forged by fire

KARA;; this scorched earth demands blood

25 | soldier | lead mechanic & driver | bratva syndicate fc: beste kokdemir these violent delights

ADRIAN;; judas iscariot of the syndicate

Send me ?? for a strange/vague text

Send me !! for a threatening text

>> if i were you, i'd reconsider saying no to my offer.

Send me  ♣ for a drunk text

>> lucy

>> lucin

>> fuck lucia

>> get on of prospets to gt my car

>> i cnt fukin drive and cpd is gonn parking ticket my ass- im at th strip club

Send me ?? for a strange/vague text

>> jestem kurwa naćpany

Send me ► for a text not meant for you

Send me ☺ for a loving/affectionate text

>> i always wanted an older sister

>> and now i have one

>> thank u for everything.

Send me ► for a text not meant for you

>> babe, i'm not here to be your therapist, i'm just here to sleep with you- don't make this more complicated than it needs to be.

>> AJKSHDAF SERA

>> men, i'm sure u understand

Send me ↕ for a scared/worried text

>> there's reports of a fire at the pier

>> you better fucking answer so help me god

where: coffee shop near the hospital​

who: @yukselkaminski​ 

Naomi stepped out of the hospital and audibly sighed to be finally finished with her shift. She worked a night shift only to pick up a friend’s shift too and has pushed passed exhaustion. She figured getting a coffee just to stay up for a few hours would help her restore a semblance of her sleep schedule. A block or two later she’d made it to the coffee shop and was quick to order before standing to the side in wait. Lost in her own thoughts she didn’t realize her name being called but no drink was ready so she looked around her. Too disoriented really to deduce exactly who her gaze settled on the man near her. “Sorry,” she turned before shaking her head, “Did you uh—did you just say something?” she asked before trying to place the man’s familiarity. 

X

Michael Jones always delivered when it came to the Syndicate. Ole reliable, the man had done his fair share of shipment aid for the Head of Drug Sales. And successful shipments meant more money in everyone’s pocket. When Jacob Jones signed onto be a prospect, he wasn’t surprised. It was meant to be. The big problem was the eldest daughter. The singer, the nurse... Naomi was a walking liability if she spoke to the wrong people. And well, the Syndicate always wanted to full family set to swear an oath. It was exactly why Adrian was around the hospital area, blue eyes spotting the woman as she made her way to the shop. “It’s Naomi right?” Adrian watched as his words finally broken the brunette out of her own mind. “I was just saying, do you perform? I coulda sworn I saw you sing somewhere around town... karaoke bar? Venue? Don’t quite remember.” Like a true psychopath, each nicety left his mouth with ease. 

Lucia didn’t see herself as soft or caring and most people would agree with that depiction. The life she’d had raised her to be anything but those characteristics. Things seemed to change when she joined the Syndicate and worked her way up, she started to relate to some members and found herself being protective over others. Michael had been one of those people, but the other Kaminski brother felt like a polar opposite. He and Lucia couldn’t ever see eye to eye and she didn’t think she ever wanted to. “Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you.” she stated flatly with a shake to her head. Her gaze landed on his car and roller her eyes, “The faster we start the quicker we finish,” she sighed. Stepping towards the Camaro, opening the door, and settling in the passenger seat, business was business. A bit of silence and enough time to catch up on messages she kept her eyes at the buildings that past them before turning to him. “Who is it we’re meeting?” she asked, assigned to this last minute going in without information wasn’t her style.

X

“You’re right- it looks great on me. But let’s focus on the task ahead instead of my handsome features, Lucia.” Maybe, in an alternative world, Adrian could get along with the woman. She did do her job, she could pull a trigger when needed... if it wasn’t for all the frivolous family shit, they could work like a well oiled machine. The problem was the past, specifically his older brother. Anyone Michael had liked with were quickly repelled by the youngest Kaminski.  And for probably good reason- Adrian was the only one still above ground and breathing. A tsk tsk left his lips when Lucia asked her question. “Someone’s a bit underprepared.” It was an unfair remark but he couldn’t help it. “Especially for something this important... maybe you can just stay in the car, huh?” His hands turned the wheel, maneuvering past a few sedans before they entered Clark st. “Some of my Polish contacts are interested in coke. Eastern Europe wants to open up the market to us since we’re not Russian. All of us satellite states are still pretty fucking bitter about 1939 and on...”

