The Empire of Setting Sun || Ivan - Past

[Nesia Notonegoro]

504 words Ivan Petrovich Braginsky

I t's thirty minutes past four, and watching the sun setting felt strange for Nesia. She had been living in London as a student for three years and a few months, yet she still wasn't accustomed to how the seasons change the length of the day and night. In her homeland, the sun rose and set in twelve hour interval all year. They always occurred at the same time - at six in the morning and six in the afternoon, regardless of the season. With or without the sun, the warmth was everlasting. The girl was leaning on the window; staring unblinking at the horizon. The look on her face turned unreadable as the last traces of sunlight disappeared from the sky. Not a single star was seen. Maybe because it was cloudy, but Nesia thought it was the bright lights of London that prevented the starlight from reaching the Earth. A sky full of twinkling stars above the coconut trees swaying in the breeze was a sight she liked best at night. It's just so peaceful... By the way, she didn't recognize this part of London. Or were they still in London? Buildings they passed were not regularly maintained. There were rubbish in people's backyards. Several guys ran and shouted something that Nesia didn't quite catch. She had heard about the poorer, less lawful part of London, and not even once she ever thought that she'd be there. Well, she wouldn't be here had she refused to have a dinner together three days ago with a man who sat in this car. Two other men who were also there had a similar built: tall, heavy-looking and muscular. One sat behind the steering wheel while the other... he didn't seem like doing anything at the moment, but Nesia guessed he acted as a guard. Clearly the third man, the only one whom Nesia recognized, was their boss. Oh how she wanted to open the door and jump out from the car and run to her boyfriend's place-- Nesia blinked at her own reflection. That's the stupidest Idea she ever had, yet the desire to do so was burning deep within. A desire to escape, to flee. She managed to send her thoughts away to the other side of the world, but a mere dream couldn't shun the fact that she was still in this car. Trapped. If she decided to surrender to her desire, she probably would get injuries. Dead. If she managed to stand up and run, the guard would shoot her. Dead. Then they would dispose her body away, only to be found as a dead body without identity some time later. She had to stay alive. The student lifted her gloved hands to her mouth and blew her breath on them. Her teeth started to clatter. She didn't like this freezing temperature. The car was still going at a constant speed and there was no sign it's going to slow down soon. Hopefully they would stop at somewhere away from this bone-chilling air.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

Ivan was humming to himself throughout the car ride, his head bobbling left and right and his index finger waving to the slow, soothing rhythm of his own voice. It was a silly, happy little tune he hummed, one that matched his good mood to a t - be that it seemed like he was the only person in the car with such positive mindset; his underlings were straight faced and serious as always, and his newest acquisition seemed somewhat nervous in her seat.

Ivan let none of that bother him, however. He had every reason to be happy; a few days ago, a day that had started out as a textbook case of ordinary had, in a matter of a mere hour or so, turned into one of the most productive and fun days he had experienced in a while. Not only had he managed to see a play in the arts centre at long last, he'd met an actor, made a new friend and a new employee, all over the course of one dinner - which he had found particularly delicious, to boot. And considering that in his career field, underlings were a (literally) dying resource, every single person he managed to take under his wing counted. Everyone brought him closer to his goal.

His hum starting over from the beginning, Ivan turned to glance at the rear-view mirror above, his eyes focusing on the girl on the backseat - Nesia, she had said her name was. Such a frail little thing she was, not one people would normally hire for a job possibly requiring any level of physical prowess, and definitely not for the mafia - which was precisely why he had offered her the job. Every criminal organization needed their spies, and from what he'd learnt it was much easier to teach an innocent how to spy, than to teach a spy how to act innocent. Innocence was not something you learnt under an instructor's whip, it was something that you needed to possess from the start. Nesia? She was prefect precisely because she did not seem to have any prior ties or experience with the matters of the underworld. It would be up to him to educate her, to teach her and to dye her in his colors until her eyes were blind to all other ideals.

Until she never wished to leave.

He giggled a tad at the serious nature of his thoughts, smile widening as he turned his gaze away from her tiny form and directed his sights to the scenery outside instead. Such funny things he was contemplating; as if Nesia would want to ever leave anyway. They were friends, right? That's why he was offering her the job in the first place; a job she wanted, and needed. He was, for all intents and purposes, saving her from her lack of wealth. It was a mutual agreement they were having, one that benefitted them both.

As Ivan's gaze focused, he noticed that it was getting dark outside just as the car sped into the more shady parts of town. How poetic. How cliché. It almost made him feel like a kidnapper now, speeding his latest victim through the busy afternoon streets of London all the way to where God's eyes didn't reach; the shadier part of The Isle of Dogs. Looking back, he wasn't sure what made him bring her to this particular part of the city in the first place; even if the Russian Mafia, the Bratva, wasn't as influential here than it was in its homeland, the faction was still rather large and formidable, and day after day it infiltrated deeper into the hierarchy. They owned hotels, apartment complexes and other such luxurious buildings, yet he'd decided to bring her not to the prosperous parts of the isle, but here instead? Why?

Perhaps, he figured absent-mindedly, it was because fear was the absolute best ignition for obedience and for loyalty. It was not called the Isle of Dogs for nothing; this was where dogs were trained.

Ah, but again, that sounded like such a mean thing to think, didn't it?

Ivan perked as he realized the surroundings grew more and more familiar by the minute.

"We're almost there~!" He chirped to the backseat, his tone kiddy and excited like they were on their way to an amusement park as he peeked over the backrest of his own seat.

