The Adventures of Hank Sokolov

In 2011, Russian civil intelligence, the SVR, had compiled a list of overseas Russian expatriates with clean international reputations and extensive wrestling experience. was once a useful contingency would now prove to be of the utmost importance to the Russian effort in Ultimate Wrestling.

However, like many useful things owned by Russia, interservice rivalry between the GRU and the SVU kept it out of the former's hands for far too long. The GRU spent a surprising amount of time and treasure to obtain this information from the SVR, and put it into the hands of someone who could actually use it. That someone was GRU Colonel Dasha Ivanova. She had heard much of the vaunted list of comrades who could cement the GRU's hold in Ultimate Wrestling. The results… were a bit disappointing.

Painstaking research from Dasha and her associates had revealed most of the candidates were unfortunately not suitable. Most of the individuals on the SVR stable list had perished or fled the United States after the 2018 nuclear attack, or could not be located on such short notice amidst the chaos. The remaining few were approached with offers. But they either had ironclad contracts in other wrestling federations or rebuffed offers to work for the motherland.

However, one name stood out. To Dasha, it was the one that mattered most. For all the gems missing on this coronet, the crown jewel still remained.

Not currently associated with any wrestling federation. Strong ties to the motherland. Location definitely known and most certainly alive. No experience in Soviet or Russian military and espionage, but that was an asset in a time when the US federals were cracking down hard on anything even remotely foreign.

That name was Sokolov Andrei Sergeivich , known in America as Hank Sokolov. Dasha held his file in her hands. Tonight, Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova would pay him a visit.

The American plane felt small, dark and cramped, even with only Dasha and Boris as the passengers. The bumpy ride and crescendo grind of the engine shook Dasha from her thoughts. The tall, wiry Russian brunette came back to the present and assessed her situation. An internal flight with a small civilian craft would go entirely unnoticed since the American military had much bigger fish to fry these days. Dasha always had a tense, ready energy to her, like a crossbow ready to fire into someone's throat. Tonight it was not helped much by the immense risk of this mission.

"Remember, Boris", said Dasha, nudging the immense Russian man next to her. "The Altan Ord are not amateurs. Their leader has managed to escape international justice for a decade, operated within the first world without state backing of any sort, an almost unprecedented act. We do not want their full attention. We go in quiet, we extract Sokolov, we leave. God willing, that's all that we will do tonight."

The buzzcut, heavyset Russian man sitting next to her reached full awareness from a very light slumber. After a pause to consider what Dasha had said, Boris Drago replied, "I have been thinking, Dasha. Why would a good Russian man join a terrorist organization? Why would we want this Andrei Sokolov if he is willing to throw in with a gang no better than Chechens?"

"Because", said Dasha, "the Altan Ord is on no one's side. They have not given Russia any difficulty, and have largely been active in Western Europe and America. With the anarchy on the American West Coast, they've caused far more problems here than anywhere else. Hank's profile is quite clear, however, that he is a patriot through and through. I do not know why he's joined the Altan Ord, but it's clear he's far from turned against our country. We deploy in two minutes, Boris. Get ready."

Boris shrugged. Just because he could understand politics didn't mean he could like it. At all. He checked the safety on his suppressed AR15 and looked the gun over again. He sneered. American piece of junk. You best not fail on me. I have important mission! Well, it is better than being caught with Russian equipment, should we be compromised.

Boris looked out the window. The town of Cloudy Springs, Colorado was ablaze with a warm orange glow that belied the carnage most certainly happening in the streets. It seemed the Altan Ord were not gentle when they treated a town. He paused for a moment.

"Can't we reach the leader of the Altan Ord? Turn him to Russia's cause?", Boris quietly mused to himself.

Dasha, of course, heard him. "We've tried several times. Always ends with the messenger being decapitated, no matter how subtle the contact. I've heard the North Koreans and Iranians have also tried, and the hands offered only returned as bloody stumps. Their leader is stubborn and insane. It's said he hates all nations and all peoples equally. I've heard the words 'inhuman' liberally used in discussions, and it may perhaps be literal."

Boris shook his head and bundled his winter coat around him. "Then how good could any of his followers be?"

