After leaving the tunnel, gliding smoothly over the streets of Interpolis, Greg looked at Erich with curiosity.
"Erich, what did you do in Dimension 2?"
"I worked on the railway," Erich replied.
"Seriously? So what brought you to Interpolis?"
"Pure curiosity..."
In reality, Erich hid the true reason – a mission to investigate the loss of inter-dimensional contact – not wanting to reveal his cards yet, whom he had known too briefly to fully trust.
"And how was on that railway?"
"Nothing interesting. I dealt with security system malfunctions that made no sense – signals were failing for no reason, power on the electric lines was interrupted at least expected moments. There were also broken locomotives that suddenly 'came to life' during inspections, as if they had a mind of their own."
Greg listened with interest, after a moment his face brightened, as if he remembered something.
"Listen, man... My brother once told me about a system related to the railway. He said it was something big, something that Void really wanted to hide because this could bring them down."
"What is it?" Erich asked, curious.
"I have no idea," Greg said. "The only thing I know is something related to the railway."
"What happened to your brother? And why didn't you mention it earlier?"
"My brother... was killed by Void two years ago. He stole data related to this system, thought he could use it against them and paid for it the highest price."
Erich stopped the vehicle for a moment on the side to look at Greg with full attention.
"Where might that data be now?"
"Probably in the hands of the Khan family."
"The Khan family..."
"My brother worked for them at their bazaar in the Southern District, helped with trade and organization. If anyone has that data, they do – either they're keeping it, or they sold it to someone else."
"Alright, let's deal with that later," Erich said. "But first, let's take care of major business."
After a dozen or so minutes of driving, they arrived at a bar located in the Southern District. It looked like a relic of old elegance woven into the cyberpunk chaos of Interpolis. A building shaped like a Victorian railway station – a facade made of dark brick with white accents, decorated with arched windows with stained glass in shades of green and gold, which are cracked and partially covered by neon signs. Above the entrance hangs a stylized sign with the name "Brighton Belle", surrounded by pulsating lights, reminiscent of old station information boards. The roof was flat, with metal decorations imitating platform railings, and on the sides of the building are old gas lanterns, converted into electric lamps emitting warm, yellow light. Inside, there is an atmosphere of an old station – wooden panels on the walls, wrought iron tables, and the bar is styled like a ticket office from Victorian times, with brass accents and a Big Ben style clock above the counter, which shows time in the chaotic rhythm of Interpolis.
When Erich and Greg entered the bar, they didn't find a living soul except for the bartender, who was polishing a mug at the time. They both sat right in front of him.
"What can I get you, gentlemen?" the bartender asked, putting down the mug.
"I'll have a vodka," Erich said, thoughtfully.
"I'll have a cognac," Greg said.
Erich, after a moment's thought, looked at Greg and changed his mind.
"Then I'll have the same as my friend."
The bartender nodded and began preparing the drinks. During this time, a group of people entered the bar – six men in suits looking like members of the Sicilian mafia, despite speaking with a clear Eastern accent. Erich immediately perked up his ears, hearing their conversation in Russian.
"Russian scum," Erich thought. "What the fuck are they doing here?"
Erich immediately perked up his ears, hearing their conversation in Russian.
"Do you heard that the 'Robinsons' and 'Rats' have agreed on a price?" one of the members said. "They're supposed to meet today at the 'Bulleid Plants'."
"He says they've cooked up a lot of goods for them," said the second.
Erich turned around. Then he noticed a face quite familiar to him and froze for a moment, then shook himself. Seeing this, Greg asked Erich.
"What's wrong, Erich?"
"Koborenko... Vasily Koborenko..."
Vasily Koborenko came from the same dimension as Erich. He was an NKVD agent who disappeared under mysterious circumstances during the "Minsk trials" – a series of trials against the Cheka and NKVD agents after the Coalition war against the USSR. During this time, he gained fame for the massacre of the Caucasian population and the plundering of churches by his units. He was sitting in the bar with his accomplices.
The bartender glanced at the group of Russians and added quietly:
"That's the Black Volga Gang. Better to not provoke them."
"That's them?" Greg asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye. "A bit of a strange name for a gang."
"There's a street legend from Eastern Europe. The 'Black Volga' was a car that supposedly kidnapped people – children, women, anyone. They said it was the work of the services or bandits. It looks like in Interpolis they've made it into something more than a fairy tale."
After a moment, Erich took off his helmet for a moment to avoid being recognized, then looked at the bartender, glancing at the holster with his Browning.
"You won't mind if I use a weapon if necessary?"
"I don't mind, but remember – it can have consequences. You don't shoot here without a reason."
Then Erich got up and started walking towards the Russians, taking out his pistol.
"Vasily Koborenko!"
Then he stood up in fear.