time: 3:52 pm location: bratva compound kitchens status: closed with @yukselkaminski​

It’s hard for him to pinpoint why he doesn’t like her. Not from a lack of reasons, or even a lack of good reasons, but rather that there are many that he can’t pick the most appropriate reason. Even her name grates on his nerves, the two syllables that fall so easily from the lips of his family members with a warmth that he doesn’t particular believe she deserves, always results in a tensed jaw, and a suppressed roll of his eyes. When she makes her way into the kitchen, there’s the usual jovial polite smile that never reaches his eyes arming his otherwise neutral expression. “Still here?” It’s an obvious jab, the sub-text heavy. Don’t you have your own place to hang around in? Must you be here?

x

The Syndicate’s right hand, Turkish traitors, gutter rats. The moment her mother kissed the Bratva patriarch’s ring, insults were thrown at the Yüksels like daggers. While Neslihan handled her poison with grace- revenge was a great palate cleanser- Kara grew up disregarded. At least until she fell into Zephyr’s palm. Ten years had flown past with her soaking in each lesson like a sponge, earning her keep as the bloody hammer fell. ”As long as I have business to attend to, yes.” Dark eyes fell on Vasili, disinterest coloring her feature before she grabbed a glass. The youngest Vronsky was proof that human nature would always be jealous of success. “Your brother had plans he wanted to discuss with me.” Truth be told, Kara couldn’t bring herself to like the man. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his last name was the only reason he was worth anything at all to their organization... the thought once again crossed her mind while she filled her cup with water. “New Years set us back and some of us are trying to rectify that- I’m sure you understand.” Her gaze flickered to him, emphasis lingering on some. 

Zekai had felt like a detective, or what he imagined it must be like, for the past week. He’d gone out of his way to put in more time with the Bratva in an effort to show his readiness for more responsibility. In the same breath he was staying late at the offices and digging for any more information he could use against his father. All the while trying to keep his eyes and ears open for anything about the district attorney. This was the most work Zekai had put into anything in his life which obviously meant he got the chance to blow off some steam he indulged. He and a few of his friends hopped from club to club, eventually landing in Purgatory. That was short lived though, because when buzz about underground fighting about to start soon reached their ears, the group became excited for the chance to win money and watch some ruthless punches too. 

Within the hour Zekai and his friend were entering Fulton Market and greeted with the buzz and electric air that could only be provided by a place like this. The Bratva soldier brushed passed a few people before he could catch sight of the current fight “Oof,” he breathed when he watched the punch connect already joining the whooping of the crowd in excitement. His brows shot up though when he recognized the winner. His feet moved on their own accord towards Kara not even calling to his friend a simple be right back even. “Damn Yüksel!” he shouted when he was within earshot. “Just got here, but you know I’d always bet on you.” he answered matter of factly. It was only then he noticed the blood on her that a flash of concern passed his features before they were replaced with a grin, “I didn’t know you fought here.” Of course he didn’t know, they keep secrets from each other in the same way they shared them, by not talking about them.

x

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, ice doing little to stop her throbbing forehead though it didn’t bother her too much. Instead, her attention fell on Zekai, a smirk pulling at her lips. “See, this is why I like you Zekai, you’re smart.” There were a select few Bratva that truly felt like an extension of herself, Zekai certainly made the list.. Like a more devilish Bonnie and Clyde, they’d had each other's backs almost from the start. Bet on what you know. “Someone has to keep the Syndicate boys in line when they show up.” Kara shrugged, lips still pulled upwards. Her true reason wasn’t something she’d dispelled to anyone easily- both in fear of being seen as weak or a liability. With a bloody past haunting most of the soldiers, she was sure she wasn’t alone... but still. Some things were better unsaid. Especially given her former ties to the Ozdemir clan. 