"So, say, are you excited?" It was a cheerful question, and Ivan's eyes were bright and curious as the words left his lips. "I don't bring new friends here often, so you're one of the first. I think it's going to be an interesting experience for you!"

Leaning back and looking out the window again, he added: "You will meet a lot of my other friends. Oh, and-!" The Russian raised a finger suddenly as if he'd just realized something. "That's right, some of them might be a bit more quiet and, hmm, lifeless than the others, but don't let that scare you."

Ivan's eyes closed to amplify his smile. "They're all good people."

[Nesia Notonegoro]

757 words in need of proper warming equipments

W hat kind of job they were going to offer to her? It must be something illegal, Nesia was a hundred percent sure about it. Couldn't they just explain it somewhere else instead of taking her so far to this shady part of London? No, oh my God, no. What if they kidnap her, smuggle her out from the country and sell her at God-knows-where? Nesia hid her face in her hands, muttering more prayers in high speed. No way she would let anyone harm her so easily; not without her harming them first. Stupid. Idiot. She could solve difficult questions about mathematics and physics, but yet... she fell into an easy trap like this. Just because someone was dressed in a fancy attire and paid you a dinner in an equally fancy restaurant, it didn't mean that person was kind. Kindness can be faked. People lied all the time about everything. She shouldn't forget that. How she's going to escape this situation? Nesia leaned back in her seat, assessing the situation. Now was the best time to run, while none of her limbs were tied - but they were in a moving car and even though they stopped, these two guards would be able to catch her easily. Or shoot her dead. Whatever strategies she managed to figure out ended with the loss of her own life. Pleading clearly wouldn't help much if they already set what would her new job be, wasn't it? What difference she had over a million other girls in London? They could get rid of her and kidnap another easily. What should she do? What she could do for no-- "We're almost there~!" The sudden noise other than the smooth car engine jolted her upright in her chair. Her eyes met briefly with the man who sat on the front. She quickly looked away. Just like in their dinner, he spoke cheerfully, as if they were not going to a shady neighborhood. As far as Nesia knew, there were only two kinds of people in the world who spoke in that manner: a genuinely happy person or a psycho. Would a happy person being cheerful while he kidnapped a civilian? Nah. "So, say, are you excited?" The student leaned further in her seat, trying to create more distance between her and Ivan Braginsky. The question made her start shivering again - not just because of the cold, but also the fear that suddenly rising. And... and did he really say friends? Oh, he did. Nesia was convinced that the Russian was... not normal, not sane. She glanced to the other men, but their facial expressions remain unchanged since they left. So it's normal for them to see him behaving like this. Both of her arms were held close to her chest, in a manner like a fighter defending himself from an incoming attack. No one would be able to help her now, if they decided to use her for... for something bad and illegal. Not even the police knew-- the police. Her body stopped trembling when the realization dawned on her and Braginsky didn't look to the backseat anymore. She could call the police. The problem was that her phone was in the depths of her handbag, buried under trinkets and whatnots. She scolded herself for being too lazy to organize its contents. Her phone should be placed somewhere that was easy to reach. Or even better, in her own pocket instead. From the front seat, she heard Braginsky was talking about something. She barely paid any attention to him, thinking about what's the best way to fish out her phone and called the cops. Such rapid movements would stir up suspicions. Would that be worth a try? No. The voice in the back of her head rejected the idea. Don't do anything that would risk the loss of your own life. The car began to slow down, then stopped. Her heartbeat quickened again upon knowing that her fate would be decided soon. Then the car doors were unlocked. Should she play along or run? A cough from her side told her to start moving now. So she slowly left the car with her bag held tightly in her grasp. She followed them quietly, trying to soak up all the sight - in case she'd need it to explain the place to the police later. "W-where are we?" she finally spoke, her voice almost as audible as a trembling whisper. "It's... so c-cold..." Playing along seemed to be the best choice she had for now.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

Ivan's enthusiasm seemed to be met with nothing but silence from the girl, and if the Russian hadn't known better, he could have sworn he even saw her grow tense from his words, as if they were somehow unpleasant to her. Seeing it all made the man fall silent, gaze slowly falling onto his hands that rested peacefully on his lap. He felt... hurt, somehow. Hurt and confused by the girl's peculiar behaviour. Just a little while ago, they'd been sharing dinner at a fine restaurant, both smiling and sharing stories and dreams, exchanging words like old acquaintances. But now, seemingly for no reason at all, the girl had suddenly grown cold and distant, and Ivan couldn't fathom why.

He couldn't really recall having said anything insulting to the girl. All he'd done after the dinner was thank her, give his contact information and ask for hers, and then head over to see the play he'd wanted, only to call her a few days later, call for his men to pick them up so he could introduce her to the job he'd promised, the job she'd agreed to come check out, and then head out. So then, why this treatment? It made Ivan feel nervous, fearful, and paranoid that he had indeed overstepped his boundaries at some point, for some reason. He admitted that for all his charisma and manipulation skills, he could be somewhat dense at times, not really understanding social clues and situations at times. Then there was the difference in cultures. In Russia, it was customary for the man to pay for the meal without questions asked - perhaps it was not so in her home? Maybe that had been what had made her feel uneasy?

Mind racing to think of explanations, all Ivan could think of to fix the situation was to simply apologize. But saying sorry when he didn't even know what for sounded... superficial at best, and would no doubt make her even angrier. That was a no-go, then. Hmm, then maybe making it up as they arrived would do? He could offer her some of his alcohol. It was a rare breed to find in London, and considering she was from overseas, the chances of her having tasted proper vodka were even slimmer. That was it, then! They'd re-bond over a nice, throat-warming drink.

