America: The Cremator

At 5 p.m., the Seattle sun began to lose its heat.

Dania drove the Ducati motorcycle, carrying Suron, into the northern suburbs of Seattle.

The road here is shaded by tall evergreen trees on both sides, whose huge canopies cut the sunlight into fragmented spots, which are then projected onto the smooth and clean asphalt road surface.

The buildings along the way gradually thin out, replaced by vast private estates surrounded by lush vegetation.

The motorcycle quickly left the main road and turned onto a winding forest road. The trees on both sides became denser, and the light dimmed, creating a sense of seclusion and isolation from the outside world.

At the end of the driveway, the outline of a massive estate came into view.

The black wrought iron gate, three meters high, was tightly closed, blocking the way forward.

The security outside the gate was extremely tight.

Several security personnel wearing black tactical vests, carrying rifles, and with communication headsets hanging from their ears, were patrolling along the perimeter wall.

As Dania's vehicle approached, the mechanical devices inside the gate emitted a dull hum, and the heavy iron gate slowly opened inward.

Dania reduced the throttle, and the motorcycle entered the manor at a smooth speed, passing large areas of fountains and sculptures, and finally stopped in front of a complex Gothic main house.

After the two got out of the car, a butler dressed in a dark gray custom-made suit, looking extremely capable, came down from the steps of the main house and bowed slightly, saying, "Miss Dania, Mr. Suron, the master has been waiting for a long time. Please follow me."

Suron and Dania followed the butler up the steps and into the main house.

After walking through a long corridor covered with an intricately patterned Persian carpet, the butler stopped and pushed open two heavy oak double doors.

This is a luxurious Baroque-style restaurant.

A huge crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the ceiling, emitting a soft glow.

A long oak dining table occupies the center of the room, its tabletop covered with a pure white hand-embroidered tablecloth, and a set of silver cutlery and bone china plates with gold-rimmed edges are neatly arranged.

Su Long's gaze quickly swept over the people around the table.

Seated at the head of the long table was a middle-aged man with short hair, possessing typical Slavic facial features; his deep-set eyes and high nose bridge gave him a rather dignified air.

His broad frame filled out the dark black custom-made suit he wore, and sitting there he exuded an aura of quiet authority.

To the left of the main seat, several people were seated in order.

Closest to the main seats were three elderly men with weathered faces. Although their skin was loose and covered with wrinkles, they sat upright, and their eyes revealed a sharpness that came from long holding a high position.

On the right is a father and daughter. The middle-aged man is relatively young, wearing an expensive gray suit, but his body is slightly leaning forward and he appears somewhat hunched.

The little girl sitting next to me was about four or five years old. She was wearing a white lace dress and her hands were awkwardly placed on her knees.

Both of them appeared unusually reserved, out of place with their surroundings, as if it were their first time attending a family dinner of this caliber.

Dania walked to the head of the table with a smile and greeted the middle-aged man.

"Good evening, Dad."

Then, she turned to Su Long and introduced him very formally: "This is Su Long."

She then raised her hand to Suron and introduced him: "Suron, this is my father, the godfather of the Yuri family, Vladimir Yurievich."

Suron stepped forward, extended his right hand, and shook hands with Vladimir's broad, calloused hand.

Good evening, Mr. Vladimir.

Vladimir nodded slightly, his grey-blue eyes fixed on Suron, and said in a deep voice with a distinct accent, "I've heard Dania mention you... Welcome to the Yurievich family, Suron."

Dania then pointed to the three elderly men and introduced them one by one: "These three are the elders of the family: Andrei, Boris, and Alexander."

Sulong nodded slightly to the three of them, and they nodded slightly in response. Although they were old, the robust bone structure and abundant energy characteristic of the Slavs were still clearly visible.

Finally, Dania introduced the father and daughter sitting on the right: "This is Vasily, and this is his daughter Yelena."

Su Long observed the father and daughter. The little girl's eyes revealed her timidity in the unfamiliar environment, and her hands were tightly gripping the edge of the napkin.

