As the Arbiter confirmed Anatoly's victory, Molokov could only stare in shock, his fists clenching uselessly at his side. He was going to kill the bastard and he was going to do it very slowly and painfully. The American would watch and then it would be his turn. And after that, it was Walter's turn.

He barely noticed as his assistant dragged him from the room, frantically murmuring something about self control and keeping his hands away from his gun.