Death Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO:



“Wake that little bitch up,” the last Russian said as he entered the cramped cell. It was clear from the collection of medals, insignias, stars and patches on his uniform—and the ferocity with which he talked—that he was more powerful than the other seven, who were glaring menacingly at the helpless girls.



Ashley noticed that this Russian’s facial features were all too familiar: she recognized the scar across his eye, and the intensity with which his eyes seemed to bore into you, yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she had seen him. She thought she might have seen him in one of the old case files she had dug out of her father’s office after his arrest, but her memory was failing her. A Russian strolled over to the young sleeping girl casually, and slapped her across the face as hard as he could. Droplets of blood, sparkling in the fluorescent light, beaded on her cheek from beneath the surface. She awoke instantly, and for a fraction of a second, she sat wide-eyed, shocked by what had happened. Then the tears began pouring from her eyes, rolling down the girl’s cheeks, and smearing the blood across her face as if it were makeup. Chastity picked her up, and placed the girl in her lap, rocking her back and forth, a look of defiant horror on her face.



“Listen up you little American sluts!” the leader screamed. His voice sent shivers down Chastity’s spine as he peered across the room darkly making eye contact with every one of them except Makenna. “My name is Mikhail Nichev, commander of the Russian Special Forces, three star general in the Soviet Red Army, and loyal patriot to the Motherland. Welcome to the last place you’ll ever visit. Quite unfortunate, really . . . Your uncle refused to accept the ceasefire agreement we offered earlier today, and he refused once again when we offered him a second treaty following your kidnapping. He has left us no other choice but to slowly and brutally kill every single one of you, one by one as your deaths are broadcast live to the United States.” He paused, a sickening smile grew across his leathery face as the girls’ eyes grew wide at his horrible proclamation.



“You haven’t much time left,” he concluded, gazing casually at his wristwatch. “I suggest you spend it wisely.” He turned sharply and exited the room, his boots clicking echoed behind him in the eerie silence throughout the building. The other Russians turned and followed him out of the room, the tumblers of the door locking once again behind them. 



Makenna’s tears rolled down her face like aqueous gems; each individual drop sprinted down her face then hit the mattress with a soft thud. In fact, she was more upset with herself for allowing the guards to see her weak, than she was upset at the guard who had slapped her. She truly was her father’s daughter. Her cheek was glowing red, and throbbing with pain; the marks of four fingers lay clearly visible across the surface of the skin. To her sisters she was still the baby of the family. But they had had no time to react, and nobody knew how they would have reacted if given the chance.



“’Kenna,” Chastity said pushing her soft hair away from her face, “please don’t cry.” There was nothing she could do to at least ease her pain, and it made her sick to her stomach.



“I’m sorry Chasee,” Makenna replied softly. “You must really think I’m a baby,” she muttered. Ashamed, she buried her face into her sister’s shoulder, and sniffled slightly, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.



“Hell no,” Chastity responded looking her baby sister right in the eyes and smiling. “Kenna, you are anything but a baby, your probably the strongest girl here, anyone of us would have started crying as soon as that guy smacked us, but you managed to show how strong you are, you held off until you were with us. You’re just like daddy, and daddy would be really proud of you, I know I am. Don’t say sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, that stupid jerk did, and when daddy gets here he is going to show that loser what happens when you mess with his baby girl.”



“But Chasee,” Makenna said softly, “I thought you didn’t think daddy was coming.”



“Daddy’s coming,” Chastity said firmly. “Daddy’s coming, because he loves us very much, and won’t let anything happen to us.”



Chastity put her back on the bed and tucked her in. “Now go back to sleep . . . I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again. You need to get some sleep, because this is going to be one long night.



“Goodnight everyone,” she yawned and closed her eyes; she was exhausted.