Mood somewhat uplifted, Ivan turned to look back out the window, some level of a smile decorating his face once more. The night was growing darker and cooler by the minute, and it truly made the Russian miss the sun. Unlike many of is colleagues, he never was a fan of darkness. True, it concealed him during his shadier missions and it offered him both shelter and cover whenever he needed it, but to him it was more a necessary ally than a welcome friend. He didn't love the darkness, even if it did seem to love him, the way it did with all the other lawless men and women that made their living during the chilly nights of London, not during the day and under the kiss of the sun.

But one day, Ivan was sure, he'd be able to walk in broad daylight like he could in the night, the entirety of London, of the UK, of the World under his thumb, his subjects loyal and happy. It... might have sounded like a childish dream, but that didn't make it any less important to the Russian - quite on the contrary, actually. It was always childhood dreams you should hold onto, for they usually meant the most to you.

The sound of the breaks of the car broke Ivan from his thoughts and brought his focus back on the here and now. They'd arrived, it seemed. Ivan nodded to the driver, and after waiting for his pawns to open the doors to him and Nesia alike, the Russian stepped outside into the refreshingly cool breeze outside. The night was cold and the air smelled of salt and fish, reminding them all of the close proximity of the sea and the harbor. Ivan rather enjoyed it, this smell. It wasn't something he was accustomed prior his life in London, but he'd grown to love it during his stay.

"W-where are we?" Came the shaky words of his friend and at the sound of them, Ivan turned to face the Asian. He'd almost forgotten how small she was, but seeing her standing so close to him now, he was reminded about their height difference once more. She truly was frail. It was cute.

"We're almost there," Ivan repeated his earlier promise, his words accidentally leaving their actual location ambiguous. "We just need to walk a bit more." As he said that, he motioned towards the darkness that surrounded them. The street lights - if there ever had been any - were gone, and the only light they had came from the posts near the harbor and the car they'd just exited. They were in the far ends of the harbor, where not many people found themselves in at this hour, if ever.

"It's... so c-cold..."

It was? Ivan couldn't really claim he felt it but then, he was more appropriately dressed for the weather than she was, and certainly had more experience with low temperatures. He didn't hold her way of dressing against her, though; it's not like she could have known she'd find herself still up at this hour, and in a place like this.

"Hm, that so?" He questioned regardless, head tilted a tad. "It's the sea breeze, then. Um, here-" Ivan unbuttoned his dress jacket and let it slid off his broad shoulders, before stepping closer to the girl and letting it fall on her shoulders instead. Despite being rather tight-fit for the Russian, the cloth was enormous compared to the girl's own tiny size, and the sight of her buried under the black of his jacket made the Russian chuckle playfully, amused.

"All better?" He asked, the wind now flapping his tie and hair freely in the wind. "Then, let's go~! You can get a warm drink once we arrive."

And with that, the Russian nodded to his subordinates, not bothering to turn and look back as one of them re-entered the car and drove it away so as to not attract suspicion, the other underling jogging behind him as he waved for Nesia to follow.

[Nesia Notonegoro]

925 words

❝ We're almost there. We just need to walk a bit more." Nesia's shoulders slumped, her heart sinking deeper. He said almost in the car and almost once they arrived at this place. Her eyes wandered around, finding no signs of life save for herself and... these people. Why did she agree to go with them in the first place? Nesia felt like she was a bit carried away by the atmosphere and the joy of finding a new job. No, she did get carried away, forgetting all the cautions she usually remembered. Getting into a stranger's car is a big red flag and somehow she doesn't see it. Braginsky's kind expression masked his real intentions so well, even distracted Nesia too. The student rubbed her arms, regretting her decision not to bring her jacket. She was supposed just to look around the city for job openings and return before it gets dark. The sea breeze passed through her sweater and sent tiny little blades to stab every inch of her skin. The men were walking ahead of Nesia because she paused so often to warm herself. One of Braginsky's men glanced at her. In a split second Nesia felt that he would come over and push her to walk faster. Before his foot turned, however, Nesia sped up her pace and purposely avoiding him by walking closer to Braginsky. "Um, here-" Nesia glanced at him, finding the Russian was taking off his jacket. She was confused momentarily until she remembered that she had complained about the weather. She was automatically ready to voice her refusal, but he draped his jacket on her shoulders before Nesia could say anything. The sudden addition of its weight made her knees sank a little. "You don't have to, I mean, ah..." Nesia's protest died as the jacket began to slide off her smaller frame and she fumbled to prevent it from touching the ground. It was definitely warmer with the jacket over her body, and its unfamiliar scent was strangely pleasant for her. Holding the jacket close to her body, Nesia resumed walking alongside Braginsky. He didn't seem bothered by the wind. Maybe because he's used to the even colder temperature in his homeland. A chuckle escaped his lips, making Nesia furrowed her eyebrows. Did he think that it was funny? The Indonesian student kept her thoughts to herself, due to not having enough courage to voice it. Nesia pulled the jacket up, covering half of her face. Her eyes, unfortunately, were not spared by the cruel sea breeze. It dried her eyes, prompting her to blink as often as possible until water began to blur her vision. Oh no, no. She shouldn't be crying now. She was a grown woman, an adult! What kind of adult who cry in this situation? Nesia wiped her tears on Braginsky's jacket, glad it partially shielded her face from the men's vision. "All better?" He asked, to which Nesia answered with a brief nod. "Then, let's go~! You can get a warm drink once we arrive." The promise of a warm beverage lifted her mood a little before it was crushed again by her logic. Never accept drinks from a stranger. Of course she couldn't express it to Braginsky, so Nesia stayed silent and kept her head down to avoid stubbing her toe on a pebble. Her head jerked up when an engine noise came from behind her. When Nesia turned her head, she saw the car they used to go here was leaving the harbor. Only one of Braginsky's men who was still with them, so Nesia assumed the other one drove it away. But... why? The other underling coughed and muttered something at her. She was lagging behind the men again. Did they think she would try to run away by using their car, so they moved it? Faces of her family and friends floated in her mind as she imagined their reaction when they found out something had happened at her in the harbor. Her family, fortunately, was half a world away, but her friends... her boyfriend... they would be worried. And what would Braginsky do to her? What kind of horror she would face once they reached their destination? And speaking of destination, where is it exactly? "Wer ar wi going?" she asked, but her voice was strangely sounded so unlike her. Something in the back of her throat butchered the syllable and made her accent showed up. Since they were in a harbor, perhaps Braginsky was taking her to leave London, or even England? "Ar we... are we going to leave London?" They took a turn and walked between smaller buildings. Soon the underling walked ahead of them, then knocked a door. When it opened, Nesia only saw a room full of smoke before she started coughing from the sudden smell. Her eyes became watery again, and this time she didn't even bother to conceal her cry. Without even knowing how, she found herself inside the smoke filled room, although she stayed in the corner despite the door had closed behind her. When she raised her head again, the smoke cleared a little, allowing her eyes to see several other men in the room. Judging from their appearance, Braginsky seemed to be the nicest, kindest person there. And now he looked really happy. Leaning on a wall, Nesia hugged the over-sized jacket tightly. A cornered animal can deliver a fatal blow. She repeated her thought like a mantra before she was able to face those people again.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