"Patience, Boris. In due time, we will find out if comrade Sokolov can be reached, and we will not be sorry if he can. You will see."

The transport's pilot yelled out that they were over the target. Dasha opened the plane's door and the bracing cold came blasting in.

"I suppose I will. Let the games begin!", said Boris as he followed Dasha out of the plane.

As he descended in the cold Colorado air on his parachute, Boris got a better and better look at the interior of Cloudy Springs . Holes ripped in walls. Houses in flames. Bodies slumpt over, half-burnt, sometimes sawn in half. A police car caved in by some enormous force. Not a single window unshattered. Screams and gunshots echoed in the distance.

They landed on slushy snow just outside the city limits. Boris readied his rifle, Dasha drew her pistol.

"Are those… hooves?", Boris asked.

Dasha rolled her eyes and hoped that was rhetorical. There were clearly hoofprints in the snow beside them, an uncountable many of them. Horses whinnied in the distance, amidst the sounds of screaming, gunfire and struggling.

"Yes", said Dasha. "We won't be able to outrun our pursuers on horseback, so it is vital we keep a low profile."

"I can ride a horse.", grunted Boris. "Maybe we should take one."

"No. Low profile, Boris. The Ord has repelled National Guard units in open battle. We're in no shape to do so alone."

"Very well, Dasha. Lead the way."

The two Russians made their way into the city, carefully ducking through debris and slipping around corners. The few living civilians they saw were either fleeing the city or in no earthly shape to do so.

Boris kept his rifle trained on a man pinned under a collapsed beam, in case the unfortunate man tried to shout for help and attracted unwanted attention. When the man saw Boris, he sputtered, coughed up blood and then whispered out,

"Run… run while you still can… the wrestler…. He…."

"The what?", asked Boris. "And the wrestler? A Russian wrestler? What do you know, have you seen him?"

The man shuddered, then went still. The beam on top of him creaked a little and then with a thunderous crash, a good chunk of the man's house collapsed on him. Screams and gunfire echoed in the distance.

"It's very bad here, comrade. Almost as bad as Chechnya." said Boris. He probed the pile of rubble with his rifle.

"Yes, I know. Warms your heart, doesn't it?" said Dasha, not entirely sarcastically. She kept lookout around the burnt scaffolding of a corner of a house, and had not so much as glanced at the buried man. "Leave him, Boris."

"These Americans are civilians." said Boris.

"At some point, everyone's a civilian." said Dasha. "Let's move."

As they approached the center of town, Boris caught a glance of armed warriors on horseback, carrying rifles and recurve bows. Boris and Dasha ducked behind a mound of burning corpses and the riders passed by completely unaware. The familiar smell of burning flesh permeated their noses for so long they no longer noticed.

The two Russians made sure the riders were safely out of sight, and emerged from cover.

"No sign of Sokolov so far. We can either try to grab one of the Ord to interrogate them, or try the civilians.", said Boris. "I don't like our chances of simply looking around without being caught. Especially since we also have to take a risk to contact Sokolov, anyways."

"Agreed." said Dasha. "We haven't come across any Ord stragglers yet, but we'll take the chance if we see one. For now, let's find civilians."

A massive explosion a few hundred meters away rocked the town, sending dust everywhere.

Boris coughed and waved away the dust. "The town may not last long enough. Perhaps the direct approach."

Dasha sighed. "Always the direct approach with you, Boris."

"We don't know how much longer the Ord will stay here. We've found precious few people, this town is clearly almost exterminated. We can try to turn over rocks all night or we can lure out Sokolov while we still know he's still here and still alive."

Dasha looked straight into the fire in Boris' eyes.

"Very well. What do you propose?"

Boris fired his flare gun straight up, then pressed a button on a small remote. Immediately, the burner cell phone laid at his feet started blaring the Russian national anthem. Boris sprinted away, into a half-intact two-story house, went up the stairs, and then aimed his rifle through a small crater in the second story walls. Dasha was waiting in the room with binoculars at the ready, peering through a shattered window.

It didn't take long for several Ord riders to converge on the flare and find the phone playing the Russian national anthem. They were wearing a strange mixture of casual American clothing- jeans, shirts, coats, what appeared to be genuine Mongolian armor, and stolen American military uniform and armor. They babbled something among themselves, which Boris and Dasha couldn't quite discern at this distance.

