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"Ah, I have not made clear - this will never be attributed to us. We will be peace-keepers. It is what we are doing everywhere else, no one will ask any questions until it is too late."

There was never going to be a really good opportunity - there were at least 20 AK-bearing guards in the hallways with them, not to mention countless persons in uniform running around trying to get some sort of places.

Wed April 18, 2012
1315 Hours
Heavy Rain

Garabetian
Del Rosario
Price
McCulloch
Cortez
Ryan
Gurlovich
Tanner

"Oh, it will be simple," Alexandrov chuckled. "We will 'prevent a disaster like New York in April'. If America has not already pinned the blame on someone, then Russia will."

In all the bustle, only Lito noticed when someone moved up behind one of the guards, tapped him on the shoulder, and drew him into a side corridor. Only seventeen guards.

Wed April 18, 2012
1316 Hours
Heavy Rain

Garabetian
Del Rosario
Price
McCulloch
Cortez
Ryan
Gurlovich
Tanner

"Well, yeah, but what the hell are you going to do with the country once you control it?" Devin pointed out.

Alexandrov started, "We will milk it, we will spread your riches to our nation-" and then Jack spoke. And spit. Alexandrov cooly wiped the spit off his coat jacket. "Russia has changed since you left it, apparently. I am Spetznaz. Russia is already behind me."

Another three guards disappeared with a different man, but still only Lito noticed. Fourteen now.

Wed April 18, 2012
1317 Hours
Heavy Rain

Garabetian
Del Rosario
Price
McCulloch
Cortez
Ryan
Gurlovich
Tanner

((Venom?))

Then ten.

Then six.

Then two.

Then the man returned. Lito was beginning to realize, even in his peripheral vision, that it was the same man every time. This time, though, he wasn't leaving. Lito turned his head a little to see who it was; the man was wearing a balaclava, but he was tall and thick. Tall... and thick... and blue eyes, rather familiar blue eyes...

"Hands up," Paul snapped as soon as they rounded a lesser-frequented corner. Alexandrov groaned.

"You can't be serious. You managed to get away from Sakharov?"

"Pavel screwed up, and if he's not dead it'll be a miracle," Paul snapped. "So get the hands up and make the guards give the guns to my guys. Lito, Devin, Gurlovich, here," he told them, tossing each of them AKs. "We'll stop by their lockers and get you your own weapons in a second, right?" He paused. "Alexandrov, keys please,"

Alexandrov slowly, slowly turned around, looking hideously furious. In his right hand he held... well, they weren't car keys, that was for sure. He tossed them to Paul's feet; Paul crouched and picked up the keys. "Sub keys. Fantastic," he chuckled. "We're riding out in style."

"Absolutely. Uhm..." He patted himself down. "No rope here... Just knock out the guards. Well, and Alexandrov. That'll be worth it I think," he grinned. Alexandrov groaned again.

"I will not forget this. The Spetznaz will not forget this."

"I hope you don't forget," Paul returned. "A good solid butt-whipping like this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing."

Voices were coming, though. "Hurry it up," Paul advised. "We've gotta get back down to the stream. Once we're in the sub, I'll start... really explaining things. You guys have been thrown into this way too hard and you deserve a little more information on what it is we're fighting."

((No status bar because I'm on mah laptooooooooop))