From Revenge To Redemption

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From Revenge To Redemption

Post by overkill13 on Fri 17 Dec 2010 - 3:00

My first foray into fanfiction. It's been a long time since I wrote anything serious, my last piece being from my days of tabletop roleplaying. No doubt I'm a bit rusty. Hopefully I'm half as good as the regular's on the forum.

Originally intended to be a short story, there's just no way I can get what I want done development wise without serious chapters. Moved chapter 1 to chapter 4. Seems to flow better that way. A couple of extra lines in Ch4 now but, nothing that you would miss.

Chapter 1
Spoiler:

The 5 Series BMW pulled into the dark parking lot stopping in perhaps the least lit corner. Unbeknownst to the occupants, a girl crouched hidden behind some hedges, waiting for an opportune moment. A light layer of snow refracted just enough light to allow her to observe the car.

The girl appeared to be in her early to mid teens. She had long blond hair, tied into two long ponytails running down each side of her head over her shoulders and down her back almost touching the ground as she crouched. The rest of her hair was neatly parted down the middle with bangs cut longer on the outside in such a way to avoid obstructing her vision. Her blue eyes could still be seen despite the dismal lighting conditions. They were no doubt stunning in normal light.

She wore a black fitted suit with sleeveless jacket barely visible under a long leather trench coat. She was very careful to crouch enough to conceal herself and at the same time prevent the coat from resting in the snow.

Five men exited the vehicle, wearing their own suits, some not so well fitted. The BMW was facing the girl and she waited for two of the men to head to the back of the car and open the trunk before moving. She jumped out and immediately entered a sprint heading towards the single man on the right side of the vehicle.

One of the men on the left side of the car noticed her first and produced a Sig Sauer P230 at the same time she produced her own P230. He quickly drew a bead on the running girl, attempting to lead her slightly, and fired, the 9mm Short round hitting her hand. Two more shots went wide as the girl dropped her gun out of reflex rather than pain.

As she closed the gap to her first target, he pulled a P220 Compact. She grabbed his outstretched hand twisted with her left and grasped his gun with her right hand when he released it. With a firm grip on the gun, she kicked him into the car, generating far more force than her size would indicate, and ducked down for cover from the two shooters on the opposite side of the vehicle, now firing frantically at her. At the same time the battered man beside her slumped to the ground.

The two stopped shooting and the girl popped up slightly firing all seven rounds from the P220 through the front and rear door windows of the vehicle. Normally firing the .380, the compact .45ACP fought back against her wrist more fiercely than she had anticipated causing some inaccuracy. Still she scored two torso hits on each of the men while she spotted the movement from the back of the BMW in her peripheral vision.

She stood up and began moving to the back, checking that the two across from her were out of action. The further man still had the open trunk lid blocking his view, while the nearest stepped out from behind the cover. The girl grabbed his right hand, now holding a full size P226, pushing it to her right so that it was no longer a threat. She reached around behind him and pulled herself towards the man as if she were going in for a kiss.

Instead she folded his right arm in front of his stomach, pointing his weapon towards the last man. Careful to leave enough room between her and the man she was holding, who was now effectively her dance partner, she squeezed his trigger finger and the slide on the pistol moved freely between them, as the P226 fired several times hitting the last functioning combatant.

Once he was down she forced the man she was holding to drop his gun, spun him around and zip tied his hands behind his back.

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Kostya watched the video in an empty office space temporarily supplied by the Agency. He had received a slight introduction on the activities of the Social Welfare Agency but, he wasn’t prepared for what he was watching. He was so mesmerized that he failed to notice the woman knocking on the door. She opened it and stepped in. Standing beside him, her voice startled him back to reality.

“That’s Triela on one of her ops. If I remember correctly, those men were returning from an arms deal outside Benevento.” She spoke in English.

“Ferro,” he began. “she’s incredible, scary as hell but, incredible.”

“Yes they are… Incredible, I mean. As for scary, that depends on which side you’re on. Anyway, Director Lorenzo will see you now.” Ferro countered as she motioned towards the now open door to the hallway.

He noted the tone of her voice, she obviously didn’t approve of his interpretation of the girl. She followed Kostya out of the office and then led him down the hallway. The woman he was following had a slim build, brown hair in a pixie cut and wore a woman’s business suit. A pair of understated earrings and black pumps finished off the ensemble, a no nonsense outfit for a no nonsense woman.

“So?” He tried to ask her a question, but she interrupted.

“The Director will answer any questions you have.”

She led him to an office and opened the door clearly marked “Direttore Pieri Lorenzo, Sezione 2” Direttore he imagined was Director and Sezione… perhaps Section. I suppose I’ll need to learn Italian, he thought.

