Unfinished Business

[ludmila]

Date: 18 of April 2010
Time Frame: Evening.
Place: Miami, Florida, USA.
Status: Open to that dubious individual Anton Arkins.

"I hate this country."

This sentence summed up Ludmila's thoughts about the USA pretty well. She loathed the place, and it wasn't just because she was a Soviet Cold War veteran. But she hadn't been sent here as a normal liaison agent, she was far too valuable for that. The young driver next to her was the FSB's agent in Florida, and he had apparently heard about the stories concerning Ludmila as he eyed her curiously from his seat.

"-So, you're a Rusalka eh? My grandmother used to tell me about them. Is it true you drowned people?"

Ludmila promptly took her cap off and removed her comb from her hair, causing her human features to vanish and reveal her real appearance. Ghostly white and almost emaciated, she smiled at the driver, who gulped.

"-Everything you've heard about Rusalki is true", she said, staring at him with her milky white eyes."
"-Do...do you feel anything for the er, things you kill on the job?"

Ludmila's smile became even more sinister as she put her comb back in her hair, restoring her human appearance.

"-No. I was banished from their realm centuries ago, and I feel as close to those freaks as a human to a poodle with arthritis."

They both fell silent, and Ludmila looked out of the window at the small avenue they were driving down, with its rows of palm trees and evening prowlers in bermuda shorts. She was not as satisfied by her current job now that she had been stripped of her rank and reputation. Back in the KGB, she was one of the most respected field agents and was often referred to as the Eastern Bloc's best paranormal agent. Now, she was almost nothing, a "criminal" and a symbol of Russia's unwanted totalitarian past.

She sighed and looked at the document she had been given earlier that day. The document described the activities and whereabouts of the "Von Carstein Family", who seemed to be a pretty normal criminal gang except for the fact they were all vampires and smuggled guns and magical gadgets from the Troll Market.

Ludmila's cold expression was broken by a small smile. She had met Von Carstein before, in Siberia, 1967. The idiot had taken over an entire village with his gang of undead sycophants and had killed half the team sent there to deal with him. Ludmila had only barely missed killing him as he had escaped into a blizzard.

Her car quietly pulled up next to a hangar that sat next to a marina. The sun had almost vanished below the horizon.
Ludmila opened the door of the car and stepped out, reaching for the two PP-93 SMGs that sat in their holsters underneath her leather jacket.

"-Hey wait", said the younger agent, "you're not going in there alone, right?"
"-Yes I am. You just stay here and wait till I come back. Carstein and I are in for a little...get together of sorts."

She strode up to the hangar's entrance, which was unguarded, and went inside the large building. Angry voices rose and fell inside, and Ludmila could see the gang arguing with someone. She stepped casually towards the vampires, guns at the ready, and spoke out in a loud, clear voice.

"Von Carstein! Fancy seeing you here after all these years. Last time I saw you you were cutting the throats of young girls...remember me?"

[antonarkins]

Arkins blinked his eyes slowly, the world around him a dimly lit haze. He could hear talking around him, but it seemed distant and far away.

"Почему мы не убиваем его теперь?" Grumbled one voice.

"Заказы босса," said another.

Russian. Okay wait, he knew Russian. Well, he knew enough Russian. The first guy was asking why they weren't killing "him" or "it." And then a boss not allowing it.

Oh crap that must mean him. The murder part, not the boss part. He was the one barely conscious. Were they dragging him? They must be dragging him. He didn't remember a fight...drugged. The pilot must've drugged him! That son of...he'd kill him soon enough. Getting out of the current situation was pressure enough.

His mind was returning to him, and his vision was clearing. They were dragging him, he could feel it now. He remained limp, bad idea to let them catch on until he was ready. Where was he? Sounds of an engine, cement floor, open air building...still at an airfield. It was muggy, was he still in South America? The ammount of drugs coursing through his system and with him just now coming out of it...wasn't likely. America'n southern east coast likely, maybe an island.

Now Russians...who did he...Von Carstein. That family had not been happy when he killed Petr. He hadn't realized Petr had just been turned, he was just some lowly familiar running some punk gang out in the city. The Von Carstein family must've really liked Petr....

The two men were getting in an argument now, their grips loosening. Something about a girl, it wasn't that important. What WAS important was the feel of their skin.
Warm.
Two lowly wannabes hoping to get turned.

He heard a woman's voice call out, clear and distinctive, and the grips on his arms tightened briefly.

"Кто в аду?"
"Женщина?"

The two men didn't recognize her, good enough time as any. In one sharp move Arkins pulled back, his arms sliding free of the men's grips. He punched the first man in the throat then spun into the second, elbowing him in the temple to stun before wrapping his arms around the man's neck and pulling up and to the right. He pulled the Desert Eagle from the man's side holster and shot two clean holes into the choking man's knees. He let out a gurgling cry as he collapsed.

"Dasvidaniya comrade," he said with a smile, " So tell me, where's your boss?"

The man was screaming in gurgled cries, but he answered the question. The Von Carstein family proper were all underneath the hanger they were in, waiting for the sun to set. Arkins was being brought to the family head to for torture and feeding (that was obvious enough). There was a secret passage in the center of the hanger, led into a cave complex were the family had set up temporary shop, waiting for Arkins' return from his trip to South America.
Arkins thanked the man kindly, and then shot him in the head.

He stayed tense, but nodded cautiously to the well dressed woman who had inadvertently facilitated his release. She had guns at the ready, must be there to clean house.
"Russian Agent?" He asked, "If you're hear for the parasites, they're below us."

[basil]

"Russian Agent?", asked the man she had rescued, "If you're hear for the parasites, they're below us."

She simply nodded and went over to a large, heavy-looking rusty metal plate lay. She bent down and pushed it aside. Despite the thing being relatively light by normal, human standards, Ludmila had to put considerable effort into shifting it aside.

That done, she went down the small staircase shifting the metal plate had revealed. If the man chose to follow her, she would let him. She really didn't care, all she wanted was to see Von Carstein dead.

The caves beneath the warehouse turned out to be a veritable warren of galleries. Ludmila tutted to herself.

"-Looks like Carstein got paranoid after Izhumrudnoye...", she went back up the stairs and called to the man.

"Oi, bratishka, show me the way through those damn tunnels!"