Quaranteam Ruins United Ch 07

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.

"Kakogo huya?" He turned to the woman. "Call downstairs."

She quickly took out her own phone and tapped the screen.

"

Yeah,

" a rough male voice answered.

"Makarenko here. Report!" Grishin barked into the device.

"

Comrade Colonel, some punks are throwing rocks, breaking windows in the building.

"

"Deal with them! Shoot them if you need to!"

"

Yes, Comrade Colonel!

'

The call ended. Grishin turned to Dan.

"Your gopnik friends, Koval?"

Well, the old fart knows something at least.

"Probably," Dan shrugged. "You didn't think nobody would find out where you took me, did you? Tracking a huge white van in an empty city is child's play, given the amount of cameras downtown has."

"C-cameras?"

"It's called Safe City for a reason," he smirked, quoting Lara. "Went back online yesterday."

Grishin spun on his heels, turning his wrath on his assistant again.

"You... told... meeee....." He was out of breath with anger, hovering over her.

Careful, old man, you'll have a stroke and won't live long enough for me to hang you myself.

"A- Analoly Ilich, I swear... I'll..."

She looked at Dan desperately, as if seeking protection, then a flash of recognition crossed her face.

"I know where I've seen him before!"

Oh shit.

Dan, blinded by poorly contained rage, chuckled hysterically.

"He was the one who attacked the vaccine transport!"

"...him? You sure?" Grishin picked up her baton and slowly turned to Dan. "Where's my vaccine, Koval? What lies are you going to tell me now?"

"Fucked up your little mind-controlling scheme, did I?" Dan grinned like a lunatic. "Moscow demands results, and you got shit to show, eh,

Grishin

?"

The old man suddenly went pale.

"W-what did you call me?"

Is that your weak point, old man?

"What, you thought nobody would find out?" Dan forced himself to bark a laugh - it was still painful, then hollered. "It's a small fucking world,

Colonel Grishin, The Mozdok Butcher

!"

Suddenly, he was in Dan's face.

"Who else knows?!"

"..

eeeverybody

," Dan exhaled in a dramatic whisper, looking into Grishin's eyes from under his eyebrows.

The sounds of broken glass became more intense and more frequent. Grishin grabbed the phone.

"What the fuck is going on downstairs?!" He was almost hysterical.

"

Comrade Colonel, they are throwing Molotovs now! Not your usual Molotovs, it's like napalm, we can't put the fire out!

"

"DEAL WITH IT, BLYAT!" He threw the phone into the wall and turned to Dan again.

"Napalm, eh?" He smirked, but his face betrayed him - the man was on edge. "Not very smart - torching the building with someone you're supposed to save inside."

"Oh," Dan laughed. "Shows what you know about strategy. They are not here to torch

me

, they are here to smoke

you

out!"

"...me?" The all-powerful Colonel looked pathetic.

"I put a price on your head, you old kozel," Dan cackled, mad with rage. "AND THEY ARE HERE TO COLLECT!"

The first hit with the baton landed on his neck, the next one - on his jaw. There were more after that - shoulders, back, knees, until Grishin was out of breath.

"Who... do you think... you are, Koval, huh?" He panted and wheezed. "You think you're some kind of big gangster boss?!"

His voice had a distinct hysterical shrill to it.

"You wanna play with the big boys?! You don't have what it takes!

You gotta have balls of steel

, and you don't have any!"

Everything hurts.

His mouth, which stopped bleeding at some point, began to fill up with blood again.

"Say that to my face, you motherfucker," Dan growled, head hung low.

Grishin made a circle and stopped right in front of him, putting the tip of the baton under his chin and forcing him to raise his head.

"You don't have the balls, Koval. There, I said it to your face, happy now?"

He threw the baton on the floor and picked up the gun from the desk.

"Time to die, you punk. Any last words?"

Today's lesson is a tough one

, the second time in two weeks he heard his sensei's words in his head.

It will be hard to accept, it will be harder to internalize, but remember - there is no dignity in death. If you're going down, go down kicking. Do maximum damage. Take whoever you can with you. Make sure whoever of your enemies survives, they tremble in horror every time your name is mentioned.

