Abygaile Mackintosh was running as if her life depended on it. She was heading for central London, where she knew the main lair of the Iron Hand crime syndicate was. That was where Ruslan would undoubtedly be. She hoped she would arrive in time to avoid a calamity.
"Please let me get there in time", thought Gaile as she continued to run at full speed. "Ruslan don't do anything foolish."
Meanwhile, the cab in which Ruslan was traveling stopped in front of an old building in central London, across the street. There were two people leaning on either side of the steps leading up to the double entrance door. One of the watchmen was smoking distractedly, and the other was fiddling with a pack of cards. Ruslan got out of the cab and signalled the driver to leave. He strode decisively toward the building that the Iron Hand used as its headquarters. The lookouts saw him approaching across the street, when they realized who he was they tried to raise their weapons, but it was too late. Ruslan took aim with the pistols he carried in both hands and fired unceremoniously, two shots to the chest and one to the head. The blood of the thugs bathed the granite steps, passers-by heard the shots and noticed the corpses lying on the sidewalk and began to run and scream in terror. Ruslan, ignoring the people who were fleeing in terror, continued advancing, with an immutable mask for a face, towards the door. When he was in front of it, he lifted his foot and kicked the door, which gave way with a crunch on impact, as if it were made of paper.
Inside the building, several cartel men were surprised by the violent irruption of the armed giant. One of them fired his submachine gun at Ruslan but missed him by a few centimetres. Ruslan, without flinching, raised his left hand, pointed his gun at his head and pulled the trigger. The shooter fell with his head blown off, covering the other two thugs behind him with blood and pieces of skull. They were in shock, by the time they tried to aim their guns at Ruslan the ex-military man had already emptied a magazine on them, leaving them lying on the reception desk. Ruslan advanced as the carpet at the entrance turned scarlet, soaked with the blood of the guards. The gunfire alerted all members of the Iron Hand, who began to head to their posts to defend their base from the invader.
Meanwhile, Vincent Trusk and his shadowy collaborator were in the Duke's office on the fourth floor, the shadow smoking a cigarette whose ember glowed in the darkness under the brim of his top hat. Alexandra was tied to a chair in the centre of the room. Trusk took a swig from his brandy snifter.
- Who would have thought he'd be stupid enough to come? - he commented.
- It was foreseeable, - the shadow replied, - I just needed a good incentive to accept the invitation.
- He must be furious to have barged in like that, - Trusk said. - That's to our advantage, he'll take more unnecessary risks.
- That's the idea.
At that moment, they were both surprised by Alex's laughter, who was shaking in her chair.
- And what are you laughing at? - the Duke asked.
- At your stupidity and ignorance - Alexandra answered bitingly.
Trusk approached her and grabbed her face with his right hand, forcing her to look up at his face.
- Why do you say that? - the Duke said threateningly.
- Because you don't know Ruslan at all - the young woman answered.
- What do you mean, woman? - Trusk replied.
- You think Ruslan will make mistakes because he's angry, but it's the opposite, - she said with restrained hatred. - Ruslan is someone who has always had to keep his emotions in check because of his strength and instincts, to avoid hurting others.
Trusk looked hesitantly at his associate and looked Alex in the eyes again. The young woman's gaze showed no trace of doubt.
- You still don't get it, do you? - she said. - Ruslan is like a force of nature, if he doesn't keep his anger in check, he could cause real calamities. But now you've made him unleash his full fury, you've given him a reason to let go of the reins. Do you really think you can stop him? He will run over you like a steamroller. You should make a will while you still can. Because when he loses his temper there's no stopping him.
The hate-filled smile she gave Trusk made the Duke's blood run cold. Could it be that they had bitten off more than they could swallow? Worry began to take its toll on Trusk's confidence. Meanwhile the gunfire and shouts of his men continued to flood the corridors of his headquarters.
