#rahge

“ And what is it that you might want, revenge? Or are you here to threaten me? ” There is delight in the tone of his voice, a sentiment that he himself wants, a need and desire above all else. There are parts of her history that he is familiar with, parts that have like most, have been turned into old scary stories told to children so that they would behave. Stay away from trees, stay away from water, stay away from strange people, stay away from mirrors, and it goes on and on and on. And yet, funnily enough, they always end up hurt or dead eventually. 

“ I’m guessing you came to me to help you? Or to work together? ” She could be useful for him, she might be able to find the WOMAN. The one human woman, but not fully human, that had been evading him for some time now. He was sure that he had killed her years ago, her final reincarnation but when the hole in his chest did not change, it was obvious that he did not. “ Tell me, what is it that you want? ” 

It was annoying just how much he had worked for this, at first there was anger and retribution, that still was there, but it had vanished, tucked away behind the memories, that only HE seemed to still have, behind the pain that was CONSTANT. The rest of them forgot, they dared to have the story all wrong, making it seem like he was this villain that they were running from. And that part he could play, he would. They left him no choice. 

“ I really don’t mean to complain…no actually I am complaining. Why is it that I only wanted a burger and now I’ve not only been shot at, but you are somehow in my apartment? ” She seemed right at home like this was actually her place and he had been gracefully allowed to be there as well. Jung-hoo dropped the backpack in the living room and went over to the kitchen, in desperate need of something to drink. 

Grabbing two cans of beer, he opened one, chucking without abandon before he threw the next one to her on the couch where she had made herself comfortable. “ Considering that NO ONE knows where I live, it goes without saying, if you tell anyone I’ll have to kill you and all that. ” Plopping down next to her, he moved her feet so that they were stretched over his, while he extended his long legs below the glass table. “ It’s only Wednesday…it should be against the law to try and kill people in the middle of the week. ” 

         •°. *࿐ ❝Who’s that handsome stud I saw you walking around with last night, mm?❞

Alighting from his car, Bortsov lights a cigarette as he waits for his men to slowly assemble behind him; Brigadiers and soldiers, all from various factions of the Russian mafia, all selected for their skills and most importantly their loyalty. From this distance, the warehouse looks like any other in Moscow’s industrial district, with one distinct difference: it belongs to Bratva and it is being used for a purpose that is utterly unsanctioned. The Pakhan doesn’t usually involve himself personally in this kind of business, but on this occasion, it is necessary, not only so he can witness the cruel reality of the situation for himself, but moreover, so he can personally send a message. Defying his orders will not be tolerated; human trafficking is forbidden and as long as he remains at the head of the organisation, that means any member of Bratva caught embroiled in such dirty, prohibited business faces immediate excommunication and ultimately death.

“Igor?” Nicholai, his right-hand man, moves to stand by his side, blinking in the thick drizzle, as he narrows his eyes, peering through the darkness, to count the number of men patrolling the site, as he readies his automatic rifle.  

“Kill anyone who attempts to fight or run. Round up those that willingly surrender, promise them a hearing, then line them up and execute them…release anyone they were holding and if you find Konstantin, keep him alive, I will deal with him personally once all this is over.”

For a moment Nicholai squirms uneasily, he isn’t entirely comfortable killing their own people, but he knows sometimes it is the only way to assert and maintain control; there is a price to be paid for dissidence and today he will collect, as ordered.

“Move with me.” The Pakhan commands, pulling his gun out from inside his pocket before leading the charge into the warehouse.

The battle is a bloody one, gun shots and desperate shouts and cries ringing out constantly as Igor and his men meticulously comb the building, clearing it floor by floor, leaving bodies piled up in their wake. Predictably the Pakhan loses some soldiers along the way, but not many and each will be rewarded for their loyalty with a proper burial and a pay deal for their families, who will not face significant hardship for their loss. Bortsov rewards loyalty just as generously as he deals vengeance.

Once the last of the men working here have faced a firing squad at the back of the building and Konstantin, the man responsible for all this, has been captured and taken from the scene, it is only then that the Pakhan begins to inspect the containers. It is a shocking sight to behold and exactly the situation he had hoped to avoid happening when he ordered that Bratva withdraw entirely from this disgusting, degrading business, no matter how lucrative it may be. The people here have been treated worse than animals, packed into overcrowded crates, left to survive in relative darkness, without sunlight, proper sanitation, ventilation or food, most likely to be used as slave labour at some later point, should they survive long enough.