Dan sighed.

Rina, Tash, Lara. I'm sorry, girls.

"Well, got something to say?" Grishin was standing right in front of him, gun pointed to the floor.

Dan spit the blood and with satisfaction saw it land right on Grishin's boot. He straightened his back and looked him right in the eyes.

"Yeah," he sneered. "You really should've tied my legs."

Not giving the man any time to process, he pulled his knees to his chin, then threw his feet forward, planting the steel-reinforced heels right into Grishin's groin, pushing back off him. The chair gave out the last pitiful squeak as it toppled backwards, bringing Dan on top of itself with all his weight. A second later, Dan was on his feet, just in time to see Anzhelika launching herself at him. He swung his arm, landing a part of the chair still strapped to his right wrist with a cable tie right on the side of her face and sending her tumbling to the wall.

Rest now, good chair, you served well.

The ties became loose, and he quickly got them off, as he was coming closer to Grishin's unmoving body. He pushed him with the nose of his boot, then sat on his haunches and checked the pulse on his neck. His wide-open eyes and half-open mouth froze in an expression of surprise and pain. The man was dead.

"So much for balls of steel, you old fuck," Dan chuckled.

"You... you killed him?.." He heard from behind - Anzhelika was trying to scrape herself off the floor. "You punk fuck... I will torture you... until you bleed out of your dick..."

"What,

he

was your sperm donor?" Dan looked at her over his shoulder, stood up and lazily walked up to her. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head up and back, exposing her neck, and looked into her eyes filled with nothing but pure hatred.

"Remember what I promised you?"

Her windpipe broke with a sickening

crunch

sound under his fist. He released her hair and threw her on the floor as she gasped for air. Tuning her out, he turned away and wiped his palms on his pants in disgust. The rage was slowly leaving him, but the adrenaline was yet to go.

Now, what do we have here? There's gotta be something useful in his office. Phones!

He picked up his Pixel, wincing at the sight of the broken glass, then the woman's phone, equally dead.

This will come in handy, if Lara can pull the data off it. Now, what was in that file?

That's when Dan heard distinct sounds of automatic weapons in the building.

Shit, fuck, gotta get out of here,

he darted to the window.

Seriously? Barred windows on the third floor? Talk about being paranoid. Who were you afraid of, Batman? Well, blyat, looks like I'm shooting my way through.

He picked up the PM off the floor, stashed the phones into his pockets, and froze, listening. The gunshots were closing in. Dan took cover behind the desk. Shooting stopped, but several seconds later the sound of breaking wood filled the waiting room outside of the office - somebody was breaking through the door. He pointed the gun at the door and...

The office door swung open as if hit by an explosion, its hinges barely holding, then

the mountain

that kicked it stepped through. He was dressed in extremely functional and utilitarian military fatigues that made Dan immediately think of spec ops, but without insignias, badges or labels, in a mask that covered his neck and lower half of the face up to the eyes, with an AK-9 in his hands, pointed downwards. The man was also over two meters tall and with shoulders so wide he had to duck

and

turn his torso to enter. The man was bald, save for blonde eyebrows above his bright blue eyes.

He straightened up, released his rifle, letting it hang on a strap freely, and looked at Dan.

"You know, when we got told whom we have to pull out, I thought - this gotta be a coincidence,"

the mountain

spoke in a deep baritone. "I mean, how many Dan Kovals are in this city?"

Well, I'll be fucked.

Dan slowly stood up, lowering his gun.

"Misha?" He wiped his face with his hand and winced - it hurt. "How are you here?"

"Long story, Nik will tell you everything," the big guy looked around the office, studying the mayhem and the bodies. "You done them in yourself? Never thought you had it in you."

I did.

"Tiny, where you at?" Came a voice from the hallway.

"In here, Major," Misha turned to the door. "Target secured."

From behind

the mountain

appeared another man, much closer in size and height to Dan, yet still bigger, dressed in the same uniform without any insignia, the same kind of mask and armed with a ShAK-12. His brown hair in a "young Colin Farrell" haircut was messed up, his hazel eyes were tired but still looked like they never missed a thing. Without further ado, the man stepped forward and locked Dan in a hug.