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Warden Braxton, truly in awe that he was sharing a room with the President himself, showed his guests to their table smiling broadly.  “He’ll be with you shortly,” the warden said flashing his ivory-white crowns. “Unfortunately, this might take a little longer than it usually does . . . obviously these are much different circumstances, and he just assaulted one of our guards. He’s currently up in solitary; that means clearing his release is going to take more time, and a lot of paperwork, even if it is at the President’s request . . . However, we started the process as soon as you called, so it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”



“Unfortunately we don’t have very much time,” Sophia added. She often brought Death’s children to the prison with Sam or Sakura, and the staff had become extremely familiar with them. This was, however, the first time the President had made a visit to the prison. “As you can tell, his daughters are not with us, and the President is . . . There is a reason we are only asking for a temporary release order.”



“You mean?” Braxton asked mustache twitching slightly as he spoke.



“She means,” the President interrupted, “that if there is a problem with our request, I will happily introduce you to the former Commander of Naval Operations at the Joint Chiefs’ headquarters; he will be glad to enlighten you on what happens to those who don’t act fast enough in times of crisis.”



“Yes sir,” Braxton said wheeling around and heading for the door. A slight look of panicked hurry flashed across his tan face. “I’ll get him in here as quickly as possible. You have nothing to worry about.”



“Actually I do . . . my nieces’ lives.”



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Vladimir Putin sat behind his desk in his personal bunker far beneath the airbase. The walls were made of six foot-thick steel-reinforced concrete walls and his chair was made of smooth Corinthian leather with polished chrome accents. The desk was massive, hand carved from glossy marble weighing several tons. The walls were covered with high-quality mahogany paneling, polished to the point they were mirror-like. Two armchairs made of the same Corinthian leather sat before the massive desk, and massive mahogany bookcases lined the right wall of the office. Exotic plants gathered from around the world surrounded an impressive granite fountain in the center of the room. His collection of abstract artwork accented the far wall, while to his left were several three inch-thick, bulletproof, one-way mirrored windows that allowed him to observe the workers preparing the underground hanger and storage facility without being seen himself. An intricately woven Persian rug lay before his desk, while directly behind him stood a massive granite fireplace complete with mahogany mantelpiece. On the wall opposite the desk stood the door to the hallway that led to Putin’s private elevator to the upper levels of the complex. The only entrance to the office was through this door (made of a carbon-steel alloy) that was remotely locked from a computer on Putin’s desk. From that single terminal, Putin had complete control of the entire base: from the auto-turret defense systems to the surveillance cameras. It took months of planning and preparation to outfit this base exactly the way Putin had envisioned it. After all, it was originally built during the Cold War as a Soviet nuclear warhead launch site, but now they had completely modernized it.



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The door swung open, and Death was escorted into the visiting room by two hulking guards, followed closely behind by the warden. He slowly made his way to his seat, his progress inhibited by his clanking shackles.



“Those won’t be necessary,” the President said, eyeing the steel chains around his brother’s ankles with contempt. Death paused, and the warden rushed over to him, fumbling with his keys. After several seconds of rapid searching, he produced the correct key, and quickly removed the leg shackles. Death smiled, relieved to be able to walk unabated again. The warden and guards turned to leave. “Would you mind bringing us something to drink?” the President asked, catching the warden off-guard.



“No sir,” the warden replied. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and left, the last guard closed the door behind them. Death took his seat at the table with a long, deep sigh, smiled, and nodded at his friends in greeting. They smiled and nodded back, but when Death looked at his brother, his warm face hardened into pure, unwavering hatred.



“You dumb son of a bitch,” he said starring his brother in the eye. “You know, you’ve got a lot of balls coming here.” After several tense seconds he broke out into his characteristic boisterous laughter. “How’ve ya been, brother?” he said as they vigorously shook each other’s hand, the President’s look of torment melting into joyous relief. “I can’t believe you’d fall for that!”



“Actually, I could,” the President replied smiling weakly.



“Actually, he did believe it,” Sophia said laughing. “He was tearing himself apart on the plane when we landed. I told him to chill, but he wouldn’t listen to me . . .”



