//------------------------------//
// Escalation 
// Story: Flames of the Rainbows 
// by ShadowFall 
//------------------------------//

        The anti-magic machine that the humans had made in collaboration with the ponies was a magnificent accomplishment. Blending the same kind of nullification used at the Equestria Games and put into a transmission device, the entire town block was practically a dead zone for all unicorns. No unicorn guards could teleport into or cast spells in the field, which was the main threat to the group.

It was a bit awkward to wield the rifle in his hooves, but thankfully, magic existed in all ponies. One such magic that was shared by all of the species was to grab and manipulate objects such as levers and wine glasses, something that a fingerless species had no chance of doing otherwise. As such, they were able to use that magic to pull the trigger of the weapon at will. It was a magic that was unaffected by the machine that was put up, as it only blocked direct use of magic, such as unicorn spells and pegasus flight.

In addition, it was a hassle to bring the machine up to the same floor that they held the hostages on, but they weren’t going to leave it by the front door.

Rocky sat on the table on the second floor of the castle. He had ordered one pony to stay in the cutie map room in the castle’s basement, three to be on the third floor, while he and three others stayed by the princess and her student.

“Okay. We’ve gotten them rounded up. I need a sweep of the place for any other ponies inside. Got it?” Rocky spoke into a handheld radio, the device that he and his squad would be using to communicate while on separate floors.

            “I gotchya. I’ve found a baby dragon who attempted to write a distress letter to Celestia. I forced him to burn it.”

Rocky paused for a great amount of time. He looked back at the radio, then called again.

“You made him burn it?”

“Yes, I did-”

“You fucking idiot! Dragons can send messages through fire! We haven’t even thoroughly swept the place yet!”, Rocky shouted as picking up weapons wasn’t the only thing he had gotten from humans.

“But the magic-nullifier should-”

“It blocks pony magic, not dragon! Damnit… it’s too soon!”

Rocky was shouting through the handheld radio while Twilight and Starlight sat against the wall with cable ties wrapping their hooves together watching the scene unfold. All the while, Twilight and Starlight instantly grew paranoid about the whereabouts of Spike. 

“Here he is.” The stallion that had discovered the baby dragon and threw him in front of Rocky, his mask staring down at him with a gaze that could penetrate steel. Looking up at the pony, he couldn’t speak. He was frightened out of his mind. 

Then, Rocky took his rifle and smashed him across the cheek with the butt of his L85. Spike toppled down onto his side as he yelped from the blow. Twilight shouted as she tried to rid herself of her cable ties.

“No! Stop! Don’t hurt him! What do you want from all of us?!” Twilight screamed through tears beginning to trail down her face. 

“Shut the hell up! Do you want me to tie a rope around his neck and hang him from the window?!” he shouted furiously as Spike crawled back over to Twilight and Starlight, a gigantic bruise on his face. “Look here, I’m going to make everything here simple and clear for you, Princess. Keep your mouth shut, and do as I say, and before long, everything will be better for all of us.”

“What are you going on about?” Starlight asked as stoically possible.

Then, Rocky got an idea.

“You, get a scroll or a piece of paper. Since Celestia is on her way, we’ll speed things up a bit.” Rocky was handed a scroll from a stallion that had picked one up from a table. Giving him a quill too, he began to jot down his letter to Princess Celestia herself.

All the while, a stallion in the same white mask as Rocky tied up Spike next to Twilight and Starlight.

“Are you okay, Spike? How badly did he hurt you?”

He had to choke back a sob to barely respond with: “A lot.”

Twilight looked back at the pony that had them at his mercy. If she could get out of this right now, she would personally send him to the infernal prison of tartarus. She’d never wish a pony to such a terrible fate, but now, her mind has changed. She could feel Starlight would act in the exact same way.

Rocky had finished his letter after taking a great amount of time on it.

“Done.”

Then, he walked up to Spike and dangled the note in front of him.

“You know exactly what I want.”

Spike looked back to Twilight, who nodded reluctantly.