The longer Ivan and his group of underlings walked and the further from their arrival place they got, the stronger and colder the wind around them seemed to get. The waves licked at the harbor, splashing against the lonely ships anchored nearby and from somewhere far away, Ivan could hear the low growl of thunder approaching. A storm was brewing somewhere over the ocean, and it was only a matter of time before it reached shore and the skies opened to rain down on them as well, in a manner not at all uncommon for London. If possible, Ivan wanted to be inside somewhere when it happened. He wasn't a fan of rain.

That, and it seemed like the Indonesian girl walking among them was about to freeze as things were. Even with his huge coat wrapped around her tiny form so tightly it hid the girl almost completely from sight, she seemed to be shaking from the wind. The last thing she needed now was to get soaked by a downpour and catch a cold. Ivan did have to wonder though... how did she survive in London during the winter? Granted, it wasn't nearly as cold as back home, but Ivan did recognize it was still somewhat chilly at times, most likely far more so than her home ever could be. Maybe he should let her keep the coat. She looked adorable in it, anyway.

As their silent march continued deeper into the harbor, it turned out that Nesia wasn't the fastest walker around, at least when compared to the Russian men she was surrounded with. Maybe it was just the difference in the length of their feet and the size of their steps, or maybe it was because she was cold, but Ivan noticed that she had to be constantly reminded of their pace lest she lag behind. For a while, Ivan thought of picking her up and carrying her to make the trip easier for all involved, but before he could carry out that plan, her sudden question threw his thoughts astray.

"Wer ar wi going?" she asked, and it took Ivan a while to decipher what she meant. At first he thought she had started to speak her native tongue - which Ivan admittedly knew next to nothing about - but perhaps because he himself had quite the thick accent at times, the Russian eventually understood it was just her own accent strengthening for a brief moment. It sounded funny, and made Ivan curious of the reason. Was she that cold that speaking was becoming difficult? Either way, he was just about to answer when her question gained continuation.

"Ar we... are we going to leave London?"

Ivan blinked in surprise.

"Leave London?" He repeated as if to ascertain he had heard her question right. Now where did that come from? He would have mentioned if her job was in another city, considering the possible problems with transportation and time it would impose on the Indonesian. Likewise, had her job been overseas. So why the sudden worry of leaving? Was it because of the harbour? Well, it did kind of make sense for her to want to make sure, he figured.

"Of course not," he almost giggled in response, patting her back for some added reassurance. "I told you, it's not far from here. A few minutes' walk more, at most!"

Even if he was smiling, Ivan couldn't completely shake the strangeness of her question from mind. That, coupled with her peculiar behaviour earlier really did make him wonder why she was being so... seemingly nervous. They were friends, right? And she had both wanted and agreed to come see the job he had offered. It wasn't even like he'd force her to accept the job, either. Oh no, he'd give her a choice to refuse - it'd just come packed with certain consequences, but that was to be expected. From where he was standing, there was no reason for her to be trembling. Hm. Maybe she just had a major case of stage fright - he should have probably mentioned that this job required neither official forms nor interviews for her to be accepted - just his nod of approval.

Speaking of a nod, one of Ivan's underlings gave him one before jogging ahead to knock on the door of their destination. Ivan smiled and rushed his last few steps to the door, allowing the thick smoke and lingering smell of alcohol to welcome him home once more. The smoke escaped from the open door, and in the time it took to keep the door open for the group to enter, the smoke eventually cleared enough to allow for a better view of the room. Not that there was much to see; boxes, crates, barrels and other cargo was scattered about the room, used as either seats or tables by the rugged-looking men that all turned to look at the new arrivals in unison.