“Kevin,” Death said placing his hand on the President’s shoulder, “you’ve never done anything wrong. In fact, all you’ve ever done was the right thing. I haven’t any reason to be angry with you . . . you’re my brother! I agreed to take the blame for Korea, ’cause that was deep shit dude. You made the right decision, but since the UN wanted to blame somebody I had to take the fall. It was either me or you, and after what happened with Makayla . . .” His voice trailed off into silent contemplation.



“The fact of the matter is you shouldn’t be here right now. I shouldn’t have blamed you for what happened to Makayla because it wasn’t your fault; you did everything you could do to save her . . . I don’t blame you for it anymore, and I never should have.” The President smiled comfortingly at his brother who was still preoccupied with the gash on his forearm he had gotten from his fight with the guard. “Unfortunately we are here on more serious business than healing family wounds . . .”



“’Figured,” Death said looking up from his wound and eyeing his visitors carefully. Their faces were grim and sorrowful, and it was at that moment he realized his daughters weren’t with them. “Oh my god . . . Where are my kids?” His body tensed, and he stood up in a flash, knocking the table backwards violently. His pulse was racing, his breathes were shallow and rapid, his eyes had grown wide like those of a madman.



“That’s what we’re here to tell you,” said Sophia, her face contorted in pained distress. It was then that he understood: something was seriously wrong.



“What the hell happened,” he said looking from his brother to Sam, Sophia then Sakura. None of them wanted to be the one to tell him what was wrong. “Come on, tell me! What’s wrong?”



“Your daughters were kidnapped early this morning,” Sam said avoiding eye contact with his best friend and comrade. Death fell back into his chair, his head went limp, and he let out a long, agonizing groan of despair.



“After a meeting with the Chiefs we determined the best—and really, the only—course of action would be to send you in alone. These are the situations where you excel. After your daughters are secure, Sophia, Saki and I will lead the rest of the Phantom Five inside to take those sons ’o bitches down.”



“What do you say Nate?” Kevin asked. “One more mission for, you know, old time’s sake?”



“What do I say?” Death repeated in amazement, his long extinguished passion burning in his eyes once more. “What the hell do you think I’m going to say? Let’s go kick some ass and get my little angels back home where they belong!”



“Just like old times,” Sakura said, noticing the passion that had been missing since he was sentenced to serve prison time. He was fired up and ready to go, and she knew what that meant: the Russians were doomed.



“Yup, just like old times.”



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“Premier Putin,” a smooth female voice called from the intercom.



“Yes, Miss Taranova?” Putin replied, quickly pressing the intercom button without removing his eyes from the monitor’s display.



“Commander Nichev is here to see you, sir,” she replied.



“Send him in.”



Putin removed his watchful gaze from the monitor and pressed a button on the master control panel concealed behind his desk. The carbon-steel door clunked as the massive mechanical bolts within it unlocked simultaneously. The knob turned and Nichev entered, his boots clicking on the stone floor as he crossed the massive office. Putin had been constantly monitoring all the security cameras awaiting the frontal assault the Americans were to launch soon. Nichev stopped abruptly before the desk, clicked his heels together, and saluted the President before returning to attention.



“Yes Mikhail?” he said, looking up from the monitor, the slightest whiff of contempt on his face at Nichev’s interruption.



“The room next door is almost complete,” Nichev replied, his face remaining as emotionless as stone. “We are ready for you to pick the order of our victims . . .”



“Ah, finally!” he said walking briskly around the desk to where Nichev stood. “It’s about time, too!” He headed for the door. Nichev pivoted and stomped after him, his boots’ characteristic clicking following him out of the bunker.



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“Ashley,” Madison said sighing. “Someone’s coming again . . .” Ashley got up from the bed and gently nudged Makenna until she awoke; she didn’t want to see her sister beaten again. Chastity reached down, picked up her semi-conscious sister, and held her in her arms, rocking her from side to side.



“Chasee,” Makenna said softly, her voice trembling as fresh tears began rolling down her soft face. “I’m scared.”



“It’s okay Makenna,” she said, her voice sincere. “I’m scared too.”