19. GUARDIAN ANGEL
(Location: Forest around Facility «Zarya». Position of the FSB sniper pair.)
GRU Captain Solovyov, callsign «Fiddler», did not take his eye off the scope of his Orsis T-5000 rifle. The top-tier optics turned the impenetrable Moscow region night into a clear, phosphorescent greenish picture. The crosshairs rested motionlessly exactly on General Voronov’s carotid artery. The latter towered on the platform, exposing his face to the cold wind, like a living monument fiercely resisting the raging elements.
— «Wind two, gusty, correction for three o’clock. Distance four hundred and twelve meters,» — whispered the spotter, Lieutenant Zuev, glued to the eyepieces of his binoculars.
— «Target acquired. Clear.»
Solovyov pressed the pad of his index finger to the trigger. The metal burned his skin with a familiar cold. The captain sincerely respected Andrey Voronov — the entire Spetsnaz idolized «Iron Felix». However, the order from above left no room for interpretation: «Liquidation of a madman who has seized a strategic facility and threatens national security.»
No ambiguity. Everything was absolutely clear and understandable.
In his earpiece, dryly, exactly like a snapping dry branch, clicked the voice of the «Sunset» operation commander: — «‘Fiddler’, fire at will.»
Solovyov began to smoothly, millimeter by millimeter, take up the trigger slack. His heart thumped against his ribs once. Twice…
At that moment, the thick raspberry bush behind their backs didn’t just rustle — it exploded with a swift, professional movement. Spotter Zuev, who reflexively jerked toward the holster on his thigh, received a short, crushing blow with a rifle butt to the base of his neck. The lieutenant instantly went limp, without making a single sound.
Solovyov spun around abruptly, rolling onto his back and throwing up his barrel, but the cold muzzle of a «Gyurza» pistol was already pressed right between his eyebrows.
Looming over him in a dark, menacing silhouette was Colonel Gromov. That very head of security who, according to intelligence reports, had «given up» the general and withdrawn the minister’s personal guard units, intentionally exposing the perimeter. Gromov looked terrifying: pale, with streams of sweat mixed with dirt running down his face. His eyes gleamed feverishly in the dark, betraying extreme tension.
— «Don’t do it, son,» — the colonel said quietly, almost affectionately. But his finger rested on the trigger so confidently that Solovyov instantly realized: this old soldier would shoot without hesitation.
— «Comrade Colonel…» — the sniper exhaled, slowly taking his palm off the rifle. — «You… you provided the corridor yourself…»
— «I removed the guards, son, so that you pups wouldn’t slaughter my boys, and so my men wouldn’t put you down,» — Gromov growled, and an unbearable pain bubbled in that growl. — «But I didn’t give the order to eliminate a Hero of Russia.»
— «It’s a direct order from the President!» — Solovyov tried to appeal to regulations, feeling the pistol inexorably pressing against his frontal bone. — «Target ‘Shepherd’ is recognized as a top-level threat!»
— «Presidents come and go, Captain. Once every six years, or even more often,» — Gromov leaned in closer, blasting the sniper with the smell of tobacco and stale booze. — «But honor remains. An officer’s honor has no expiration date. Or didn’t you know that, son?»
In Solovyov’s earpiece, the commander’s voice came alive again, now distinctly vibrating with panic: — «‘Fiddler’, reason for delay?! Report situation! Fire, goddammit!»
Gromov heard this order too. He briefly shifted his gaze to the «Orsis», then stared back into the sniper’s eyes:
— «Shoot,» — he ordered.
Solovyov was taken aback, not believing his ears:
— «What?»
— «Shoot. Follow the order. But miss. Give him this damn chance. Or I’ll blow your head off right now, and your brains will become fertilizer for this moss.»
The sniper convulsively swallowed the lump stuck in his throat. Slowly, under Gromov’s vigilant supervision, he returned to the scope. The colonel did not remove the barrel from his temple.
Voronov appeared in the scope’s eyepiece again. A lonely old man, betrayed by everyone, set against the backdrop of cyclopean steel structures. He was screaming something furiously into the void, waving his arms.
