Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
vyttor
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2011
The Doors. Janis Joplin. Jimi Hendrix. Rolling Stones. Even Echo & the Bunnymen. An awesome albeit ominous playlist and a glass of creamy cold vodka. Those were the two gifts Andrey allowed himself for his 27th birthday. He was deeply involved in something big, and could not afford getting wasted in stupid parties. Unlike the musicians blaring on his headphones, he had better things to do than die at age - if anything, he planned to be reborn.
The single heir to self entitled Tzar Kavaliou, time had come to prove he was no longer a child, but a dignified leader ready to oversee the operations of the greatest Russian mafia in the West. It was no secret that several of his father's bishops doubted his ability, although he had no lack of skill in politics, tactics, or arms. He loved arms and excelled in their use, the sharp ones more so than the firing kind.
No, he was a grown man, and his dreams had never stopped growing. It was time to make them real. It hadn't been easy putting all the pieces together, but this was perfect: bringing down their main adversaries and at the same time taking some inconvenient cousins out of the way.
Some trusted thugs had brought the initial information and secured and adequate location for surveillance right in front of the jewelry. That was the one market on which the Kavaliou family had yet to set their claws... and if Andrey got it his way, they would be taking over an already well settled business.
***********************
Two days later.
The target location stood on a high end neighbourhood and Andrey dressed accordingly so that nobody would notice the handsome young man entering the apartment building across the street. A luxuriously cut dark grey suit covered his lean athletic body, a discrete black hat hid his sandy short hair, and his favorite wooden cane - the one with the concealed blade - completed the touch. Adjusting the golden rim of his glasses on his long nose, he scanned the street casually before going in and disappearing up the stairs.
Nightfall came and everything proceeded with clockwork precision as he watched from the 2nd floor window. The limo parked precisely at 17:36 and the young woman crossed the sidewalk alone into the store. Andrey watched with intent focus as if balancing the tip of a blade in between an opponent's eyes. Co-opted policemen appeared on each corner of the block - these would later be easily linked to his most defying cousins, but by now they would ensure no unforeseen reinforcements. After 10 minutes, hired actors started walking into the store, one by one. They had been paid as "mystery shoppers" - that would frame another cousin - but the real intention was to keep the store swarmed and the security busy. Time to move in.
The driver came out for his usual cigarette. Stupid habit will be the end of him, Andrey thought, not actually referring to what was about to happen. Pristinely polished shoes click-clacked on the street as he approached the much larger man, a mountain of muscle with the face of a baby, holding a map and posing as a tourist looking for information. Oldest. Trick. In the book. Knife hidden below the map, quickly bit into the man's thigh, the toxin flowing into his veins. A leather glove prevented him from screaming anything as he lost his strength and collapsed unconscious. The cigarette would have burned his thick fingers by the time he finally woke up.
Keys in hand and body out of view, Andrey climbed into the driver's seat and prepared the interior of the car. He switched the lock system so that the passenger would be locked in the back and threw two pairs of cuff links on the back seat. The fine Swiss watch on his left wrist indicated a few seconds to go. Time enough to properly position the seat and mirrors, check the safety gun tucked under his jacket, and adjust his tie. The rear door opened. Fish had taken the bait. He smiled at her maliciously through the center mirror as he finished rolling up the window and set the vehicle in motion.
The single heir to self entitled Tzar Kavaliou, time had come to prove he was no longer a child, but a dignified leader ready to oversee the operations of the greatest Russian mafia in the West. It was no secret that several of his father's bishops doubted his ability, although he had no lack of skill in politics, tactics, or arms. He loved arms and excelled in their use, the sharp ones more so than the firing kind.
No, he was a grown man, and his dreams had never stopped growing. It was time to make them real. It hadn't been easy putting all the pieces together, but this was perfect: bringing down their main adversaries and at the same time taking some inconvenient cousins out of the way.
Some trusted thugs had brought the initial information and secured and adequate location for surveillance right in front of the jewelry. That was the one market on which the Kavaliou family had yet to set their claws... and if Andrey got it his way, they would be taking over an already well settled business.
***********************
Two days later.
The target location stood on a high end neighbourhood and Andrey dressed accordingly so that nobody would notice the handsome young man entering the apartment building across the street. A luxuriously cut dark grey suit covered his lean athletic body, a discrete black hat hid his sandy short hair, and his favorite wooden cane - the one with the concealed blade - completed the touch. Adjusting the golden rim of his glasses on his long nose, he scanned the street casually before going in and disappearing up the stairs.
Nightfall came and everything proceeded with clockwork precision as he watched from the 2nd floor window. The limo parked precisely at 17:36 and the young woman crossed the sidewalk alone into the store. Andrey watched with intent focus as if balancing the tip of a blade in between an opponent's eyes. Co-opted policemen appeared on each corner of the block - these would later be easily linked to his most defying cousins, but by now they would ensure no unforeseen reinforcements. After 10 minutes, hired actors started walking into the store, one by one. They had been paid as "mystery shoppers" - that would frame another cousin - but the real intention was to keep the store swarmed and the security busy. Time to move in.
The driver came out for his usual cigarette. Stupid habit will be the end of him, Andrey thought, not actually referring to what was about to happen. Pristinely polished shoes click-clacked on the street as he approached the much larger man, a mountain of muscle with the face of a baby, holding a map and posing as a tourist looking for information. Oldest. Trick. In the book. Knife hidden below the map, quickly bit into the man's thigh, the toxin flowing into his veins. A leather glove prevented him from screaming anything as he lost his strength and collapsed unconscious. The cigarette would have burned his thick fingers by the time he finally woke up.
Keys in hand and body out of view, Andrey climbed into the driver's seat and prepared the interior of the car. He switched the lock system so that the passenger would be locked in the back and threw two pairs of cuff links on the back seat. The fine Swiss watch on his left wrist indicated a few seconds to go. Time enough to properly position the seat and mirrors, check the safety gun tucked under his jacket, and adjust his tie. The rear door opened. Fish had taken the bait. He smiled at her maliciously through the center mirror as he finished rolling up the window and set the vehicle in motion.