One of the riders dismounted and smashed the phone with the head of a spear, cutting off the national anthem at the second chorus, and hit it again and again until the phone was dust.

"That worked fantastically", remarked Dasha. "What now?"

Boris said, "Patience, Dasha."

From the Russian agents' limited field of view through their cover, it seemed like a picket fence at the edge of their vision suddenly burst open and an enormous pale boulder of a man wearing a red leotard rammed into the scene. He charged forward, bodily picked up the rider who smashed the phone, and hit him with a massive shoulder jawbreaker. Even Boris and Dasha could hear the crunch at this distance. The stricken man slumped onto the ground and lay absolutely still amidst a spreading pool of his blood.

"Who dares disrespect the motherland!?" the leotard-wearing giant screamed, pointing a finger wildly at everything around. The other riders, for the most part, looked on impassively atop their steeds. One even nodded in approval.

"I'm… fairly sure that's Sokolov" said Boris.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's definitely Sokolov." said Dasha, rather impressed.

Boris motioned for Dasha to give him the binoculars. He took a closer look through them. Hank Sokolov was best described as a solid wall of man, with an almost completely bald head, with only a patchy beard and square of slightly grey hair around his ears. He had a torso shaped like a barrel, but placed sideways and laid on top of another barrel, and then both barrels were strapped together with pure Russian dynamite. He had a doughy complexion and texture to his skin, and must have been around seven feet tall, about the same as Boris. He looked a fair bit heavier than Boris, which was really saying something.

"He's definitely worth this trip", said Boris. "How should we approach-"

Suddenly, one of the riders looked at the ground and pointed near the Russian's direction. "Tracks! The people who left this!", the man said. "That way!"

Hank Sokolov yelled to the riders, "Spread out, comrades! The Grand Duck's orders were very specific. No survivors! Find them and break them!"

The Altan Ord riders and Hank fanned out in the general direction of Boris and Dasha's position.

"We've been compromised. They are attacking us! Let's light them up!" said Boris.

"No! We've reached Sokolov here! We can't let the Ord swarm us!" said Dasha.

She leaned out of the window, careful not to expose herself and yelled as loudly as she could in Russian, "Comrade Sokolov! We have peaceful intentions! We want to talk!"

"Altan Ord! Waste and War!", yelled one of the Altan Ord men. He fired a burst from his rifle near the sound of the voice. Plaster shattered near Dasha's window and she withdrew back into cover.

"Fools! You can't touch me! You are no match for Boris!" yelled the other Russian man from the house. Boris returned fire, blowing away the Ord shooter, whose torso burst into crimson. He slumped over where he sat. His corpse flapped against his horse’s side like a used rag as the horse ran away, whinnying in panic.

"No, wait! Halt!" said Hank Sokolov's distant voice from the street below. "Do not make me do this, comrades!"

"Comrade Drago, listen to comrade Sokolov! We cannot engage!" said Dasha. "Cease fire! That is an order!" Her orders went unheeded as suddenly arrows and bullets peppered the Russian soldiers' position. Dust and rebar flew everywhere. She threw herself to the floor as Boris' rifle chattered a deadly reply to their attackers.

Boris moved to another room, and continued to fire his rifle from the next room's window. He fetched a grenade with his free hand and looped his finger into its ring when suddenly the battered house shook and tottered.

"It is collapsing! Comrade Ivanova, brace yourself!" yelled Boris.

Dasha took a swan dive out of the nearest window as the house lurched and buckled. She gracefully landed into a roll in the street below and was immediately surrounded by hostile men with rifles aimed at her head. She took one careful look down all the barrels at her head and carefully raised both her hands and knelt down. The Russian colonel fought the urge to look behind her at the collapsing house as it crumbled.

Hank Sokolov was nowhere in sight, but Dasha nonetheless tried her luck. "Comrade Sokolov", she said, this time in English. "Please understand. We mean you no harm. My comrade Boris is still in the house."

