then right, looking at him, as if trying to remember something.
"You look somewhat familiar... Have we met before?" She inquired.
"Doubt that," he forcefully scoffed - every facial expression was painful. "I don't have a habit of mingling with fed cumrags."
Turns out she had a police standard issue baton in her hand
, Dan figured after the pain in the back of his head was joined by the pain in his jaw. His head jerked violently and he nearly fell with the chair, which squeaked miserably.
Well, one thing we learned - this chair is ready to retire, and it seems like my wrists are tied right to its weak points.
"
I know kids who hit harder than you," he taunted her, wincing.
"You know," she glared at him menacingly as she leaned closer to his face. "It's not wise to offend an officer of the Federal..."
"Bitch, please, I've heard that line before," he growled through his clenched teeth. His mouth was filling with blood, his entire head pulsed with pain, but the poorly controlled rage was blinding. "You were only promoted to an operative because all your men died, and your superiors had to pull shits like you from accounting or whatever pencil-pushing job you were doing. That's why you're only comfortable hitting a person if their hands are tied."
"Oh!" She suddenly laughed. "You want me to untie you, don't you?"
"Out of self-preservation standpoint - you shouldn't," he spat on the floor.
Blood
. "Because I will kill you the minute my hands come free."
She laughed again.
"I would
love
to see you try!"
"Leave it, Anzhelika," a familiar male voice said from the door. "I highly doubt Mister Koval is exaggerating his intentions."
So that's who you are, Anzhelika Snezhnaya. With a last name like that and your looks, a perfectly good female name is just wasted.
The circus-horse-named woman scurried to her tiny desk at the wall - like a perfectly trained animal, she knew her place in the food chain. The man walked to the desk in the middle of the office, turned the lamp to point down and Dan could finally take a look at him. Old, gray hair in a short military cut, unhealthily lanky, and with a huge bruise on his forehead, Grishin looked at him with a weird mix of annoyance and hatred.
Let's play our hand right, shall we?
"The fuck you doing, Makarenko?" Dan spat on the floor again. "Abducting a government official is a felony even for your kontora."
"Please, Koval," the man scoffed. "We both know you don't deserve that posting. Besides, you have no idea what we have on you here."
He tapped his fingernail on the case file on his desk. Dan straightened his back and stretched his neck, trying to see, then sighed.
"A stack of clean printer paper."
Grishin's eyebrow twitched.
So I'm not wrong, huh?
"What makes you think that?" He tilted his head.
"If you had any real interest in my persona, that file would've been as thick as my leg. You don't know a single thing about me, and neither do your little rats. Since you got nothing on me, release me, and I will give you a window of opportunity to leave the city to never come back again."
"Nice try," Grishin laughed. "But I have a better idea - let's talk about your dealings with the Ukrainian intelligence."
"The... WHAT?" It was Dan's turn to be
very
surprised.
"Oh ho ho," the man laughed again. "And here I was told Dan Koval is the man who runs things around the City Hall! You don't know what's going on right under your nose!"
Round face, attentive gray eyes, short military cut. Fuck.
Dan suddenly remembered where exactly he'd seen that face.
"I have no idea who fed you that bullshit," he frowned. "The administration is in crisis management mode, we don't have time for your fucking spy games."
"Oh, really?" Grishin stepped forward. "Where's Brazhnikov, Koval?"
"Left the city," Dan shrugged. "In the middle of the night, I hear."
"Mhm," the man took a couple of steps to his desk and picked something from it. He turned and Dan suddenly felt a cold pit open in his stomach - in the hands of the fed was the gun Dan had on him this morning.
"Then how would you explain that the gun we found in your pocket was used to kill him?"
Bluff. No way they found the body and ran ballistics. The gun was right here on the desk the whole time.
"I have no idea. I took this thing off a biker we apprehended this morning."
"Lies, lies," Grishin shook his head, then suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. "All of it!"
He began pacing across the office.
"You don't have shit on me and you can't prove anything, Makarenko," Dan sighed tiredly. "Untie me and let me out of the building. You'll face a just trial, I'll see to it."
"If you haven't figured it out by now," Grishin grumbled, not stopping his pacing. "You are not going anywhere. I shouldn't have played these stupid fucking games... I should have just put all of you fucking liberal scum in front of the firing squad!"
What's got you so riled up, old man?
"Stuck in this shithole city with every provincial
bydlo
trying to challenge my intellect!.. Where's his phone?" The old man suddenly barked at his blonde assistant, standing over her. "Give it here! I'll make him unlock it!"
The woman trembled and looked at the broken phone at Dan's feet. Grishin traced the direction of her gaze. His face distorted with anger, and he backhanded Anzhelika across the face.
"You dumb fucking cunt!"
"An- Anatoly Ilich... A terrible mistake happened... I'm so sorry... I'll make it up to you... please, don't punish me!"
Interesting dynamic,
Dan chuckled inwardly. Grishin stopped right in front of him again, about to launch another hateful tirade, when the sound of broken glass nearby interrupted him. Then again, closer, then again, farther.