“If you try to burn any of us, my ‘friends’ on the other floors will march right up here and slaughter you all, as well as the rest of Ponyville. And you’d better believe we have the firepower to do that.”

“Okay.” Spike sniffled and opened his mouth. A quick flame ignited out and caught the letter ablaze. Dropping it, Rocky let the letter burn up and watched as the ashes sailed outside.

“Now, gentlecolts, we wait.”





        Celestia had received the first letter. She was used to Spike’s handwriting, which was incredibly neat for such a young fellow like him. However, aside from the contents of the note that she got, the writing was frantic. It had Spike’s strokes to it, but they were longer and more messy, as if he had written in a hurry and in distress.

        Not to mention, stallions threatening Twilight and Starlight? 

        “Your highness, we’re on standby.”

        A guard saluted to Celestia, his spear at his side. The Princess of the Sun looked over to him and nodded.

        “Await my orders. We still need to know the whole situation that’s unfolding right now. I can feel a null-zone of magic surrounding the castle. Maybe they forced Twilight to cast a spell.”

        “I can get a squad in there and get the princess and all other subjects out.”

        Celestia looked over by the castle. 

        “Have all of the citizens of Ponyville been evacuated yet?”, the princess asked the guard.

        “Yes your highness. The town is clear.”

        She looked back towards Twilight’s home.

        “Send a squad to scout the place. I want a full report on what’s happening.”

        “Yes, Princess Celestia.”

        Then, the guard took several others down towards the castle.

        Celestia didn’t know too much of what this whole situation was presenting to Twilight, Starlight, and Spike. It must be terrifying to be held at knife point. However, she had faith in her guards to handle to situation. They were well trained and had the best armor Equestria could make.

At that instant, another letter reformed right in front of her face. Taking her attention away from the guards, she read over the letter:




“Hello, Celestia.

                I’ve always wanted to talk to you for such a long time. However, being in prison for twenty years hasn’t given me a chance to have a conversation with our esteemed leader. I’ve heard that you’ve finally succeeded as a teacher and created another princess.


Congrats.


        However, I’m not your friend, nor will we be friends. I would never associate myself with a bitch such as yourself for all of the injustice you have enforced on our own kind. I hope you can understand why I had to take Twilight under my wing now, instead of yours. As such, I have some favors I would like to call in after rotting in that cell for the last two decades. Time flies, doesn’t it?

        We want you to step down as leader of Equestria and reform the government under the superior vision of the White Mask Movement. In addition, we wish for a number of stallions to be released from prisons all across Equestria. Another thing we want is transportation to the Everfree Forest and for that area to be declared a null zone for your nation. No other pony except those we say may come near this forest.

        We will give you two days to meet these demands, or the prisoners we’ve taken will be executed. After that, we will head out from the castle, take our weapons, and slaughter every single pony that doesn’t follow our lead. Stallion, or especially mare, if they don’t follow us, they will die. We have weapons the likes that you could never imagine. We know that immortality prevents death from age, but not forced death. Such as how the great dictator Sombra had met his end.

        Time is ticking.

                -Love, Rocky Quarry”




        She grew increasingly panicked as she kept reading through the letter. Her breathing actually accelerated from viewing their demands and what they would do. Surely no pony could ever expect such demands to be fulfilled. The claim of these “weapons” that could slaughter everything they say, it couldn’t exist. Could it? Physically speaking, the crossbow has just been developed, which was the most advanced weapon they had right now. It would be impossible for them to have something that could kill so many like they spoke of.

        Princess Celestia began to remember when Twilight was still the eager and learning unicorn she was, writing to her every week on what she had learned about friendship. She read and kept every letter she had received. Even now, she had grown up into the responsible and kind-hearted princess she deserved to be and worked so hard towards.

        All of that could have been gone in an instant now.

        Celestia gritted her teeth towards the castle.

        She had never had blood on her hooves in over a thousand years, and she was most certainly not going to start with Twilight Sparkle, her new student Starlight Glimmer, and her ever-so faithful assistant, Spike.