She heard Hank grunting behind her. Carefully looking at the grim-faced men around her to make sure they wouldn't get too jumpy, she slowly turned around to see Hank casually throwing away a housing beam, torn out of the very house she had escaped. The house was flattened, had entirely shattered into painted timber and shards of plaster.

"Yes, comrade. It is regrettable, but I felt it was the best way to stop the shooting. I am sorry."

"You… you killed Boris." said Dasha.

"Killed? What are you talking about, comrade? No Russian man could possibly die to a mere house falling on him.", said Hank. He turned around back to the rubble and yelled, "Come out, Comrade Boris! Your lady comrade is asking for you!"

There was a grunt. An explosion went off in the distance. The Altan Ord men flinched with their rifles, to Dasha's chagrin. Hank might as well have not noticed it happened.

"I am sorry. I think the ceiling struck me on the head, I forgot I was holding grenade. Nearly cost me a finger, comrades", said Boris as he hefted part of a brick wall upwards and off of him.

Hank nodded in sympathy as he rubbed a scar on one of his thick fingers and strolled forward to Boris. Hank lifted the brick wall with ease and tossed it aside like a hubcap and clutched Boris' hand to help him to his feet.

The two Russian men looked each other square in the eyes for a few seconds.

Boris lunged forward and Hank embraced him.

"It is good to see countrymen from the motherland!", said Sokolov with a hearty grin. He patted Boris on the back. "Forgive my men, they are jumpy and some are green recruits. We had a hard battle in an Army base the other day, many are still nursing wounds."

"Da, but I will say, while they were shooting at me, it was fine shooting" chuckled Boris as he released Hank. "I don't think I would have stayed intact were it not for your quick thinking."

"He collapsed the house we were in!" said Dasha in disbelief.

"Da, it is immediate de-escalation, destroy battlefield, there is no battle." said Hank. Boris nodded approvingly.

Hank then seemed to realize what his men were doing with their guns to Dasha's head. "Why are you pointing guns to our lady comrade? Help her up. She is here on peaceful business, as she says, this was all a misunderstanding."

The Ord warriors slowly backed away from Dasha and lifted their rifles, still wary of her. One of them approached her from the side and cautiously guided rather than helped her up. Dasha stood up with a look of contempt and shrugged off the man's hands, and he seemed only too eager to withdraw from her and return to standing at attention.

"So, what business brings you here, comrades? Official business? Does the Motherland yet require the services of Hank Sokolov?", asked Hank.

"Da." said Boris. "Let us talk."

They sat around a campfire and kettle in the open streets, each Russian braced against a nearby wall or piles of rubble in the cold night, reminding all three very much of home. Around them, Altan Ord members drank, tended to horses and quietly talked amongst themselves. They seemed to Boris to be like any other military veterans. Perhaps a little strange in their personal rituals and greetings, with phrases like "praise Rando" and "death to the Machine Lords" frequently peppering their speech. But is that not true of all armies?, he thought.

"So, no hard feelings for killing your Ord comrade?" said Boris in Russian, lifting his small tea cup in his enormous Russian hands.

"Da, da. It happens." said Hank. "It is our Altan Ord philosophy, only the strong live. Our recently passed friend shot in haste, and not even with the decency to hit his target. Your actions only saved the time of executing him."

Boris said nothing. Dasha nodded in agreement and lifted her tea cup. She carefully held back a frown she very much wanted to make. American tea. No wonder you threw it all into the sea.

Hank draining his tea with relish. "Our leader, The Grand Duck, is strong and wise.", he said, using the English words for "Grand Duck". Hank continued, "The Duck will have the final say regarding your offer, comrade Ivanova and comrade Drago. Were it my decision alone, I would return to wrestling in the beat of a heart. The Grand Duck is on his way here to render judgment, but I am his second-in-command. I have his ear. Do not fear, comrades."

"Ah, a Grand Duke!", asked Boris, leaning back. "A fine title for a leader."

"No, a Grand Duck, comrade", Hank patiently replied. "утка, not герцог."

"Like the bir-?" said Dasha before she was interrupted.

