SOLE

Chelyabinsk, Russia.

On one moonless night, the entire city's border accesses were tightly guarded by military forces. Every minor path was sealed, shadowed by a squad of eight to thirteen fully armed soldiers. Meanwhile, imposing armored vehicles, escorted by artillery units, sealed the major thoroughfares. The danger alert declared earlier in the afternoon swiftly transformed the once serene city into a battlefield. Curfew was set, and an air of tension gripped every corner of the urban landscape.

Not a single resident dared to venture outside their homes. Police cars roamed, broadcasting the security protocols citizens must adhere to. All patrolling police vehicles were accompanied by an armored personnel carrier and two tactical motor units. Despite the military presence providing a sense of protection, the ominous hum of their vehicles instilled an unsettling fear, especially for young children who could only huddle in the comforting embrace of their mothers.

No street remained untouched by the joint patrols of police and military forces. Every narrow alley impassable for vehicles fell under the scrutiny of squads of armed soldiers. They patrolled on foot, inspecting small lanes while keeping a watchful eye on every closed shop and bar, their flashlights probing into every dark corner. These patrolling squads continued their rounds, alternating between small streets and alleys, converging at specific points. However, as the clock struck one in the morning, one squad failed to rendezvous with the others.

The soldiers who were supposed to meet the missing squad simultaneously raised their weapons, adopting a stance of heightened alertness. The squad leader quickly relayed the situation to the command center through their communication device. Shortly after, all patrolling squads, including the armored vehicles and tactical motor units, moved to encircle the area suspected to be the last known location of the missing squad. An order resonated through every squad scattered across the city.

"Major, isn't our instruction to inform the FSB first upon encountering anything unusual?" queried a Captain-ranked soldier to the middle-aged man who had just issued orders from behind the line of tanks, the outermost layer of the barricade.

"Desk-bound officials are no good at handling real threats, Captain," retorted the Major as he stepped into the four-wheeled tactical vehicle beside him. "I'll let them report the result of our hard work later!"

Ivan Donskoy, the man holding the rank of Major, was a leader forged in diverse battlefields. Yet, his experiences did not translate into greater wisdom in self-restraint. Given the command to deploy a battalion to apprehend a single threat, Ivan, consumed by his arrogance, dismissed the potential danger with undue nonchalance.

While the Major observed the unfolding siege through a small monitor on the vehicle's dashboard, the barricades of tanks encircling Chelyabinsk advanced slowly. Within the city, armored vehicle units had tightened the circle. Their objective: gradually constrict the target's maneuvering space. Even the foot patrols synchronized their movements, converging on the same point with weapons poised to unleash a barrage of hot projectiles in a matter of seconds.

The squad that had informed Ivan turned out to be the first to approach the incident area. Following instructions, Corporal Dmitry Utkin, the squad leader, signaled his team to switch off their flashlights and move vigilantly. In unison, with all members of his squad, the Corporal silently advanced, rifles pointed ahead. With faces obscured by masks and night vision goggles, they appeared like emotionless robots in the darkness.

They moved in an ambush formation, entering a relatively wide alley. After passing through the row of dark rear sections of bars and cafes, the squad encountered a figure standing in front of the back door of a closed bar. Startled to find someone standing alone amid darkness, Dmitry approached until he was less than ten steps from the figure—a young woman. Despite the slender stature of the girl posing no immediate threat, Dmitry did not lower his guard in the slightest.

Being close enough, the Corporal could discern the girl's form. Her face was remarkably beautiful, even by Eastern European standards known for its many stunning girls. Her straight hair cascaded down her back. Although he could only see through the night vision mode of his device, Dmitry could ascertain that the girl's skin was exceptionally pale. Being the neighbor of Siberia, the nighttime air in Chelyabinsk was bitterly cold. Yet, the girl wore nothing more than a thin, faded white dress. Moreover, she was barefoot.

"Kneel slowly and raise both of your hands," commanded one of the squad members.

The girl's facial expression revealed displeasure upon hearing the authoritative tone. She turned to face the man but, instead of raising her hands, she lowered them to touch the ground. Her body assumed a posture resembling a wolf standing on all fours. Without uttering a word, the girl bolted swiftly, running on both her hands and feet—an unusual feat for an ordinary human. Even if someone attempted it, surely their speed wouldn't match hers.

Except for Dmitry, the nine squad members immediately unleashed their gunfire. Despite its spontaneity, their shots were far from arbitrary. All bullets found their mark, even though the girl moved with incredible agility, leaping and clinging to the walls of buildings along the alley like a spider. However, the bullets seemed to have no effect on her. Ferociously, the girl charged toward the soldiers, hurling, tearing, and throwing them aside like a rampaging beast.

In contrast to the others, Dmitry stood still, frozen in his place. The twenty-one-year-old man had a conversation with one of the FSB agents before the patrol commenced. He remembered the advice the middle-aged male agent gave him. He told Dmitry not to display a threatening posture when facing the target. Gripped by fear and stunned, the Corporal chose to heed the FSB agent's counsel. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

Nevertheless, the girl ruthlessly hurled Dmitry's body, slamming him against the wall. In an instant, the man collapsed onto the cobblestone street. Yet, his fate was far more merciful compared to his comrades, whose lifeless forms lay scattered everywhere. The alley was tinged red and wet with blood from mangled body parts, filling the air with the nauseating stench of death.

