Third Person - Complete

K-K-K-Killing Spree!

It was raining outside the heavy Russian cargo truck, the rain pattering on the armored shell with a steady rhythm that would be comforting at any other time. Junior Sergeant Sokolov sat in the back with the bound Americans, holding tight to his battle rifle and staring at the Americans. The Beast was awake, sitting on the fold-down bench, ignoring the moans of pain from the wounded Americans around her. The only one that wasn't moving was Chernobog, who was securely tied, that one red eye watching everything, the other eye closed.

The Beast was secured with a rifle behind her back, held by her bent elbows, her hands bound in front of her. She was sitting next to Stepan Sokolov, her braid hanging down almost to the bed of the truck she just stared at. Her feet weren't tied, she'd had to walk to the truck because she couldn't be carried.

There wasn't enough of us left to carry them, Stepan thought grimly.

Three trucks, one for prisoners, two to carry the Spetsnaz troops, that had been the plan.

One truck was full of the dead, the other had the American prisoners with Sergeant Stepan Sokolov and Senior Sergeant Heinrich Moritz guarding them. The remainder of the still alive Spetsnaz were driving the vehicles, the wounded, like Captain Lobanov, were riding as passengers in the vehicles.

A platoon. A whole platoon, and it almost wasn't enough, Stepan thought, glancing at Chernobog's face.

Stepan had never seen anything like the way Chernobog had moved. Fast, efficient, lethal. Even being shot hadn't slowed him down. The blood on his chest from where Captain Lobanov had shot him had spread and thickened until now it was dripping. Still the big American had threatened to crucify everyone.

Captain Lobanov had yelled for Chernobog to be taken alive, giving the American time to kill three more Spetsnaz, and then, when faced with Chernobog himself, the Comrade Captain had shot to kill.

"Do you think it was worth it, comrade?" Sergeant Moritz asked. The Cowboy, sitting next to him, staring at the metal bed of the truck, looked up at the sound of Sergeant Mortiz's voice.

"What?" Stepan shook his head sharply to clear his thoughts. "Was what worth it?"

Moritz waved his hand at the Americans. "All of the dead and wounded for this. A half-dozen Americans and only one officer with them. Do you believe Comrade Captain Lobanov that it is worth it?"

No. No it wasn't, Stepan shrugged. "It's not my place to ask such questions."

Moritz shook his head. "I certainly hope so. When we get to Meiningen and turn the Americans over to the KGB and GRU you and I can go back to our postings."

Moritz glanced at Chernobog. "And get away from him."

"Do you think the interrogators will be able to get the information they want from these Americans?" Stepan asked.

Moritz shrugged. "I try to stay away from the KGB and GRU, comrade. I have found it makes my time with Spetsnaz much easier to only interact with the guardians of the Union when I have to," He looked at the Cowboy next to him, then at the Beast, who was next to Stepan. "The KGB wants them bad, wants to interrogate them. They know more about the American nuclear and chemical arsenal than anyone else within our reach."

There was a loud crack next to Stepan, pulling his attention from his fellow survivor to the Beast next to him.

The Beast's eyes were glowing bright purple, her teeth bared with her effort. Her neck muscles were standing out, her shoulders bunched, as she stood up. With a loud crack the rifle across her back broke, freeing her hands. Stepan and Moritz both gave out a loud cry of panic, turning and grabbing their weapons.