They felt the entrance more than heard or saw it. Boris and Dasha turned around to see an enormous, pale horse looming over them, at least eight feet tall, dwarfing even Hank and Boris. It had a long flowing red mane, and on top of it was a strange, short creature. The creature was yellow, feathered, had a very large bill much like a duck, and a small, plain crown made out of an orange metal. It held two stubby clawed limbs by its side, one holding the reigns of the enormous horse and one holding a large axe. By far its most notable feature, however, was its eyes. It had large eyes with small, iris-less pupils. That was not what was notable about it, however. What was notable was in those eyes.

Boris had spent much time around many veterans from the old Red Army, particularly those that served in Afghanistan. There was a special anger in their eyes. They cursed the West for its interference and decadence, they cursed the Politburo for sending them to die and covering up all traces of their sacrifice, and especially they cursed their own people for leaving them to rot after they should have come home as heroes. Boris could see the black gall in their souls as they spoke bitterly of all things, even fond memories during their service were poisoned by the entire war ultimately being brushed over by their own people and government. They would eventually die drinking and cursing out the world for maiming and killing them and their dearest comrades, all for nothing.

All that, did not quite compare to the hate in this creature's eyes. It was intense beyond intense, like the deepest, crushing trenches of the ocean where even light was swallowed up and destroyed utterly beyond retrieval. In that moment, Boris completely understood why the Altan Ord was completely stateless and believed to be an enemy to all nations. This creature, this "Grand Duck", hated the world too much to be a part of anything other than its total destruction. He could barely meet this creature's gaze, even looking near its eyes put the metallic taste of pain and anger in his mouth. He felt the infinite capacity for taking suffering and inflicting suffering in the way it stared him down and even as a veteran himself, he did not feel he was quite ready for it.

"Ah… a… Duck…" said Boris in English, now fully understanding. Try as he might, even eye contact was too painful to maintain for long. The hatred…

Dasha somehow managed to keep full and level eye contact with the Grand Duck's harsh gaze, to the visible surprise of Boris, Hank and a few Ord onlookers. Boris wanted to warn her that might well be suicide, but when this woman was determined to rise to a challenge, even Boris' strength could not drag her away. The Duck kept his gaze fixed squarely on her. Boris' mind immediately flitted through escape plans and he admitted to himself he started sweating right then and there.

Beside the Duck and his enormous horse was a young woman riding a more normal-sized horse. She had long black hair, very pale skin and barely-visible fangs in her mouth. She wore a glimmering basketball jersey over a frilly black dress, which she smoothed over quickly before speaking.

She said in English, with a slightly squeaky voice, "So...Hank asked real nicely and you two get to live. For now. If you don't piss off the Duck, it'll stay that way." said the woman in the jersey. "Oh by the way, I'm THNG. I'm the Duck's third in command, and as a welcoming gift, here's a hint: it's a lot less painful if you start telling him everything right away."

Boris and Dasha remained silent.

"Sai aiaiaia dak dak dak", said the Grand Duck.

"So um, for starters, the Grand Duck wants to know what the hell Russian agents are doing here.", said THNG. She continued to straighten out her frilly black dress, careful not to look anywhere near her boss.

Dasha replied. "We are here to recruit Hank Sokolov to our cause. The Russian people require representation in M.O.X.'s Ultimate Wrestling, and we believe Hank Sokolov, as a former wrestler, would be an ideal addition to our roster. At your discretion, of course." She continued to keep laser-like eye contact with the squat feathered creature, which made Boris even more nervous. Have either of them even blinked? Did I miss it?!

Boris took a sidelong look at Hank, who was conspicuously silent and did not look much more at ease with the situation.

"Dak daaaaak sai ai sai dak dak daaak." said the Grand Duck.

"The Grand Duck wants to know what's in it for him." said THNG.

Dasha paused a moment. "It would weaken America beyond the exemplary work you've done here. The humiliation of Americans on nationwide television would destroy America in both body and soul. In addition, th-"

The Grand Duck squinted ever so slightly and Boris knew in that instant that his and Dasha's summary execution lay only seconds away.

