Shotgun K

Winter was never forgiving in the city of Yakutsk, where the howling winds nipped at the bared skin of anyone that braved the chilled air without proper gear. No one stayed out for too long if they could help it, and those that stayed out were normally just as biting as the climate they resided in.

Sunlight was long gone when Professor Alexei Larionov started hurrying back to his office across the Yakutsk State University campus, carefully picking his way through the snow. The faculty meeting had run a little later than he had anticipated, and now he was running slightly behind schedule.

“Derr’mo,” he swore under his breath.
If he misses his regular reservation at the Chochur Muran, there will be hell to be paid.

The campus was almost close to vacating completely; the administration had recently issued a curfew for all students living on the grounds. Following a string of unsolved kidnapping of female students, both the school board and police were frantic to keep the remaining student body safe, and to find the missing students.

Larionov pulled his hat down over his face and tucked his briefcase under his arm as the icy wind brushed harshly against his cheeks.
Not that it would do any good. the professor thought to himself darkly.

Finally, without too much struggle, he reached the building where his office was located. Professor Larionov breathed out in relief as he hurried inside, more than welcoming the warmth of shelter from the winter night. Most of the building’s lights were dimmed or turned off; most of the staff had already gone home for the night. The only ones remaining were the cleaning staff.
Wordlessly he climbed the stairs, his stiffened muscles loosening gradually with more motion. He hurried up one more flight of steps and he reached the third floor. The professor looked around and saw that his office floor was practically deserted. This brought a small smile to his face.

Good; he didn’t like bothersome people.

He entered the hall to his right and walked all the way to the far end of the hall until he reached his door. Just out of suspicion, he reached over and jiggled the doorknob.

Locked; just as he had left it.

The Russian relaxed fully and dug through his coat pocket for the office keys. He pulled them out and slid the appropriate one into the lock. He heard the bolt slide out with a satisfying click before he opened the door and stepped into the room. He reached over and flicked the lights on.
An empty office greeted him with silence.

See, Alexei, there’s nothing to be worried about, his mind told him.

Paranoia was something he was still learning to live with. Ever since the school year started, he couldn’t shake the anxiety of being caught. He double checked the door, kept the windows locked and made sure he always had an alibi. He even just purchased and installed top-line security software for his school laptop from a reputable American company created by some computer wiz, Charles Herra. He didn’t know much about computers outside of the simple communication system and data storage. But he couldn’t be too careful, especially with the information the laptop carried…

Larionov shut the door behind him and locked the door. After shrugging out of his coat, hanging it on the rack with his hat and scarf, he made his way to his desk and sat down. He hit a random key on the keyboard to start the computer up from hibernate. As he waited, his mind wandered back to his worries.

When he first got this particular job offer, he didn’t know what to think. Sure, this was high in risk, but the money was great, much more than what the regular teaching job got him. And with his gambling problem, any money he could get was great. That was the thought he had when he had accepted the job.
The money flow was more than he had been expecting. Now, finances were none of his worries.

Taking a risk; it was a gamble. It was something that had become his fix. And for once, he made the right move.

Larionov turned back to the computer screen and saw it had started up again. The installment process was finished while he was out lecturing.

CENTAUR Security System

USERNAME:
PASSWORD:

He quickly provided the information needed, and pressed enter.

Suddenly, the lights in the room went out, making the professor nearly jump to his feet. He caught himself, and forced himself to calm down.
Must be another power outage. he thought to himself.
It was common with the snow storms and the fierce wind. It was almost something to be expected---

“Zdravstvujte, Professor.” a smooth female voice came from somewhere behind him.

A sound of something whipping through the air followed the words and before he could wheel around to see the intruder, he found himself choking and clawing at whatever it was that was now wrapped tightly across his throat. His fingers brushed against something harshly cold as he fought.
A wire.
He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream.

“Skol'ko let, skol'ko zim.” his assailant continued to say politely, as if she wasn’t strangling him at the moment.

Long time, no see? Who the hell---

Just as he was about to black out, the pressure on his neck disappeared and he gasped in the air he was deprived of. But he didn’t have time to celebrate his spared life. While he was still struggling to breathe, he was knocked out cold with an efficient quick jab to the neck.



Professor Larionov stirred with a start, greeted by a mind-splitting headache. A groan escaped his lips as he slowly regained consciousness.