"Who are you!?"
"We know each other well..." he replied, putting on his helmet. "Do you remember the second Battle of Stalingrad?"
Then Koborenko remembered the events of that battle.
"Erich von Stein himself. Now I remember."
"You know what?" Erich asked. "There's a little-known saying: 'Where Stein is, there the commies chase after him'."
"You'll pay for Zaytsev's death!"
"As for Zaytsev, I didn't shoot. Thank my dear friend Hans."
After these words, the rest of the members stood up and took out their weapons.
"You've just signed your death warrant," Erich said, holding the pistol at the ready.
"One capitalist hick against the five of us?" one of the members asked, then Erich shot him in the head.
After this event, a shootout ensued.
"Greg, run!!" Erich shouted.
"No way!" Greg replied, taking out his revolver. "I won't leave you here."
Two gang members focused fire on Greg and the bartender, who instinctively hid behind the counter. Greg joined him at the last moment, hiding behind an armored plate, which – as it turned out – was built into the bar counter for such occasions. Bullets ricocheted off the metal with a loud clang.
Erich, taking advantage of the chaos, quickly shot two opponents who focused fire on him – one fell with a bullet-pierced chest, the other with a wound in the neck. Then he focused on the two remaining ones who were firing at Greg's position. With precision from years of war, he fired accurate shots, eliminating them one by one – one was hit in the arm and head, the other in the stomach, then he slumped to the ground.
Erich approached the lying Korobenko, who, despite the pain and blood flowing from his leg wounds, grabbed a walkie-talkie and desperately shouted:
"Black Volgas, I declare 'Red Protocol'!!"
At the same moment, one of the gang members who had previously fallen hit in the stomach, raised a trembling hand, aiming his Tulsky Tokarev at Erich. Before he could pull the trigger, Greg, standing to the side, reacted instantly – he aimed his revolver and shot, hitting the attacker in the chest. The agent slumped to the floor, dead.
Erich, not wasting time, grabbed Korobenko by the lapels of his jacket and lifted him off the ground, looking him straight in the eyes.
"Where is the Bulleid Plants!!" Erich shouted.
Korobenko gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but Erich had no patience. He punched him in the face, once, then a second time, until blood spurted from his nose. Before Erich hit him again, he shouted:
"In the abandoned zone... Southern District... The gangs will meet at 10 P.M..."
"And where is it, if I may ask?"
"At the very end of the district," Kobolenko replied.
Suddenly, the Russian clenched his lips, and after a moment his body twitched – he bit through a poison ampoule that he kept between his cheek and teeth. Foam appeared on his lips, and his eyes clouded over. Erich throw him on the ground with disgust, and Korobenko fell dead to the ground.
"What the fuck was that?" Greg asked, terrified.
"He had poison in his mouth," replied Erich.
He turned to the bartender, who was still standing behind the counter, looking at the carnage.
"Sorry for the mess."
"It's too late for apologies," the bartender replied. "Korobenko called for reinforcements – 'Red Protocol' is their code for hunting. You better get out of here, because there will be more Volgas soon."
Erich and Greg exchanged quick glances, hearing the roar of anti-gravity engines in the distance. They ran out of the bar towards the Chevelle Hover-tec, which was waiting outside. As soon as they jumped inside, Erich saw approaching vehicles in the rearview mirror – black Hover-tec Volgas from the Black Volga Gang, floating above the ground with a menacing growl.
"They're coming!!" Greg shouted, getting into the Hover-tec.
Erich started the engine, and the Hover-tec smoothly lifted off the pavement. They sped off with a screech of anti-gravity cushions, trying to lose the pursuit in the maze of streets in the Southern District. However, the Black Volgas were not going to give up – a chase ensued.
The Chevelle Hover-tec sped through the narrow streets of the Southern District, and Erich, with a determined expression, drove the vehicle, trying to lose the five pursuing Hover-tec Volgas from the Black Volga Gang. The setting sun reflected off the car body, and the roar of anti-gravity engines mixed with the sound of gunfire as the Volgas got closer and closer.
Erich, glancing in the side mirror, noticed one of the Volgas – a black, massive machine with red accents – catching up with their left side, almost brushing against the Hover-tec.
"They're close!" Greg shouted, terrified.
Erich, without taking his eyes off the road, approached the side of the Volga. He opened the window on his side, grabbed the megaphone that was lying on the back seat and shouted in Russian at the top of his voice:
"Russkij voyennyj korabl, idi na khuy!" (Russian warship, go fuck yourself!)
His voice, amplified by the megaphone, echoed through the street, and there was a moment of confusion in the Volga – the passengers, surprised, began to reach for their weapons, but before they could aim, Erich acted. He turned sharply to the left, hitting the side of the Hover-tec against the right side of the Volga. Metal screeched, and the force of the impact threw the Volga driver off balance.