Ivan raised a hand and offered them a smile, accompanied with a quick greeting before he motioned for the door to be closed. This was not one of their most well-hidden hideouts nor one of the biggest ones, just a temporary haven for the crew before they loaded the cargo on a ship bound for St. Petersburg and then relocated, but Ivan still didn't want it discovered prematurely - particularly so because lately, it had proven to be an apt meeting spot when they had to gather to scheme in a more remote location.

As the door closed and Ivan finished his greetings, he turned to Nesia in order to introduce her to her future colleagues - who were already curiously peeking at the girl, considering she was the only girl in the room, and they didn't yet know her reasons for being there. Before Ivan could so much as open his mouth however, he noticed that his new friend had slipped to lean against a wall in an almost defensive fashion and a bit amused at that, he chuckled and walked to wrap an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

"It's okay, don't be shy. They're all friends," Ivan whispered in what he hoped was a convincing tone as he half-forcibly dragged her to stand in the middle of the room, a dozen pairs of eyes all suddenly focused on her. Some of them were curious, some angry, and a few of them disturbingly intensive, but what they all shared was their focus. Ivan nodded and then spoke, voice easily carrying to every single corner of the room for all to hear.

"This here is Nesia~ I met her a few days earlier. She's my newest friend and a possible future comrade to you all, so treat her nicely, okay?" Ivan waited for a bit, just to allow for the girl to say her hellos before he continued, this time addressing the Indonesian herself. "These people here are your new friends, all working under me! Hum, I'm sorry the bigger bratva bosses aren't present, but I'm sure you'll get to know them too soon enough, if you decide to join us. Oh, and-"

Without skipping a beat, Ivan motioned to a few men at the back of the room, who lazily stood up and walked out of view for a brief moment. A dragging sound signaled their return, and before long they were back in the main room, dragging a large, vaguely human-shaped black bag across the floor. A slight stench emanated from whatever was inside, and as the underlings let go of the back and allowed it to hit the floor, it made a loud thumping sound.

"I did tell you before that some of your new friends were a bit more... lifeless than others, yes?"

The Russian smiled, back hunched to bring his purple eyes closer to hers. "This is who you'll be replacing. He went and saw something he wasn't supposed to, so we had to... hum, let him go."

For a brief moment, sadness visited the large man's features and transformed his smile into something close to a pout. Whether it was genuine or completely faked was impossible to tell, and neither option sounded any less dangerous than the other. Then, for the shortest of moments Ivan's tone dropped, his usually kiddy voice growing low. Each word out of his mouth was slow, lingering in the thick air of the room just a bit longer than was probably needed, like a haunting echo from beyond.

"I... don't really like it when things don't go according to plan, you see."

A moment's silence, and Ivan's smile was suddenly back, with his huge hand patting at the girl's shoulder and low voice dissolving into a kiddy burst of laughter once more. "Ah, but that's a bit off-topic, huh? After all, it's not like you'd repeat his mistakes! So, um..."

Ivan looked bizarrely nervous, even a bit shy as he continued, yanking his scarf upwards to hide his face and allowing his glance to fall on his feet. "Um, would you like to..." Like a timid child asking a neighbour out to play for the first time, Ivan drew in a breath and looked at her, eyes big and hopeful.

"... Join us?"

[Nesia Notonegoro]

