"A toast to our new lives! As kings of the street!"

Sasha Lebedev - 27 years of age - Leader of the Russian mafia

[1800rigormortis-blog]

Delivery

[blancronin-blog]

Fury knew all about the onslaught of Russian hostility in recent years. He was, almost indirectly, a part of it after all. Sure, said part was trying to put an end to it, but that wasn’t important right now. He couldn’t conceal a smirk as he stood there, parcel in hand, being questioned about his presence. The adrenaline rush from the violence still had his heart beating rapidly.

“Oh, them? They weren’t a problem for me, don’t worry.” You’d think this man would be training them better than that. Fury rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Relax, I didn’t kill them. I have some manners, you know.”

Holding the package a little more loosely, he began to move forward. He knew the man before him had a weapon nearby (who wouldn’t?), so he didn’t want to be too cocky. Slow movements would be best. Keeping his eyes on the man on the couch, he began to realize things.

The first was that Lebedev, who Fury had never seen before in his life, looked a lot younger than he’d anticipated. He knew all about his father handing down the throne, but he hadn’t known his heir was as young as he appeared. Judging by the contents of the package he was carrying, too young. Junkies weren’t meant to look like that.

That was the second thing Fury noticed; Lebedev was handsome. Despite the huge scar running across his face, and despite the angry expression on his features (did that make him more handsome?), he looked a lot less scary than he’d expected. The young hitman smiled to himself and took another step forward. Dealing with good looking men was always the best.

“Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is I have a package for you. And I intend to give it to you. Is that okay?”

His voice was soft and slightly scratchy, yet his tone indicated that there was no room for doubt. In his mind, it was going to be okay with Lebedev whether he wanted it to be or not.

“It’s from G.”

The somewhat short, yet evidently competent character who slowly entered Sasha’s office didn’t fully intimidate the Russian who was still comfortably sitting on his couch, albeit being a little tense about the events that were unfolding then. Sure, he provided more than one needed answer to Sasha’s question, but, nonetheless, the Son felt pretty confused what kind of tricks the lad with the sharp teeth had in mind as he was carrying that parcel with him. Having Sasha inhale his homemade anthrax, probably?

“Do you seriously expect me to open this wrapped package of yours after you ever so rudely barged into my headquarters and sucker-punched my men without at least being invited? And who the hell is G.?” Sasha was feeling very vigilant about the situation. His personal codex of being a leader included not trusting everything or everyone on the spot, no matter what. That was the fool’s way of thinking in Miami, a city that was always known for having danger, hiding both in the daylight and under the bright neon signs during the night.

The Russian needed more convincing before he could even consider the character with the beanie, but Sasha was willing to listen to what else he had to say.

[blancronin-blog]

William, entirely unconvinced, didn’t budge an inch. What the hell was Sasha doing here if he wasn’t going to try to kill him, or intimidate him, or, or… or something!

“That’s the least of my concerns right now. It should be the least of yours, too.”

He was doing an astounding job of looking collected on the surface, even as his brain was working overtime. If shit got bad, he had the upper hand, and it wouldn’t take long to get away once the elevator was reactivated… He could forge an alibi, or better yet, buy one, and have the whole thing over with by lunch tomorrow. Right now, though, he was having a bit of a power trip.

Having the top dog in Miami organized crime at the end of your gun was an exhilarating feeling.

“Am I supposed to believe the son of the guy who’s tried to fuck my entire company in the ass for years is just here to chat?”

The rolled-up newspaper in Lebedev’s hand was, oddly enough, making him feel kind of uneasy… It wasn’t a decent weapon by any stretch of the imagination, but it still felt dangerous in this guy’s possession.

“If you want, of course. You’re a grown man, Mr. Nessen, so you can safely decide if you want to have a civil conversation with me. Or, if not, you can also pull the trigger right now and see the end of things. It’s your choice.”

Sasha wasn’t even fazed by the fact that William could’ve easily pulled the trigger then and end the Russian’s life of crime. In fact, he was smiling and feeling relaxed as the events were unfolding. He found William’s actions to be pretty admirable, especially since he seemed prepared to do anything if things went out of hand.

“Besides, that was an issue between you and my father. I honestly have no interest in taking over your business. I simply want you and I to clear some tension out of this building so you and I could lead more, uh, prosperous lives. So to speak.”

