DELTA - BAD BLOOD a specterverse short story [book D]

Chapter NINE

★★★★★★★★

LOCATION FILE
CLASSIFIED : CIA
OPERATION : MOSCOW
AGENT : VIKING
HANDLER : RED
TARGET: OSKA ROMANOV
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AREA: RUBLYOVKA, MOSCOW
TERRAIN: SUBURBIA
WEATHER: 12°F to 76°F

★★★★★★★★

Konstantin Ivanov

The blinding blood rage consumes me entirely, a scarlet haze painting everything I see in a sanguine cloud of hatred as I stalk the halls of the Moscow mansion, gunning down everybody who crosses my path.. The muzzle of my Makarov flares in fatal golden flashes as the semiautomatic recoils in my grip on repeat.. Oozing crimson spatters my face, stains my suit jacket and drips from my hands, leaving a trail of death and destruction in my wake..

This is the reckoning, a day of judgement where all evil doers in the Rublyovka Romanov mansion must meet their maker to be condemned..

-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-

Despondent and numb to the carnage I cause, my finger squeezes against the trigger until the clip empties and the Makarov clicks a passive inoccuious tick...

-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-

Bylat!

I discard the pistol and charge down the hallway to collide fist first with one of Oska's foot soldiers, taking him by surprise.. My knuckles make an impactful connection to his sunken cheekbone and I hear his jaw shatter and feel the cartilage shift beneath the weight of my punch.. His neck bends at an odd sideways angle as his eyes roll around in his skull, a concussion confusing him on his feet.. I take full advantage of his dazed state to sweep a shattering kick to his shins before locking an arm around his neck in an unbreakable choke hold.. The ensnared man struggles frantically but his panicked momentum only quickens his end as I lean back and twist my torso, throwing him by his neck over my shoulder to hear the snapping sound of bone breaking..

I never did keep count if the men I've killed, maybe tens, maybe hundreds.. Still I never forget their faces, they haunt my nightmare as constant reminders of who I am..

A grim reaper..

Crouching down I claim the pistol the dead man never had a chance to discharge that is lodged in the grip of his limp hand.. I disarm the safety just in time to aim the weapon and fire on three more lackeys as they breach the top of the staircase..

-BANG-BANG-BANG-

The sound of boots moving into formation squeak against the Calcutta gold marble tile of the first floor as I rise to my feet once and proceed towards them.. With my back to the wall, I slink through the shadows of the night to the mezzanine above the dining hall and survey the cavalry amassing below..

There must be at least forty men, maybe fifty..

Fuck...

I suppose it doesn't really matter though, it's not like I'd been expecting anything less.. And I was never operating under that delusion that I would leave this house alive..

Nobody does..

The suffering this household has seen, the torture committed within it's walls and countless deaths that stain it's floors are nothing to the blood letting I will inflict upon its occupants.. If my time on this earth has come to an end, I am prepared to accept the sweet release of the abyss.. But not before I ensure the safety of my precious daughter and inflict a brutal punishment on all those who caused her harm..

Including myself..

I hadn't done enough to protect her over the years.. I hadn't been able to save her from a violent husband or the cruel hand of fate, instead I had become a hostage of circumstance just like her.. I had pledged my loyalty to an organisation that would never allow me to leave, I have done things in the name of the Brotherhood that have earned me a place in hell and I will die knowing that I had failed in this life..

Letting Katya go is a painful lashing to my sinister soul because she is the closest thing I have to a light in my life, she is the daughter I never fathered and the jewel of my heart, but what other choice did I have?
I made a deal with the devil to protect her and I'd make the same choice again in every lifetime just to know she will have a second chance.. A chance I didn't have..

Katya deserves to be free and Hunter Paxton can give her things I cannot.. A new life, untainted by my mafia ties..

Killing Oska would ensure the termination of Hunter's CIA contract in Moscow and it had simultaneously sealed my fate as a traitor.. There will be no clemency for my crimes, no immunity from the punishment that is due.. Still that doesn't mean I will surrender or fold without a fight.. I will take as many of these heartless bastards with me as I possibly can, and leave this city a slightly better place than when I found it or at the very least, I will leave it with fewer depraved monsters lurking in the darkness.. A pittance that pales in comparison to my misdeeds.. I know it does little to right my wrongs, yet I am prepared to spend an eternity paying for my sins..

Inhaling deep to appreciate what I suspect will be one of my final unhindered breaths, I forge my way downstairs..

The chaos is akin to the madness of the battlefield, while familiar sounds of war rain down upon me, shots and screams fill the silence as I wade through a hail of gunfire and a stream of discarded bullet casings, leaving a pile of bodies trailing behind me.. But before long an impassable swarm of gunmen pour into the lavish dining hall to surround me.. Only when my pistol jams do I begin to concede defeat and acknowledge that my time is up..

"I WANT HIM ALIVE!" Commands a loud and authoritative shout from across the room that is almost impossible to hear for the incessant ringing in my ears..

Wave after wave of heavyweight men throw themselves at me, strikes and blows battering my brain and body until I taste blood and my skull splits.. I fight with every last ounce of energy I possess, maintaining my footing right up until the savage slicing pierce of a switchblade sinks deep into my side, puncturing vitals, a claret liquescent soaking through my suit so that the fabric clings to my slick flesh.. The agony is instant and unforgiving, bringing me to my knees and when I look up to find the wielder of that baneful blade, I am met by the gaze of a ghost.. The jet black eyes of the Romanov bloodline bore into me, cold, calculated and vengeful..

"V tihom omute cherti vodyatsa.." Oleg Romanov stands over me, malice and malevolence etched into the furrows of his hollow expression.. "My brother underestimated you, Reaper.. I will not repeat hiz mistakez.."