Post by Deleted on Mar 1, 2015 2:50:00 GMT -6
Beslan, North Ossetia, Russian Federation, 2004:
It was day three of would become known as the Beslan School Siege or the Beslan Massacre depending on one’s point of view and political leanings. Chechen terrorists had seized control of School Number One in the town of Beslan, taking over 1,100 people hostage. At least 777 of whom were school children. The Chechens demands were the same as they always were. U.N. recognition of Chechnya as a independent country and Russian withdrawal from Chechnya. After 3 days of a stalemate in the standoff, the Russians had run out of patience.
Dasha stood in an office building with her Spetsnaz team, looking over plans of the school. Where Intel provided by the FSB and recon thought the terrorists were and were the hostages were. The hostages were easy to see as most of them were pushed up against the windows to be used as human shields as well as to block view as to what the criminals inside were up to. While the Spetsnaz prepared, Tanks moved in and took up positions, training their main guns on the school building as Russian soldiers and police set up barricades, keeping citizens at bay as other soldiers came in with weapons preparing to storm the building.
Over the loudspeaker came one final warning from the Russians. A demand to release the hostages... or else. Unknown to everyone in the building or on the ground. The warning was just a formality. Dasha and her team were already moving, a helicopter that was circling to keep an eye on things had also covertly dropped Dasha’s team on the roof. Dasha and her team wasted little time eliminating the roof guard before getting ready. Some of them were to go through the door and work their way down the staircases. Dasha and others would be rappelling and crashing through windows from multiple sides of the building, the hope being to catch the Chechens off guard and kill most of them with minimum loss of life.
The signal came and Dasha crashed through the window, firing. She felt a twinge of remorse for the hostage she had to shoot to get through the window, but she had a job to do. As she and her partners came through.. the Chechens in the room died quickly as the hostages dove to the ground. A loud boom sounded and the building shook. The tanks were firing and smaller explosions rocked the building beneath Dasha’s feet. The ground teams were entering. Dasha smiled and looked to her team nodding as she said in Russian. “No prisoners. All Chechen dogs die.”
That was pretty much what happened. 334 hostages died, 186 of them children. The Russian government had decided the losses, while regrettable, were acceptable in sending a message that Russia would not negotiate with terrorists. There were some people back home in Russia that agreed with the U.S. and a lot of the World that thought the Russians had staggeringly overreacted to the situation, but they didn’t understand the situation. If Russia backed down to the Chechens today, tomorrow it would be the Georgians, then God who knows else, trying to push Russia around.
Dasha sat and calmly drank from her vodka as she watched the replay of Ignite 200. She had seen Tension in Texas. She had done her homework ever since she had been notified that she and Boris were somehow still under contract with the company. It had come as a very pleasant surprise to Dasha when she began receiving money from the U.S. on a regular basis even if it had proven difficult to explain to her superiors in Moscow.
Once the explanation came, however, it made sense. With crippling sanctions enforced by the United States and the European Union, Russia was all too eager to humiliate their Western rivals however they could. For now, if that meant traveling to the U.S. and beating American fighters in front of their own people. That would suffice. Small steps. Small steps were doable because Dasha saw the writing on the wall. The United States was no longer the unbeatable Empire. It was no longer indomitable. It had failed to stop ISIS from virtually taking over Syria and threatening to add Iraq to it’s so called Caliphate. It had failed to prevent the Russians from keeping a hold on it’s territory while looking to bring Ethnic Russians in Georgia and Ukraine back into Russia. It had failed to form any sort of effective coalition against the Russians or any other group they claimed was a threat. They couldn’t even stop the North Koreans from hacking into Sony.
They couldn’t educate their people. They couldn’t stand up for their beliefs anymore. They were now a weak people. Scared and frightened of their own shadows. They turned their nose up at intelligence and science and math. They embraced ignorance and spoonfed slogans.. their political parties were so corrupt they demanded allegiance to them over allegiance to the country as a whole. However, as Dasha sat back and examined America and all of it’s flaws, all the open sores and wounds laid bare, slowly but surely bleeding the big, wounded animal to death, she felt something she hadn’t expected…
Dasha was sad.
