closed starter || @levxvasile && @xcontrolledchaosx || eli
his mind is blank and the world is beginning to shift--- everything is sort of... fuzzy. out of focus. the grip on his steering wheel is white knuckle, but he can hardly feel it below the tremble. the churning of his stomach is only growing stronger by the second. the fleeting feeling that he may pass out cold the moment his feet hit the ice forces him to pause. that grip loosens slowly as he begins to count one steering wheel, two side mirrors, three---
he opens the car door and tries one heavy boot on the ground and when it doesn’t falter, he takes one final breath. he isn’t aware, but when he looks back on this moment he will observe a permanent shift. this is the moment that defines the turning point of eli vogel’s life.
eli vasile, now, actually.
the sound of his car door slamming shut grounds him. the crunch of ice below those heavy footfalls are inconsistent. crescent moons form themselves in his palms, fists wrapped so tightly that soon, he won’t be able to easily unfurl them again. tense is a modest word for the acting pakhan’s posture.
“Get rid of it.” he doesn’t know who he’s speaking to as he stares down at the corpse--- a coward? or is this another message? when his eyes snap up, they lock on a guard. poor guy. he’s going to be dead as the messenger if this doesn’t go well. “Get the fuck rid of it--- we don’t have much time.”
attention drifts to the sealed box.
“Axel, take it to the basement.”
@levxvasile @xcontrolledchaosx