        The guard squad was on their way to scout the area, hopefully to give her insight on what’s truly going on outside. The null-magic zone that had been created was deeply troubling, but that meant ponies inside couldn’t use magic as well.

        The guards weaved in between the buildings, peeking from corners, then moving up with shields raised.

        “Up, up, up! Move!” the squad leader silently told his six other squadmates, pressing towards the eerily silent Castle of Friendship.





        Waiting around was tedious, but it was the nature of these scenarios that the White Mask ponies had created for the princess. Twilight and Starlight had remained silent for a very long time, and Spike’s stomach growled.

        Obviously, Celestia would offer food to them in order to ease some of their demands. Rocky wasn’t feeling generous at all. She would give them food to extend their time. He wasn’t leaving here without a single demand tended to. If not, then she knew exactly what he and his ponies would do.

        Then, a stallion leaning by a window give Rocky an alert.

        “Hey, we have some guards coming towards us. West side of Ponyville.”

        Rocky immediately rushed over and looked out the window. He could see through some binoculars a small squad of guards peeking from behind a building, then moving across the street.

        Already, she’s throwing away her stallions like that? If Rocky knew one thing, if he were leader, he wouldn’t have done something so foolish and careless.

        “So, you don’t take us seriously?” Rocky narrowed his eyes at the guards outside, and spat his words out, “Your mistake, Celestia. These guards are going to pay for it.”

        As he walked back, he told everyone to ready their rifles and take an ammunition check.

        “Have the crates been moved up here yet?” Rocky asked a stallion.

        “Yes sir. Just a few minutes ago. Should I-”

        “Yes. Get me the belt-fed.”

        The male walked over to the crate that had stashed the weapons and ammunition, and pulled out what Starlight could recognise as an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, or a SAW. She knew about the terror these kinds of weapons held, spewing out a seemingly never-ending stream of lead as long as the trigger was pulled.

        Her eyes widened greatly, and Twilight began to scream.

        “N-No! Don’t! Please! Stop!”

        Rocky ignored every word Twilight had said as two stallions got next to a window, and Rocky loaded up the machine gun with armor-piercing incendiary ammunition.

        The guards were beginning to move across a street, shields raised.

        They had no idea of the death that was lurking over them.

        Then, Rocky threw the shutters open, as did his two other stallions. Right as they did so, the guards noticed, and he could hear one shout, “Hey! A window just opened!”

        The stallions lined up the front sights with the back sights, placed both over the group, and opened fire.

        The rifles opened up first, blasting out round after round, peppering the guards with a volley of slicing and impacting death. The guards shields could only stop one or two before the rest found themselves going through and smashing through their much weaker armor. One by one, guards dropped like a rock on the streets of Ponyville. Dust scattered around them as the rifles’ magazines were quickly emptied into them.

        They screamed in chaos and agony as their bodies were torn apart from the attack. Shortly after the sound similar to rapid and successive thunderclaps, an even louder and more frightening sound gripped the deserted Ponyville as the M249 started to fire.

        Rocky easily handled the weapon with his naturally built strength, pumping 5.56 millimeter API bullets into the guards down below. Tiny explosions with their shields caving in were seen as the rounds tore straight through them, ignited, and blasted through their bodies. Bullet shells clattered to the floor as the hail of gunfire kept on going. Twilight at this point was screaming and in tears as the guards down below met their demise.

        Celestia could hear the sounds coming from Ponyville. She had never listened to something so terrifying and ominous before. 

        The only guard left alive was the squad leader. He laid still in the ground, playing dead as Rocky washed bullets over the bodies, ensuring that they were truly dead and that anypony else that came would receive the message. Looking to his left and right, the petrified eyes and face of the guards stared back at him, blood pouring from their mouth and nose. The machine gun had run dry, a pile of shells had formed up on the ground next to Rocky. 

        “There. You think we’re a fucking joke? I’d gladly do the same to you, Celestia.” Rocky spoke coldly through his mask, “Get some tape around the hostages’ mouths. The screaming is more grating than the gunfire.”

