Rimanoa

The collapse of a three-story empire

8:46 a.m. Aug. 16.

Surprisingly enough, we made it to the walls and, after climbing over the fence, to the doors of the mansion without adventure (there were two doors, one had #1 and #2, the other had the rest).

The instruments of attack played — I kicked the door off to I don't know what mother, we flew in like butterflies, shrieking and knocking over everyone and everything in our path.

Nothing made the billets of defense — the corpses of the guards remained where my or, at the very least, not my cannon found them. It gave the impression that we were Vandals, and they were poor and rich, peaceful and warlike, weak and strong… the inhabitants of Rome.

From the large hall connected to the entrance, there was a wide corridor turning to the right and left (Nos. 1, 2 were distributed accordingly). After running a few meters and shooting three of the defenders, I crouched down to transfer into the house (it could be a soul running around like a rabbit, and the body is still around that corner). Marlboro followed suit.

Transported to "Rome," I was able to see what I saw. It wasn't a long, greasy corridor, flanked by doors that hadn't yet been smashed open by some barbarian.

О! Here is one opening, and there is someone's "pumpkin", already broken by my bullet (just in case, this time the armor-piercing ones were in the clip). "Pumpkin" and everything else fell, fell, crashed, whatever you want, from the top to the foot. The foot (that is, the carpet) crumpled, the sculpture standing next to it staggered, but I remained as calm as ever and went on, going into each room in turn.

The scheme of penetration is not complicated: I take the door to the same mother, Polazzi covers, I break into the room, Polazzi closes the rear; sometimes a standard hand grenade flew in.

In one sat something like a scientist (deemed unnecessary, so dead), in the second empty, in the third two (one with a machine gun, one with a bat) killed by me.

The corridor at the end again became "crowded". The Italians had to split up: me to the right, Marlboro to the left.

My move turned out to be quite pretty: the floor turned into a staircase going down, the walls, with a distance of 66 centimeters between each other (I have an excellent eye gauge), flowed with nasty yellow liquid, but there was only one door sitting there. Near it I stopped to reload Nikonov (better to do it in front of the door than behind it), and then it opens, and behind it "ace" with a barrel.

I grabbed the knife on my belt and delivered a hard overhead stab with a reverse grip at the opener. He staggered, and I thought that wasn't enough and stabbed him with my knee. The victim fell to the bare concrete with a fountain of his own blood.

Behind him, a whole torture room opened up…..

The empty "Shed" resembled Jack the Ripper's apartment, more blood on the many chained bodies on the tables than on the keeper I'd just slaughtered, but this is the terminus station, so it's best to head back.

I returned to the place where the group had split up and walked toward Polazzi. His path was much nicer than mine: three creatures could fit through the opening. But he had more work to do, with bodies lying here and there, and, uh, wait a minute, that's him.

HE — Marlboro, not sure what he was doing on the carpet. No, I get it— lying there with two holes in his torso.

I leaned over, took my pulse, and whispered: "Buddy, are you okay?" Even though his pulse was ticking, my friend was silent: he probably didn't have long to live.

I made a quick call to Rog: "Doc, can you hear me, Doc?" — nothing, I contacted Konstantin: "Con, I've got — Con, Con!" Nothing but hisses. "Yeah, where are you all?!" — I yelled into the comms. The Ghost responded: "Commander, why are you making so much noise?"

"You, where are you?"

"Some hallway, wait, that's not you crouched there. I'm about to shoot a lamp standing

a meter away from you "

"What, what…I don't get it HELLO, HELLO, HELLO!!!"

There was a shot, from which the lamp that was resting near me exploded into a hundred of its kind. "Who's messing around?", — I thought and said into the radio, — "Wait, there's someone messing around".

"Who's messing around? Is that how the lamp broke?" "What lamp…oh yeah how do you know?"

"So I'm her. "

"What are you hers?" "Shattered."

"How?"

"By gunshot, WOW!!!"

I looked closely, saw Lüttwitz crouching twenty-five meters from me, stood up and shouted: "Come here now, there are wounded!".

After a short "cross", I was asked where he was, the wounded man. I pointed to the unconscious Polazzi: "You take care of him, and I'll find out what happened to the others.

I ran the fork, parting group #1, then #1 with #2 and headed after the second group, their road also divided (this time my choice lay in favor of the left side).

The same picture, but now he (Emilien Roge) was dead…..

Eyes open, crouched posture, in his hand a cleaver stuck in the throat of his own killer, holding a Barracuda (a Belgian six-shot revolver). The Frenchman died of a bullet wound to the head…..