1338 WORDS I had fun writing this and why is this gets even longer

T he cold, the smoke, the scent of a dozen strangers in the room. The impending danger, the predators' den she had stepped into, lured by false promises. The numbness in her fingers, the bitterness on her tongue. The smile at the tall Russian's face that she believed as a sign of something bad on her part. Her senses were overwhelmed by the contents in the room, and her mind cluttered with millions of escape possibilities - all of them involved unrealistic help from the outside. What chances did she have, a small girl against a dozen men who might be armed? There were boxes and crates lined along the wall, some were used as makeshift furniture. Who knows, those might be full of bombs. She needed an absurdly powerful magic to protect herself if they suddenly exploded. No, stop. Stop thinking about things that didn't exist and would not happen. If those crates were really full of bombs, they needed a valid reason to use it, and a college student was far from a threat for them. There wouldn't be any police coming to rescue her since she didn't call them back in the car. There wouldn't be any wizard battle happening here either; they weren't even real. She began to understand that she was the only one she could rely on. Neither Braginsky or one of these people would gladly escort her back to her college dorm, right? She had to help herself. Nesia glanced at the ceiling, right when the lightning flashed and the thunder roared outside. Help me, give me strength. Now think. An instant escape was almost impossible, so she should do it subtly. Perhaps when they weren't looking she could run through the entrance door, it didn't seem to be locked from the inside. Nesia shook her head a little, pulling the large coat closer. No, she had thought about this possibility before they arrived. That ended with her being sent home in a body bag. The student reluctantly crossed all options that required her to use physical power. She was unarmed, and fighting against these many people was futile. These people... Who were they? Nesia didn't dare to look directly at their faces, but she knew they must be curious or wondering what a girl like her doing in their place. Conversations had paused, voices lowered into a little louder than mere whispers. All heads had turned to look at her and Braginsky. The man said something, then everyone else mumbled their answer in unison. It seems they knew and respected Braginsky. But... who is exactly Ivan Braginsky? Their dinner conversation didn't reveal much about him, save for his origin and a brief explanation about what he did for a living - something with trade and politics, or maybe military. He hadn't harmed her, nor speaking of terrible things to her. Maybe if she keep being nice to him, he would let her go safely, instead of wrapped in a body bag? Nevertheless, she concluded that Braginsky himself was her biggest chance to survive. A large arm entered her vision, pulling Nesia away from the corner. She yelped and closed her eyes as the arm wrapped her close and a whisper came from above. "It's okay, don't be shy. They're all friends." Nesia wanted to tell him that she wasn't feeling shy. Any sane person would feel afraid if they suddenly pulled into a place full of unfriendly strangers. He didn't seem to realize this fact, though. The bitterness in her tongue prevented her from speaking, so she kept her gaze down while Braginsky introduced her to his friends. His, not hers. "This here is Nesia~ I met her a few days earlier. She's my newest friend and a possible future comrade to you all, so treat her nicely, okay?" Newest friend. Possible future comrade. Several people mumbled their greetings, but Nesia didn't dare to take even a slightest glance. Also, what did he mean by 'friend' and 'comrade'? Those words seem to bear similar meanings, yet he used it in two different sentences stating two different facts. "These people here are your new friends, all working under me! Hum, I'm sorry the bigger bratva bosses aren't present, but I'm sure you'll get to know them too soon enough, if you decide to join us. Oh, and-" This time Nesia looked up, blinking in confusion. Her earlier assumption had proven true, that these people were working for him. There were words that instantly stole her attention. 'Bosses' and 'bratva'. The first indicated that there were people who held higher positions than Braginsky's, but the latter... she had no idea what bratva means. Perhaps it was the name of their company or something. The sound of a heavy object being dragged interrupted her thoughts, accompanied with a sharp smell that seems to come from a rotten object. Her eyes fixed on the human-sized bag, knowing what was inside it even before Braginsky explained. "I did tell you before that some of your new friends were a bit more... lifeless than others, yes? This is who you'll be replacing. He went and saw something he wasn't supposed to, so we had to... hum, let him go." It was a corpse. And that could be her body in the bag if she screwed up too like his former employee. Her throat felt dry and sour. Nesia coughed, jerked his arm away, then rushed past the door back to her corner. She fell on her knees, coughing more violently, but luckily nothing came out from her throat save for her raspy breathing. "I... don't really like it when things don't go according to plan, you see." How could it be so silent? Where did the thunder go? Where were the noises? Braginsky's words pierced through the cold air, settling in her mind despite her wish to erase it. She stood up, not wanting to make herself look even more miserable, then faced the Russian again. Nesia found his arm on her shoulder again before she had a chance to say something. This time she didn't even flinch - but she was trembling. "Ah, but that's a bit off-topic, huh? After all, it's not like you'd repeat his mistakes! So, um..." Why he seemed really happy? Now he looked like a... an overgrown kid offering a candy to his classmate. Remembering her earlier analysis, Nesia tried her best not to break the eye contact, no matter how much it made her uncomfortable. It's better to look at him than the body bag on the floor too. "Um, would you like to..." Nesia thought this wasn't how normally people doing illegal jobs recruit their underlings. But Ivan Braginsky was far from normal. "... Join us?" The numbness had attacked her lips. It was clear what would happen if she denied his request. And after all, treating him nicely would keep her safe, it seems. There were questions she needed to ask, but those could wait either. He needed her answer now. For a few minutes Nesia only stared at him until she finally found her voice again. "Yes." With that word, Nesia felt that something heavy had escaped her body together with her breath. Her knees felt weak again, but she grabbed his arm for support. "But wait," Nesia started, her voice was lowered so only him who could hear her. "What... what is exactly the job I will be doing? I... I don't want t-to mess up like him." Another tear ran down her cheek, which she ignored. Her eyes felt puffy too. More questions popped up in her mind, breaking the dam that she had built carefully. "Another thing, why me? What if I don't have any previous experience about the job and mess up too? I'm not... particularly skilled, you know. Why not someone else? I'm just an ordinary student. I barely know London too. So why me?" Without pausing for breath, Nesia launched her last question. "And... what is 'bratva'?" Somewhere above them all, the thunder roared loudly.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

"Yes."

Yes!

The power of that single word was immense and its affects immediate; the tall, seemingly immovable Russian suddenly became the most animated person in the room. With a simple motion, he snapped his back straight and let his boots separate from the floor into a small jump of joy, his palms brought together with a loud clasping sound. A smile spread from one plump cheek to the other, the previous fluster replaced with glee as Ivan let out a giggle, violet, previously so sharp eyes radiating excitement like they belonged to a kid on Christmas' Eve.

It was a complete, one-hundred and eighty degree turn from his previous threatening demeanor yet for whatever reason, none of the other men in the room seemed surprised. Most of them were rather neutral to it all, in fact. There were a few exceptions of course, with some looking a tad disturbed and some amused - but not to an extent that would suggest they hadn't seen something similar happen in the past.

She'd said yes. She'd agreed to take on the job he'd offered, and without a second's hesitation staying her tongue. Maybe all the bad things he'd worried about on their way here were just the result of her being nervous and feeling cold after all. Ivan was glad. Really glad. She was her previous, friendly self again, and Ivan wanted to let her know how happy he was - but before he could so much as start to turn his feelings into words, she interjected.

"But wait."

Ivan's mouth instantly closed and his attention refocused on the girl, heart missing a beat at the spontaneity of the word. His previous smile still lingered, but it had turned from genuine into confused. 'But'? Did she really just... say but? W-was she having second thoughts? Because if s-

"What... what is exactly the job I will be doing? I... I don't want t-to mess up like him."

...Oh!

Oh, she was worried about that - about letting him down. Aww, how cute, he should have known not to jump straight into expecting the worst - not when it was his friend they were talking about. So with that, Ivan settled to just listening, excitement slowly stirring and building up inside his chest again. He'd need to contain it for a while, though; the questions she asked all had to do with her future job, and as a responsible employer, it was his job to act suitably professional when answering them.

