Chapter Seven

. . .

Already marked by mistrust and conflict, the first cooperation between Greissha Ricci and Jinno Di Angelo took place in Novosibirsk, Russia.

Borne by a black Bombardier, Greissha arrived at a military compound of an astonishingly higher magnitude in security compared to the base that sheltered her. The UIF's headquarters looked nothing like this. Dozens of tanks were roaming around, hundreds of barracks encircled a huge central area where a brutalist building stood formidably. If a person were to roam unauthorized in this fortress, they'd be as good as dead within a minute.

A spectacular formation of well-bodied soldiers welcomed Jinno Di Angelo post-flight. Every pair of eyes held esteem toward the commander, their hands offering a salute to assert their loyalty.

"Good day, Commander Di Angelo!" A Russian soldier marched forward, his Russian accent thick and intimidating. "Lieutenant Kuznetsovsky of the Groza Army reporting for duty!"

The two military men shook hands, conversed for a good minute, and did some talks on reconnaissance before dismissing the army back to their duties.

A beautiful, pale-skinned woman, clad in a camo uniform embedded with the initials UIF, led Greissha away from the crowd and toward the main building where a room waited for her arrival.

"Good day, Miss Ricci," she said, her accent hinting an Irish descent, her voice stern and domineering, "Under the instructions of our commander, you are not allowed to step outside this room."

Greissha spared a minute to check the room she was led into. Although more spacious than a prison cell, the interior resembled one quite closely. With grey unpainted walls, thick concrete bars as a window, and only four pieces of furniture around—a bunk bed, a small cabinet, a drawer, and a single couch. This was exactly what she expected the UIF's prison cell to be.

"I'm Sergeant Garcia," the woman said. "Please address me as such."

Greissha gave a polite nod. "Copy that, Sergeant Garcia."

The sergeant nodded back before continuing her directions. "This is the intercom. If you ever need something, simply press this button and I shall come running if I am available. The commander entrusted you with my care, and anything that happens to you in this compound is my responsibility, so I beg for your cooperation."

The sergeant's eyes pierced directly into Greissha, almost as if pleading for her to behave just this once. Jinno Di Angelo must have already briefed this respectable woman about Greissha Ricci's 'shortcomings.'

"I understand," was Greissha's last reply before the sergeant left her to wander alone in that room.

When dinner came, there was a knock on her steel door, and Sergeant Garcia's head popped in, calling for her attention. The sergeant brought her to a huge cafeteria that catered food to hundreds of soldiers. For a brief moment, the men had their gaze set on their guest, their eyes giving off two things: admiration and hatred. As if the mere sight of a beautiful woman both tickled and ticked their skins.

Sergeant Garcia handed her a cold tin tray and brought her to the end of the line. It was at this moment Greissha began to look around. The soldiers of this camp weren't all Russian. Asians, Caucasians, or Europeans, there were a bunch of soldiers from different countries and different races.

"I guess this is what it means to be the Union of International Forces," she muttered to herself before pointing at a ramen bowl, a focaccia, and a nonalcoholic pina colada that almost brimmed her eyes with joy. "Now I get to finish my drink in Puerto Rico."

Her worst enemy must have detected her excitement the moment she set her tray down the table, as Sergeant Garcia brought some bad news before she could even take one bite of food. "Miss Ricci, you are being summoned by the Commander. Please follow me to his office right this instant."

Greissha's lips forced a sweet smile. "Like, right now? I haven't had a single bite of dinner," she said. "And I'm looking forward to drinking this pina colada."

"I'm sorry, Miss Ricci," Sergeant Garcia apologized, "But the commander's words are the absolute rule in the UIF."

"Then can I at least take this with me?" Greissha hoisted the glass of pina colada in the air, enthusiastically presenting it to the sergeant. "Please?"

The sergeant took a few seconds in thought before nodding her head. "Alright, I'll have it packed for you."

Greissha was gritting her teeth even when they reached the commander's office. She barely took interest in how similar in layout this room was to his room inside the UIF's headquarters. The orientation of the bookshelves, the carpet, the lamps, and even the books had been perfectly duplicated.