Admittedly, she was partially bitter because the Americans were destroying themselves. Only the Americans would be so arrogant as to destroy themselves rather than let someone else do it. But while she did not agree with America on… pretty much anything, Dasha had to respect that the United States had once been a force for good. They had helped save the Soviet Union during World War II, even if they broke their promises after and began the Cold War with their bullying. They had contributed so many great things to the world. They had to be counted as a great country. And it was always painful to watch a great civilization fall. However, she suspected it would be especially painful when the Americans woke up one morning, realized their Empire was gone, that they had fallen that they were not, as they liked to boast, ‘Number 1’ But the thing that would be the most painful for them…
Would be the fact that the World would move along without them. The American Empire would be buried with the other relics of antiquity and the world would move on.
Dasha took another drink of her vodka and shook her head as she watched Ignite. Judging from what this show had to offer, the sooner, the better. She looked at a file sitting in front of her. It held information from two sources, her government and a underworld contact she had here in the States. It was the same contact who was a friend of Valora Salinas, another New Edge talent and someone Dasha was still hoping could be eventually convinced to join the great Communist Revolution. That woman, Vye, spoke up as she sighed in annoyance. “We could have done this homework session in my club, you know. much more fun.”
Dasha didn’t even glance up from her reading. “Your club is den of lesbian harlots and deviants.” Vye raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Dasha now looked up, her ice blue settling on Vye. “So, in Russia, they would be shot. Plus, I can’t bring big dumb ox to your club and he does, every so often, have uses.”
Vye leaned back and smirked. “And I thought Communists were liberal.”
Dasha returned the smirk and took another drink. “Not liberal as you understand. We believe that the people own everything. However, with Communist system, one must be careful to prevent anarchy. Order must be maintained. Not Law. Laws, as you prove daily my dear, can be broken, bent, twisted, corrupted. Look at America. They are richest and most powerful country in the world and they can do whatever they want because of it. They say rules don’t apply to them, rules can’t be forced to apply. How many times in U.S. does murderer escape crime because law gets in way. Order is more important than Law.”
Vye leaned over and winked. “Uh huh. and if I knew who to pay in Russia, I could a club for sexy, hot lesbian Russian girls to go and not be bothered too. Don’t play perfect with me, sexy.”
Dasha gritted her teeth. While issues of her sexuality were strictly a no conversation zone with her as they were, ultimately unimportant next to accomplishing her mission, there were times she had the urge to shoot Vye. This being one such time. She smirked and took a drink, finishing her vodka and nodded. “This is accurate, da?”
Vye smirks. “Yeap. Scarlet Styles. Wife of Jesse Styles. She goes back and forth between playing saint, attending charity balls, tending to the children her and Jesse have, but she’s got a dark side. Your friends in the Russian mafia provided me with the goods there. Apparently, her grandfather is a Don, she had some training as an assassin.”
Dasha thinks about this. “Mafia Don’s granddaughter? Running away to marry a relative nobody like Jesse Styles? Granted the man had money, but he was a professional wrestler. He was not connected in any special way to government, underworld or covert organizations. There were only three real possibilities for the move, Dasha figured. One was rebeling. Scarlet had decided she didn’t want the life she was born into and tried to leave. Not uncommon but exceptionally hard to do. Second, the marriage was a cover. Provide a more ‘respectable’ face on things and provide a legitimate business to launder money through. That couldn’t be it as Scarlet and her Mafia relatives would have been furious at the FBI attention and Jesse Styles would thus be somewhere at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
The third was cover. Keep her safe until something major happened in the Underworld and it was time for her to step up in the world. It was a common tactic that Dasha had seen both criminals, spies, government personnel and other such people employ.
Between that and some of the information she had been able to dig up, Dasha had to admit she would respect this Italian-American fighter. Boxing, a dangerous knockout punch. Dasha had even found videos of Scarlet and Valora fighting. Valora winning the first match but Scarlet coming back hard and knocking Valora out in an inferno match. Given Valora’s speed and skill at boxing that definitely meant that Dasha was facing a threat. However, she had an advantage in that Sambo, her martial art of choice, was largely unknown in the West and was, in fact, almost exclusive to Russia and the former soviet Republics. Dasha smiled and nodded as she looked over her files and then looked over at Vye. “Finally. I have been granted a worthy opponent. I suppose we should celebrate and try to find out what we can about who Boris is facing and what they are like.” She says before turning and taking a deep breath before bellowing out.