        When the stallions broke away from the windows, the squad leader got up, and made a break for it. Hiding behind a building and getting out of the null-zone, he teleported straight out.

        Celestia now felt something that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Hopelessness.




        
        The former GSG-9, now an operator on Rainbow Team slung his ballistic shield onto his back, and took a hold of the hostage’s hand.

        “You’re going to be okay! Stay behind me and move with me!”

        The woman nodded through all of her fear and fright that had ensued beforehand. 

        “Let’s go! Stay behind!”

        She looked over towards the children’s room, finally seeing for the first time the state that it had become. Bullet holes and scorch marks of explosions had riddled across the once-cozy room, with no other signs of life. 

        “Come on. Stay calm,” Blitz reassured to the hostage he was now escorting to safety. All the while, he felt so vulnerable. His shield was now on his back as he needed to guide the woman to safety with a free hand. The other hand held his P12 handgun to defend himself and the hostage.

        “Down the stairs. We’ll be out in no time. Okay?”

        The woman nodded quickly as the two slowly came down the stairs. On the steps was another man laying across the floor. He was dressed in black gear in contrast to Blitz’s grey armor and jeans. The gas mask the body wore hid what face it had before its death. Plastered onto its shoulder was “SAS”.

        Down the steps, another body was leaned over the wall that faced the end of the stairs. A ballistic shield similar to Blitz’s was draped over the corpse. Clearly printed on his armor was “GIGN”. He was seemingly burned and blasted to a crisp, his facemask was blackened and his armor had smoking gashes in them.

        “Let’s keep going. We’re almost out.”

        The little laser on Blitz’s pistol traced around him as he watched for any sort of movement that could be pursuing him.

        Then, he saw it.

        Peeking from a corner from the kitchen that was to their right was the unmistakable green camouflage uniform of the Spetsnaz soldier aiming his VSN submachine gun directly at Blitz.

        The German lifted his pistol to stop the Russians intent on reclaiming the hostage.

        BANG!

        Smoke shot from the opposing gun as Blitz pulled the trigger on his. However, his gun failed to operate. Only a click was heard as the bullet supposed to be inside failed to fire.

        Then, the woman disappeared. The house’s painted walls formed back into plain plywood and plastic. The bodies that were on the stairs and wall groaned as they got up, stretched, and looked over towards Blitz and Kapkan, their guns still aiming for eachother.

        “Simulation Ended. Attackers neutralised.”

        Blitz lowered his pistol and placed it back into his holster. The Russian walked over, his SMG on his chest held with one hand.

        “If that wasn’t me, but a White Mask, you would be dead.” Kapkan’s self-sustained realist views reflected in his tone of voice, the hooded and mouth-covered former Spetsnaz talked down the GSG-9. Blitz only stared back, and gave a little smile underneath his balaclava that was partially hidden by his helmet.

        “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t, then. That was a nice shot.” Blitz replied back, his jovial attitude directly countering Kapkan’s serious one.

        “Indeed it was.” Montagne put his own shield on his back as he got up from the wall, “Is it me, or have your traps become a lot more subtle now?”

        “Sure. Go along with his traps. If you would have let me detonated mine before the German here shot me, you both would have been done for.” Smoke, the ex-SAS sounded frustrated at not getting to let his part of the plan go off.

        “Thank god it’s a simulation. I would hate to be on the receiving end of that gas.” Blitz nodded to Smoke, who began to walk away.

        “Good work everyone. Very well done.” Another voice came out from the other side of the massive enclosed room they were in that hosted the simulated combat environment. Approaching them was another man in the black SAS gear similar to what Smoke wore, except that his gas mask was off revealing the decently aged man underneath.

        “It’s apparent that the simulation still has some kinks to iron out, but for now, good retrieval of hostage. Blitz, you didn’t even hesitate when Montange was scripted to go down alongside you.”