Turning her body to face him, she couldn’t help but gesture to the fighting pit. “You gonna give us a show? Last month, three fights got me my rent paid.” Occasionally, when the shop couldn’t meet it’s demanded Bratva cut, fists turned blood into money. And this? She was built for this kind of chaos. “What you drinking, babe? It’s on me and that poor guy who forgot how to block.” Kara asked, her hand dropping from her forehead to signal the bartender. 

“Nausea, excitement, guess they’re practically synonymous now.” The words are spoken in jest, even if his expression doesn’t outwardly reveal as much. Adrian’s rundown of their little inventory issue dragged out the Arms Dealer’s patience an inch further as he listened with genuine interest. Despite no longer being in the running for leadership and irresponsible in just about every other aspect, the eldest Özdemir (and probably his accountant) kept meticulous books on Syndicate revenue and product. Gaps rarely went unnoticed. “Look at you finally earning your keep,” he commented as pitch black hues dragged along the vaguely human shape awaiting them. “Fuckin’ prospects.” As a rule of thumb, it did one good to actually learn the ins and outs of a business before attempting to fuck them over. His head shook in mild disbelief before gesturing for his blonde companion to stand ready to hoist the opposing end. “We get it all back or was this a warning?” 

x

The mistake the prospect made was one he’d seen every so often. It was as if  the cardinal rule of don’t steal from your own wasn’t taken seriously. Did they think this life was a game? As if there were no grave consequences? Rats always choked on poison, and every end was the same. Glancing at the body bag, he shrugged. “Someone has to while the rest of you sleep.” Adrian mirrored Tommy’s action, hands slipping underneath the bloodied plastic before he spoke. “Both- you know I’m one for theatrics.” As it was, the other prospect had the very pleasure of watching him pull the trigger. “All of it is back at the warehouses, I left Rami a text to check it out in morning....” One reason why he’d chosen Tommy was the proximity to Graceland cemetery, a personal favorite dumping ground for the Syndicate’s arms dealer. “Now the warning to any potential initiates was fun, one of em actually pissed themselves- I’m not expecting them to try shit like this any time soon.

who: @yukselkaminski​ where: headed to a deal wooo

Lucia begrudgingly got into the passenger seat of the car wondering what prompted Dilara to put her on this task. They couldn’t afford anymore mistakes so placing her made sense, but perhaps it was the fact that she’d been avoiding all deals, drugs or otherwise, since that night where they found Kate. It was true she had to get over it by now, casualties were in the terms of agreement within the life she chose. Why it had to be on this particular day with him was where her annoyance began. “You have the address?” she asked keeping her gaze ahead, an arm propped against the door. The members of the Syndicate had quickly become a group she cared, some semblance of a family, but there was always exceptions and Adrian was definitely hers. She could almost sense the way his face was taking on that self-assured expression even though she wasn’t looking.

In their world, everyone was expendable. Some more than others, but there always came a line where the price of a life was worth it. Adrian’s meteoric rise to Head of Drug Sales proved this to be true, his own brother’s blood staining his hands while he took the Kaminski mantel. People who didn’t understand that didn’t belong at the top...or at the very least, didn’t mesh well with Adrian. Such was the case with Lucia Montes. The woman was all but a surrogate mother to some of the Syndicate. “No, I figured a joyride down Lakeshore Drive would be much more enjoyable.” Adrian smirked. Leave it to Dilara to pair them together, where the hell was Tommy? “You gonna stand there or are we gonna get this shit done? ” Boredom laced his tone as he gestured to his Camaro, expectantly looking up at Lucia from the drivers seat.

The way that her eyes linger in search of a weapon that doesn’t exist, despite his sisters’ protests, elicits a slow half-smirk before two palms clasp the back of an adjoining chair. Rami doesn’t carry anymore, not since abdicating his role as former heir to the Syndicate’s throne after his father’s death. Perhaps he might have in a former life, or an alternate timeline, one where he’d lost the gumption to stand for his own desires and instead succumbed to another’s, acquiring both mantle and responsibility. Internally, he shudders at the thought. “Too long.” His family’s doing of course, but semantics weighed less beneath the understanding that she had also lost Kerem in the assassination that day–– more than a brother, even. Safety, hope, her entire livelihood. Too high a price for one girl to pay.

