желание смерти (SineNomine & TNT)

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

The Rasputin Club, Orenburg Oblast, Russia - A Random Friday Evening in the Winter of 2018, After the Expulsion of US Diplomats from Russia

For the most part, Henry’s career choices as of late could easily be looked upon as a series of safe bets. He had managed to sign contracts with several major studios, garnering himself mostly supporting roles in franchises that had blockbuster written all over them long before they even had the chance to hit the big screen. Good or bad, universally panned or praised, they would more than likely do well for themselves and everyone involved; however, the one thing that they wouldn't do would get any of the stars, including Henry, any closer to acquiring themselves the most cherished acting prize in the industry. Like it or not, big budget, popcorn flicks were simply not appreciated by The Academy, which meant that if a star wanted to get their hands on a golden statuette they would have to be willing to take a chance, to step outside of the box and their comfort zone, and seize upon any opportunity to do something a bit risky, a bit provocative, a bit...

"Insane! Right? I could hardly believe it myself, mate, but when my agent called about the offer, I had no other choice but to accept," Henry shared now, over his cell, as he sat within one of the plush booths found nestled inside the unexpectedly classy Rasputin Club. "Yeah, I'm in Russia, but that's all I can say at this point," he continued to inform his friend on the other end of the line, just as a sophisticated looking server stopped by his table to refresh his party's drinks. "No, I can't speak about any other details," he then abruptly replied as his bright blue eyes met those of his director who was sitting across from him. "All you need to know is that this has the potential to change my life for the better, to really cement me as a serious actor. It's going to be brilliant, mate, just brilliant," he practically beamed, but managed to curb his enthusiasm, before giving his final regards and disconnecting.

Sitting back in the booth now with his dirty martini in hand, Henry began to truly soak in the experience of being in a foreign land, with a respected, independent film director by his side, and a host of several supporting actors who were all here essentially because of him. Emotionally, he was flying high, like a certain red caped hero he knew all too well; however, on the surface, he appeared far more refined, like a specific double-o agent in his formal attire, which included a brilliant white dinner jacket and satin bow that was expertly tied around his powerful neck.

The intimate group of seven had decided to celebrate the signing of their contracts by painting the town red and what better way to do that than to hit Orenburg's one and only private club? The Rasputin was known for its upscale ambiance and affluent clientele, so much so, those who frequented the establishment paid no mind to the Hollywood star and his entourage, that is, until the club's host came rushing in with the celebrity's full-length, winter coat in hand, repeatedly rambling on in a mix of broken English and Russian that he needed to leave now before someone...no, wait, a group of men...got their hands on...on...?

On him!

Confused, but equally alarmed by this sudden outburst, Henry bolted from the table, grabbing his plush coat as he went; however, by the time he reached the back door that he was being directed towards, safely wrapped up in his heavy, fur overcoat and cashmere scarf, mere seconds away from fleeing into the night, the front doors of the room were kicked open and in poured several law enforcement agents all looking for one man and one man alone.

"Henry Cavill!" was all he initially heard, booming from across the room, in a heavily accented voice, as he now stood frozen in place with his broad shouldered backside still directed towards those who were here to...? "You are under arrest," came the quick addition, as if reading his mind that was currently scrambling for an explanation, but not wanting for a single second for that to be the real reason they were looking for him.

And it was in this moment, this singular moment, that the actor realized that his life would indeed be changing, but not, as he had just told his mate on the phone, for the better.

Not by a mile, nor a long shot.

 

[SineNomine]

The group of officials searched the room in a speedrun when their team leader, a man as tall and as wide as a wardrobe, signaled his team to spread out and look for their target.

The man, Alexei Mikhailov, rushed to back door, his team followed before spreading out as directed, he groaned reaching into the inner pocket of his thick army coat.
Yes, these were not common officers sent to catch a criminal, these were trained military personell; one of the very few government institutions allowed to barge inside the Rasputin the way they did. Alexei pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and put them on now easily seeing his pray s footsteps.

He smirked. "ponyal tebya" - i got you - was his silent statement as he followed as silent as an owl, approching the star's impeding doom.

 

[Twisted_iN_Tux]

Initially stopping dead in his tracks, because that was what one did when they were on the verge of being arrested for god only knew what crime, Henry quickly found himself being quite literally dragged out of the rear of the building by the very man who had brought him here. "Listen kid, in this country, when you have the chance to run, you fucking run," the seasoned director blurted now as they entered the trash-filled alley behind the club. "These guys mean business," he continued to mutter, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. "And trust me, you don't want to be on the receiving end of..."

Cutting himself short, the man stopped the two of them short as well, as it became abundantly clear that their only way out of the alley was currently being blocked by members of the team who were sweeping through the building they'd just left behind them. Short of starting a brawl, their only other option was to wait this thing out, but surely, given time, they would find there way into this dark alley and when they did they would more than likely show both men what they were made of.

"How are you in a fist fight?" the director asked, eyeing Henry up. "A real one. Not one of those staged deals you've done on screen."

Carefully considering the man's question, Henry replied, "Don't worry, mate, I got your back," as he flexed his sizable hands within his leather gloves.