While Greissha distracted her grumbling stomach by looking around, the commander sat wordlessly on his desk, too engaged in browsing through various documents to notice both Sergeant Garcia and Greissha's arrival.

"How long are you gonna make us stand, Commander?" Greissha said, prompting a sudden turn from Sergeant Garcia whose eyes brimmed with fear within a second.

Thankfully, the commander was snapped out of his work. He extended a hand forward to offer Greissha a seat and thanked the sergeant before assigning her back to her duties.

"I need a list of everything you need for the operation—" the commander's words were abruptly halted as his eyebrows arched in response to Greissha's intense, almost murderous, glares. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, "Please continue."

Jinno Di Angelo briefed her about their extraction operation within the Ianucci Family and asked her for some important pointers as he re-accessed some plans he had drafted. The commander talked for thirty minutes, and so Greissha had to sheathe her anger for just as long. When he finished talking, Greissha was expecting to continue where she left off on her meal, but the sound of the bell rang throughout the camp even before she could rise from her seat, signifying the end of dinner.

"Great. Just great," she murmured to herself. "Now I'm pissed."

. . .

The next day, a joint group of special agents and uniformed soldiers prepped Greissha for the mission, with about two or three privates working on her requests at the same time. Clad in a red, sequined dress that hugged her perfect curves, Greissha shoved the curtains off the dressing room to present her getup to the team. With her makeup on, Greissha Ricci's features were accentuated, womanhood brimming from her beautiful presence. She was wearing red lipstick and had her hair done in a bun. Her feet were enveloped by a dainty pair of black stilettos.

Eyes were on her, of course, with different regards. Some were mesmerized, and some were bigoted. The usually stoic commander, himself, spared a few seconds of stares, minutely enchanted, before shifting back to his coldness.

"Good to see you putting enough effort into this mission," the commander said, his eyes scanning Greissha Ricci from head to toe. "You might as well ask Salvio Iaunucci for his entire wealth with that dress."

Tension filled the room after the commander's snarky remark, obviously showing his aversion toward Greissha Ricci's getup. With both Jinno Di Angelo and Greissha Ricci's eyes clashing with one another, the soldiers had nowhere to pin their eyes on—the awkwardness sending their gazes flying across the room.

Greissha's lips gracefully arched into a sweet smile, her voice adopting a sensuous and assertive tone. "That sounds like a plan," she remarked, "though entirely unnecessary. Even with half my assets frozen, I still have enough money to bury his entire family and this union of yours alive."

Greissha's words hit a nerve, and within a second, dozens of guns were aimed at her head. The people who assisted her earlier, those who aided her in her getup, now had their hands full, holding a gun against her head.

"That's where we draw the line, Miss Ricci," one of them said, his voice quivering from anger. "The UIF cannot take this kind of disrespect."

Greissha stood motionless, not even a hint of panic apparent on her face despite being in the center of a standoff. Her fiery eyes called for everyone's attention inside that room.

"No woman should take this kind of disrespect either, so shut your mouth," Greissha said, her voice firm and strong. "It does take a chauvinistic pig to lead a bunch of chauvinistic people."

Jinno Di Angelo's expression remained indifferent, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. "Hold your guns," he said. "This is just a conversation between two old friends. No one must speak of this ever again."

The soldiers lowered their guns, their eyes wavering. It was their commander who threw the first offense, but still, Greissha's words were salt in the wounds of their chests.

Sergeant Garcia stepped forward. Out of all the soldiers in that room beside Jinno Di Angelo, she was the only one who did not draw her gun. "We're sorry for offending you, Miss Ricci. But talking lightly about us burying our comrades is a huge disrespect to any soldier. We've buried comrades who fought with us, and the wounds remain fresh up to this day."

Greissha's hands reached for the fur coat on the vanity seat, carefully draping it on her shoulders before looking at everyone in the eye.

"Your comrade's death means a lapse in their judgment, a failure on your part as a comrade, and a captain's failure in planning the right steps,"she retorted back, her eyes dead and daunting, "Why are you taking it out on me?"

The soldiers froze, they'd all heard this line before. "How did you—" Sergeant Garcia said, her eyes slowly moving from Jinno Di Angelo to Greissha Ricci just like the others.

"Who in the world are you?"

. . .