The man named Vasily managed a stiff smile, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, vividly demonstrating the disparity in their social status.

After the introductions were finished, Vladimir raised his hand, gesturing for the two to sit on his left.

The waiters waiting behind them immediately stepped forward silently and pulled out heavy oak high-backed chairs for them.

After the two were seated, the butler nodded slightly, and the waiters filed in carrying silver trays, placing dishes on the table one after another.

After all the dishes were served, Vladimir bowed his head first, making a prayer gesture, and everyone else followed suit, clasping their hands together in front of their chests.

Vladimir began to recite in a deep voice.

"Hail Mary, thank you for your blessings upon my family, for all that I have had, and for your divine love."

Amen.

After the prayers, the dinner officially began. To Surong's surprise, the originally serious and formal restaurant atmosphere gradually became warm and relaxed amidst the clinking of cutlery.

Vladimir showed great patience and care for Yelena beside him.

He watched as the little girl held a knife and fork, unable to cut the thick steak on her plate. He then took her plate to himself, cut the beef into even pieces, and returned it to Yelena, softly instructing, "Eat slowly, Yelena, don't rush."

After finishing these tasks, Vladimir picked up his wine glass, took a sip of red wine, and turned to Suron, beginning a small talk: "Suron, I'm curious, how did you and Dania meet?"

Surong swallowed the beef in his mouth and answered truthfully, "I needed to deal with a batch of silver-plated bullets, and while looking for underground channels, I contacted Dania."

Vladimir leaned back slightly in his chair, crossed his arms over his stomach, and continued to press, "So, what's your relationship like now?"

Suron wiped his mouth with a white napkin, looked directly into Vladimir's eyes, and said slowly, "We're friends, but our relationship also includes a part of our employment relationship."

Vladimir chuckled softly, shook his head, and said with a hint of seriousness in his voice, "There's no need to hide these things from me. That strange creature known as the 'Rain Lady,' you killed it with your own hands, didn't you?"

"That curse has troubled me for a long time. Now it seems that you have done me a great favor. I need to think about how to repay you."

Surong looked at the mob godfather and replied calmly, "I've already received payment for that operation."

Vladimir shook his head again, his tone becoming serious: "That was paid to you by Dania, not by me."

A brief silence fell over the restaurant.

Vladimir paused for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, his deep gaze fixed on Suron, and asked, "I heard from Dania that you have a photograph to give me."

Without saying a word, Suron took out the folded photo from the inside pocket of his coat and pushed it across the smooth tabletop in front of Vladimir.

Vladimir picked up the photo, his gaze falling on the assembled NTW-20 anti-materiel sniper rifle. His relaxed brows quickly furrowed.

The restaurant was quiet for the first minute.

Finally, Vladimir slowly got up, walked over to Vasily, and placed the photograph on the table in front of him.

"Vasily, in front of the three elders, tell me... did this weapon come from the channels you were in charge of?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the relaxed and lively atmosphere in the restaurant quickly cooled down.

A chilling, oppressive atmosphere began to spread across the long oak dining table.

The waiters stopped serving the food and retreated to the shadows in the corner.

Vasily looked down at the photograph, his body trembled violently, and cold sweat quickly gathered on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks and landing on the pristine white tablecloth.

He opened his mouth, his voice trembling uncontrollably, and admitted the truth.

"Yes...yes, Godfather."

Vladimir's expression remained unchanged as he calmly stated, "You should be well aware that you have violated the family's prohibition."

"What's more, this gun killed a senior FBI agent yesterday, and you're trying to disrupt our intelligence network... right?"

Vasily's defenses completely collapsed, and he desperately protested, "I...I was just following Igor's orders! He told me to do it!"

Hearing the name, Vladimir didn't seem surprised. He straightened up and said calmly, "I will deal with him personally, but not now."

"Sorry, but you'll have to pay the price for your betrayal first..."

Having said that, he drew his M1911 rifle, engraved with his family crest, from its holster inside his clothing, gently pressed it against the back of Vasily's head, and recited again:

"Merciful Jesus, forgive the sins of the world and grant them rest."

"boom--"