So, once she'd finished, Ivan nodded. "Mmm, don't worry about any of that!" He encouraged her, one giant hand resting on her head now. "The job is really easy! All you have to do is bring me information from certain people of interest - ah, and of course, you can continue your studies. You should continue; education is important." He would know.

And it was a good cover-up.

"And why I chose you, well~" Ivan smiled, gloved hand now ruffling her hair as another giggle found its way into the chilly, thick air of the room. "You're my friend and needed a job, so I thought it'd be nice to offer you one. And, well, when it comes to experience..." He glanced at the bag laying motionless some distance from them.

"He was a professional, and look what happened to him."

The Russian shook his head with a sorrowful sigh. "I think, in this job, it's better if you don't have experience. Everyone knows how to spot a professional spy nowadays." He returned his eyes on her now, lips curling into a slightly sly smile. "But nobody trains to catch amateurs."

Another giggle. "As for what's bratva..." It took all the Russian had to keep himself from chuckling at her naivety - or perhaps it was just innocence. He wouldn't know. To Ivan, the terms were always interchangeable. Knowledge corrupted. "To put it simply, we're a group of friends trying to make the world a better place - through any means necessary."

There was a slight drop of tone in his voice at the end of the sentence, gone in a second.

"But! So much of that."

With all the explanations finally done and over with, Ivan could finally let himself be whisked away by excitement - and that's exactly what he did. Enormous form moving with speed that seemed rather unnatural for someone as big as him, Ivan closed the small gap between him and the girl. For a split second his form towered over her, before the spur of the moment made Ivan bend his back and wrap his arms around the girl's slender form, pulling her into a spontaneous hug. Ivan always was a very physical person when it came to showing his affection, and in a moment of joy and... relief such as this, there was no way he could have held himself back any longer.

"I'm so happy!" The Russian exclaimed, hug tightening around her shivering body. "You became part of us after all! I promise the pay is pretty good, and you can join our drinking nights now, and... oh, that's right, would you like a bottle now? Vodka warms you up nicely on a cold day like this~"

She would say yes again, Ivan felt.

Time and time again, every time from now on.

She would always say yes.

[Nesia Notonegoro]

1335 WORDS muse rambled; considering to close thread

S trange. Strange that the world kept went on without her, strange that all the sound and movements no longer meant anything to her. Strange that despite her feet were firmly stood on the ground, Nesia felt she was not a part of this world anymore. Like watching a movie, an audience could not change the outcome of whatever action and decision the characters made. An audience was here to watch, not to influence the story. Nesia decided that she should just close her eyes, focusing on the pitter-patter on the roof like it was a soothing background music, and waited. If she stood still, not making any noise, the movie would be over, the magic would be lifted and she could gather her belongings to return to her real world. This enchanted world was a safe, temporary escapade. No one was meant to stay here forever. No one. Like a good audience, Nesia remained on her place, watching the tall Russian jumped and giggle and his eyes sparked genuine happiness so pure so innocent she could almost believe he was an untainted sou-- character in this story. He exclaimed, "the job is really easy! All you have to do is bring me information from certain people of interest - ah, and of course, you can continue your studies. You should continue; education is important." She agreed and gave him a nod. Education is important. Education was the reason why she was here after all, to climb through a better ladder to a better, brighter future many people less fortunate unable to reach. The joyful-- tired, thin, plump, sunburned --faces of her relatives surfaced in her mind, complete with their equally joyful voices of congratulations! when she announced a prestigious college in one of the best city in the world had accepted her application. The scene itself felt so... so old, so far in the past Nesia swore it should belong in a museum somewhere, documented nicely in an 8mm movie reel. "And why I chose you, well~" Another giggle. "You're my friend and needed a job, so I thought it'd be nice to offer you one." Did they know what their bright, dutiful niece do here? It seemed that she had acquainted herself with a man who used the word friend excessively. That alone should feel strange enough in this day and age. Oh boy did she ignore it. She often thought she should use her brief (as she had planned) time in London to make as many friends as possible, so she could connect with them once she return home. The young woman did not belong here, for her home was half a world away. Yet it made sense. That was precisely why he chose her. If London was a big chessboard, then Nesia was a pawn from another game. This was not her battleground, and never will. But most people would not notice if suddenly a foreign pawn died in the middle of the battle, right? That was why she was perfect for this job. A pawn so easily discarded, who would never be missed if it got trampled under the knights' horses. Who would want to look after her, ensuring her survival? No one. In war, soldiers fell. One does not have any worth more than its fellow soldiers. "And, well, when it comes to experience..." He glanced at the bag laying motionless some distance from them. "He was a professional, and look what happened to him." A breath escaped her trembling lips. The sound from the movie was slightly muffled since the rain had gotten heavier, lashing violently against the building. Yet somehow, his words rang louder than the storm, guiding her to follow where his glance was directed. The smell emanating from the floor prompted her to turn her head away. The audience felt that the movie was too real to be a temporary escapade. Movies were not supposed to exude any smell at all. "I think, in this job, it's better if you don't have experience. Everyone knows how to spot a professional spy nowadays. But nobody trains to catch amateurs." Nesia raised her chin. He was wrong, so wrong. Everyone knew how to spot amateurs, the world worked that way. Amateurs stick out like a sore thumb, like a poppy who grows taller than its peers. They were the first to fall in any battle. Disposable resource easily replaced. A dozen set of eyes directed at her, killing her courage to speak up. There was no point in objecting; she would have to keep her opinion to herself for now. Probably Braginsky would not like her to object anyway. The exit tempted the audience to take an early leave. The door was close. It was not the first time tonight the young woman wanted to go. But no, she knew this was illogical. She would head to the exit gracefully, without any of these men realizing what she was doing. Could she do that? Nesia did not know. Like he said, she was an amateur. "As for what's bratva... to put it simply, we're a group of friends trying to make the world a better place - through any means necessary." A better place for some could be a hell for the most people. The movie became blurry. The audience felt, for the second time tonight, tears rolling down her cheeks. The blood pumped to her brain sounded like a percussion being played way too close. It dawned on her, every pieces from the movie settled into her reality, a world she could never escape from. Nesia had said yes, sealing her fate and future. No, her future had been sealed the moment she agreed to accept this job, three days ago at the restaurant. What lies at the end of this road might be similar to that rotten body bag before them. As if preventing herself from leaving, Braginsky pulled her into a hug. Her voice found a way out in the form of a yelp and her hands instantly tried to push him away. Alas, he was stronger. "I'm so happy! You became part of us after all! I promise the pay is pretty good, and you can join our drinking nights now, and... oh, that's right, would you like a bottle now? Vodka warms you up nicely on a cold day like this~" She did want any drinks. She only wanted to go home. To run back to the dormitory and curl inside her blanket and convince herself that this was a mere dream a nightmare that would soon end and she will return to the reality that is college life safely-- and she will be able to laugh for the dream is unreal and the only things she has to fear for are her grades. She would tell Lucille and they both would laugh; she would tell Niklaas and he would advise her not to leave with strangers no matter what they promised to her. She would call her cousins-- they were always thrilled whenever Nesia was on the phone, oh how much they missed their big sister --and told them her experience in London. But no, she could not do them anymore. She must avoid Lucille; they shared so much and Nesia needed to keep this one a secret. She could not come to the café anymore; these people would find out whom she was acquainted with, indirectly endanger their lives. And the next time Nesia picked up a call from home, everything she would say were lies. No one should find out what happened at this place. They did not belong in this side of London. But, did she? Her lips trembled, her head laid on the Russian's broad shoulder. His body shielded her from the other men's gaze, and for a brief-- no longer than a millisecond --time, she felt safe. Safe enough to spill her fear, her worry, everything. So without hesitating, Nesia leaned against him to cry. What have I done...?

