#;borislav

    Only this time it had turned out to be far worse than either one of them had expected, which was surprising, Viktor normally had such things under control but this time around he did not. Boris was worn out more than anything else, the man almost fell asleep the moment he sat down. But alas, he needed attention on his wounds, they were mostly scrapes and cuts, but there was also a gash on his abdomen that most likely needed the most attention. Boris let his head fall back to relax on the back of the sofa, a sigh emitting from him as he winced, one eye nearly swollen shut. He’d really gotten his ass kicked and it had been a rather long time since that had happened.

    He was barely pulled from his thoughts when someone entered the room, he should have felt their energy but he was too messed up to even bother. If someone had come to finish the job then Boris would accept the sweet escape of death, that was how tired the man was.

   There were many things in the world that were exceedingly tedious to Borislav, carrying out any of the business transactions that Viktor often put him up to was only a tip on the ice berg which sunk all hopes of living any other way. It always started the same, the slightly taller and older Russian would stride into whatever room Borislav occupied, papers in hand as if he were running a god damn country; always busy. Then without looking up Viktor would simply slip a piece of paper to his younger brother and clear his throat, attention trained on whatever he was reading and without another word Borislav would just leave. Instructions were always etched in neat and annoyingly perfect handwriting telling Borislav what his next conquest was and just how far he was supposed to take things in order to get what he wanted, or rather, what Viktor wanted. 

      The middle child had learned to accept the way things were, as the guard dog, the one who did most if not all of the dirty work for the Markell family, which was saying a lot when Cristov was so obvious about his appreciation for chaos and destruction. Boris didn’t feel one way about it, if he had to bust someone’s knee caps out or bust some heads, he’d do what he had to in order to keep his family safe. That was always his excuse, after all, who else did he have in this fucking world than the two real men who represented the Markell name. Borislav was nothing but the bastard, even his brothers subtly reminded him of that. 

    Despite his damnation and separation from being truly accepted as what he’d been forced to strive for his whole life, Borislav loved his brothers, he’d of course never admit as much, expressing he’d sooner kill them than accept them. But that was how they worked, shielding their emotions and true feelings, even though he was the one who felt too much. Perhaps that was what made him such a bastard child, he had too much heart. Like he did at this moment, letting this fucker he’d been sent to “negotiate” with a chance to even get in a few blows. In Boris’ defense, the other man was taller and heftier by a good amount, a couple hard punches and his eye was blurry from blood. 

     Grunting as he pushed himself back up Boris hissed, his good eye glaring with dark intentions at the almost pompous goon he’d been sent to take care of. It was obvious why Viktor no longer wished to associate with the clown, it was a compromising connection to have when the name Markell was so fiercely kept alive on reputation and fear. “Look, you had your fun, pal--- but I’m afraid it’s gotta end.” Boris almost grumbled, his tone more reflecting that he didn’t wish to be here anymore than the guy would likely want to die. 

       When a look of annoyance played at the larger man’s face some more Boris couldn’t help but laugh, the only amusement he’d get out of the night, aside from killing the piece of shit, of course. He’d picked a good place, the dragging of the body, though, would likely prove a little more difficult as he did park a good space between where they now were. Getting this far away from his vehicle hadn’t been the plan, but neither was the next blow that Boris received with his mental analysis of the situation. Now he was annoyed and with that wave of irritant flashing through his veins, Borislav rolling with the blow, rebounding quicker than he had before. There was a small flash of steal before the larger man stumbled, crying out for half a second before he was silenced promptly, his cries of pain and anguish now gurgles as blood spilled from his throat. 

          Boris squinted, swayed away as the other man fell, quite like a tree, and slammed to the dark wet concrete next to them. Blood flecked over Boris’ face and the front of his clothes, he sighed, wiping at the one side of his face, only smearing the crimson across his pale skin. His sharp gaze fell on his dying enemy, this could have gone better, and he could certainly hear Viktor’s short scolding of ‘you’re a mess’ and Cristov’s teasing that he could have done better. But neither of the other Markell’s would actually do anything, Boris did what he did how he liked, getting a little bit on him, some marks to look at after, reminded him that he was good at something. ‘Though, at the moment, he could have done better, less messy, made it shorter, ended the man’s life in a quicker and more easily disposed of manner. Boris wasn’t as meticulous as Viktor, or even Cristov, it was what set him a part from them, and their mother. That was someone none of the Markell’s wished to be like, despite their orbit to the darker side of things. 

