"Privet." replies Voronov to Viktor, with a smile. This man had been wandering around, watching and studying people just like her. She'd have to watch him, lest he figure out what she his and why she's actually here. Even then...maybe he'd help her? He appeared to have a military background. Wonder what he was exactly?
She makes a mental note to keep an eye on him and learn more about him. She might need an ally in all of this if the shit hits the fan.
Viktor extended his hand. "Viktor, my friends call me 'Sokol'."
Voronov reaches over and shakes his hand. "Svetlana Voronov. Most just call me Voronov."
Luke observed a man in a stereotypical Hawaiian shirt. The Hawaiian as Luke liked to call him gave a twitchy wave. Luke shook his head and frowned, walking forward where cars drove by. The Hawaiian guffawed out of the open as Luke marched towards him.
"Hey! Good friend! I trust you can keep the recipe to Benitos' Restaurant safe and sound! Eh!" The Hawaiian said with open arms. Luke was stoic, urging a move to knock the guy out for his casualness.
"I appreciate it. Take care." Luke thanked him, shaking his hand while he passed along a folded letter of secrecy to the finest restaurants of Sanskirt. Luke Bloom turned around and traced back to where he came from. The recipe was crumbled up and probably had a stain on the left corner. Night lid up and Luke knew this wasn't the right time to night crawl. This was Sanskirt after all.
Luke went to the docks and stood by himself, seeing the Establishment from a certain distance. Having the balls, Luke unfolded the recipe and invaded the page.
[i]Dear friend
Benitos would like you to intercept one of their most hated rivals across the city.
Desperate times calls for desperate measures and as such we have called upon Oceania Bay Trade to regulate trusts between a gang.
I urge you to seek out a man named Kellogg who wishes to collect the [highlight]Million Dollar Gun[/highlight]
The man has a tendency to raid Benitos business establishments throughout the city in search for this gun.
Dispose of him when he truly reveals himself.
Good luck
[/i]
Luke nodded to himself as he immediately teared the messages to shreds, throwing out the pieces in the deep depths of Sanskirt. Kellogg was their target. Tomorrow they hunt. Right now it was time to settle down. Luke quickly entered through the bar and observed the people around him. Not making any judgements. Luke passed to another room and crashed down.
"Pleased to meet you." He paused, observing that their employer returned. "I saw your gear upstairs. You've been to Afghanistan? It's a interesting place."
Mikhail took a last puff from his cigarette, tossed it away and entered behind Luke.
This was his first time dealing with OBT, but he had heard that they weren't on bad standings with hotel moskau.
This made it easier for him to earn some money on the side.
He looked around to see what kind of people were drawn to this company. The interesting mix of soviets and westerners made it feel like a miniature cold war.
Mikhail walked over to the table were voronov and sokol were sitting.
"Excuse me, but do you know of you have to pay for the drinks here or...?" he asked in russian.
Frank noticed Luke leaving and coming back after some time. The quick observation from Luke was enough to clue him in. They got a job. He got up from his seat and walked next to Viktor and Voronov. "Don't think we properly met. The name is Frank."
"No comrade, is free." Said Viktor. He extended his hand to greet Mikhail. "Viktor. You can call me Sokol."
Soon Frank approached them. "Privet Frank, I am Viktor."
Voronov does the same, offering her hand to Mikhail and Frank. "Voronov." she simply said.
George called over to the bar from his table, "Name's George, in case you hadn't clued in from Pillsbury over there."
Mikhail shook Viktors and Voronovs hands, but left Frank hanging.
He looked down on Viktor again, "You and your mom should be careful with american greaseballs like this one" he said in russian while eyeing Frank.
After a brief staring contest, he walked over to the bar and grabbed a beer and sat down on a stool at the counter.
...Mom...? Voronov raises an eyebrow. She may be 64, but physically she at her peak! She even looks like she'd be in her late 30s/early 40s! She shakes her head, and offers her hand to Frank.
"I'm not his mother." she says, stone-faced.
[editline]7th February 2016[/editline]
[Heading to bed for the night.]
Johnny falls off the bed and blurts out "what the fuck" , he stands up, and grabs the bag from under the bed, and heads down stairs, he grabs a beer and sits down getting drunk again.