        “Thank you, sir.” Blitz replied to Thatcher, one of Rainbow Team’s newest leaders, “But Kapkan got me while I was escorting the hostage. It wasn’t good enough.”

        “Heh, not exactly.” Thatcher gave a chuckle as he held up a tablet showing the replay. To Kapkan’s disbelief and Blitz’s frustration, Kapkan actually ended up shooting Blitz in his earmuff protection instead of his actual head, but the simulation still scored it as a “headshot”.

        “What?! That’s bullshit! I would have gotten you in your actual head!” Blitz looked back at Kapkan.

        “Damn. Oh well. That’s a bummer.” Kapkan sighed watching the replay.

        He walked away after storing his weapon and passed by Ash, former American FBI SWAT in the hallway.

        “So, took down the mighty Blitz?” the woman asked as she walked past, “Or did you give him deafness in one ear?”

        She chuckled as Kapkan went past her.

        “Americans…”

        Coming back to his quarters, he could see his comrades inside doing their various hobbies. Tachanka was sitting in a corner polishing a classic Mosin-Nagant rifle extremely carefully, Glaz was painting on a small mounted easel, and Fuze was currently making adjustments to his cluster charge insertion device with a screwdriver.

        “Well, I got Blitz in the earmuff. First time I’ve seen him throw a fit about something.” Kapkan sat down on his bunk.

        “Simulation counted it?” Fuze asked, looking over.

        “It did.”

        “Heh. Technology is overrated. I remember when paintballs were the deciding factor in direct training, not some stupid computer.” Tachanka was still polishing his rifle.

        Kapkan smiled a tiny bit. “I heard there’s a little package of Vodka coming in for us.”

        Fuze grunted. “I swear if it’s generic shit aga-”

        “Adnam’s Longshore.”

        Tachanka placed the rifle against the wall. “About time we got something different.”

        Glaz finished up on his easel and turned it over towards them.

        “What do you think?” the artist turned sniper showed them an absolutely gorgeous depiction of the Kremlin back in Moscow.

        “I can feel the nostalgia coming off of it.” Tachanka leaned back into his bunk.





        “Got me in the earmuff. Unbelievable.”

        At this time, the other German operators were currently on a training exercise. As Blitz walked down the hallway, hands in his pockets, he looked up.

        Walking towards him was none other than Rainbow Six, otherwise known widely by everyone else as John Clark. The old man had long retired from combat, but headed the Rainbow Team program with masterful decisions and strategy. 

        Instantly, Blitz whipped his hands from his pocket and gave a solid salute. “Sir!”

        Clark nodded towards Blitz. “At ease, Elias.”

        Walking past, Clark gave a smile back. “I know. It’s a load of crap too. We’re still working on it.”

        Blitz shrugged. “Well, it was too close. I can’t accept anything as ‘close enough’. You’ve done a good job in teaching us all that.”

        Clark gave a tiny affirmation back and headed down the hallway. Apparently, Thatcher needed to see him for a matter of utmost importance. Usually, that meant something really, really bad.

        Arriving in his office, Clark saw the familiar face of Mike Baker, known as “Thatcher” to practically everyone else.

        He was sitting in front of his desk with his tablet in his hand.

        “Okay, what have you called me here for?” Clark sat down on his side of the desk.

        “Operators Valkyrie and Blackbeard are currently arriving back from Afghanistan. They located a White Mask structure that housed a laboratory inside of it. Nine hostiles confirmed dead, none of our guys were injured,” Thatcher started to explain to Clark, “however, in addition to finding a decently sized weapons cache, they came across this peculiar device in the back of the room.”

        Thatcher showed Clark the machine the operators had snapped a photo of before it was destroyed in the fiery explosion that followed.

        “What in god’s name is that?” Clark leaned in closer to examine the picture.

        “My guess is about as good as yours. Ran the picture through images on the internet, nothing. The only thing we can infer about it was Russian text on it. We’ve come to the conclusion that it’s stolen tech from Russia.”

        Clark shook his head.