"Wait." said Boris. "I think I understand what you would like, sir Duck. Ultimate Wrestling was heavily involved in the 2018 North Korean nuclear attack on America. They were in North Korea, killing members of the North Korean elite, at the time of the nuclear attack, and sparking all this. And now, this-", he waved his broad hands at the smoking craters and corpses that generously dotted the former town of Cloudy Springs about them. "-this anarchy you are in, it is ultimately because of Ultimate Wrestling's involvement. We are also participants of Ultimate Wrestling, and we believe that you and your second Hank are doing fantastic work here, but that Hank, who would uniquely fit in Ultimate Wrestling, may aspire to enabling even more chaos on your behalf. Possibly even opening up other parts of the world for the Ord's activities."

The Duck's head had swiveled to turn that piercing gaze at Boris as soon as he spoke, and it took a good chunk of Boris' willpower to not flinch mid-speech.

After Boris had finished, the Duck paused, entirely still. Then he dropped the horse reigns in his hand and held his stubby yellow, clawed arm to his head. Boris carefully watched the Duck's body language as best as he could.

"Dak. Dak dak." The Duck turned to THNG and nodded.

"Um, well, the Duck says that was pretty convincing. He wants you to sweeten the deal, though."

Boris took in a breath. That will be tricky, maybe-

"We'll cut you a deal for heavy armaments. Russian, American, European, anything that takes your fancy. Your men have only small arms and archery, and while that is sufficient, more is always better" said Dasha.

The Duck looked upwards in contemplation for a brief moment, before returning his drilling stare at Dasha. "Sai, aiaiaia. Aiaiai 'dak dak' dak dak sai dak."

THNG paused for a moment, puzzling over what was said, then said, "The Duck is particularly interested in your Russian multiple launch rocket systems. Procure him a sample, or an equivalent, and you have a deal and he may also open up future dealings with your people."

"We have a deal", said Dasha. "We can definitely arrange something."

"Dak dak saiiiii dak dak dai.", the Duck added.

"His Grandness is pleased and will permit Hank when the goods are received. But he would like to add one last thing, that deal is of course also contingent on Hank's approval. Hank?", said THNG. She seemed as relieved as everyone else present to say and hearthat.

Boris and Dasha turned to Hank.

Hank said, "Of course, I would be more than happy to return to battle for my motherland. But I of course would like one thing out of this, I would like to fight my comrades here to measure their resolve."

Dasha raised her eyebrows. Boris quickly nodded to her.

The Duck nodded in approval and his expression of sheer unflinching hatred softened for a second. He tugged on the reigns of his colossal horse and bade it to turn around.

"Of course, it is our way", said THNG. " Nothing without strength. Altan Ord!"

"Waste and War!" came the cries all around them.

"Well, I suppose it is for the best. We have to know what we are getting for our time. And it is only fair that he properly see who he will be sharing a ring with." said Boris.

"Did you see the way he annihilated his teammate with one hit? And the police car that was crushed in half? I think that was him." said Dasha.

"Let's not pretend we are not capable of similar things, dear Dasha. It is not a big step from slapping a bear silly to slapping Hank Sokolov silly. Now, worst case, it is two against one and I am nearly as large as him."

"Very well, Boris, but remember, we absolutely cannot hold back against someone of that size."

"Do not fret, I never have, and never will."

They stepped into the ring, a plaza surrounded by a roughly arranged circle of burning car husks.

Hank waited in the center for them. Dasha noticed his red leotard was lined with yellow and that several emblems of the old CCCP were on his leotard. Definitely an old fashioned Soviet, he's wearing a CCCP leotard on a very cold night.

Hank nodded at them, and then waved one hand at them in the classic "bring it" gesture.

Boris charged in and rammed into Hank's midsection. And then off of Hank. He stumbled away and Hank grabbed him and threw all three hundred-plus pounds of Boris half a meter into the air and then onto the hard, icy ground.

Dasha tried her hand and leapt in, ducking between Hank's feet and taking his balance in a leg lariat that toppled him to one knee. Or rather, should have. She may as well have tried tripping a truck. He reached down for her, and she darted out of the way, and Boris rallied in time to shoulder check Hank from behind, pushing the larger Russian aside a little.

Hank wrapped one hand around Boris' back and used Boris' remaining momentum to shove him away, then mightly clapped one hand on the back of Boris' head to send the ex-spetsnaz sprawling.

Dasha then wrapped both of her forearms around Hank's neck and lifted her legs up to drag him backwards. Hank struggled and staggered against the hold while Boris recovered and pounded away at Hank's chest with hard punches.