Ruslan advanced down the second floor corridor, stepping over the heaped corpses of those who had tried to stop him. He stopped at the corner, before accessing the stairs. Dropping the empty magazines from his pistols, he proceeded to insert two more ammunitioned and release the slides, loading a couple of rounds into the chambers, leaving both guns cocked and ready to fire. He jumped to the other side of the stairwell, and a burst of bullets hit the wall in front of the stairwell, missing the target by a second. Ruslan pulled a rounded object from under his coat, manipulated it for a moment and threw it towards the top of the stairwell, when it landed at the feet of his attackers, they didn't have a second to take cover, the grenade exploded taking 5 thugs with it. Ruslan leaned out slightly, aiming with his right arm, with the rest of his body taking cover behind the wall. When he was sure there was no danger, he proceeded to ascend to the second floor. He advanced down the hallway to the next flight of stairs. Several guards emerged from the doors on either side of the hallway, firing rifles and shotguns. Ruslan turned his back and withstood the barrage of lead under the defence of his bulletproof coat. When the attackers had emptied their magazines, Ruslan stood upright and turning towards them shot them down as they tried to reload their weapons. The barrels of Ruslan's pistols were still smoking when he changed magazines again. He continued to advance up the staircase to the third floor, and again took cover to the side. No one could stop him, not that day.
Gaile heard the shooting as she approached the Iron Hand headquarters. As she rounded the corner leading to the entrance, she noticed the dead bodies on the steps. Gaile hurried to the door, drew her revolver and entered. What she saw after stepping through the door left her utterly speechless. In addition to the three dead thugs at the reception desk, along the corridor leading up to the staircase leading to the second floor were piled at least twenty corpses, all of them with gunshot wounds, the clusters of shots were precise, in the chest and in the head. Some of them had not even had time to pull the trigger of their guns to return fire. Gaile hurried through that makeshift necropolis and climbed the stairs with her weapon ready, although given the view from the first floor, she surely wouldn't need it. She still could not believe Ruslan had done all that by himself.
The Iron Hand's resistance intensified on the third floor. Two machine guns at the opposite end of the corridor prevented Ruslan from advancing. Ruslan pulled another pair of grenades from his coat and waited until they had to reload. When they ceased fire Ruslan pulled the rings on the grenades and leaned out just far enough to throw them. The grenades landed on the other side of the parapet where the guns had been fixed, and when they exploded, they caused the spare ammunition for the machine guns to detonate. A hail of bullets with completely random trajectories swept the corridor. Ruslan proceeded to advance, when out of one of the corridor doors came a thug with a large machete that attacked him with a downward slash. Ruslan blocked the hardened steel blade with his mechanical arm and, raising his leg, kicked the attacker with all his might. The reinforced sole of his boot slammed hard into his opponent's chest, the impact was such that the man, about eighty kilos, went flying to the opposite end of the hallway, a good seven meters away. Ruslan raised one of his pistols and shot him down as he tried to get up again. Then he resumed his ascent, he was reaching the fourth floor, surely there he would meet the better armed guards.
Ruslan glimpsed the fourth floor from the staircase, on that floor there was no longer a single corridor with multiple rooms on one side, as on the lower floors, but a wide hall, with several colonnades on each side, leading to a large oak door. Ruslan guessed that behind those doors would be his target. So, he left the staircase, but in the hall the Duke's lieutenants were waiting for him. One of them was wearing an armoured suit like that of the army's heavy infantry and was carrying a 6-barrel gatling machine gun, the rest were armed with shotguns and automatic rifles. When they saw him, they started shooting at him. Ruslan tried to take cover behind one of the columns, but it turned out to be masonry, the bullets went through it, hitting Ruslan's coat, and throwing him face first to the ground from the force of the impact. Ruslan tried to retreat to the stairs, but several thugs appeared from the third floor. They must have been hiding in the rooms, waiting to ambush him. Without an escape route, Ruslan had only one option left, advancing towards the first group of guards, he began to shoot, always trying to keep himself as covered as possible by his coat. However, some bullets managed to graze his torso and legs, one of them opened a groove in his left arm, under the sleeve of his coat. Ruslan decided to fight close quarters to prevent Trusk's men from being able to take advantage of the power of their weapons, since being so long, it would be difficult for them to aim them being so close, but his pistols were perfect for that kind of scuffle. Ruslan struck one of the guards and shot him at point-blank range, while another of the thugs took the opportunity to attack him with a bayonet charge from behind. The bayonet blade went through the armoured fabric of the coat, plunging into Ruslan's torso, but missing any vital spots. Ruslan turned and slammed his gun into the assailant who had just stabbed him, knocking out his teeth and breaking his jaw, the thug lying on the ground like a wreck. The gatling man broke away from the fray and began firing again, several bullets hit Ruslan's coat, but also took down several of the cartel men. Ruslan fired at the armoured enemy, but the .45 calibre bullets ricocheted off the armour plates of that adversary. Then Ruslan changed his strategy, dropped his pistols and pulled out his Dullahan revolver. The anti-armour shot went through his opponent like butter. He then turned to the three remaining near the staircase, but did not get to fire, because they were cut down by several shots coming from the floor below. Ruslan pointed his revolver toward the stairway, until Gaile emerged from behind the wall wielding her revolver. Ruslan holstered the Dullahan and picked up his pistols from the bloody floor littered with smoking shells. Gaile approached him.