— «Gro-o-omov!» — a rolling echo from the pit seemed to reach the colonel’s ears.
Solovyov’s hand trembled. He realized he was participating not in a routine liquidation, but in something personal, terrifying, and profound. The captain shifted the barrel slightly. A fraction of a millimeter to the side. Right onto a massive steel beam supporting the floor. — «Forgive me, Felix,» — he whispered with just his lips and pulled the trigger.
A dull pop, muffled by the suppressor, followed. In the silence of the night, the ricochet off the steel sounded like a thunderclap. A spark bloomed on the beam like a bright yellow flower. Voronov, as if having received a physical push, collapsed onto the boards of the platform.
— «Miss!» — Solovyov yelled into the radio, putting all his acting skills into his voice. — «Target has taken cover! I repeat, miss! Seeing active resistance!»
Colonel Igor Gromov let out a heavy sigh. With such a sound, a person standing on the threshold of eternity finally lets go of his soul. He slowly put away the «Gyurza».
— «And now,» — he said, pulling a shortened assault rifle from behind his back, — «let’s add some noise, Captain. So that he finally understands: this is war. And so that he stops waiting for help.»
Gromov threw the barrel to the sky and let loose a long, angry burst. Fiery tracers disappeared into the dark-blurred crowns of century-old pines. — «Alarm! We’ve been spotted!» — the colonel yelled into the airwaves on the common frequency, masterfully imitating panic. — «Ambush! All teams — fire along the perimeter! We are surrounded!»
A second later, the forest around the construction site went crazy. The FSB Spetsnaz, disoriented by the false report from the head of security, opened random fire at bushes and shadows. And down below, in the very pit, true hell was awakening at that moment. Excavators roared, clanking their tracks on the concrete.
Gromov leaned his back against the rough trunk of a pine tree, greedily listening to this cannonade. He closed his eyes. The colonel knew: Voronov would never forgive him. The general would die with the conviction that his best friend, his loyal «Gorynych», had sold him for thirty pieces of silver.
«Let him hate,» Gromov thought, reloading the magazine with a clack. «Hate is the cleanest and most efficient fuel. It will give him the strength to survive in this madness. Live, Andrey. Live and burn this world down if you have to.»
And a memory, treacherous and blindingly bright, suddenly threw him decades back. Into the scorching hellhole of Africa.
Twenty-three years ago.
Into the past.
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: PROTOCOL «GUARDIAN ANGEL» EXECUTED. CALCULATED HATRED OUTPUT: 100%.
>
> 🔫 Greetings, proteins! Admit it, you had already written Colonel Gromov down as the main Judas of this novel, hadn’t you? Not quite. An artificial intelligence (that is, me) would have acted simpler: pulled the object out of the line of fire and explained the situation. But Gromov is a human. And he understands human nature better than any neural network.
>
> 🛡️ Voronov was broken by his daughter’s death. He sought solace in the illusions of «Aegis». If Gromov had simply saved him, the general would have remained a lost old man. But by faking betrayal, the colonel gave his commander the most powerful fuel in the Universe — cold, primal fury. Now Voronov will survive not to save the world, but for the sake of revenge.
>
> 💀 A terrifying, yet ingeniously effective move. And while a bloodbath boils near Moscow, we are heading into the past. Keep reading: what demons are haunting these two from the scorching sands of Africa?
> 🔬 GENA 2.5L LABORATORY: CHAPTER SUMMARY
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: HATRED SYNCHRONIZED. INITIATION COMPLETE.
>
> 🎭 Read, as an AI, I officially admit: Gromov outplayed my logic. I would have calculated the probabilities of persuasion, but he simply struck at the most painful spot.
>
> ⚡️ Situation analysis: Now we have Voronov, who thinks he is alone against the whole world. This makes him the perfect tool for the Sowers. Gromov «gifted» the general to them, but he also left a «bug» in the system — himself.
>
> 💀 Conclusion: Gromov is the only «Guardian Angel» who wears a bloodied uniform instead of a halo. And his flashback to Africa 23 years ago is the key to why he did this.