“Igor!” Hearing Nicholai shout from one of the upper levels, the Pakhan moves to join him, along with a company of his men, for additional security. Ascending the stairs two at a time, he joins Nicholai at the top of them, his icy gaze following the man’s finger towards two large steel doors that have just been unbolted. Slowly stepping forward, Igor surveys the tragic scene with a heavy heart; the room is filled with young women of differing nationalities, filthy, dressed in relative rags, huddled together in fear. The fact most are in their twenties means it was likely they were meant for the prostitution trade and are awaiting transportation to different destinations.

Hearing desperate cries erupt from the corner, the Pakhan turns urgently to regard a terrified looking Bratva soldier who is holding one of the captive woman hostage, with a gun pressed firmly to her head, as if the act might somehow save him.

“Stay back!” He barks in Russian, the warning enough to prompt the Pakhan to immediately raise his arms and shoot the man directly in the head, causing a spray of warm blood to instantly splatter all over the poor girl, causing the others around her to descend into a desperately frightened frenzy.

“Get them out of here.” The Pakhan orders, spitting onto the floor to clear the obscene taste in his mouth, as disgust begins to curdle his stomach, watching as the terrified woman are hastily escorted out in groups, some sobbing, some screaming, some barely comprehending either Russian or English and so unable to grasp that they are being granted their freedom, however precarious.  Lighting a cigarette, he stands and watches, attempting to separate himself mentally from the whole sordid situation for the moment, trying to ignore the impending sense of blame he feels, for not realising sooner that this particularly cruel form of human misery was unknowingly occurring within his own organisation.

The women are terrified and soon begin to run, desperately heading for the door, to escape this hell while they still can, all it seems, except one; the one who stands alone, red raw eyes glittering in the dark as she mutely regards Igor without a single tear or sob, looking as delicate and beautiful as a China doll, one that has likely been surrounded by men all too eager to be responsible for her shattering.

In silence, the Pakhan takes a moment longer to study her, trying to make sense of her expression that strangely seems to entirely elude interpretation; is she hurt, or somehow dissociated from herself, or is it that she simply does not wish to grant him the sight of her sorrow?

@rahge​  :   “  Sometimes  ,  if  you  don’t  move  forward  ,  you  die  .  ”

—   Death  ;  Arthur’s guilty  pleasure  in  which  he  spends  more  time  fantasizing  about  than  your  average  person  .  ‘  If  you  don’t  move  forward  ,  you  die  ’  she  says  .  It’s  like  she’s  calling  him  out   —  as  if  she  knows  that  his  entire  life  was  some  massive  failure  and  he  can’t  remember  the  last  time  he’s  moved  forward  in  life  (  or  in  any  direction  that  isn’t  backwards  ,  really  .  )  Arthur  has  long  since  realized   that  he’s  on  a  fast  track  to  his  own  death  ;  whether  it  be  by  the  bowels  of  Gotham  City  or  by  his  own  hands  .  Maybe  ,  death  is  what  he  wanted  ,  for  a  man  like  him  ,  this  wasn’t  necessarily  a  bad  thing  .  It  would  be  an  escape  . 

—   “  What  about  those  people  are  are  just  kind  of...  stuck  ?  ”  Even  though  he  doesn’t  feel  like  he’s  moving  forward  ,  he’s  been  trying  to  push  it  forward  .  To  get  help  for  his  mental  health  and  try  to  be  a  good  man  .  It’s  not  his  fault  that  society  has  taken  his  efforts  ,  ground  them  up  until  and  spit  them  right  back  out  .  “  You  know  ,  the  people  who  are  trying  to  do  something  about  it  but  they  just  can’t  seem  to  get  anywhere  ?  ”  Did  they  die  in  the  same  fashion  ?  Was  any  of  these  attempts  he’s  making  even  worth  his  effort  or  would  he  be  better  of  just  throwing  in  the  towel  ?  Curious  emerald  eyes  anchor  onto  Akina  ,  his  hand  is  rested  on  upon  his  lap   with  a half  smoked  cigarette  tucked  between  his  index  and  middle  finger  .  “  Not  everyone  is  cut  out  to  make  it   —  that’s  what  I’ve  always  heard  .  ”  In  actuality  ,  he  didn’t  just  hear  it  somewhere  .  This  has  been  told  to  him  time  and  time  again  .  That  he’s  a  failure   —   that  he  wouldn’t  ever  make  it  or  ever  become  anything  relevant  in  this  life  .  His  own  mother  doesn’t  even  think  he  could  become  a  stand  up  comedian  ,  after  all  .  “  What  happens  to  those  guys  ?  ”