BORIS!!!
It was day three of would become known as the Beslan School Siege or the Beslan Massacre depending on one’s point of view and political leanings. Chechen terrorists had seized control of School Number One in the town of Beslan, taking over 1,100 people hostage. At least 777 of whom were school children. The Chechens demands were the same as they always were. U.N. recognition of Chechnya as a independent country and Russian withdrawal from Chechnya. After 3 days of a stalemate in the standoff, the Russians had run out of patience.
Dasha stood in an office building with her Spetsnaz team, looking over plans of the school. Where Intel provided by the FSB and recon thought the terrorists were and were the hostages were. The hostages were easy to see as most of them were pushed up against the windows to be used as human shields as well as to block view as to what the criminals inside were up to. While the Spetsnaz prepared, Tanks moved in and took up positions, training their main guns on the school building as Russian soldiers and police set up barricades, keeping citizens at bay as other soldiers came in with weapons preparing to storm the building.
Over the loudspeaker came one final warning from the Russians. A demand to release the hostages... or else. Unknown to everyone in the building or on the ground. The warning was just a formality. Dasha and her team were already moving, a helicopter that was circling to keep an eye on things had also covertly dropped Dasha’s team on the roof. Dasha and her team wasted little time eliminating the roof guard before getting ready. Some of them were to go through the door and work their way down the staircases. Dasha and others would be rappelling and crashing through windows from multiple sides of the building, the hope being to catch the Chechens off guard and kill most of them with minimum loss of life.
The signal came and Dasha crashed through the window, firing. She felt a twinge of remorse for the hostage she had to shoot to get through the window, but she had a job to do. As she and her partners came through.. the Chechens in the room died quickly as the hostages dove to the ground. A loud boom sounded and the building shook. The tanks were firing and smaller explosions rocked the building beneath Dasha’s feet. The ground teams were entering. Dasha smiled and looked to her team nodding as she said in Russian. “No prisoners. All Chechen dogs die.”
That was pretty much what happened. 334 hostages died, 186 of them children. The Russian government had decided the losses, while regrettable, were acceptable in sending a message that Russia would not negotiate with terrorists. There were some people back home in Russia that agreed with the U.S. and a lot of the World that thought the Russians had staggeringly overreacted to the situation, but they didn’t understand the situation. If Russia backed down to the Chechens today, tomorrow it would be the Georgians, then God who knows else, trying to push Russia around.
Dasha sat and calmly drank from her vodka as she watched the replay of Ignite 200. She had seen Tension in Texas. She had done her homework ever since she had been notified that she and Boris were somehow still under contract with the company. It had come as a very pleasant surprise to Dasha when she began receiving money from the U.S. on a regular basis even if it had proven difficult to explain to her superiors in Moscow.
Once the explanation came, however, it made sense. With crippling sanctions enforced by the United States and the European Union, Russia was all too eager to humiliate their Western rivals however they could. For now, if that meant traveling to the U.S. and beating American fighters in front of their own people. That would suffice. Small steps. Small steps were doable because Dasha saw the writing on the wall. The United States was no longer the unbeatable Empire. It was no longer indomitable. It had failed to stop ISIS from virtually taking over Syria and threatening to add Iraq to it’s so called Caliphate. It had failed to prevent the Russians from keeping a hold on it’s territory while looking to bring Ethnic Russians in Georgia and Ukraine back into Russia. It had failed to form any sort of effective coalition against the Russians or any other group they claimed was a threat. They couldn’t even stop the North Koreans from hacking into Sony.
They couldn’t educate their people. They couldn’t stand up for their beliefs anymore. They were now a weak people. Scared and frightened of their own shadows. They turned their nose up at intelligence and science and math. They embraced ignorance and spoonfed slogans.. their political parties were so corrupt they demanded allegiance to them over allegiance to the country as a whole. However, as Dasha sat back and examined America and all of it’s flaws, all the open sores and wounds laid bare, slowly but surely bleeding the big, wounded animal to death, she felt something she hadn’t expected…
Dasha was sad.