Fortunately, the subsequent squad was spared from encountering the girl who had leaped far, disappearing into the early morning darkness. When they discovered the remnants of Dmitry's squad, distant gunshots and shouts echoed. The unsettling sounds tore through the silence for a moment before everything fell quiet again. Then, the sound of machine gun bursts and tank cannon blasts emanated from a farther distance, followed by an even more chilling silence. The girl had penetrated the military barricade with her inexplicable strength!

Ivan happened to witness firsthand the slender girl leaping onto the T-90 Vladimir tank right in front of his vehicle. He was astonished as he watched how effortlessly she ripped off the tank's cannon turret with both hands and quickly slammed it down to crush the crew still inside the hull. Ivan also directly observed how swiftly the girl crawled and leaped, disappearing into the darkness.

A middle-aged man in an all-black suit opened Ivan's car door and roughly pulled out the Captain-ranked assistant from the driver's cabin, causing him to sprawl onto the asphalt. Without a preamble, the man swiftly accelerated the car toward the airport. Two tactical motorcycles, ridden by a man in his thirties and a woman around twenty-five, followed the car from both the left and right sides. They wore no uniforms. Observing their agile movements, Ivan knew these two were secret agents.

"What kind of creature is that? They said we'd only be dealing with a group of terrorists!" the Major snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and panic.

Andrei Volkov, the man in question, completely ignored Ivan's words. He continued to drive at a speed that had the Major clutching onto his seat, unleashing a stream of curses at the neatly combed brown-haired man in front of him.

"You're going to get us killed, Andrei!"

"We deserve to die! The whole city is in danger because of your arrogance, Major!" the man shouted, silencing his counterpart. "Is it too difficult for you to press a damn button as I asked?"

The screech of brakes ripped the silence of the night as Andrei abruptly stopped the car. A plane was taking off. To prevent national panic, airport activities continued uninterrupted. The military only enforced thorough inspections for every arriving and departing aircraft. But no one, except for Andrei and his two companions, realized a small figure leaped incredibly high from one of the buildings and landed on the body of the plane. The girl had escaped through the air routes.

"I want that plane to land, Anna!" Andrei shouted as he exited the car.

Without uttering a word, the girl on the military motorcycle immediately accelerated towards the airport. Her destination was the Air Traffic Control tower responsible for overseeing and monitoring aircraft traffic.

"Send people wherever that plane lands!"

The man on the motorcycle promptly reached into his jacket pocket and carried out Andrei's instructions with expertise. Meanwhile, the pale Major emerged from the car. Staggering, he walked towards the man in the black suit.

"I have the right to know what the hell we're facing!" Ivan exclaimed.

Andrei stared at the Major sharply. Anger radiated clearly from both of his eyes, accentuating the furrow between his thick eyebrows, and every line on his stern face became more pronounced, doubling the imposing impression emanating from the man.

"Your task is to inform us if any of your men find something unusual. And you failed to do that," Andrei stated firmly but with a tone much calmer than before. "The danger that should have only threatened one city has become a national peril. The threat to humanity that should have ended tonight has expanded everywhere because your thumb was too heavy to press the red button on the device I provided!"

Ivan's shoulders slumped as he listened to Andrei's words. His facial expression displayed belated regret.

"Moscow has heard of this defiance. Military sanctions will be imposed on you," Andrei continued, patting Ivan's shoulder. "Consider yourself lucky, Major! Because if it were up to me, you'd be dead with a hole in your head by now!"

"What do you want me to do, Andrei?" the Major said with a tone of voice that hinted at defeat. "Do you want me to beg?"

"Beg to the soldiers who fell following your orders, beg to the frightened citizens, and beg to the nation you've disappointed!" Andrei condemned. The Major's words had reignited his anger.

"The recovery unit is on the move. They found a survivor from the black zone, Andrei," the man on the motorcycle interjected.

At the end of his sentence, a tactical motorcycle sped toward them. Its roaring sound was the only sound that could be heard until the girl with cornrowed blond hair, riding the motorcycle, switched off the engine a few steps in front of Andrei.

"The cargo plane is heading to France. It seems the target has hijacked its communication system," she promptly reported.

"Govno!" Andrei muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. The man's eyes were darting around, indicating that his mind was working hard. "Anna, contact FN and inform them of the situation! And get me a former member of Division 96 named Kusuma Wardhani!"

He then turned to the man on the motorcycle and said, "Take the survivor and any evidence with you! We will meet at zero-seven-hundred. I'll inform EPCU about this embarrassing incident!"

With a nod, the two motorcycle riders swiftly sped toward their respective destinations. Andrei stepped into the car and quickly zoomed away, leaving Ivan alone, lost in his thoughts. The Major, once supremely confident, now felt incredibly small and weak, crushed by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

He walked wearily towards the airport, which was closer than the distance to the barricade in the city center. However, just as he took a few steps, his body suddenly collapsed onto the asphalt. Blood streamed profusely from a hole in his forehead. Major Ivan Donskoy was killed by a bullet that seemed to come out of nowhere.