The First Age

The three darkies coming from the other side of the alley caught Yuri by surprise. Come to think of it, though, he should have expected it, since the boy had said he'd run from them in a deal gone bad. Fuck, if you're going to screw over someone in a deal you better have means and the yaytsa to put an end to it right there. Fucking kid was an amateur at this game for sure.

The Mudak certainly had the means and the yaytsa to take care of them. Yuri could see the yellow-tinged flows coming from the man as he bashed the three against the alleyway walls. Crude, but effective. Just the kind of thing Yuri would do. Gangstas like that come fuck with him, he'd titstomp them so hard they'd be sucking their gin and juice from a feeding tube the rest of their lives.

Yuri drank in more of the power as he watched. Blockhead Mudak made a call from his Wallet and stuffed something in one of the darkies' pockets. Then the man turned his attention back up the alley.

To where Yuri was crouched.

Fuck my life.
His noise hadn't gone unnoticed. Uppers fired neuroreceptor against synapse faster than he could follow. Should he flee? Fight? In a split second, he decided: he would lie his ass off to get in good with the man.

Yuri put his hands away from himself to either side, far from anyplace he could draw a weapon -- although he was holding onto a far more lethal weapon than any mundane thing -- and revealed himself, stepping out from behind the garbage pile. "I don't mean any harm here,"
he said.

Sudden revelation like that would certainly warrant a need for an explanation. Time to talk fast -- and get past the scene where he'd made getting thrown out of the restaurant earlier. Mudak seemed to have fondness for all things Russian, perhaps it would do well to play to those sensitivities. Russian was Yuri's native tongue, after all. "I wouldn't have been so rude if I knew you were cool. Just wasn't my self this morning. I saw those chernomazyy following that kid and came back here. Wasn't going to let them mess with a good child of Matushka Rossiya. I see you wouldn't either. "


And, of course, in the same breath he was going to screw over the good child of Mother Russia. "'Course, good Russians take care of their own problems and don't bring them home. Maybe I could help take care of some problems for you."
He threw a look in the kid's direction.

Vlad shouldn't have been surprised to see the boy from earlier lurking behind the fallen garbage pile, but it had meant the boy knew too much now. He frowned as he started to speak. "I don't mean any harm here.

"I wouldn't have been so rude if I knew you were cool. Just wasn't my self this morning. I saw those chernomazyy following that kid and came back here. Wasn't going to let them mess with a good child of Matushka Rossiya. I see you wouldn't either."

Vlad laughed, Peter was hardly part of Mother Russia. He was an American. Sure he was of blood born in Mother Russia, but his sister had fled to the United States long before their beloved and hated father had died.

"'Course, good Russians take care of their own problems and don't bring them home. Maybe I could help take care of some problems for you." Vlad nodded his nephew needed a few things adjusted and he certainly needed a beating for bringing those thugs to his house. While Vlad didn't live in the Red Light District, he hardly could call Igor's anything but home, he spent more of his time here than he did with his wife and son. But what would a piece of trash like this do for his business. But to have another like him around, someone else to clean up after Peter and to put under the bus if necessary. It had it's appeal.

Vlad turned around and rummaged through the thugs pockets finding a roll of cash in one man's pocket. He tossed the lump at the boy. "Clean up, buy some new clothes. I don't work with trash like them." He nodded back at the three men lying unconscious. "But for now get out of here. You don't want to be when the Custodian's get here." Vlad pushed Peter, "You too. I see you before tomorrow I'll have your skin."

The siren's were getting closer and Vlad slipped back into the back door of the kitchen he had to make it look like a break in gone bad before they got here.

Yuri caught the wad of cash in one fist and gave Mudak a nod, then ducked back behind the back of the alley and darted down the street. If Custodians were coming, he'd better make himself scarce. Down the next street, he turned a corner and spotted the old sewer maintenance shaft he'd been looking for. He stuck the wad of cash in his pocket and in one smooth motion wrapped his feet around the ladder and slid from sight.

It was dark and wet down here, and stank like, well, a sewer. He drew on the power to make a small ball of fire suspended in the air. After a moment, he encased it in a ball of Air. There was a lot of methane gas down here and it probably hadn't been a good idea to make the ball of fire to begin with -- but with the power feeding the ball of flame, it did not extinguish even though trapped and cut off from the exterior. Yuri mentally patted himself on the back for his cleverness.

And speaking of clever...he pulled out the wad of cash. Mudak had given him a lot. What a sucker for having totally bought Yuri's line. With this kind of money he could get a motel room up topside, he could get some new threads, and definitely get whatever kind of drugs he wanted. Maybe even some of that new designer stuff that had started floating around...what was it called? He'd heard the high was legendary.

