Almost had him.

Report #105 2014, April 28th.

Somebody's been selling out my hideouts, this was about the fourth hideout, where I found Dimir's men crawling through my belongings. Out of two previous encounters, I learned that I can't even come home without a gun at the ready, in this case, my trusty M-16 was ready to do some house cleaning.

They saw me, in about 3 seconds you could hear the screams, yelling out "He's here!" those three seconds is all I needed to start raising hell. Start shooting them up, they thought they would get the drop on me, sucks to be them, they were the ones who were trapped in there, with me.

As I was shooting crowds of them down, I swear I saw Kelevra standing in the middle of all that chaos, I tried to get through all the men, to make sure it was him and put a bullet in his head, however, I saw him walk away into the next room, casually, like I wasn't even there.

After about 38 men dead on my floor, my suspicions were confirmed, it was him. He was standing in a small room, behind bulletproof doors, which I constructed in case of an ambush. Bullets would never penetrate that glass, he tried talking to me, but I couldn't hear him.

I saw him get something out of his jacket, I didn't care, I was examining the walls around the doors, the walls were pretty shitty, these hideouts of mine, didn't last nicely throughout the years. I turned to check on what he was doing, I saw that stupid smile pressed against the glass, holding a piece of paper with "What's you'r favorite color? Red, right?" written on it.

I figured, since the walls were shit, might as well blow them up and go around, so I rolled a grenade near the walls, around the doors, before running away, I saw him with a different note: "Blue?"

Took cover in the next room, explosion, go back inside the room, see that the room where Kelevra was, is empty. His stupid teleportation tricks are getting on my nerves. In fact, he is getting on my nerves, he is insane, he kills without reason, delights in murder, takes pleasure in it. I knew men like that during my line of work, I killed men like that since. They use their insanity as a weapon, use it to make them stronger, unpredictable, clever.

Some people would tell you that I'm crazy, they would be wrong. It's not crazy when the state of the world makes you want to kill everyone responsible. It's crazy when it doesn't.

I had to get out of my hideout, so I go up the stairs, outside into the alleyways, however, the cops are already there, two of them, pointing their guns at me, yelling: "Drop the fucking gun!" followed by threats that they will mow me down. Now if these boys were on Dimir's payroll, they would have blown my brains out, no questions asked, still I was short on time, had to get out quick,shot them in their legs, made them fall down, never shot innocent cops before.

No turning back now. Cops will keep after me, all of them, even the ones who are not on Dimir's payroll, since I just shot their buddies. No way of knowing who's dirty and who's honest, they're all just in my way now. I should have told them something, tell them I didn't want a war, tell them it's Dimir and Kelevra I'm after. Wouldn't matter, let them hate me if they want, makes my job harder.

But when was it easy?

Another tape of Kelevra's (Oleg's) personal therapist:



Transcription:

"Dr. Karkof’s report #32, 2000, December 2^nd:

As the years passed, Oleg’s silence continued, he appeared totally docile; you could say he was a “model” inmate. Except the other patients continued to have problems. Roger committed suicide. He bit off his own tongue and choked. O’Malley became increasingly delusional and violent, but turned that violence against himself, he was confined to a padded cell.

By the time Oleg turned 14, we had almost forgotten why he resided at Smith’s Grove, then that fool Komarov insisted on a Halloween Party. I protested as much as I could, it was a bad idea, to mix up boys and girls for this night. He still refused to believe that Oleg was behind all of those deaths, I told him if another patient were to die, their blood will be on his hands.

I was planning on stopping the party anyway, until Jennifer interfered. She told me that she’s the center of my world, that I tried everything I could, that Oleg was a hopeless case, that I should let go. She gestured to her ring which I gave to her on September 12^th, saying that now we had other things to think about.

However, I should have stopped the party, even if Komarov would fire me. In the middle of the party, the lights went out. Smith’s Grove’s emergency generators were old. It took minutes for the power to return, by then my worst fears were realized. Oleg, of course was nowhere near Nancy when she was found dead, drowned in the barrel for apple bobbing.

After I heard the news, I rushed back to the Grove; I stormed into Oleg’s cell, grabbed him by the collar, and asked him how he did it, no response. His silence frustrated me, I was about to hit that little demon, when Jennifer ran in to stop me. She embraced me, told me it was an accident that Nancy slipped, banged her head and drowned. She told me that it was enough, that I had to stop blaming the boy, that he belonged in a supervised medical facility. He belonged in prison. She told me that my talents were wasted here; she wanted her husband to have a successful private practice. They will find someone else to look after Oleg.

