"It seems like you had quite the enjoyment here. Did it fulfill your lust for blood?"
Pain, Rayne, and Venator turned to see their companions Pin and Bane stride over to them amid the blood and carnage. The final peach-colored rays of the setting sun gave out as darkness covered the sky above. In a matter of seconds, a slight drizzle began to rain down lukewarm droplets onto the dirt that held the bloody remains of the GRU troops and the twisted and mangled remains of their vehicles. Rayne faced the two approaching acolytes as they stepped over the corpses of the dead Soviets.
"I was going to say the same thing about you both. Did you get everyone?"
"Well, the insurgents got their share and we joined in on the feast a tad bit tardy," Bane responded, the rain rolling down his mask. "However, two got away. It was all thanks to one agent who didn't show the faintest hint of fear as he faced off against us. Pin put up a great fight, but he didn't expect the tenacious resilience of that one agent."
Venator sheathed his weapon. "I take it you haven't as well since he escaped while you were present?"
"You got me there." The bone-masked acolyte chuckled. "However, this only emboldens me to hunt this one mortal down and execute him by my own hands to win back my dignity."
"I'd like to dispute that." Pin turned his eyeless barred mask toward his fellow acolyte. "The pleasure should be mine."
"Don't forget about us," Pain chimed in.
"Your petty squabbles don't matter to the Master. He has other plans in store for us."
The five turned to see a feminine figure clad in metallic black saunter over toward them. A bright red line shone from where her eyes were supposedly located in her mask as she arrived. Behind her, a whisp that was hovering expanded until it grew into a form, one they had recognized as the Pale Operator.
---
"How are you holding up, tamarisch?"
As he leaned onto the more experienced agent for support, Petro Danilenko glanced backward toward the village, seeing the bright light of the blazing remains of what used to be their vehicle. The glowing silhouette of the vehicle's skeleton reminded him of a lantern. The sight sort of enthralled him for several seconds, but the realization that it was what had disoriented their enemy was disquieting .
Ironically, it saved our lives. Unfortunately, the enemy is still out there.
"I am fine," the young agent sputtered. "I would be better if we got as far away from this hellhole as possible. Those masked beings are still lurking about. They really give me the creeps."
Maxin sighed. "That makes the two of us. I have radioed the nearest KGB base and I have informed them of our present predicament. They should send a chopper soon. The LZ is several miles southwest of here."
Petro let out a groan. "Great, we have to go all that way to reach safety? How do you know we won't be ambushed on the way by those freaks or the insurgents if not both?"
His partner smiled sheepishly. "Relax, you got me, the Mighty Max, to watch out for you. On a serious note, you have a legitimate concern. An ambush is possible so we need to be vigilant and make haste."
Rolling his eyes, the young agent knew he had to put up with the older agent's hubris and stupid jokes, but he had an important point. They needed to hightail it out of the open before they encountered any more of those masked beings.
"How many of those things are there? Just exactly what are they?"
Max glanced downward with a frown as the wind tossed his hair around. "That is what I would like to know. Perhaps Leonidovich, Dragunov, and Zaitsev have some information that they aren't divulging. I guess it is a game for them and we are the players."
It wasn't long until the duo saw their ride silhouetted against the blackening sky. As the wind picked up, Petro took it as a sign that they needed to hustle their butts out of this godforsaken land.
---
"Can insurgents really do this?"
Plekhanov turned to his partner, Fyodor Borodin, as they sifted through the mangled remains of men and vehicles of the GRU that littered the abandoned grave road. The brushes were stained with dark substances as body parts, twisted metal, and corpses occupied their vicinity. The older agent cleared his throat and started to answer his partner's query.
"One might think so, but do you spot any telltale signs of explosions or gunshots? Like any charred ground or spent bullets?"
The young man raised his light green eyes at Plekhanov and shook his head.
"Well, there you go. It appears that our quarry has ambushed our troops to send us some kind of message. I have doubts it had carried it out alone."
Borodin glanced around, a bit jittery. "I have doubts they are truly gone. They may be spying on us as we speak, awaiting the perfect moment to lay an ambush when the time is right."
"Ah, wise words, partner. Now that we have surveyed the damage, we will return to base. The phantoms aren't the only threat we face. The hostile locals may come here to scavenge for any material they could get their filthy hands on. We will take what confidential hardware we can and beat it."
Borodin nodded. "What will the media say about this incident?"
Plekhanov smiled. "I think you know by now how well the Politburo covers up losses to save face. We don't need the public in a panic now, do we?"
---
"How did you fare in the region? I take it the locals didn't take too kindly to your intrusion onto their land?"
As the agent entered the Nest, Colonel Zaitsev whirled around to face Maxim Fyodorov, chomping on a cigar. The field agent could bet thousands that the cigar was Cuban. He cleared his throat before sitting down on the magenta-cushioned chair across from the director.
"Mind pouring me a drink? I need one."
"I'll be much obliged to." Zaitsev took out a cask of Chardonnay and poured a glass for Max. "I have some news for you. Before I send you to various locations in Siberia, I will let you know that Tolstoy was captured by Dragunov's lackeys."
Max nearly choked on his drink. After he finished his coughing fit, he turned to face his superior. "Lenin's balls! What are we doing about it?"
Zaitsev raised his hand. "Fear not, we have secured his release, but we can't send him back to the field as his identity has been compromised. Dragunov's boys are really sharp."
"No kidding." Max frowned. "How soon do you want to send me to Siberia? Is there anything over in that freezer that can assist us in defeating the phantoms? If so, I am all in! Granted, I take a long shower and a nap first."
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