It didn't seem to do much. Hank finally managed to get a good hold on Dasha and outright chucked her at Boris. Boris managed to smoothly catch her in mid-air, but it took him long enough that Hank landed a solid punch to Boris' face that sent both of them tumbling.

"I'm not hurt", mumbled Boris, as he and Dasha got up.

"He's faster than he looks."

"He'd have to be", said Boris. "Looks like he is not holding back, either."

"Then we'll do this the hard way", said Dasha, rushing forward with a diving spear.

Hank snatched her hands out of the air like confiscating a toy from a naughty child, and flung Dasha almost out of the arena. Dasha blinked in surprise and landed hard, taking the breath out of her.

Boris took over and then smacked Hank in the face with a hard right, to little effect. Hank disinterestedly grabbed Boris by the shoulders and slowly forced Boris to his knees. It was all Boris could do to grab Hank's arms and match Hank's strength, slowly pushing himself back up to eye level with Hank.

"Let me put it you this way. I have been used to Americans and their little guns and bats for a while", said Hank, winking an eyebrow. "Try harder, comrade."

"Since you asked nicely!", said Boris. He slipped out of Hank's clinch, dove down and forward and bashed his elbow into the side of Hank's knee. Hank went down to one hand and one knee, and then Dasha burst back into the arena to jump on Boris' back and hit Hank in the head with a falling elbow, leaving him staggered. Boris popped up, grabbed Hank by the back of the head, and landed a hard knee into Hank's face. Hank flinched, and Boris backpedaled just in time to avoid collateral from a devastating spinning kick from Dasha into Hank's head. Hank stumbled back from the fierce blow. Dasha and Boris charged Hank together and shoved him backwards. Hank rallied and halted their charge, pushing back against them. However, then Dasha used her momentum to slip over and behind Hank, putting him in an arm chokehold from behind again, while this time Boris yanked hard and upwards at Hank's leg, finally toppling him over.
Hank fell down, Dasha released her hold, and Boris landed several hard kicks down into Hank. Dasha pinned Hank's arms while Boris kept Hank busy fending off kicks.

"Enough! I yield!" said Hank, as Dasha prepared a powerful axe kick at Hank's head. "I yield."

After a moment of hesitation, Boris helped him up. Hank appeared none the worse for all the heavy blows he had received. Slightly roughed up, but not so much as a bruise otherwise. He roughly clasped Boris' hand.
"Fantastic work, comrades, I would be much honored to join you!", said Hank. "It has been many years since I've had such worthy opponents, surely to need my help, we must face many more. Many Americans will feel my mighty leg drop again!"
Boris grinned back at him. "It will be a pleasure to have another mighty Russian on our team. Americans will stand no chance."
"Fantastic.", said Dasha, with a completely fake smile. "Now can we please get the hell out of here?"

The Duck and his translator rode up to the three Russians in their makeshift arena.

THNG said, "Hey there, the Duck says good work. He also says your call went through, and his people have secured the shipment of rockets and the rocket system. Hank's free to go, and …."

"Dak dak sai aiaiaiaiai dak dak daaaak." said the Duck.

"What." said THNG. Both she and Hank looked at the Duck in shock.

The Duck snapped his imperious stare straight at THNG and she flinched.

"Okay okay!", she said. "Uh, the Grand Duck says I should also join Hank. To better ensure he stays true to Ord ways. With no disrespect to Hank."

"Do you wrestle?" asked Boris, entirely curious.

"No! I just shoot really well. Basketball, guns, bows, everything. Particularly basketball.", said THNG, entirely unsure about what she had just gotten into.

"Well, that can't ever not come in handy. I don't exactly see our future free of gunplay, after all.", mused Dasha.

"Worst case scenario, perhaps you can be Hank's manager if suspicion falls on us." added Boris.

"Outstanding! We shall have an Ord of our own at long last!", said Hank, scooping Dasha, Boris and THNG off their feet in a gigantic one-sided group hug.

"Help me", said THNG.

What does the future hold for Hank? The Russian bear marches into the New World with a New Russian Colossus. UOW won't know what hit it, if it can even survive that first hit!