          It wasn’t always his choice, being sent to deal with things like these, or rather, people. Just... people. Borislav never really had a plan for his future, there was hardly time to even give himself a moment to think about what he may have wanted to do. Everything had been drawn out for him, first by his mother, then by his older brother, Viktor. That was whom should have been here, fucking Viktor. But like any good leader, his used his manciples to do his tasks for him while he dealt with more important things, even if those people were his brothers. They were, of course, more important to Viktor, but Borislav never even knew what it was his brother did when he was out dealing with whatever task he’d been given, all he knew for sure was that it would require patience, of which their youngest brother did not have, and that perhaps, it would be an unsavory interaction. Sometimes Borislav hated his brother for it, for the loophole that was his life, the mass of wasted existence, but that wasn’t entirely Viktor’s fault, but he was the only one left alive to blame.

      “I’m fine,” he is, in fact, NOT fine, the man had been stabbed but that was as good as getting your knee skinned while falling off a bike when it came to the Markells. Borislav a little less than the other two, they were warriors, Borislav was simply in the reserves. He grunted softly and pressed at the wound in his side, the bleeding had mostly stopped, nothing major was hit so he wasn’t really afraid of dying. “Please don’t make a big deal, I just want a drink.”

         The sleek black car zoomed down the back road, weaving flawlessly as the Russian steered the vehicle precisely. He was too infuriated to slow down or steer incorrectly, Cristov was on a mission and god-fucking-damnit he was going to complete that fucking mission. No one-- no one, hurt someone he cared about. It didn’t really matter what Teddy’s reasoning was or how severely she was injured, what mattered was that Cristov loved her, more than he was willing to admit, more than he would ever express, it was for that sole reason he’d been so unwaveringly insistent on going back to this place where it had occurred. Because he was going to bust some skulls open, perhaps he was angry at himself, mostly, for not being there. Although he knew that Teddy could more than take care of himself, Cristov had formed quite the bond with the witch, deeper than any he’d held before. 

       Cristov’s foot pressed harder on the acceleration pedal before he veered to the right and slid the car to a stop, dust flying up behind them before he cast a look in the passenger seat, blue eyes intense and protective. “Stay here--” Like she’d even listen to him, but the firmness was there in his voice, Cristov didn’t want Teddy to get hurt anymore than she already had. A glance in the rear view mirror confirmed that his eldest brother was with him. Thankfully, Viktor had been off on business, somewhere in Europe; Cristov was thankfully purely because he knew that his brother would have sensed the shift of emotions, the amount of care Cristov held for Teddy. Shoving the drivers side door open Cristov stepped out of the vehicle moving around to the trunk and popping it open, wrapping large hands around the metal bat that was homed in the back of his vehicle for such occasions. 

       Borislav had not been opposed to this adventure at all, what had changed was Cristov, there was something there that neither of them really spoke of, least of all to Teddy or Viktor, if it was something that Cristov wished to let go unspoken then who was Boris to make him speak of it? Sitting in the back seat, a hand on each of the seats in front of him, Boris had been swaying in tune with the shifting of the vehicle, observing silently his little brother. He was sure that Cristov was thankful Viktor was not here and now seeing the younger Russian, Borislav was also glad that their elder brother was away from home, for multiple reasons. Although they all would hear a mouthful, or rather, a silent conversation with the intense dark gaze of Viktor Markell, for not having let him know what had happened, Borislav knew that was better than the alternative. 

