Kabul, Afghanistan;
Diablos's Villa, 17:30;
It had been over twelve hours since Rong Xinghe's surgery, and still, there was no sign of her waking. Not even a hint of movement.
Diablos sat in a chair across from her, the dim light of his laptop casting shadows over his exhausted face. His eyes scanned the contents across the screen leisurely, though his mind wandered to the unconscious figure in his bed every now and then. A yawn slipped his lips as he checked the latest reports. Nothing from the Russians. Odd. They were supposed to meet today, but an unexpected delay with a shipment of ammunition and weapons had pushed the meeting for the next few days. Not that it bothered him anymore; his priorities had shifted. The Russians could wait. Right now, she was the very center of his universe, his North Star.