Yuri padded his way down the maintenance sewer. He could just split with the money...but if Mudak was so free with cash just to get Yuri into decent clothes, Yuri would be able to score much more if he continued to play along. Much more. Guy working a drug enterprise would be swimming with it. Fuck, maybe Yuri could even get that band together he'd always talked about with the burnouts he hung out with underground and generally preyed upon. He'd get ahold of some nice amps, and definitely a synthaxe drumitar. Yeah...

Fuck buying clothes, though. He wasn't about to waste good scratch on that. Yuri popped another pill and took a side tunnel. Should be right about...Yup, there it was. A large grate blocked over with concrete, probably when the foundations for the building above were put in. A lot of the time construction crews didn't bother with doing much more than leveling and building yet another level on top of Moscow, which was of course how the Underground had grown so immense to begin with.

If he was right...He drew in more of the power and sent out flows to seize the grate and pull it out from the wall. It ripped away and with a great crash fell to the tunnel floor. Then he sent flows of fire and earth into the concrete and it blew apart, sending chips of concrete and dust scattering through the tunnel. Some of it hit Yuri's face but he just wiped it away. He looked at the man-sized hole above him and was pleased.

Yuri considered how to get up to the hole he'd made. He knew you couldn't lift yourself with the power. It was like trying to pick yourself up by your own belt. Just didn't work. He could have made rungs of air and ascended that way, but it wasn't needed. All it took was a running start toward the side of the tunnel. It was rather like a half-pipe. One leap, and he kicked his feet against the tunnel wall and twisted upward. His arms found purchase on concrete floor above him, and he pulled himself through.

Yuri's ball of light trailed through behind him, illuminating what was clearly a basement of some kind. Boxes stacked high all around. He pulled one down and opened it up. Yeah, blue jeans and slacks. Perfect. Inventory waiting to be stocked, or for the old to be cleared out. Yuri was more than happy to save those boxes from a fate of being left without rack space.

Yuri found a flight of concrete steps and a door at the top that was unlocked. He opened it and turned a corner, finding himself on the main floor of a clothing store. Certainly not upscale, but not disgraceful either. Place like this probably had an alarm that might have already been triggered - maybe it was wired to the front door, but maybe not - but if anyone showed up before he left he'd just kill them and be back down through his rabbit hole. No sense in rushing when shopping for new threads.

The mannequin display up front had a nice getup. Button down red shirt and a well-cut black leather coat, black jeans with a simple silver belt clasp and black boots polished to a shine. Red on black. Yuri liked it. He tore the outfit off the mannequin and did some brief fitting...fit well enough. He found a liner in an empty wastebasket and used the bag to bundle up the clothes to keep the stench of the sewer off of them.

He fled back down the basement and through his hole, dropping back into the sewer. Now off to find a score, and to go get a room and wash up.

---

The next morning Yuri felt refreshed and full of energy. Course some of that was due to the bump of coke he'd given himself before leaving his motel room. Sucks he had to pay for the room, but at least he got a hot shower and a bed for the few hours he ended up sleeping. Decked out in his new threads, clean and not smelling of the Underground, he walked down the street - yeah, people were noticing him and he knew it. Bet all those bitches don't know I work out.

And there was Igor's again. Yuri opened the door. Yeah, that pizda was there this morning again behind the front counter. She took one look at Yuri and moved to alert someone in the back. He really was going to have to break her jaw sometime soon.

Yuri threw up a hand and beckoned her to wait. "Don't get yourself in a wad there, your boss and I are good,"
he said. He sat at a table. "Please bring me some blimi with jam and sausages, and black coffee. And let your boss know I'm here."

Ivanna came back into his office nearly in a panic. She was so rushed she forgot to speak Russian. "That boy is here again."

Vlad nodded forgiving her the forgetfulness. The boy was a reason to get upset about. He hadn't told anyone to expect him back. It was his fault she was so rushed. "It's okay," he responded in Russian to remind her of her lapse. Ivanna's flushed in embarrassment, but she didn't apologize as she walked back to the front.

Vlad wondered what the boy had done with the money. He was a drug addict from the look of him, it was after all his job to know what his clients looked like. The drug of choice was always the only thing that really made them different from one another. Vlad shuffled the papers on his desk and made himself look busy. He was waiting on Peter yet again. That boy was always late. Vlad would have to do something about it later.

There were several things that this other boy was going to do. Vlad didn't trust him. He hadn't trusted Peter either. And he wondered if he really should trust him now. But he was family, but it only went so far.

Peter didn't bother knocking, Ivanna had left the door open. He apologized in Russian. Vlad sighed, the boy was a fast learner but he needed much more discipline. Hopefully the two boys would get along and actually do better for one another, though he doubted it seriously.