Dazed, he took a look around the familiar setting of his office. He was sitting, no…tied to his own desk chair and pushed up against his bookshelf.
Someone was standing at his desk, leaning against it in a casual stance. The light was still off so he couldn’t quite make out the face of his assailant. But the little light the windows provided allowed him to make out a silhouette of a lean female body.
It was slowly coming back to him. He was attacked from behind in his office.

“Welcome back, professor.” the person said smoothly.

English? Perfect articulation, no flaw in pronunciation. Was she mocking him, an English professor of sixteen years?

“Who…who are you?” he murmured weakly in his own heavily accented English.

His assailant shifted against his desk and crossed her arms across her chest. He may have seen her smile.

“There’s no need for introductions, Professor Alexei Larionov.” she replied, seamlessly switching from English to Russian pronunciations. “We did all that on the first day of class, remember?”

First day of class? She was a student?
Larionov chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
“How foolish. Assaulting a professor like this will get you expelled.” he told her. “I promise you, I will have you put in jail for this.”

The girl let out a scoff, sounding unimpressed. Even her posture seemed to show that she didn’t see the threat.
“Very least of my problems, I assure you.” she said, adjusting the cuffs of her black leather gloves. “I would have to be enrolled as an actual student first to be expelled.”

The professor felt a shot of unease, and an onset of panic seeping in to his veins.
Who was she? What was she doing in class if she wasn’t a student?

“What is it that you want?” Larionov croaked, wincing at the pulsing pain of his head. “I have nothing valuable you would want.”

“Oh, but you do.” the girl sighed. “I am no thief, professor. But I have come for information.”

“Information?” he spat. “Information I would have?”

“Precisely.”

Larionov laughed, shaking his head to cover his nerves. There was only one thing he would have information on, and it was the very thing he was paranoid over. He was practically sweating bullets now.
“There is nothing I can give you, stranger. You have got the wrong man.”

He saw the girl tilt her head to the side. For some reason, she looked slightly amused.
“Funny, I have yet to tell about the information I’m looking for but you are already feigning ignorance.” she mused.

Icy cold dread took over his body at her calm composure and ease. He was dancing in the palm of her hand.

“I---I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he stammered.

“Don’t you?”

“Nyet, I know nothing!” Larionov barked.

He was completely conscious now, his headache forgotten. This girl was a dangerous one---

“Nothing of the girls you have been scouting for trafficking, per request of a certain Bratva?” she asked.

The tone of her voice went from amused teasing to cutting demand in an instance. But most unnerving of all, she knew. She knew...

Another nervous laughter escaped his trembling lips.
“What would a stranger want to know about such dark business?” he said, pushing his chin forward in feign confidence. “You know nothing of what you are speaking of.”

“On the contrary, professor, I know a lot more than you would like to believe.” the girl spoke coldly. “Things no Russian mob would want to have known about their syndicate's operations. Your brotherhood is no exception.”

The girl lifted herself onto the desk and sat on the corner with her legs crossed.
“As for the info, I am giving you one last chance to voluntarily give me what I need. I may be able to help you then.” she said. “Where are they keeping the girls?”

“I know nothing.” Larionov forced out.

“You're lying.”

“I am an honest man, stranger.”

A heavy sigh sounded from this stranger. Even in the lack of light, the Russian could see his assailant shaking her head.

“You're currently angling your body away from me as much as the bonds allow you, clenching your jaw in a stiff expression and have been sweating profusely for the last five minutes,” the girl pointed out. “You say you're honest but your body is saying otherwise.”

She was calling his bluff; as a gambler Larionov always thought he had a knack for lying. This assailant was indeed dangerous. But this wasn't a gamble he could lose.
He squared his shoulder and pulled his posture as tall as he could in his chair.

“You say all this, but you can't prove any of it.” he told her. “You have nothing on me.”

The assailant didn't reply for a while, and she didn't move. But then she reached over to the side for his laptop.
“Are you willing to bet on that?” she asked. “I can just ask your computer here.”

To this, Larionov laughed.
“Ask the computer?” he echoed. “Is it going to just give you what you need? Obey to your command?”

He laughed at the lunacy of the idea. Ask the computer, really. She would have to figure out the password to log on to his desktop first.

But the stranger seemed unfazed by the obstacle as she lifted the laptop and flipped the screen around to face the professor.
“Well, that all depends on how nicely I ask.” she said.

Larionov was about to retort when he saw his screensaver blink and turn completely blank.

“Charles?” the girl called to the blank screen.

He stared as a blinking cursor came to life on the screen. It blinked for two seconds before it started to move.



The professor couldn't believe his eyes. What kind of trickery was this?