Ferro motioned Kostya in, and shut the door behind him as she left to continue her duties elsewhere on the compound.

The office was sizeable, befitting the head of Section 2. Behind the large oak desk sat an older man wearing glasses. The Director was not wearing a suit. Kostya would later find that he preferred to simply wear comfortable shirts when in the office, also public opinion was poor and the stress was wearing on Lorenzo. While hardly low quality shirts, it was odd to see a Director of an intelligence agency wearing casual clothes while much of the staff saw fit to go formal.

“Have a seat Mister...” Lorenzo trailed off slightly, “or would you prefer Major Udalov?”

“I resigned and am therefore no longer a Major. There’s no need for the formality.”

“I’m Pieri Lorenzo, Director of Section 2 here in Special Ops.” the Director motioned to a blond man, the epitome of formal at the SWA, standing beside the desk. He was, as expected, wearing a suit. “I believe you’ve met Jean Croce, our field commander.”

Jean was not impressed and did not acknowledge the Russian. Kostya nodded slightly noting a swollen lip on the Croce brother.

Lorenzo flipped through a file that he had sitting on his desk. “Konstantin Maximovich Udalov, previously a Major of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation. Three years in the regular army with two tours in Afghanistan becoming a Sergeant in the process. You then attended a higher military school in Moscow.”

“Yes, with all the turmoil and unrest nearing the fall of the Soviet Union, I felt it was better to attend school to become a commissioned officer. If nothing else it guaranteed me a future in the reformed military. I returned and was offered a position in the Spetsnaz GRU.”

“Your file shows the 16th Detached Special Operations Brigade. You were deployed during the First and Second Chechen Wars and the Invasion of Dagestan. Promoted to Captain during the First Chechen War. You were passed over for Major once before, why is that?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the specifics but, I ‘creatively’ refused orders during the Second Chechen War. I recall saying ‘I’m a soldier, not a butcher’ to my COs to no avail and I wound up blacklisted by some of the higher-ups.” Jean did not look impressed at the words “refused orders”, visibly resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Luckily Kostya had garnered some support from less hardline commanders and would see Major before he resigned. Corruption was still a problem in Russia, despite the fall of the USSR.

Then again these Italians knew all about corruption.

Chapter 2
Spoiler:

Earlier in the day a Russian supply convoy had been ambushed by some thirty Chechen separatist militants. Kostya’s Spetsnaz unit was nearby and assisted the convoy in repelling the attackers, afterwards receiving orders to follow the militants as they retreated.

A second force of militants surprised them and another battle erupted. The Spetsnaz successfully prevented the second group from attacking the convoy but, two of Kostya’s three squads were separated from him. From those two squads his Starshina (Sergeant Major) was killed and two others wounded. This left him an eight man squad, a pair of two man sniper teams and himself.

The forest that his squad was hiding in provided a calm backdrop considering the fighting they had already done that day. The sound of the river was soothing, as if trying to carry the soldier’s worries away in its flow. Combined, the two were almost enough to make someone forget the situation were it not for the smell of gunpowder and artillery explosives lingering in the air.

Kostya breathed deeply as he pondered whether the scent drifted passively in the light breeze or if it followed the men like an ominous cloud. Either way, the aroma relaxed him more than his surroundings.

“Get command on the phone.” Kostya ordered the radioman. The soldier played with the frequency before handing him the handset.

“Fyodor, this is Boris one.” He called his commander. It wasn’t actually his commander. During the convoy defense he was put under the command of a Podpolkovnik (Lieutenant Colonel) Rogachova who was in charge of the supply battalion.

“This is Fyodor, send.” The voice on the other end replied quickly.

“We’ve followed the attackers to the farming village of Kokadoy. Estimate up to 30 combatants and 50 civilians in the village, including women and children.”

“Destroy them quickly, teach them that their blatant attack on federal troops will not be tolerated.” Kostya recognized the Lieutenant Colonel more from the ridiculous orders he was given than the sound of his voice.

If he was to go ahead they would have to forgo any thought of reducing collateral damage in favor of a lightning fast attack. “I have a single squad with me. My other two are tied up fighting the second group of attackers. I don’t have the manpower to make the assault without risking civilian casualties.”

Rogachova was an old school thinker, still clinging to the ideals of the old Soviet Union. That era was gone and the Russian military was suffering from both a massive funding shortage and a lack of experienced soldiers. He thought that the Russian forces could beat anything. Kostya’s men were some of the best trained and equipped in Russia but, nobody was that good.