"What are you doing?" Greg asked, panicked.
"You'll see," Erich replied, closing the window.
The "Volga", losing stability, swayed in the air. The driver desperately tried to regain control, but the vehicle swirled, hitting one of the concrete supports of the skyscraper on the right side of the street. In a split second, the Volga hit the building at full speed – the explosion echoed from the breaking windows of the skyscraper, and a fireball and debris scattered in all directions, forcing the remaining four Volgas to slow down for a moment to avoid the debris.
Erich, driving the Hover-tec, maneuvered through the narrow streets of the Southern District, while the four remaining vehicles of the Black Volga Gang accelerated, tightening the pursuit. Their drivers, enraged by the loss of their companion and driven by "Red Protocol", maneuvered with wild determination in the maze of streets, ignoring the risk.
"Damn, they're getting closer!" Greg shouted, looking in the mirror.
Erich clenched his hands on the steering wheel, turning sharply to the right to avoid gunfire from the PPSh from the pursuing Volgas. One of the Volgas, trying to overtake them, came dangerously close at the intersection. Erich saw a truck in the distance – a huge transport vehicle with a tanker marked with a methane symbol.
"Fire in a hole!!" Erich shouted, looking in the mirror.
Too focused on the pursuit, the Volga driver, before he could react, didn't notice the oncoming truck. The Volga hit the center of the methane tanker with force. In a split second, a deafening bang was heard – the explosion was so powerful that it lit up the area with an orange glow. The shock wave shook Erich's Hover-tec, and the windows in the nearby skyscraper cracked, showering the street like rain of glass. Pieces of metal and burning debris from the Volga scattered around, forcing the remaining three vehicles to brake suddenly to avoid the flames.
"What da hill..."
"Methane, ethane, propane, butane... Principal is orangutan," Erich replied sarcastically.
There was no time to stop – the pursuit continued. The third Volga, trying to flank them, drove into the opposite lane, hoping to shorten the distance. However, at the same moment, a Hover-bus came from the opposite direction – a massive passenger vehicle floating above the road, full of passengers returning from work. The Volga driver, noticing the danger too late, didn't have time to react. The Hover-tec collided with the Hover-bus at full speed, losing stability. The force of the impact caused the Volga to sway in the air, then it plummeted down, into the gap between the two street levels of the Southern District. A metallic clang was heard as the vehicle crashed onto the lower platform, and sparks lit up the darkness.
"Only two left," Greg replied. "How much fuel do we have?"
"Enough," Erich replied, looking at the dashboard.
The last two Volgas didn't give up, their black silhouettes flashed in the setting sun of the Southern District. One of them, accelerating dangerously, approached the Chevelle Hover-tec from Greg's side, almost catching up with Erich and Greg's vehicle. The Russians inside, determined after the losses, began to raise their weapons, ready to open fire. Greg, not wasting a moment, grabbed his revolver, leaned out the window and aimed. The shot was precise – the bullet hit the Volga driver straight in the head. The body slumped onto the steering wheel, and the vehicle, losing control, turned sharply to the left, colliding with a lamppost. The force of the impact caused the Volga to stop in place, and its passengers didn't have time to react.
"Great shot!" Erich shouted in admiration.
"Thanks, dude," replied.
Erich glanced at the back seat, where he saw a grenade launcher, apparently part of the Hover-tec's equipment from Vectron.
"Greg, grab the grenade launcher from the back! Arm it, open the window and take care of the last Volga."
Greg, though surprised, obeyed his order. He grabbed the grenade launcher, checked its condition, armed it and leaned out the window again. The last Volga was approaching from the right, and its passengers were firing at the Chevelle with "PPSh's", bullets whistled around, a few hit the body, but the Hover-tec's armor didn't give up. Greg, ignoring the gunfire, aimed and pulled the trigger. The grenade launcher projectile flew straight into the side of the Volga, hitting it perfectly in the center. The explosion tore through the evening sky – a ball of fire and smoke engulfed the vehicle, and debris scattered across the street, ending the chase in a dramatic way.
"Great job," Erich said in admiration. "If it wasn't you, we'd be biting a dust by now."
"I appreciate that, but you're doing great behind the wheel too."
Erich nodded, then looked at the Hover-tec's center console. He activated the navigation, entering the coordinates of the Bulleid Plants in the abandoned zone of the Southern District, which Korobenko had given them before his death.
"Alright! Let's go," Erich said, accelerating.
The Hover-tec moved forward, leaving behind the smoking wreckages of the Volgas and the chaos of the chase. Erich and Greg, now more in sync than ever, headed towards their new goal, ready to face what awaited them in the abandoned zone at 10 PM.