"Prick." Frank muttered in Italian as Mikhail went to the bar. He shook Voronv's and Viktor's hands respectively. "You two look like either scouts or snipers, am I correct?"
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcjpags7JT8[/media]
The deep orange and purple sky glowed in Slade's eyes. His face, gaunt and worn, with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He struck a match on the [I]Pink Flamnigo's[/I] matchbook and bought it up to the cigarette. Taking a deep pull. He turn round on his heel and walked to the car trunk. He was on the docks close to the outskirts of Sanskirt, the city just visible, specked with lights, signing that evening was soon to fall. He looked around and opened the trunk.
His mouth was dry as he looked at the body. This was "Mad" Marc, a ruthless killer who'd already taken the lives of Slade's several, close friends. Why are we here, you may ask? Where else better to dump his body than the hometown of his friend's killers? He grunted as he bought the body out of the trunk and let it fall on the floor with a thump. His patchy beard flecked with blood, his neck cut and bruised from the wire strangulation, his hair in clumps, and 2 bullet holes in his chest.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Slade turned around to see a huge, bulging construction worker with a 6 shot revolver.
"Slade, my old, [I]fuckin'[/i] chum! What's that you've got the-"
The construction worker broke off as he realised the mangled mess of a man was Marc. He turned white
"M-Marc? You killed [I]FUCKIN' MAD MARC?!"[/I]
He bought the gun up and let loose with 3 shots, one of which rung in to the distance. Slade rolled behind his car and opened the door grabbing the Skorpion on the passanger seat. Making sure it had a full magazine, he looked up to see the construction worked fumbling with the sylinder. Slade stood up and aimed carefully, before the construction worker could open his mouth, Slade sent 3 rounds in to his chest. He fell down, the revovler rounds clinking and rolling on the floor as the hevay revolver fell with a clatter. He dragged the bodies to the end of the dock and dropped them in to the ocean, the water turning slightly red around their bodues, which soon dissipated and became as blue as the ocean.
He got in his car and drove to Sanskirt, where he'd begin his mission, and those who've crossed him would finally feel his wrath.
[QUOTE=kilerabv;49689451]"Prick." Frank muttered in Italian as Mikhail went to the bar. He shook Voronv's and Viktor's hands respectively. "You two look like either scouts or snipers, am I correct?"[/QUOTE]
"Da tovarish, former Spetsnaz." Said Viktor while nodding.
Voronov nods. "Yeah, I was a sniper." she says. She tilts her military cap up just a tad so she can look up at Frank a bit better. She then slides her legs off the table, and motions to the chair nearby. "You can sit if you'd like." she says, as she moves her AKM off the table and stands it next to her against her chair.
"Man, these are some good donuts." Kevin exclaimed.
"Will you shut the fuck up about donuts already?" George took a swig out of his flask. "This is practically all you talked about, as well as how you're so fuckin' smart. Jee-zus."
"Thanks." Frank sat down. "The reason I asked is because you two seemed more observant than the rest. Any opinions on the group or the boss's right hand man?"
"Well, Luke seems fine to me. As for our group here...well...you saw how they were acting a while ago." said Voronov, glancing over at Frank.
Kevin stands up and stretches. "Anyone want to explore the city with me?"
Rodney wakes up and yawns. He checks under his pillow to make sure his Makarov was still there, and he takes it with him. He heads downstairs, glances around the bar and takes a seat at a table.
Kevin repeats his offer to Rodney.
Rodney shrugs. "Eh, fuck it. Might as well. Maybe find a place to get some extra heat or some shit."
Kevin walks outside and the night air hits him hard. He pulls out a donut and munches it slowly, savoring every bite. "Why are you here Rodney?"
Rodney follows Kevin out. "To make money. How 'bout you?"
"No idea. After IBM, everything fell apart. I just got on a boat and left essentially." Kevin looks at his donut, sighs, and throws it to a street child.
"Well, after being permanently banned from boxing and having beating the shit outta you on my record, there wasn't much left for me there."
"How did you get banned from boxing?"
Sorry, you need to Log In to post a reply to this thread.