Sasha patiently awaited the elevator to reactivate itself as he stared at William’s handgun. Seemed custom-made. Studded with rubies, plated in platinum, silver cylinder. The Son assumed the bullets were plated in gold, too. At least, if he were as rich as William, he would do just that.

[vortexnomad]

@blancronin

She’s landed herself in Miami again. After not visiting for a while, she’s decided she misses the warmth and neon glow of the strange city. This time, however, she’ll push her limits and find somewhere new to explore. 

She knows most people don’t take kindly to a girl with blades for legs, but who knows? Maybe they’ll think it’s some quirky fashion statement. It does seem to be the place for that kind of thing.

Walking up to a pristine white building with several fancy looking cars outside, she rubs her cheek for a moment before deciding to head inside. 

[blancronin-blog]

Bogdan & Lazar, the two guards who were carefully patrolling the elevators on the first floor weren’t expecting visitors to come any time soon. Things were getting a bit too boring for them, but they were very well-aware that there were some certain responsibilities that needed to be taken, which is why they tried their best not to complain much about not encountering too much action or excitement like the other members seemed to do. After all, those positions of theirs granted them the privilege to drink as much as they wanted when they were off duty, so it wasn’t all bad for the comrades in white & blue.

Things got a little interesting when a mysterious, hooded lady with spiky, metal legs entered the establishment completely unannounced, though. Bogdan and Lazar have never seen someone so unusual-looking in their lives before, which, of course, made them feel even more wary about her as they placed their fingers on the triggers of their assault rifles, ready to pull them in case things became worse.

Bogdan then spoke up with a serious tone in his voice, a tone that would usually intimidate the typical frail explorer who thinks it’s a good idea to enter private properties with guards armed to the teeth.

“Stop moving, lady! Do you have any business with Mr. Lebedev for you to be walking in here?”

[1800rigormortis-blog]

Delivery

@blancronin

They never expected a kid, did they?

Fury had known this from the start. His babyface had proven to be his strongest asset, even at the age of 24, overpowering his eyes and teeth. If they didn’t know him, they always thought him to be younger than he was. They always hesitated. If he pulled the right expression, he could almost feign innocence.

These men hadn’t expected his outburst, obviously, or surely they’d still be conscious. The exchange could have been cordial, of course. He tried to make it so. ‘I’m here to deliver a package’, he’d said. The men in white suits had laughed. Russians, of course. As if the uniforms weren’t enough, the building gave its alignment away with extensive sickle and hammer motifs. 

He almost found it funny.

Trying again to speak to their boss, to give him the goddamn parcel in his hands, was met with frustration and a shove. And he’d lost it then. Parcel slammed to the desk, he’d knocked down every single man in the lobby, his vision turning red as they ran at him. He made sure not to kill anyone, though. He’d picked up a few tricks from Zeke… No unnecessary killings.

Now, having made his way up to the boss’s office, he leaned against the doorway.

“Big man in charge? Ignore the noises in the hall… I have something for you.”

[blancronin-blog]

Sasha was sitting on his comfortable, crimson couch, minding his own business when he suddenly heard one of his men yelling on the built-in intercom that was in his spacious office. The man on the speaker sounded rather distressed about something.

“Там в взломщик в прихожих, босс! Мы будем заботиться о нем!”

An intruder in the hallways, at that fucking hour? Who even had such gargantuan balls to infiltrate the headquarters of the Russian mafia so casually? Sasha knew he had loyal members who would do anything to keep the organisation from crumbling and that they all came in numbers galore, but he also knew that they weren’t really the most skilled fighters in the world.

Many of his men sadly fell prey to masked marauders who had a thirst for Russian blood, so the gentlemen in white & blue were either sliced like butter, smashed to bits, blown to smithereens, you name it. The Son had a lot of respect for his henchmen who were all trying their best, for that is what warriors would do, but he would never entrust them with his life.

Right after Sasha heard that warning, he felt very aggravated that he had to deal with some runt that was causing trouble in his own home, but quite impressed about it, too. However, before the Son could stand up and grab the 12-gauge sweeper to take care of the assailant, he spotted a short man who was sporting a beanie, leaning on his doorway and saying he has something for the Russian.

“I’d congratulate you for managing to get here so far, but, frankly speaking, I’m not in the mood. Who the fuck are you?”