“If it is going to be an issue, send the coordinates to the artillery battery. They can deal with the traitors. We cannot leave them to continue to attack my convoys.” Rogachova was obviously getting impatient.

“With all due respect, I am a soldier not a butcher.” The Captain began despite the feeling that he might regret that statement later. “Either course of action will result in significant civilian casualties. I recommend waiting for more support or for the militants to leave the town, preferably both.”

“You should choose your words more wisely, Kapitan. These rebels are the butchers and anyone harboring them is no different. Eliminate them quickly, that is all.”

They aren’t harboring them, for Christ sakes. If anything, they were hostages. There was no way that Kostya could call for fire support, it would be a massacre. The Russian military had been bombarding cities thought to be holding separatist supporters since the First Chechen War. He had seen the Capitol of Grozny, practically leveled, and he wouldn’t be the cause of another such incident. The civilian victims would be photographed and recorded then used as martyrs in the propaganda against Russia.

“Yes, Podpolkovnik, we will handle it. Boris one out.”

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“The Podpolkovnik is making a big deal out of this. He’s claiming you disobeyed orders and something about you inferring he was a butcher.” The voice was stern, the air of many years of command experience evident in each word.

Kostya remained silent, not entirely sure what to say. The two men were walking through the historic area around The Kremlin and Red Square. To Kostya the massive structures and walls of Presidential Residence seemed to loom ominously overhead.

“Podpolkovnik Rogachova is a butcher. A butcher to the honour of the Russian Army at any rate but, you know it is completely out of line for you to say that. What happened Konstantin? Speak freely.”

Kostya finally spoke. “I didn’t call him a butcher nor did I infer it. I said that I wasn’t a butcher, inferring, if anything, that I would not needlessly risk civilians. How many innocents did we kill? Artillery strikes and fuel-air explosives used against armies, fine, but cities and towns, it sickens me that I’m tied to any of it.”

“I also in no way disobeyed any orders. Rogachova told me to destroy them quickly. How was I supposed to know his interpretation of the word quickly?”

He knew that both statements were lies. Kostya did think that the Lieutenant Colonel was a butcher and he knew that the assault was supposed to commence immediately. Instead he had waited for six hours and spared the civilians.

Polkovnik (Colonel) Radomir Tupikov and Kostya were long time associates and Kostya had the utmost respect for him. Not something that could be said for all the officers of the Army. Despite the fact that Tupikov outranked Kostya in the chain of command, age and experience the respect was deservedly returned.

Tupikov, a Captain at the time, was the commanding officer of Kostya’s mechanized company in Afghanistan and had personally recommended that he be promoted to Sergeant. After Kostya completed officer school, Tupikov, by then a Major, had suggested that the Lieutenant join the Spetsnaz and avoid the army which was suffering within the Russian Federation. They remained close for the entirety of Kostya’s career, the junior relying on the elder’s wisdom and the senior benefitting from the younger’s excellent hands-on work.

“You should be able to avoid a court-martial easily,” the Colonel reassured Kostya. “but that won’t stop Rogachova and his supporters from causing problems for you in the future. These days it does not take much to hold up a promotion or move someone to a unit somewhere in Siberia.”

Kostya’s heart sank and the cold seemed to pierce into his soul. The military was all he had known and he wasn’t sure what to do outside it. He had a degree from officer’s school but he’d never been interested in using it. Even though he had a family, the army was still his home.

“Don’t worry about it, Kapitan, I’ll see what I can do to make things right. You’ll make Major yet.”

Chapter 3
Spoiler:

Director Lorenzo reached the end of Kostya’s file. He closed it and continued.

“We’re offering you work. It’s not exactly the combat work you’ve been doing but, you are suited for it. When the need arises we work with the GIS counter terrorism unit similar to your FSB Alpha and Vympel units. Chances are you’ve worked with the FSB in Chechnya.”

Kostya confirmed with a nod.

The Director continued. “A recent operation with the GIS was nothing short of a disaster. It highlighted some deficiencies in our tactics, training and intelligence. As part of changes to our section, we’d like to bring you on board. We want to bring more personnel with first hand combat experience directly into Section 2 instead of relying on units like the GIS to support us and provide our advanced training. The SWA is looking to become more self sufficient.”

“So why don’t you recruit people from the GIS?”

“Most members in the GIS, and other counter terrorism units for that matter, are quite happy where they are. Consistent jobs with at decent paycheck. You have a background dealing with sensitive information and, of course, you are also no longer employed so we felt that you might be more interested in our proposition.”

The detail about sensitive information almost seemed more like a warning than a statement. He had seen two of the cyborgs plus the one in the video. Even though he could obviously safeguard confidential information, agencies like the SWA were not known for letting people go with their secrets.