- Ruslan, are you all right? - the young Mackintosh said, until she saw the blood oozing from the stab wound in his back and worriedly went over to examine the wound. - You've been hit!
- It's just a scratch - Ruslan replied, downplaying the matter.
- It's nothing like that, it's deep, - Gaile said.
Ruslan pulled away from Gaile abruptly, which made her startle.
- I'm fine, damn it! - Ruslan sounded very upset. - You didn't have to come. I can handle it myself.
- Yes, I can see that, - she replied angrily. - Do you look all right to yourself?
Ruslan's coat was full of tears due to the number of bullets it had stopped, his face and neck had several shallow cuts, which stained the collar of his shirt red. Not to mention his vest and pants, which also had several bloody gashes.
- You're a mess - Gaile reproached him.
Ruslan, a little calmer, stopped to check his condition.
- Yes, you're right, - he said quietly, and with some regret added, - I'm sorry I yelled at you, Gaile.
- You'd better be sorry, - she replied, picking at the sore spot.
Gaile approached him and, taking a handkerchief from her pocket, urged Ruslan to bend down so that she could wipe the blood from his face, which had caused the strands of his bangs, which had turned from a silver to a reddish hue, to stick to his face because of the dried blood. Then she knotted the handkerchief around his left arm, bandaging the bullet wound with it.
- You must have felt good dispatching all these bastards like that, - Gaile said as he finished knotting the handkerchief.
- To tell you the truth, - Ruslan said, crestfallen, - I hadn't noticed, I just got carried away.
- Well, it's not like they didn't ask for it, - her friend answered and added, - Let's go get Alex.
Ruslan nodded and followed her to the carved oak door. When they opened it, they found the Duke, Vincent Trusk, pointing a revolver at Alexandra's head, still tied to the chair. In a shadowy corner of the room, the ember of a cigarette glowed, accompanied by an intermittent emanation of smoke. The shadowy figure detached himself from the wall and approached them. The light finally illuminated the shadow-shrouded face, to Ruslan and Gaile's surprise.
Meanwhile at Drake Industries, Gregory Mackintosh and Jack Drake were holding a meeting with the family matriarch, Marion Drake.
- And why do you suspect this person? - Marion asked.
- He was too cooperative from the first moment - Greg interjected - And his knowledge of the Iron Hand organization was too exhaustive. As it would be if he worked with them.
- But why would he help you bring down his own organization? - Jack asked in confusion.
- Maybe because they were just intermediaries and are no longer useful to him - Greg answered.
- A hostile takeover bid - Marion said.
- Exactly - Gregory replied -. He needed someone to weaken them so he could absorb them and take over their business and their territory.
- And you say that this man planned the whole thing, including the attack on the Foundation - Marion recapitulated.
- If I am not mistaken, and as my source has confirmed to me, he works for a secret organization with many ramifications, and they could be involved in many more incidents, such as my identity being discovered in Galia, - explained Gregory. - Apparently, they have ties with the army, the police, the government, the nobility and the main owners of industries throughout Albion. And they would also be the promoters of the latest conflicts to advocate a war economy. In addition, in times of war it is easier for companies to allow the military access to their prototypes.
- That's why they attack us - Marion deduced -. Because Drake Industries would never lend itself to something like that.
Gregory nodded silently.
- We have to warn Ruslan, - Jack said.
- Impossible, - replied Greg, - We must prepare ourselves.
- Why? - Doubt was on Jack's face.
- Because everything they have done so far was to take control of Drake Industries, that's why they have taken Ruslan away from here, and they have neutralized Constance, who was another threat that could have bothered them. And having known each other for the last few weeks, I knew very well that my sister would come to Ruslan's aid.
- Leaving us defenceless - Marion said meditatively.
- Exactly - Gregory ratified.
Suddenly there were screams and gunshots in the garden of Drake Industries, Jack ran to the window to check what was happening.
- It seems to have already started - Gregory said.
