Third Person - Complete

Helicopter Flight

Captain Lobanov sat down next to Stepan, wincing as he did so. He was starting to pant, putting his hand on his stomach. Whatever he said was lost in the sound of the rotors on the helicopter preparing for the flight and Stepan honestly didn't feel like asking him to repeat it.

The Americans were sedated and asleep, although Chernobog still stared at everyone with that one red eye, the other one closed. The Americans were stripped down to their underwear, although the scar faced woman had been naked under her uniform and Captain Lobanov had ordered the medical personnel to clad her with cloth.

Stepan still couldn't believe the Beast's shocking brutality. She'd executed the doctor like a babushka killing a chicken for dinner, with just as much emotion.

A glance showed that the short woman with the split lip and the black eye was asleep and securely restrained. She had seemed docile and beaten down until the Beast had broken the doctor's neck.

The small woman had exploded in violence. Rapid fire kicks and punches, constantly moving, weaving and ducking away from the blows she didn't slap to the side. The entire group, with the exception of Chernobog, the Cowboy, and Scarface, had erupted into movement.

If a company of infantry had not been holding formation before lunch Stepan knew they would have fought their way free. The small one had been the last to go down, tackled by four men, and even then she'd broken one's arms, almost ripped away a second's jaw, and used her thumb the puncture the eye of a third even as she tore off his ear by grabbing the ear, putting her thumb in his eye, and twisting savagely.

Looking at her sleep, Stepan noted again that the Americans all looked so young. Even with the scarring. Looking them over Stepan was able to tell that the Amazon and Scar-Face were the two oldest, the woman officer looked younger than Scar-Face.

Stepan still wasn't sure why the GRU commander had ordered Captain Lobanov and the last of the Spetsnaz to take the Americans to Dresden, the East German headquarters of the GRU and the KGB. Stepan had been having his face stitched back together, nearly fifty stitches, while Captain Lobanov had been discussing the fate of the Americans with his superior.

The remaining doctor, brought over form the People's Hospital, had examined the survivors of the operation to capture Chernobog and his minions, telling Stepan, Captain Lobanov, and Sergeant Moritz that they alone were still fit to accompany the Americans.

Captain Lobanov hadn't been worried, as the Americans were sedated and unconscious, but that eye. That single blood red eye in Chernobog's face that never stopped staring, that tracked movement, gave Stepan goosebumps.

He knew it had to be his imagination, but he could swear there was something staring at him. Something old and malevolent.

Chernobog's fingers twitched and Stepan jerked back, flinching away almost instinctively.

"He is full of morphine. He will not be going anywhere, calm yourself, comrade," One of the GRU officers accompanying the flight yelled from next to Stepan.

Stepan nodded, still staring at Chernobog.

"These are American special forces, are they not, comrade?" The GRU officer asked.

Stepan shrugged, glancing at Captain Lobanov, seeing the GRU Captain was asleep. "Comrade Captain said they are merely ammunition handlers, supply and logistics trained only."

Chernobog's fists clenched and that red eye was scanning the interior of the helicopter.

"Comrade Colonel stated that they will be delivered to the GRu and KGB interrogation center in Dresden," The GRU officer said. He shook his head. "I wonder what makes them so important? They do not look interesting, important, or even that intelligent."