“I need to borrow your skills.” the assailant continued to say.
The cursor blinked for a few seconds before a response came.



Larionov could have sworn he saw his assailant smile in the dark.

“I need the truth.”

The moment those words fell from her lips the laptop’s screen exploded with thousand of files. Pictures of the missing girls came up one after another, along with the emails and messages in steady streams of incriminating evidence. How he had arranged for them to meet to discuss their grade, where to be at what time---
Other cryptic emails were opened, and a list of all his contacts were made as the computer ripped apart his inbox mercilessly. Every tiny detail that he had worked so hard to keep hidden was being displayed right before his eyes.
Then there were his banking account records, how the deposits seemed to get larger and larger as time passed---

Then the computer screen stopped moving. A few seconds later, it returned to the blank screen with the blinking cursor.



There was a slight pause, before the letters in the name started to slowly drift, rearranging themselves.



The stranger clicked her tongue, almost sounding appalled.
“You were fooled, professor.” she said. “From the moment I stepped into your class, everything was laid out to my plans.”

Horror and shock numbed Larionov as he stared at the name that had replaced the one of the creator of the security software he had just finished installing.
Then, everything clicked.

“Charles Herra…” he murmured.

“Never existed.” his assailant confirmed. “What you bought was actually a Trojan program designed by the hacker.”

“ARCHER,” Larionov whispered.

He had heard the name before, numerous times. Being an underground gambler, you hear things about the underground world. And the name ARCHER was one of the many well-known ones. Worst of all, his employers had warned him about this individual. And he actually walked them directly to what they were after.

“You’re the hacker…” he guessed.

The stranger tilted her head curiously, looking amused all over again.
“Goodness, no.” she said. “I just got you to waste money on a fake security software.”

She then slid off of the desk and walked around the desk. As she moved, she reached inside her black jacket and pulled out a USB drive. Larionov stared in horror as she plugged the device into his computer and pressed enter.

“Wait,” he gasped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting what I came here for, professor.” she replied.

Larionov struggled against his bonds, though he knew it was energy wasted.
“Who are you?” he asked. “The CIA? FBI?”

“Neither,” the girl replied. Her fingertips drummed against the surface of the desk as she waited for the downloading process to finish. “It doesn’t matter who I am, either way you are going to be in big trouble.”

“But I am innocent! I didn’t harm those girls!” he fought.

“You provided the syndicate with the girls and benefit from the trade. For that, you are swine.” she snapped back.

With that, she returned her focus back to the laptop.

Suddenly, the professor started to chuckle darkly, making her look up from the computer screen.
“Trouble, you say,” he laughed. “You’re right; big trouble.”

He glanced up at the clock that was up on the wall. It read 7:49.

“They should be worried about me now,” he said. “It’s nineteen minutes past the check-in time and I didn’t call.”

Then, as if right on queue, there were screeching of tires outside of the building and car doors slamming. Larionov watched as his assailant swiftly made her way to the window and peered discretely out from the shadows. In the dim light, he could see her frown.

“Looks like we’re out of time.” she muttered.

“And out of luck.” Larionov spat, almost grinning. “You’re dead.”

“If they get to this office, so are you.” she told him. “Four guys…hmm, they’re pretty serious.”

A loud crashing sounded from the first floor, breaking through the silence. At the same time, a beep sounded from the laptop. Downloading was done.
The stranger quickly strode over to the desk and pulled the USB drive out from the port. She tucked it into her jacket before zipping it all the way up to her chin. She returned the laptop to its original position.

“You won’t make it out.” Larionov told her.

“Not without a little mess, sure.” she said, as she made her way to the door. “It was nice doing business with you, professor.”

With that, she slipped out of the office and into the dark.



An eerie silence fell over the whole building, the space no longer peaceful as tension of dark anticipation filled the air. Howls of the bitter wind echoed all the way down the halls as two men stepped through the broken door, shards of glass and other debris crunching under their heavy boots.

Ivan Baikov took a slow glance around, looking and listening carefully for any movement. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he was short on time. All he knew was he got a call telling him to take some of his men with him to find their contact, a professor at the school they were taking girls from. He didn’t check in at the appointed time.
He started up the stairs, heading for the third floor where the contact in question was supposed to be. Boss will not be happy if they go and find him dead in his office…

A sudden sound broke through the tension, coming from the third floor. Baikov bristled, stopping in the middle of the second flight of stairs. He knew that sound. It was one he was very familiar with, one he had heard many times, often being the one causing it.
It was a heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.