I wonder if Colonel Tupikov could get me out of this. Even if he could, a house fire, car accident or random mugging might be waiting around any corner to silence Kostya. Maybe the Italians would just label him a traitor and have him arrested… again.

Kostya had obviously been silent for a while as Lorenzo had had decided to speak again. “What exactly brought you to Italy? If you don’t mind me asking.” Jean and Kostya both looked puzzled. The Director must really have been overloaded with work to ask a question like that. It certainly would have been in the file.

Jean reopened the file on the Director’s desk, pointing to one of the lines. “L'incidente a Frosinone,” Jean spoke in Italian. “Il bombardamento di Carabinieri della stazione.”

“Oh, I see… I’m terribly sorry. Our job protecting Italians can have far reaching effects, as can the resulting backlash.” The Director apologized. “I’m sure you’ve heard this already but, we are doing everything within our power to find those responsible. If you accept our offer, you will get a chance to assist, although you’ll have to understand that won’t be your only assignment.”

Kostya brushed off the comment. He both hoped and doubted that everything within their power was enough. “What exactly will my job responsibilities be? You mentioned that it wouldn’t be combat work.”

“The handlers do not participate in ‘high-risk’ combat situations so you will work primarily with the cyborgs. Train them to work more coherently in larger squads. Most of our operations occur in urban environments so focus on building assaults, room clearing and trap detection. Also if we can bring together enough combat veterans, we may be looking to form squads with them.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to stick to cyborg squads?” Kostya asked. Surely it did not make sense to risk human lives. “That is why they were developed, is it not?”

The Director looked visibly stressed as he contemplated the question. “The cyborgs are exceptional however, they are also prohibitively expensive. Political pressure as well as competition from other agencies is forcing us to cut our budget. We don’t have the funds to build large numbers of them and we have to accept that the first generation is reaching the end of their operational lifespan. We’ll have no choice but to use counter terrorist, special police, spec-ops and regular army members in situations where we need more manpower. We would prefer them to be internal troops to reduce our exposure and our dependence on outside help.”

“By improving Section 2’s overall usefulness to the government, you will increase your allocation of the budget correct?” It was a fairly obvious question. Kostya had posed it more as a test.

“Yes but, not entirely. Our primary goal is to protect the citizens of Italy and by extension the security of Italy itself. Terrorist activities harm a great many people and most of them are civilians, like your family. By being effective at our goal we warrant an increased budget but, the budget, the research, the medical advancements, they are all secondary.”

They passed.

Chapter 4
Spoiler:

Kostya drove calmly along the Ryazanski prospect towards Moscow. The Lada 112 was purring moderately at cruising speed, seemingly happy to be out and about in the spring weather. The 112 was far from a premium vehicle and hardly befitted the Russian Captain. He’d bought it to save money so that he could provide for his daughter.

His daughter, Veronika, sat in the passenger seat quietly. The smile on her face was quite obvious, after all she was on a trip with her father and that meant only one thing, shopping.

Kostya probably spent too much money on her but he was ok with it. It made her happy and, at fifteen years old, she didn’t want much to do with her parents anyway. Her rebellious attitude would cause the father and daughter to get into frequent spats of yelling. Shopping was the most prudent way he could show his love and Veronika, those familiar with her called her Nika, found her need for love from her father sated by the activity.

Now if only that would work on her mother, Kostya thought as he exited the highway and drove past the Moscow Theater on Taganke, the big red Pomme Café marking the intersection. He continued into downtown Moscow a feat most people avoided, instead using the extensive system of public busses and subways. Kostya preferred to drive, his car remained parked for long periods while he was working for the military and it needed to stretch its legs from time to time.

He found parking around the corner from the GUM, phonetically pronounced goom in English. The pair exited the car and walked to the mall. The GUM was a massive two story plaza with ornate archways as entrances for each of the shops. Bridges with elaborate railings connected the two walkways running lengthwise on the second floor and the huge glass with metal reinforcement skylight that ran the entirety of the plaza let in so much light that one could easily forget that they were indoors.

The GUM was more of a tourist attraction than a shopping mall and most Russian citizens could not afford to shop there at all. In fact Kostya could only afford to buy his daughter a few items but, she loved to shop there, wearing what she received and becoming the envy of her friends.

“You’re not putting too much pressure on your mother are you?” Kostya asked.

“No,” Nika replied, “I’m doing well at school and I help her around the house. I spend a lot of time with my friends so she doesn’t have to worry about me.”