LAIKA OF GS!

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

She was crying.

He almost missed it entirely, at first; the sound of her sobbing was faint enough to be completely drowned out by the rhythmic beat of rain on the roof outside, and if she did let out a slightly louder sniffle at some point, the roar of thunder concealed it quite effortlessly. Neither her trembling nor the fact that she was uncharacteristically close to him rouse any suspicions either; Ivan merely figured that she was just cold enough from the chilly weather to let down some of her inhibitions regarding physical touch in favour of staying warm - and the words he whispered to her in a hushed breath were spoken with that very assumptions in mind.

"I know it's very cold, but I promise the drink will help."

The drink would warm her up and cease her shivering, he was certain - was, indeed, until the tears flowing from her cheeks into the shoulder of his relatively thin dress shirt reached the damaged skin underneath. Ivan didn't need to turn his head and check to realize that there was a wet spot on his shoulder, increasing in size with every tremble of her body. He still couldn't physically hear her sobs, but simply noticing her sorrow did bring a chorus of cries to pound against the inside of his skull, hammering in the realization he had tried to deny.

But... but why was she crying? He saw a little reason for her to do so. Was it just nerves, then - the much spoken of first day jitters at a new workplace, perhaps? Or, he wondered once his cheery facade allowed for it, had the body been a bit too much for her to witness? He'd been desensitized to such sights from a very early age, but he was fully aware that not all shared such a fate. And, truly, he'd be lying if he said his intention wasn't to shock her a little with it - after all, the lack of motivation for one's job was a common problem shared across all trades and he wanted to, ah, eliminate such problematic behaviour before it could began.

That was neither here nor now, however. Turning slightly enough to be able to face his men but not force her to move, Ivan ordered the first person his eyes met with to fetch them a bottle of the promised vodka. He had meant to do so himself, but he felt like leaving her without whatever warmth he could provide for to be both tasteless and cruel. So, instead, he wrapped his arms around her upper body tighter, one hand settling onto the small of her back, one reaching to rub at her shoulders to help her blood flow better.

"Just wait a little longer," Ivan mumbled, hand moving a steady circle on her shoulder until her hair got wrapped around his hand and lured him into playing with it, instead. He knew it wouldn't exactly warm her, but he figured it might feel relaxing enough to provide some temporary aid to her plight.

As he ran his fingers through the silk of her hair, the Russian stopped to take in their hue properly for the first time since they'd met; they were beautiful, deep black, and the Russian was sure that had the room been better lit, they would have shone under the light just so. Alas, the smoke wrapping around them was thick enough to render that visage nothing but a distant dream. Not that Ivan minded too terribly.

"You know, your hair is beautiful."

A beautiful black; the lack of all colour. Not yet tainted, not yet enriched by anything - and yet, as Ivan watched her strands flow between his gloved fingers, he could have sworn he saw the tips gain a bright red hue until deprived of his touch.

And when the bottle finally arrived and she brought the much awaited glass of vodka to brush against her lips, Ivan found the liquor illuminating the colour of her lipstick - which was strange, as he hadn't noticed her wearing any before. It, too, was a beautiful, lively red, and Ivan couldn't help but amuse a chuckle at the sight.

How funny.

Red was his favorite colour.

---

ooc: aaaand... that's it! Thread finished! vv7