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LOCATION: ROTTERDAM MARITIME DISTRICT
CITY: ROTTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS
DATE: SEPTEMBER 25, 2026 | TIME: 8:00 AM
"Let's get some breakfast and discuss our mission," Erik said. He led Viktor to the Café De Unie, a few blocks from the port.
The café sat just off the pier, its windows fogged from the mix of espresso steam and North Sea drizzle. A brass ship's bell hung over the bar, and the low murmur of Dutch conversation filled the space between the creaks of mooring lines outside.
Erik took a seat facing the water. Viktor followed. They both ordered a hearty breakfast and cappuccino.
Once the food and coffee were served, Erik began.
He pulled out a tablet with photos of the documents he had found in Anatoly's safe.
"You're not the only one Anatoly hired," he began. "This target list…"
He took a bite of eggs and dipped a piece of toast in jam as he waited for Viktor to look the list over.
"He's got heads of state on here, and more people from Voss Industries? What's his game plan?" Viktor asked.
"The targets are only half of the mystery. The assigned shooters aren't all Russian."
Again, Erik gave Viktor a few minutes to sit with the information. He'd been going up against this man for a long time. He knew Viktor was meticulous. And deadly smart.
Erik took a long sip of the cappuccino and let the heavy chocolate notes linger in his mouth before swallowing.
"He never intended for any of us to get away." Viktor said.
"Bingo. What else do you see?"
"He fucking tipped off the FBI after I shot Mallory McInnis."
"Correct," Erik said. "What else?"
"He planned to do the same to all the others," Viktor said. "He wants the shooters to get caught. But why? I'm not sure I—"
"Because," Erik said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "if you want to topple the world order, you need fingers pointing in all directions. Make it look like North Korea assassinated the Prime Minister of Japan. Make it appear a Ukrainian soldier shot a high-ranking officer of NATO."
"So the attacks on the Voss Industries people are mostly just a distraction…"
"I'm afraid so," Erik said.
Erik could see the final recognition hit Viktor's eyes. Viktor was one of the greatest assassins in the world. Grudging respect, and all that.
But Anatoly, as a backhanded "fuck you" insult, had hired Viktor as a pawn.
As the first domino to fall, not as the final linchpin in his master plan. It was insulting, even if the plot was designed to fail.
Viktor's cheeks flushed red as the realization hit.
"There it is," Erik said. "Now, Anatoly is already dead. I'm sorry. I couldn't risk leaving him alive. But we can get started on this list."
Viktor pounded the table, causing the plates on it to rattle. A few patrons glanced over, before finding interesting spots on the floor to stare at, as soon as they saw the look in the two men's eyes.
"Let's flip the target list," Viktor said. "Hunter becomes the hunted, and all that shit. Do you have gear?"
Erik smiled.
"Thought you'd never ask. Let's get going."
As they left and hailed a taxi, Erik called Grim.
"We're headed toward the warehouse now. Send the mission."
He hung up, and while the taxi navigated the busy Rotterdam morning traffic, a notification appeared for both Erik and Viktor.
---
System Message
Viktor Malenkov
Mission: [Blood Debts] has been assigned.
Priority: URGENT
Risk: HIGH
Target: Ivan Kovalenko
Target Current Location: Brussels, Belgium
Objective: Ukrainian dissident Ivan Kovalenko has been tasked with an attack on NATO Headquarters in Brussels. Lethal force is authorized if necessary.
---
"This is—"
"Not here," Erik said. "We're almost there. We can talk then."
Viktor nodded.
A half hour later, the driver pulled into the parking lot of a unremarkable warehouse building. A rusted sign overhead declared it was owned by "Transship Corporation" but Erik knew better.
He paid the taxi driver and thanked him for the ride. The two men entered the building through the main entrance.
Erik nodded to the receptionist, who looked up from her typing for only a moment, before nodding back and returning to her work.
"Follow me," Erik said, leading Viktor to the back of the building.
He typed a long code sequence into a keypad, and a surprisingly thick door swung open.
They entered, and Erik closed the door behind them.
Soundproofing in the walls made for an eerie environment, but when Viktor looked around him, he couldn't help but smile.
It was like a candy store for special operators. Suppressed sniper and assault rifles hung carefully on pegs, with boxes and boxes of ammunition arranged neatly below each one.
Sidearms were on a separate wall, hanging in pairs. In a third section, the last staple of an operator's standard kit: combat knives. These also hung in pairs.
Erik handed Viktor a large nylon bag, filled with compartments for ammo and weapons of different sizes and shapes.
"Take whatever you can carry," he said. "We won't be able to restock until after the second target."
"Do you know how many there are?" Viktor asked. "The list was quite long."
"We've got the four on the European continent. Grim is handling the two in North America, and we've got another asset in Asia handling the one in Japan."
Viktor smiled.
"So we get the most?"
Erik laughed.
"I thought you might like that. Yes, we get the most."
"It's going to be good working with the Kriegwolf," Viktor said. "Never thought I'd see the day. So, are we traveling to Brussels by rail?"
Erik looked at Viktor and smiled.
"No, you'll find when you work for the Peacekeepers, you usually travel in style."
Erik paused.
"Not to mention, it might be hard to explain all of this."
He waved his hand at the tools of death surrounding them.
"Heh," Viktor said, smirking. "That is true."
They finished packing the gear into the two oversized bags, and carried them out to the reception area.
"Got the car ready for us?" Erik asked.
The receptionist looked up at him and smiled.
"Graham Thorne called it in personally, sir. He said to enjoy the drive."
She handed him an Audi key fob, and Erik's brow raised.
He led Viktor to the garage and clicked the button on the fob.
The lights on an Audi RS7 flashed, and a beep of the horn echoed in the space.
"Traveling in style, as I said. Nice."
They loaded the bags in the trunk and put NATO HQ into the navigation. Erik pulled out into the mid-morning traffic, and Viktor settled in for the two-hour drive.
He knew Ivan Kovalenko from many, many years of joint operations. Viktor was hoping he could talk Ivan out of the contract. Failing that, it would have to be the hard way.
Because a Ukrainian, even a known dissident like Ivan, attacking NATO High Command would make for all the wrong kind of headlines, given the current fragile geopolitical climate.
Ivan must be stopped.