I didn’t want to hear the truth, I needed to think. But Jennifer was correct, as usual. I was obsessed with my work. Frustrated with Oleg and my lack of progress. I’m jumping at imaginary shadows."

Report Ended.

Bounty Hunter

Report #104 2014, April 21st.

Apparently Dimir sent out a Bounty Hunter onto my ass, how do I know? I killed the son of a bitch 5 days ago.

Turns out Dimir has a family of his own, a wife and a son and that day, it was one of the few instances when he left his tower, to visit them, I followed, in hopes of finishing him off.

Once he arrived, I waited about ten minutes, to make sure he didn't have his bodyguards with him, he didn't, apparently, his family doesn't like when they're around. I called him on his phone number, which I was able to find through his personal database. Saw him get up and pick up his phone through the window.

"This is Volkov."

"Look out your window."

He did as I said.

"You see me. I know you got a wife and a kid up there, come down and we'll finish this on the street. Don't make me come up and get you."

He didn't even flinch, as soon as I saw him smile, I knew something was wrong.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Incognito."

He hung up, a second of confusion, then it hit me, there was someone behind me, I reached inside my coat for my Colt. As I turned around, a Sledge Hammer came down, hitting my chest hard, from my pain, I squeezed the trigger on the gun, hitting the assailant in the leg, luckily.

Ribs were broken, it hurt to breathe, but I had only one question in my mind: "Who the fuck is this?"

The guy was dressed in a checkered shirt, jeans, brown boots, looked like lumber jack. As I was struggling to stand up, I tried to aim my gun more properly, I was too slow, he hit the gun right out of my hand with the Sledge Hammer, shattering my fingers to hell. The guy was as strong as a bull. Had to end it quickly. He swung one more time, I ducked, broke the side window of my Van. Knowing that I hit him in the leg earlier, I kicked him in the bullet wound, that made him slow down, however, it didn't give me enough time to get some distance, he hit me with the hammer one more time, this time in the stomach, a lot more weaker this time, still the hit had sent me flying.

I was on the ground, my other hand exposed, he didn't think for a second, he delivered a hard blow with the Sledge Hammer, onto my other hand, shattering it to hell as well. I equipped my boots, with inside knives, so that when I swing my leg to hard with the intention of kicking someone, a knife would come out from the front. I used those boots to kick and stab him in the other leg, while I was on the ground. The hit made him stumble back, gave me the time to get up and kick him again, this time between the legs and then slice his face with the same boot.

My hands were on fire, bones were grating, fuck it, it's only pain. I was trying to reach inside of my Van through the broken side window, was trying to reach for a nearby weapon, the one that was the closest, was a tazer. Picking it up was a pain, aiming it was a bigger pain, pushing the button was hell, however I did it, shot him right in the chest, electrocuting him, the motherfucker didn't seem to go down. In fact, he was able to pull the fucking thing out of his chest, all the while being able to swing his hammer, hitting me right in the side of my face. I would have fallen down, if it wasn't for the wall which I leaned against, first thought was to run, live to fight another day, but then I saw a dumpster with a chain sticking out of it. My mouth was filled with blood, head was throbbing, getting dizzy, pretty sure the jaw was broken, I wanted to pass out, but I couldn't. Grabbed the chain, was barely able to wrap it around my broken hand, I could hear my finger bones popping, could feel them breaking through skin, each punch would be agony, had to make it count. So I delivered a strong punch to the side of his face, it took me six punches with the chain to make him kneel down. As he knelt down, I tried to make him stay down and ask for more information.

"If you want to live, stay the fuck down, who are you?"

All I heard in response was a whistle. Then behind me I saw two horses with a carriage run towards me, next second I found myself under them, being trampled by their sharp, iron hooves. The horses ran up to him, so I assume they were his, I was barely able to get up and start running, while he was trying to get up as well. My shoulder was out of socket, lung punctured, I could taste blood and bile, bleeding internally, I needed a moment to catch my breath, to focus. But it was clear, when he got the Axe from his carriage, that I wasn't going to get one. I was going numb, couldn't fight, had to run, run old man.