Taking off my beret, I honored the Norman (he was born there) with a 30 second silence (time is short).

But at least now I can see why the last one didn't answer…..

After trying once again to contact Konstantin and making sure no one was answering, I raced to the "Russian proxy neighborhood."

There were more dead there than in all the other zones combined (it's always like that with Russians). But I couldn't see any Russians, so I bellowed into the radio: "Danila, Konstantin, over!!!" This response came through: "Commander, this is Danila, as you can hear me, ko "

"Why haven't you been in touch?!" "Was she?"

"Was!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"No, really?"

"No, I was kidding Answer the question!"

"Commander, there was no communication "

"What do you mean it wasn't, what are you weaving?!" "Pure Truth."

"So what's the deal?" "Well… I don't know "

"Are you all right?"

"I do, Konstantin probably does too, we parted ways on the last corner about five minutes ago "

"QUICK TO HIM!!! You got it, TO HIM!!!"

"Perfectly understood…already on my way to look for it "

I myself was looking at the stairs going up and decided to check what was there. The staircase had about twenty steps that did not crack.

So shots went off, the thing is, one "devil" took up a defense at the entrance to the

second floor. He ended up with his head blown off.

I looked out and, not seeing a "soul", decided to take a break from the eternal running and fighting. And then the walkie-talkie ranted: "Commander, this is Salvatore, the first floor is ours!"

"Great, get to the second one." "Okay "

"What's up with you and Konstantin?" "The bullet hit the radio, but Emilien "

"I know, I know Tell Kon to look at all the bodies."

"Okay "

"What's wrong with Frank?"

"Because of the body armor, only bruises, he can continue the operation "

"Let him help Konstantin. Over and out."

The second floor appeared to be in the state of one large room, or rather hall, in which no one appeared.

"The second floor is taken, commander," Carlo informed me, standing a few feet away from me and from the stairs to the third floor, along with the rest of the team, except for the "gravedigger" Constantine and the dead Emilien. "Yes I can see that," I snapped back, " — Upstairs take everyone alive.

"I see."

We started moving to the finishing floor, the staircase, which this time was not guarded by any smart guy. And on the whole floor there was only one guard… uh… and where is the one we came for? Maybe we missed him somewhere… And the one in the robe… I got in touch with Konstantin: "Kon, look at the first room to the right from the fork of the corridor… uh… the main entrance".

"Just looked…"

"And, what…"

"Commander, look —" Danila interrupted me. "Con, wait… What else is there?"

"The steel ladder upstairs in the closet."

"Go up and check it out. So… so, what's up, Con?" "George Harrison's citizen's passport…"

"George Harrison?" "Yes."

Obviously he's the brother of the target, but, where is the target himself? "Ah, what's with the guards then?"

"They have FBI agent IDs… WARNING! WARNING…" "Hey, what the hell is that?!"

"Looks like cops."

"Frank, Con, grab Rog's body and fly here!!! On three!!!"

"Commander, there's a helipad…," — Danila returned. Now it was clear how the object had disappeared from the house.

"Very well! When your brother and Polazzi come up with Roja's body, lock the doors on the stairs! Afterward, go upstairs and don't forget to bandage the guard and close the closet (the guard couldn't see our faces, so he had a tangible chance of staying alive)." "Good."

I climbed to the roof through a closet, and once there, I opened my laptop to contact the base, "We have a problem, send a helicopter to the roof right away."

"The helicopter will arrive in twelve minutes."

"This is FBI Agent Betterer speaking, surrender, the building is surrounded!!!" — came a man's voice from downstairs, next to the sirens.

I decided to stall for time, so I called back in a muffled voice, "We have 26 of your employees hostage, as well as George Garrison!!!"

"What do you want?"

"Forty million dollars! I'll give you an hour!" "Okay, we'll get the money."

"Here's proof that we're not kidding!!! — I turned to Shock, who was standing next to me, "Carlo, bring me a dead body.

The body was there in twenty seconds. After counting two bullet holes in the body and firing two shots into the air, I walked to the ledge and threw the body away (nice trick, wasn't it).

"Well, how is it?"

"I hear you, please no more!"

"I won't if none of your people go near the doors of the building!!!! (I remembered the pieces of wood smashed to incomprehensible pieces of wood)"

"No one's coming up."

Then "came" the Bulatovs, the Marlboro, the dead Rye, the Ghost. "Did you lock the closet and the doors?"

"Yes."

"Good."

A helicopter's here.