       As soon as Cristov slid to a stop on the graveled drive way up to the nicely sized home where a party of some sort was going on, these people had quite the surprise in store for them with two Russians at their door, one ready to murder every fucker in the building and the other there just to insure the crazed one didn’t fucking die. Cristov was brash, determined, and didn’t care about how badly he got hurt when it came to people he cared about.

        Cristov slipped from the vehicle moments after they’d stopped and even though they both knew that Teddy would not stay in the vehicle the youngest Russian told her as much. Borislav sighed, shifted closer behind the passenger seat to lean forward and put a hand on Teddy’s arm, offering a small smile. “At least wait until we have cleared a way---” He squeezed Teddy’s arm lightly and moved to get out of the car, yanking off his black jacket and throwing it in the back seat before he moved around to follow Cristov towards the parked cars. Immediately Cristov started swinging, busting out the back window of a rather nice sports car, setting off the alarm as he went to town on the other windows as well. Almost instantly people started pouring out of the front door, young men and women, each with a hateful essence about them until the one exited the house, obviously the leader as he moved out with an angry energy and Cristov shattered out the windshield of the vehicle and shifted to face those who had come out in response to the commotion. Boris moved around behind Cristov on the other side of the vehicle, cool eyes studying those that moved forward from the porch, trying to assess which one was going to attack first. 

Bottom feeder, the bastard son, black sheep. Boris was a lot of things but he was nothing to his mother and because of that his self worth was slim to nothing. Boris found himself in emptying a bottle, in the countless and meaningless sex he often threw himself into, these were things his brothers didn’t mention nor care to express or acknowledge. Least of all Viktor, although Boris knew that his older brother trusted him more than he might have expressed, Borislav knew he was not the first one on the call list when Viktor was in trouble. The passing deals that had gone wrong, he had not been the one to go and retrieve his eldest brother, it had been Cristov. For reasons that needn’t be expressed, he simply wasn’t strong enough. 

This had always been the problem, even when they were children and they were battling for dominance and for their lives, Boris had always been the one to fail with a blade to his throat and a small trickle of blood adorning his collar. Their mother made it obviously clear that Borislav was the weakest among the, for his sentimental thinking and overly emotional responses, he had always been that way and it hadn’t changed even in this day and age. 

He was annoyed, tucked in the far corner of some tavern where many party goers were getting their four day weekend started. Children, meaningless little flies. The Russian drank away his bitterness, hating that he had been cast into this state once again simply because Viktor had not trusted him enough to keep him at their estate. It was for all their own best interest, but that was debatable, what Viktor really didn’t want was another attack on the household and them fail like they had at the previous meeting where both Boris and Viktor had left injured. 

A shift in energy presented a presence was closer to him than he wanted, a curious spirit, perhaps, or someone who really didn’t know what they were walking into. This man brooding in the corner, adorning dark colors and nursing his third bottle of the most expensive malt liquor in the tavern. “I promise you’ll have a better time fucking off elsewhere.” Boris uttered, words obviously slurred, intoxicated to say the least. 

Who always gets the window seat on planes: Cristov

Who is in charge of the radio during road trips: Teddy 

Who over packs: Borislav

Who initiates car games: Cristov or Teddy

Who, without fail, accidentally leaves something important at home: Borislav

Who takes all the free things (shampoo, soap, shower caps) from the hotel: Borislav

Who gets searched at the airport for looking ‘suspicious’: Most likely Cristov

Who wakes the other up at 7 AM to go eat the complimentary hotel breakfast: Probably Viktor tbh

Who insists on using a map to guide them around an unknown city: Teddy the Russians don’t need maps pfff

Who is in charge of keeping up with the passports and other important documents:  Viktor

Who buys the most novelty gifts for friends/family back home: Cristov even tho he has no friends lawl

Do they go on more adventure type vacations or somewhere they can relax:  A good mixture of both

Who takes pictures of every single thing: Borislav

Who is the first to try the local cuisine: I think Boris would do that but also maybe Viktor

Who forgets to put on sun screen and gets burned to a crisp: Teddy

Who uses packing/vacation checklists and who just wings it: I’m thinking Teddy, Viktor, and Boris do the checklist and Cristov wings it