“Who said I wasn’t keeping things civil? I like to think I’m very friendly.” Dark hues flicker to the offered drink, not outright accepting it and instead taking up residence in the seat across from his deceased friend’s sister. “Though contrary to what some may believe,” he manages with an amused smile, pushing the glass a few inches back towards Kara. “I’m also not a fool.” Not that Rami held out a belief that she would poison him outright, that flavor of paranoia was typically reserved for ex-lovers, but in the interest of safety and all… “That makes one of us. Look at you, all grown up.” Your brother would be proud, a sentiment which rests in silence on his tongue. Speaking Kerem’s name equates to throwing salt in both of their wounds and he never enjoyed the act of needlessly suffering. “I thought I was the only one who still visited Dilan.”

x

“The friendliest- you’re an absolute golden retriever.” How strange it was it think that once upon a time, Kara had been hand in hand with the Ozdemir children. They’d spent countless hours exploring Chicago, even went to the same schools... She barely batted an eye at the plan to kidnap Ezra, only concerned with how even the Syndicate’s pain could get with hers. It hadn’t been enough, of course, but it was a start. Did Rami think it was a mistake to find her alive? That the job should’ve been finished? Her eyes didn’t budge from his figure, fingers wrapping around the refused glass. “Oh I wouldn’t ruin homemade rakı with arsenic- doesn’t mix well with the anise flavour.” She lifted the drink before taking a sip. 

Grown up. Kerem had all the potential in the world at twenty-one. He’d gotten into Northwestern, was on track to becoming a doctor, wanted to have his own family some day... each dream died along with him, lowered into the earth too soon. “I was lucky enough to get the chance to.” Bitterness seeped into her tone. Kerem and her father should’ve been here. “He’s got a long history with my family... and he was always good to us- I try to visit when I can, probably not often enough.” With all the relationships she’d severed, everything she’d lost, the nostalgia of yağmur bistro was something she couldn’t give up. It was one of the few places Kara could see her brother and father’s faces, frozen in photographs. Alcohol burned down her throat before she spoke again. “You were all supposed to meet us here. For my birthday?” 

Tagged: @yukselkaminski​

Location: Tommy’s auto shop, around 4am

Becoming the business equivalent of partners with Adrian Kaminski hadn’t been Tommy’s idea of a cogent union when taking up the role of Head Arms Dealer. Oil and water on their best days, the two men had startlingly different ideas of how to run both their individual trades and practically every situation. Yet to the entire Syndicate’s shock and tepid acceptance, they worked almost fluidly when slotted together. Save for tonight when the brunette received a witching hour phone call that drew him out of a long awaited rest, tempted to just hang up before his counterpart mentioned something about “a mess”. For fuck’s sake. Now he stands against the rear entrance, its metal garage door half-pried up just far enough to allow them room to pass underneath. “What? Couldn’t lose your shit at a reasonable hour?” Only the friendliest of greetings as he proceeds to the rear of Adrian’s car once it stops inside, his hand gesturing quickly. “Open the trunk before I regret comin’ down here.”

x

Perhaps one of the strongest aspects of the Syndicate was its Heads. The Assassin- cold blooded and hot headed, Fletcher’s gun never missed. The Arms Dealer- icy like a blizzard, just as deadly if you got stuck in his storm. And the Drug Producer- a hellhound with no regard for morals or code. Under the Ozdemirs watch, the three men became the most unexpected well oiled machine. It was exactly why Adrian found himself face to face with Tommy Perez, his lucky catch becoming a problem for the both of them to solve. “Good morning beautiful, don’t act like you weren’t excited to see my name pop up on your phone.” The blond smirked. “You remember when the books said we were missing stock- the makarovs, 9mm lugers, about five pounds of product?” A hand unlatched the trunk of his charger, the unmistakable copper blood smell filling the space. “Pied piper caught the rat.” Adrian nodded as he gestured to the man-a former prospect- wrapped in plastic wrap. If there was one thing that he took seriously, it was business. In the Syndicate, there weren’t second chances after being crossed- the same followed through for the Kaminski family. “He thought that if he waited a week to sell, he’d be in the clear... until the dumb ass sold our shit back to our contacts.”