        “That can’t be right. This looks so… abstract.” Clark zoomed in on the photo, “So, you say there’s no sort of records, files, or anything like that?”

        “Nothing. Double checked. I even ran it by Tachanka, and even he couldn’t tell us anything about it. That bloody Russian could practically be the world’s greatest Russian historian if he wanted to be.”

        Clark ran his fingers over his chin. “Get Ding in here.”

        “Rainbow Five? Of course.”

        Thatcher called for Clark’s good friend, partner, and son in law. Domingo Chavez was one of the very few people Clark could entrust his life with, and vise versa. From hunting warlords in Japan to Africa, Clark and “Ding” had history together. Very good history.

        When eco terrorists posing behind the biotechnology company Horizon Corporation were to distribute a super virus that would wipe out 99.9 percent of humanity, they had stuck together with the original Rainbow Team.

“You called, Mr. C?” Ding sat down next to Thatcher, “So, this is about that machine those operators found in Afghanistan?”  

“You’re on point. Basically, we know nothing of this machine. Knowing that it was in the White Mask’s possession, it can’t be good news for anyone in this world.” Clark spoke to his friend.

“Amen to that,” Thatcher responded.

“No files, no records, nothing from Tachanka either. All we know is that it’s reminiscent of Russian design, albeit incredibly abstract.” Clark looked away, his hands clasped together.

“So, where else do we look?” Ding asked.

“Well, I got an idea. There is another man who might know even more history than Tachanka.” Clark spoke as if the subject was of utmost sin to mention.

“No. You can’t possibly be thinking of-” Ding started against Clark.

“It’s precisely what I’m thinking of.” Clark replied.

“I’m sorry, but who’s the man in question here?” Thatcher had no clue who Rainbows Six and Five were talking about.

Clark sat back on his chair.

“Dmitry Popov. Remember those terrorist attacks that occurred before Horizon Corporation was to launch its first act of wiping out humanity at the Olympics?” Clark asked Thatcher.

“Yes. One of those attacks targeted right in my homeland, in the same fucking hospital that both of your wives and daughters worked in.” Thatcher began to immediately grow a distaste.

“Well, he organised those attacks that allowed Horizon Corporation to gain the security firm at the Olympic stadium. However, he realised what they were doing, grew a conscience, and spilled the beans to us. If it weren't for him, then we all wouldn’t be standing right here at this moment.” Clark explained the man in question, Popov.

“Jesus Christ.” Thatcher looked back at Ding.

“I don’t like him any more than any of you. In fact, I would like to personally go down to that private island he’s living in right now and cut his balls off.” Ding looked back at Clark.

“But if there’s something I know about that ex-KGB, he knows his history. Perhaps a bit too much.” John explained, “Which is why we should be heading over there and paying him a nice visit.”

Ding grunted. “Well, considering it’s the White Masks, and it’s usually their downtime right now, it wouldn’t hurt too much. Operators Thermite and Blackbeard can keep the team in check while we’re gone.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Thatcher then got up. “Clark, no offense, but when was the last time you fired a gun?”

“Yesterday for the past something-something years. I may be a geezer, but this geezer knows how to handle an MP5.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Ding remarked under his breath, smiling.





        Sitting inside the Stealthhawk helicopter, Thatcher was busy sharpening his knife next to one of the gunner-window mounted Miniguns that were installed inside. The pilots gave notification that their destination was approaching.

        Preparing to repel down onto the island and the vila below, the three Rainbow Team operators stood ready for the signal.

        When the signal was given, they dropped down like spiders onto the rather nice looking house, considering it housed a former Russian spook inside. Landing on the roof, the helicopter was instructed to reconnect to a tanker jet waiting miles away and stay in orbit over the island.

        Clark, Ding, and Thatcher walked across the roof and stopped by a chimney. At once, Thatcher took out a minidrone and dropped it down the smokestack of the house. “Drone’s going in.”

        The tiny robot dropped into the house, where the fireplace was bare of any sort of flames. Driving around, it didn’t take long to find the only occupant of the house. He was elderly, but not on life support at all. He appeared to be watching a soccer game on an absolutely gigantic flatscreen.