Admittedly, she was partially bitter because the Americans were destroying themselves. Only the Americans would be so arrogant as to destroy themselves rather than let someone else do it. But while she did not agree with America on… pretty much anything, Dasha had to respect that the United States had once been a force for good. They had helped save the Soviet Union during World War II, even if they broke their promises after and began the Cold War with their bullying. They had contributed so many great things to the world. They had to be counted as a great country. And it was always painful to watch a great civilization fall. However, she suspected it would be especially painful when the Americans woke up one morning, realized their Empire was gone, that they had fallen that they were not, as they liked to boast, ‘Number 1’ But the thing that would be the most painful for them…
Would be the fact that the World would move along without them. The American Empire would be buried with the other relics of antiquity and the world would move on.
Dasha took another drink of her vodka and shook her head as she watched Ignite. Judging from what this show had to offer, the sooner, the better. She looked at a file sitting in front of her. It held information from two sources, her government and a underworld contact she had here in the States. It was the same contact who was a friend of Valora Salinas, another New Edge talent and someone Dasha was still hoping could be eventually convinced to join the great Communist Revolution. That woman, Vye, spoke up as she sighed in annoyance. “We could have done this homework session in my club, you know. much more fun.”
Dasha didn’t even glance up from her reading. “Your club is den of lesbian harlots and deviants.” Vye raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Dasha now looked up, her ice blue settling on Vye. “So, in Russia, they would be shot. Plus, I can’t bring big dumb ox to your club and he does, every so often, have uses.”
Vye leaned back and smirked. “And I thought Communists were liberal.”
Dasha returned the smirk and took another drink. “Not liberal as you understand. We believe that the people own everything. However, with Communist system, one must be careful to prevent anarchy. Order must be maintained. Not Law. Laws, as you prove daily my dear, can be broken, bent, twisted, corrupted. Look at America. They are richest and most powerful country in the world and they can do whatever they want because of it. They say rules don’t apply to them, rules can’t be forced to apply. How many times in U.S. does murderer escape crime because law gets in way. Order is more important than Law.”
Vye leaned over and winked. “Uh huh. and if I knew who to pay in Russia, I could a club for sexy, hot lesbian Russian girls to go and not be bothered too. Don’t play perfect with me, sexy.”
Dasha gritted her teeth. While issues of her sexuality were strictly a no conversation zone with her as they were, ultimately unimportant next to accomplishing her mission, there were times she had the urge to shoot Vye. This being one such time. She smirked and took a drink, finishing her vodka and nodded. “This is accurate, da?”
Vye smirks. “Yeap. Scarlet Styles. Wife of Jesse Styles. She goes back and forth between playing saint, attending charity balls, tending to the children her and Jesse have, but she’s got a dark side. Your friends in the Russian mafia provided me with the goods there. Apparently, her grandfather is a Don, she had some training as an assassin.”
Dasha thinks about this. “Mafia Don’s granddaughter? Running away to marry a relative nobody like Jesse Styles? Granted the man had money, but he was a professional wrestler. He was not connected in any special way to government, underworld or covert organizations. There were only three real possibilities for the move, Dasha figured. One was rebeling. Scarlet had decided she didn’t want the life she was born into and tried to leave. Not uncommon but exceptionally hard to do. Second, the marriage was a cover. Provide a more ‘respectable’ face on things and provide a legitimate business to launder money through. That couldn’t be it as Scarlet and her Mafia relatives would have been furious at the FBI attention and Jesse Styles would thus be somewhere at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
The third was cover. Keep her safe until something major happened in the Underworld and it was time for her to step up in the world. It was a common tactic that Dasha had seen both criminals, spies, government personnel and other such people employ.
Between that and some of the information she had been able to dig up, Dasha had to admit she would respect this Italian-American fighter. Boxing, a dangerous knockout punch. Dasha had even found videos of Scarlet and Valora fighting. Valora winning the first match but Scarlet coming back hard and knocking Valora out in an inferno match. Given Valora’s speed and skill at boxing that definitely meant that Dasha was facing a threat. However, she had an advantage in that Sambo, her martial art of choice, was largely unknown in the West and was, in fact, almost exclusive to Russia and the former soviet Republics. Dasha smiled and nodded as she looked over her files and then looked over at Vye. “Finally. I have been granted a worthy opponent. I suppose we should celebrate and try to find out what we can about who Boris is facing and what they are like.” She says before turning and taking a deep breath before bellowing out.
BORIS!!!