He looked over his shoulder and nodded at his subordinate, Yuri. They both drew their guns out from their jackets where it was hidden.

Baikov carefully made the rest of the way up the steps, taking care not to make a sound. He pressed his back against the wall of the stairwell and peered just around the corner into the right hall.
At first, he saw nothing out of place. Nothing jumped out at him, and nothing made a sound. Just as he was about to retreat, his eye caught something at the very end of the hall.

A pair of legs were left sprawled out into the hallway, sticking out from the emergency stairwell door. He recognized the pant legs and the heavy gear boots.
It was one of his men.

“Derr’mo!” Baikov swore and rushed into the hall.

Just as he was passing the second door down the hall, something collided into his right side with enough force that it knocked the air out of him.

“GAH!”

He felt his body get thrown off to the left and ram into the wall. Without a break someone delivered a solid kick to the back of his knees, bringing the big Russian down.

“Kapitán!” he heard his subordinate yell.

A small hand took hold of his throat in a vice grip, choking him effectively as it threatened to crush his voice box. Another hand took hold of his right wrist, overlapping the hand and the gun. Baikov was still trying to recover from the crash when his attacker took aim at his subordinate with his gun.

“Nyet!” he choked out as his trigger finger was pulled.

POP! POP!

Two quick, silenced shots were fired from his gun, hitting Yuri once in the shoulder and one in the leg. He heard him scream in agony as he buckled to the ground. The poor guy continued to scream, telling him both injuries were just wounds to keep him down.

Baikov had had enough.

“RAAAAAH!” he roared out, lifting himself up and shoving himself back against the wall.

His attacker’s body was lighter than he had anticipated, and he felt it crash into the wall behind them.
“OOMPH!” he heard the attacker let out, confirming him guesses.

His attacker was a female.

He grabbed onto the hand on his throat and ripped it out of its death grip. As the pair struggled to overpower the other, more shots were fired at random. Sounds of glass shattering as bullets crashed through the windows ripped through the air and sparks flew down as some of the loose shots hit the ceiling, effectively killing the lights.
Finally, Baikov got the upper hand and threw his attacker’s body over his shoulder. She hit the floor solidly on her back first.

“Suka,” he hissed with venom.

He kicked her as she was down, the force sending her sliding back across the floor. She was already starting to get back on her feet when he pointed the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

Nothing. He pulled the trigger again quickly with the same product.
She had emptied his load, knowing that she would be overpowered.

Baikov was still realizing the fact when his assailant launched herself at him again. A crescent kick caught him in the wrist, knocking the useless gun out of his hand.
Baikov recovered his senses in time to see a spin kick in action. Then he found himself thrown back against the wall once again.

The air was knocked out of his lungs for the second time, but his anger and adrenaline was enough to push him through the pain. He saw the girl step forward in the dim light, readying another hit---
His left arm swiped out, shoving the incoming punch off balance in his first defensive move. Then he countered with a swift punch aimed at his opponent’s jaw.
His punch collided solidly, and a sharp cry came as a result. He felt a flare of redemption shoot through him. He will not be taken down by the likes of this bitch.
Baikov grabbed his assailant as she was thrown to the side from the punch and took hold of her throat with both hands. It was time to return the favor.
He shoved her back and slammed her head against the walls as he tightened his grip around her neck. He couldn’t see her expression, but the sound of her choking and struggling to free herself were plenty satisfying.

“Dosvidanija, suka,” he growled.

If only he wasn’t so focused on choking the life out of this girl, he may have noticed that she wasn’t struggling to get out of his hold. He also may have noticed her drawing her legs up to her chest in preparation for a forceful kick, just below the belt.

He didn’t even see it coming.

Next thing he knew, he was back on his knees, him head spinning in devastation and blinding pain.
The attacker slid to the floor, coughing as she forced much needed air down to her lungs. She got up quickly, recovering as she went and took the one step that she needed to close the gap between her and her would-be killer.

“Ey,” she spat.

Baikov spared her a glance as a sharp jab punch connected right between his eyes.
He fell limp to the floor, out cold for the count.

“Dosvidanija, ublyudok.” she returned.

She straightened to a stand and fixed her jacket that had managed to get twisted around her body. She let out a heavy breath and made her way to the man she had shot earlier.
Yuri saw her approach, and his eyes went wide. She was going to finish him off, do what the bullets didn’t. Just pray that she would be quick…

He held his breath as she knelt beside him, careful of the blood. He just watched as she searched his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and quickly dialed a number.