At the Iron Hand base, Ruslan and Gaile were faced with an unlikely situation. The man who had betrayed them, who had set fire to the orphanage, kidnapped Alex and shot Constance. That man was someone they had trusted blindly for weeks. Inspector Ernest Arlington greeted them disdainfully with a wave of his top hat, while pointing a small handgun at them.
- Welcome, lovebirds, - Arlington said.
- You're a bloody traitor! - Gaile burst out.
- Yes, I am, - Arlington replied mockingly. - And I thank you for the help you have given me, believe me.
- Help? - Vincent Trusk turned to his supposed partner with a gesture of confusion. - Help with what?
- You see, Mr. Trusk, my organization no longer needs your services, so we have decided to take you into early retirement.
Vincent Trusk stopped aiming at Alex to turn his gun on Arlington, but the inspector had already foreseen this and shot him before the Duke could pull the trigger. Trusk fell to the ground in agony, with a hole in his chest. Arlington then aimed at Alexandra.
- You have been very useful to me, - Ernest said energetically, - I could use you as subordinates, wouldn't you be interested in working for me?
Ruslan slowly cocked his pistol, the barrel yet pointing at the ground.
- I'll take that as a no, - Arlington replied. - And now, if you don't mind, drop your weapons.
- No, - Ruslan replied calmly.
- I don't think you understand, - Arlington said. - If you don't drop your gun, you can say goodbye to your childhood friend.
Gaile dropped his gun, throwing it at Alex's feet.
- Okay, now you, big guy, - Arlington urged.
Ruslan threw his pistols and revolver at Arlington's feet.
- It wasn't so hard after all, was it? - the inspector said scathingly. - Well, and now it's time to say goodbye.
Arlington slowly took the gun away from Alex's head.
- Tell me Ruslan, who do you want to die first? Your childhood friend? Or your newly found love? - Arlington said sadistically as he took turns pointing the gun at Alex and Gaile. - You just have to point at whoever you want.
Ruslan raised his right arm to point.
- It should be you, - he said, while his steely finger pointed at Arlington.
- Good joke, but... - the inspector replied.
- It's no joke, - Ruslan interrupted, making an almost imperceptible gesture with his metal hand.
Just at that precise moment the hidden blade of his mechanical arm shot hard against Arlington's chest, hitting him in the heart. The impact threw the inspector against Trusk's desk, and he ended up sliding to the floor. Gaile ran to pick up Arlington's gun and her own. Ruslan picked up his weapons and proceeded to release Alex from her restraints, while Gaile checked Arlington's pulse.
- He's dead, - Gaile said.
- Good, - Ruslan replied quietly.
- Ruslan, you must hurry, - Alex urged. - I heard them talking about their next move, they're going to raid Drake Industries!
Ruslan helped Alexandra to her feet, looked at Gaile and the young redhead nodded wordlessly. The three of them hurried to the door to return as soon as possible to their families, who could be in danger.
Meanwhile at Drake Industries, the company's guards lay dead in the garden, the assailants had forced all the workers to remain locked in the textile factory, while the children had been left in the administration building. In the clinic, several of the attackers were holding the medical and management staff of Drake Industries on their knees at gunpoint, among them were William, Catherine, Marion, Jack and Gregory. At that very moment, the man who appeared to be in charge, a man in his thirties, with blond hair and an overbearing demeanour, entered, followed by someone Gregory immediately recognized.
- Well, if it isn't Gregory Mackintosh, - Malcom Oliver greeted with contained hatred.
- You should be dead, - Greg replied. - You were sentenced to death.
- You thought you'd won, didn't you? - Oliver said, and hit Gregory with his rifle, knocking him out of his chair.
Catherine came to Greg's aid, but Oliver pointed his gun at her.
- No! - said the leader of the gang of thugs. - She is mine.
Catherine looked the haughty man in the eyes.
- Should I know who you are? - the brave young woman asked disdainfully.
- Well, after all this time you still don't have the slightest decorum towards your superiors, - the man said. - But don't worry, we'll instil in you some sense of protocol. My name is Lord Patrick Gawaine, I believe you still owe me a dance. As for your brother's debt, I already collected his right arm in Sudan, with interest, so let's consider it settled.
Catherine then recalled with horror that party at which her brother had exploded against that conceited young nobleman.
- From the look on your face, I'd say you know who I am now, - Gawaine said pedantically. - Don't worry, I'm sure you'll never forget it again.
Catherine looked at him with defiance, as she held Gregory against her, on her knees in front of a Patrick Gawaine who was brimming with hatred.