Vlad told Peter the three things they were going to do today. Peter argued with him. He could do it all by himself. Vlad was sure of it, but it wasn't a test for Peter, it was a test to see just how willing their new friend was.

As Peter left through his office door, "And make sure you get a name. I'm tired of thinking up ways to address him."

****

Peter left his Uncle's office annoyed and aggravated he had the task of playing teacher to the piece of trash that had crashed the party last night. He snickered at his own words. He was proud of himself but his Uncle never seemed to see his potential.

The boy who was probably his age, maybe a little older so Peter could hardly call him a boy like his Uncle. He was sitting at a table eating. Peter sat down across from him. "My Uncle wants me to take you with me to do what I need to do. Three errands to run." Peter leaned back in the chair and waited for him to finish. "I'm Peter by the way."

Yuri looked up from his breakfast at the kid from last night. Peter, so he introduced himself. Damned if he didn't have the worst Russian accent Yuri had ever heard. He was surprised he hadn't noticed the other night.

"Yeah, I'm Yuri,"
he replied as he finished his last sausage and put his napkin over his plate. Errands, huh? So Mudak wanted Yuri to babysit the kid and make sure he didn't fuck up or get himself killed. Not too surprising considering how his last deal had gone. What an amateur. Mudak's nephew, by the kid's admission. A family business, then -- Yuri told himself he'd better be careful the fuckup nephew didn't get too badly hurt or it'd bring down the asshole boss on him.

'Course, Mudak couldn't have cared too much about his nephew if he was willing to get Peter involved in such a dangerous business on the street level.

Yuri pulled out a couple of bills from his pocket and left them for the waitress, then stood up. Quicker he got this done the quicker he could get on with his own shit. "Alright Peter, let's get this govno done. Vremya tratit'."

Peter didn't like this guy, Yuri was his name. He didn't like him at all. He wondered why his uncle wanted him to work for him. Maybe he felt sorry for the kid. No, that wasn't it.

But Peter had no choice. He had to do what he was told, or Uncle Vlad might kill him or worse send him home to live with his parents. That was a fate worse than death.

Their first errand wasn't really an errand. It was roughing up some guy who owed his uncle a lot of money. Peter had the exact amount on a piece of paper, that he was to give Yuri when he got to the door. It wasn't a far walk. The Red Light District housed all sorts of ilk and this man was one of the worst. He was a mooch and even bigger loser than his uncle thought of him.

Three flights of stairs and no elevator, Peter sighed but started the climb anyway. By the third level Peter was huffing. He really hated stairs.

Apartment 307 was what they were looking for, a Mr. Robbie Clementine, a former US citizen too. But Mr. Clementine was on the run for something. Peter was surprised he was still alive after all the people he had supposedly pissed off.

Peter stopped in front of the door to the apartment. "My Uncle said to say this exactly. 'You want to work for me, you need to prove yourself.' Then he gave me this piece of paper." He handed it to Yuri to look at. "You are to get the money, or take it out of his hide, either way he doesn't care. I was told to stand outside and watch out for any by passers and such."

Yuri glanced at the slip of paper Peter handed him and shrugged. So the guy was into Mudak for over 5 grand CCD. Whatever, easy pickings. He scoffed at the assertion Peter was to stand watch -- it was a dump flat in the Red Light District, who was going to stop them from doing whatever the fuck they wanted to this guy? -- and waved a hand in Peter's direction. "Go back to the stairwell to look out, it's a safe distance away from the door."
Yeah, that would probably stick under the kid's skin, implying cowardice like that.

As Peter turned his back Yuri reached into his coat pocket and took a quick bump of coke. Just enough to set his mind right -- and he reached out and took hold of the power. He drank in all he could. He knocked on the door.

There was some scuffling within. Yeah the mark was home. His heightened senses could hear the fucker walking up to the door, looking through the peephole and backing away. Then there was a ratcheting sound, quite unmistakable as a shell being loaded into the chamber of a pump action shotgun. How the fuck does he know I'm hostile? Maybe the man was just being cautious. Or maybe the whole thing was a setup and Mudak was really out to get him offed. If that were the case, things were about to get interesting.

"Peter," Yuri called out, catching his so-called lookout's attention. "Watch this." He grinned and raised his foot to kick the door down. He brought it right adjacent to the locking mechanism and flung flows of air against it at the same time.

The door flew off its hinges and across the apartment. Yuri stepped into that shithole of a living room -- moss green shag carpet, really? -- and saw some movement against the far wall -- beneath where the door was. An arm emerged from behind the door and struggled to reach a black short-barreled 12 gauge shotgun.