[blancronin-blog]

“…Huh? Yeah, that’s me.”

William cursed his bad luck at being stuck on an elevator with one of his rabid fans. As the face of Badger Electronics and a fairly influential public figure, it wasn’t too rare for someone to try and follow him home to get his autograph or a picture. It was usually easy enough to dissuade these people, especially with Fury’s sharp teeth as an aid, but it was a hassle.

There was something a little weird about the accent, though…

He looked over to his left, and every single alarm bell he had went on high alert. It took him approximately half a second to drop his purchases on the floor, one more to slam the “fire” button, stopping the elevator altogether, and another two to fumble his revolver out of his shoulder holster and aim it squarely at his new friend.

The man on the other side of the gun was none other than Sasha Lebedev, leader of the Russian Mafia, which William had inadvertently helped 50 Blessings to cripple a few months ago, and the heir to the asshole who’d tried to muscle in on his business. Since the elder Lebedev’s death in mysterious circumstances, Badger had been completely untouched by the Mafia, but that didn’t mean William wasn’t going to be careful. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

And so it began. Mr. Nessen’s audible slam on the fire button wasn’t quite expected on Sasha’s side, but, nonetheless, the Son became quite eager to see how things would unveil after the blond entrepreneur reacted in such a defensive manner. In fact, he was feeling pretty amused about it, not even flinching when William pointed his shiny, six-chambered handgun at Sasha’s face. It wasn’t the Russian’s first rodeo, and it wasn’t his last one either.

“Easy there, Mr. Nessen. I’m not going to bite you with my fangs, so there’s no need for you to flash your piece like that.”

Sasha calmly rolled his newspaper into a tube as the scenario kept getting hotter.

“Surely a distinguished man such as yourself would hate getting blood on his suit on such a fine day, correct?”

The Son really didn’t feel like starting an unnecessary fight, especially with a former rival his father used to deal with. The Badger case ended immediately after Sasha’s father died anyway, so there was no point dealing with it anymore. But, he felt like some personal matters needed to be resolved with William, which is why he thought that encounter of theirs would settle things for good and put out the intense flame.

Or not. Sasha wasn’t a fortune-teller exactly.

[badgersclaws]

(( @blancronin​ ))

It was about 8 PM, and the last few guests were trickling out of the mall.

Billionaire or not, William Nessen was still beholden to the awesome power of the common segway-riding mall cop, and so he, too, was on his way out. Holding a bag full of art supplies for Zoe in one hand and a tub of worms for Gem in the other, he made his way towards the nearest elevator, just managing to press the call button with his elbow.

Once the elevator arrived, William wasted no time in entering, sweeping past the man already inside. The figure’s face was covered by a newspaper he was reading–William noted with pride that he adorned the front page–but the rather loud blue and white suit placed him better than any DNA test ever could.

It was a shame William was too focused on getting home to notice, then.

As the elevator doors slid closed, William allowed a long, tired sigh to escape him. He desperately needed a rest…

[blancronin-blog]

Sasha was having a rather tranquil Tuesday when he decided to take the elevator after his relaxing walk in the local, luxurious mall. As much as he enjoyed wreaking havoc & cheating death by getting himself into deep trouble, the head of the Russian mafia also found pleasure in having an occasional stroll around some of the busiest locations in Miami. Sure, his distinguished appearance made him an obvious target on the streets for the frightened pedestrians and his enemies, but that never really ailed the Russian’s mind, for he knew how to handle potential assailants if they dared to mingle with him.

The Son was reading a newspaper he picked up earlier and noticed an article that was all about the CEO of that one electronics company Sasha’s father wanted to take over some time ago. William Nessen was his name, and the picture they used in the article showed that he was a suave-looking, blond gentleman who seemed to know what he was doing if he had really managed to acquire all that wealth of his.

Mr. Lebedev never got into the Badger electronics case after his father passed away, so he didn’t consider going after him, as he was focused on more important priorities. However, after he put down his newspaper for a second and took a look at the sighing man with the sharp suit next to him, the Son immediately put two and two together and realised something.

That’s the CEO himself, of all the places.

Such opportunities rarely popped up for Sasha, and this one might’ve concluded the tension for good. So, without any further ado, Sasha locked his eyes on the businessman and spoke in a calm manner:

“Mr. Nessen, I presume?”