        Thatcher despised him even more after he saw the face that could hide murder and terrorism beneath.

        “One contact, sitting in the television room. No weapons I can see, no tripwires, electronic detector seems clean.” Thatcher replied to Ding and Clark.

        “Alright. Let’s give him our warm welcome. I’ve never been too fond of soccer.” Ding spoke as Thatcher prepped up one of his EMP grenades, the Jack Union Flag painted on the top of it. He dropped it through the chimney, and the other operators went to repel down the window below.

"Devices going dark." Thatcher spoke as the EMP grenade was dropped down.

        Meanwhile, Popov was tuning into the latest game, only to find the Russians getting destroyed by Brazilians in soccer, by all chances. Then, he managed to hear the sound of an incredibly suppressed helicopter noise, but unmistakably a helicopter nonetheless. The noise slowly died away as he glanced over towards a window, noticing the faint outline of a military helicopter zooming off.

        He had a glass of scotch in his hand, just as the lights, and the TV immediately went out with a “zap!”

        Afterwards, he could see two little lasers come over his chest with two men dressed in black hanging out of the window. Sighing, and remembering that his Makarov handgun was in the drawer under his feet on the table he had them on, he looked at the two men in black and spoke out loud. “You left the safety on.”

Then, the soldiers moved in, parting the window’s sliding glass door.

Their guns were still trained on him, as one of them spoke up. “We need to have a conversation, Popov.”

Then, the Russian spook looked closely into the eyes that penetrated from the headgear. “Clark? Is that you? My god you haven’t aged well.”

“Shut it, we still remember what you tried to do with our wives and daughter at the hands of the IRA.” Ding spat back at him. At that moment, Thatcher came in through the opened sliding glass door.

“Okay, Popov. Let’s get right down to business.” Thatcher took the tablet from his case and gave it to Popov, the screen illuminating them in the darkness, “We need to know what this is.”

Popov took the tablet from Thatcher, and put on a pair of reading glasses to get a better look at the picture.

Almost all at once, Clark noticed Popov’s eyes widen at the image. His hands began to grow shaky at the tablet. His breathing began to accelerate. His whole body began to shake in some way as Ding placed his hand on his chest. “Holy shit! I think he’s having a seizure!”

Then, Popov threw open the drawer underneath him with his foot, and pulled his Makarov out. He aimed it straight at his own head, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Y-You can’t know! This secret will die with me! Don’t take another step!”, Popov has suddenly gone from a cold, calculative, and arrogant person from a man who seemingly wanted to commit suicide from PTSD.

“The fuck- Popov! Calm down! Put the gun down, slowly, okay? We discovered this machine at a White Mask compound, and we need to know what you can give us. Please. Calm down…”

Clark placed his own MP5 down as he spoke more and more calmly to the frightened man before them. He then told Thatcher and Ding to do the same, and they did so reluctantly. Both Ding and Thatcher had their hand over their handguns in case this went more south than it did.

“Popov. Calm down. Easy… easy…” Clark slowly backed away from him.

Then, Popov trained the gun on the three other men that were in front of him. “You cannot know. No one should know!”

“Know what? Popov, listen to us, the White Masks have this machine. If it’s something worth killing yourself over, you have to tell us instead.” Clark kept his voice calm as sweat beaded on Popov’s forehead, “Just… just keep it easy. Lower the gun and put it on the table. That’s going to be step one.”

The Russian’s eyes darted back and forth in between the three as he began to lower the gun from his temple, and slowly placed it on the table in front.

“Okay… are we okay now?” Clark asked Popov. He was still breathing heavily, but was making the effort to calm himself down. 

Popov breathed heavily and slowly as he put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart that had been weakened from age slowly rest itself down to stability. Looking back up at the three counter-terrorists in front of him, he placed his hand back onto his leg, the glanced back at them.

“I’ll… get you all some drinks. You might need them if you’ll ever believe the truth.”