“Halo, militsiju? Mnye nuzhna pomosh.” she said smoothly into the phone. “Pozvnitye v skoryu pomosh.”

He stared in disbelief as he watched this stranger who had shot him call the police telling them to call the ambulance. He didn’t speak as she told them their location briefly before hanging up. She then turned back to him.

“Vy punimaeche pa anglliyski?” she asked him, her tone not at all harsh as he had expected.

Yuri swallowed, trying to breathe evenly despite the pain.
“English, yes.” he replied in gasps.

The girl nodded, and restored the phone back into his pocket.
“Your other two friends are okay. Unconscious, but alive.” she told him. “So is Professor Larionov. He’s tied up to his chair in his office.”

She then reached into her own pocket and pulled out a thin syringe.
“Your leader will be out for a while. In the mean time, I have something for the pain.” she told him.

She pulled off the safety cap off of the needle went to stick it in his neck when he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Why?” he coughed out. He eyed the syringe, his hand shaking. Whether she had something for the pain, or something to kill him, it was a tempting idea to stop the terrible pain.
“Why help me this way?” he asked.

The girl stared evenly back at the man, not fighting out of his grip.
“Believe it or not, my intentions were not to harm you. I am here for good cause.” she said honestly. “I came and got what I was looking for. You work for the bad guys but I don’t want or need you to be in pain.”
She then lifted the needle so he could see the syringe fully.
“Small dose; you will not overdose. It will last for about ten minutes, enough time for the ambulance to get here.” she said. “But I will give it to you only if you want it.”

Yuri stared at her, studying her expression to see any deception. When he didn’t see any, he released her and gave one quick nod.
Wordlessly the girl leaned over and pulled the collar of his jacket away from his neck. He didn’t even feel the needle go in. He let out a sigh of relief as he felt the painkiller going into to effect as it kicked through his bloodstream in a warm buzz.

The girl pulled away, recapped the used needle and pocketed it in her jacket. She looked down at him and he stared back. He nodded again, this time in silent thanks.
“Be off then,” he sighed. “Dosvidanija, stranger.”

She nodded once, got up and took off down the hall, her rapid footfalls clapping against the tiles. He heard the screeching of the emergency exit door open and slam shut, before the building was restored to an oddly peaceful silence.



Winter was truly unforgiving in this country of Russia. Perhaps there was truth to vodka tasting finer in this frigid season.

Wind was still howling and biting as a young woman made her way out of the Yakutsk State University campus, as if she was just out for a casual stroll through the snow.
Off in the distance, sirens screamed through the howling wind, drawing closer and closer… It was still a distance away.

She sighed, her breath coming out in a long stream of thick white.

By the time they arrived, she would be long gone.

She pulled her long black hair out from the tight bun she had it in and let it fall freely. She ran a hand through it a few times to straighten any strands that may have been tousled out of place during the strenuous activity she had partaken in earlier. She straightened her jacket collar once again; making sure her neck was covered as she walked through the snow at a leisurely pace.

While she had the time alone, she was going to fully take advantage of the breather. She inhaled deeply, letting the cold to seep deep into her core. A small smile found its way on her lips.

Tonight was another job well done.

She was approaching the edge of campus now; she could see the street right outside the grounds. Her easy pace didn’t change.
Just as she stepped onto the street, a dark car came around from the corner and stopped right before her. She waited patiently as the driver rolled down the window.

“Izvinite,” the man said.

He went to speak more, but the girl moved around the car and got in the passenger side door. She then reached into her jacket, pulled out the USB drive and handed it to the man.

The man frowned and looked down at the device.

“Oi,” he said, dropping the Russian. “Serifu---”

“Screw the lines, Jun.” the girl sighed, replying to the Japanese in English. “I’m tired.”

Jun made a face, but rolled up his window and started the engine. Wordlessly he made his way back onto the main road.
“You look like crap, by the way.” he said, this time in English.

His passenger just waved him off, letting out an aggravated sigh. He continued on.
“Archer called a few minutes ago with the location of where they’re keeping the girls. I called it in as an anonymous tip to the authorities.” he told her.

“How far away are they?” the girl asked.

“Not too far. The police are already on the move.” Jun replied.

Silence followed as neither of two spoke. Finally the girl sighed.
“What is it?” she asked.

Jun didn’t stop driving as he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a folded document envelop. He tossed it over to his passenger, who caught it in her lap.

“You have new job request.” he told her.