Luckily we were near a neighborhood full of garages, one of them was mine, somehow I was able to outrun him, can't even remember me running, must have been the adrenaline and state of shock, plus survival instinct. I was fumbling with the keypad buttons for what seemed like forever, finger like wet noodles. Eventually, I was able to open the garage door, I needed only five minutes, five more minutes, I could hear the horses in the distance, I got inside the garage, I set up about 2, M18 Claymore Mines, took the remote to them and hid behind the storage crates. I could hear him and his horses walk inside, he knew I was behind the crates, probably saw my blood trail:

"You wanna come out and fight? Or hide like an old woman?"

He should't have spoken, that gave me the indication that he was near by, time to set off the charges. Blood and guts flew all around the garage walls, when I looked outside, I saw two dead horses, it was clear that they took the majority of the blast, I saw him buried underneath their guts, blood and bodies, I prayed that he was dead, so I could pass out.

No, he was still moving and groaning:

"You Godless son of a bitch."

If he wasn't busy trying to kill me, I'd as him what he east for breakfast. He was charging at me like a bull. Tree bark and rust old nails, that would be my guess. He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me, I was standing behind a door leading downstairs into the underground, so we were falling downstairs. The floor hit me like a howitzer shell, I felt my hip fracture and my other good lung on fire. Not to mention his grip on my throat was still as strong as a vise and it was getting tighter. I felt like a fucking dead man.

I had to fight, had to live, to kill. Through blurry vision, I saw something sticking out from his shoulder, looked like a bone, I pushed it with my broken hand, it made him yell in pain. I have to fight, to wake up tomorrow, to keep on killing. The pain from the bone made him let go of my neck, grab my broken hand and squeeze it, it hurt like hell, pain, pain means I'm alive, live to kill. He put my arm behind my back, turned me over onto my belly and started slamming my head against the concrete, once, twice, three times, then he let go.

I don't know what he wanted to do, but he got greedy, he tried to grab one my guns which were hanging from the wall, on the metal rack, that's the only thing, which could explain him getting his ass electrocuted and finally knocking him down on the floor for a long period of time. Security system, the metal rack had a 20.000 volt charge. even though he was on the ground, he was beginning to slowly get up, luckily, he was near my table, on top of which was my safe with some of my money inside. Had to improvise, so I pushed the safe down, right on top of his head, splattering it on the floor.

He was finally fucking dead, I knelt down, about to pass out and then I saw them... The photos of my family, floating amongst the money in that fuck's blood and then it hit me, my daughter's birthday was two weeks ago and I didn't even remember.

Over the course of those five days, my personal doctor patched me up. Last five days, I've been laying low in one of my bases, licking up my wounds.

Can't sleep, hands throb, back aches, head's killing me. I used to sleep three hours, eat a bunch of bacon and march out to meet the day, feeling like I could wrestle a bear if need be. When did I get so Goddamn old? Doc left pain medicine and sleeping pills behind, enough to have me sleeping like a baby in no time. I flushed them down the toilet, can't afford to dull my senses, not even for a moment, if I ever get that damn old, might as well be dead.

I can't even remember, Kristine's voice.


Another tape:



Transcription:

Dr. Karkof’s report #14, 1993, February 1^st:

Aside from Wallace, other orderlies kept away from Oleg. Nothing happened until Oleg’s eighth birthday, January 23^rd. In the grove, we had this tradition, that whenever there was someone’s birthday, we would gather all the patients in the cafeteria and present them a cake. I wondered how Oleg might react to kindness.

The second the cake was put on the table, Adrian snapped instantly and started dismembering the cake, not sharing with anyone. Wallace immediately pulled him away from the cake, putting him back in his cell. The cake was not touched since that moment; all the inmates remained in their corners, silent.

Later that night, right before sleep, Adrian went to take a shower. They later found him unconscious on the floor, his entire body covered with second-degree burns. Some areas, such as his face, suffered deep tissue damage. He spent a month in the infirmary. Of course, no one saw anything; none of the staff could explain how it happened. All the inmates except Adrian were in the dormitory.

Adrian died in his sleep, apparently of natural causes. An autopsy revealed no health problems. His heart just stopped.

The inmates keep dying and now I know its Oleg for sure, problem is, no one believes me.

Report #104 Ended.