She was smart and had a knack for understanding the feelings of others. Even her clothes reflected this. She was wearing a pair of loosely fitting jeans, a black t-shirt and bright orange vest. A far cry from some of the racier outfits that were popular with the girls her age. Knowing Kostya’s wishes she dressed more conservatively around him but, her picks while out shopping gave away the fact that she also knew what was popular with her friends. As long as he didn’t see it on her, Kostya was willing to give it a pass.

“It’s too bad you can’t come on vacation with Mom and I. Mom wants to visit Italy, Germany, France and Spain.”

“Yeah…” He trailed off, looking at the ground. Kostya’s wife, Maryana, had been given time off from work shortly after he was being deployed to Chechnya. He was less than thrilled about the poor timing.

He raised his head in time to notice her fiddling around in the pocket of her jeans. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Veronika pulled the item out and showed it to her father. It was a Medal "For Distinction in Military Service" 2nd class that he had received in Afghanistan during his first tour with the Russian Army. The “distinction” he had received it for was a joke, a publicity stunt to improve troop morale, and he refused to keep it in his collection. He’d given it to her as a keepsake.

“You still carry that thing around?”

“Yes of course,” she gave him a disapproving look. “I need something to remember you by when you are gone away. I always carry it when we are out shopping too. It brings me good luck when I’m looking for nice items.”

“I’m sorry that I have to be gone so much but, I…”

“Yeah, I know,” she cut him short. “you have to work to support the family. Mom sometimes nags me, which is annoying but understandable. You’re easier to deal with. Now perk up, buttercup, I want to shop.”

The rest of their shopping excursion went smoothly. She picked out a couple of stylish skirts that were probably just a tad too short and two blouses that likely could have had a higher neckline but, Kostya was hardly in the mood to argue. His time with his daughter was limited and they argued enough as it was.

They walked back to the car and Veronika caught herself on the side of the building, putting a two inch tear in her jeans.

“Дерьмо!!!” she exclaimed.

“Veronika Konstantinovna Udalov, how many times do I have to tell you to watch your language?” Kostya shot back in an irritated tone.

“I’m sorry dad but, these were new jeans.” And I know you approve of them, she thought as she looked at him with a sad face.

Kostya was immune to her puppy-dog eyes, but he always gave in anyway. “Fine, I’ll buy you a new pair on the way back. They aren’t from the GUM are they?” He held his breath and imagined holding his wallet waiting for the answer.

“No, they’re from a shop near the apartment.”

He sighed with relief and they continued the trip home.


Last edited by overkill13 on Sun 19 Dec 2010 - 23:19; edited 6 times in total (Reason for editing : Adding chapters.)

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A question... Have you ever been tremendously sad, but the tears won't come out?... That's how I feel right now. My heart is overflowing with tears, but they just won't come out of my eyes. At night, when I'm asleep, they quietly spill out onto the pillow without my noticing.

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by Professor Voodoo on Fri 17 Dec 2010 - 4:36

Well written; you have me wondering if one of them will become your handler or cyborg. I guess we'll have to wait to find out...

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by theprodigalson on Fri 17 Dec 2010 - 11:42

A good intro! Keep em coming.

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by Alfisti on Fri 17 Dec 2010 - 12:01

Rolling along nicely so far mate...

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by overkill13 on Sat 18 Dec 2010 - 22:12

Added the second chapter. See the original post.

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A question... Have you ever been tremendously sad, but the tears won't come out?... That's how I feel right now. My heart is overflowing with tears, but they just won't come out of my eyes. At night, when I'm asleep, they quietly spill out onto the pillow without my noticing.

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by Kiskaloo on Sat 18 Dec 2010 - 23:48

I'm guessing there is going to be a flashback chapter to bridge the story gap?

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by overkill13 on Sun 19 Dec 2010 - 0:47

Yes and no. There are a few flashback chapters but none that tie directly to Ch1. There will be one that explains how Kostya wound up at the SWA including Jean's fat lip and the next chapter details how "creative" Kostya was. I keep wanting to put that first chapter somewhere else but, it just doesn't fit. I might find a spot for it later and change the chapters around.

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A question... Have you ever been tremendously sad, but the tears won't come out?... That's how I feel right now. My heart is overflowing with tears, but they just won't come out of my eyes. At night, when I'm asleep, they quietly spill out onto the pillow without my noticing.

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Re: From Revenge To Redemption

Post by overkill13 on Sun 19 Dec 2010 - 17:41

I've come up with a spot for the original chapter 1 (now chapter ??). Also added two more chapters.

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A question... Have you ever been tremendously sad, but the tears won't come out?... That's how I feel right now. My heart is overflowing with tears, but they just won't come out of my eyes. At night, when I'm asleep, they quietly spill out onto the pillow without my noticing.

overkill13

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