More flows snatched the shotgun from the ground and brought it into Yuri's hands. He strode across the room and used the power to fling the door away, revealing a chubby balding man in his smallclothes and wide eyes upon finding himself suddenly staring down the barrel of his own gun.

Yuri wondered if this was the guy. He hadn't bothered to ask for a description. Not that he cared, really. Fucker was the guy now.

"You owe people money,"
he said to the man.

The guy looked like he was about to piss himself. He put his arms out to his side. "Which people are you with?"

Yuri planted one boot firmly on the man's right hand and pressed down, drawing a gasp of pain. "Does it fucking matter? I'm the one who's here right now."


The man tried to wriggle his fingers beneath Yuri's boot. He stared up at the gun. "I don't have it," he said.

That wasn't the right answer. Yuri wove more flows of air and stuck the shotgun right between the man's legs and fired. Wood and carpet flew in splinters. The sound was contained and amplified toward the man's ears. Yuri sniffed the air. Yeah, now the man had definitely pissed himself.

Fucker was probably half deaf by now so Yuri used the same weave to direct his own voice toward the man. "Looks like I missed. Next shot I'll aim an inch higher. What was that you said? You didn't have the money?"


He chambered another round into the shotgun and forced his boot down hard, and heard a cracking sound as bones broke.

"Okay!" the man screamed. "I have some of the money."

Yuri pulled the man up. "You have thirty seconds to get it."

He followed the guy into a bedroom. The man pulled out a lock box from underneath his bed, with obvious difficulty with only the full use of one hand. Yuri nuzzled the barrel of the shotgun against the back of the man's neck just in case he had any thoughts of funny business. The man emptied the lock box and laid out some bundles of cash on the bed.

Yuri snatched it and quickly counted it. Turned out it was about a thousand more than what he'd owed. The guy must have thought Yuri was sent by someone other than Mudak. "You're still short,"
he said. "Plus we got collection fees."


The man looked about to faint. "That's all I have! I mean it!"

Yuri stuck the barrel of the shotgun right in the man's mouth. Suck it, bitch. "What you got of value. Drugs, bling, Wallet...
He grinned. "If you can't come up with anything you probably have some healthy organs we could get some decent cash for."


That sent the man scrambling. He unloaded on his bed some gold chains, an antique pocket watch of all things...a heavy man's wedding band -- his own, by the look of it -- two Wallets and a small bag bulging with pills tinged blue. Yuri examined it and saw an imprint of a lightning bolt on each one. Some interesting designer shit, looked like.

Yuri left the Wallets -- he didn't really want to mess with fencing them right now -- and pocketed the jewelry and the pills. He opened the baggie and took one of the pills. Might as well sample it. Then he withdrew the shotgun and emptied all the shells from it, and tossed it aside. Wrapped it in flows of fire and the thing quickly became a lump of unrecognizable metal.

The man's eyes widened. "What --"

Yuri shook his head. "Yeah, probably shouldn't have shown you that. Your mistake."


One more flow of air around the neck was all it took to stop any further questions. It didn't take long for the man to stop kicking, but by then Yuri was already leaving the apartment.

Yuri found Peter outside by the stairwell and tossed him the money he'd been told to collect. "He put up a fight. We should go. What's next on our shit list today?"

Peter went back to check the apartment. He was dumbfounded by what he saw. Not only had he collected the money, but he'd killed the man to. It would mean Peter would have to find someone else to sell to now. He was big buyer, which also meant he owed more money than some of the others.

Peter looked at Yuri with a new horror. What was this guy capable of and why did his uncle want him working for him.

Peter started down the stairs, the next task required a little more finesse, and that's exactly what he told Yuri. "Felicia is not like him." He nodded back up the stairs. "She doesn't owe any money and if you hurt her, my Uncle will not only have your skin for a trophy, he'll let her do it." Felicia was Vlad's mistress, but she was also pretty high stakes dealer. It was time for her to hand Vlad's cash over, she was usually pretty good about it, but she liked to toy with the boys. Peter had often walked into her living room to find her clad all in leather, and a man naked tied to a chair or even worse lying on the floor spread eagle.

Peter never wanted to be in her grasp for long, he hated Felicia, he hated his uncle for even liking this woman.

She lived only a few blocks away. She liked the Red Light District. She called it home. But she could do whatever she wanted, when she wanted. She owned the building and it was notorious for much more than just drugs. It was a whore house by any standards. The woman inside were all barely dressed and the men were all foaming at the mouths. It was hardly a good place to get laid. Unless you liked your girls like that. For which Peter did not.

One particularly ugly girl cornered Peter. She did it every time he came in to collect. Peter sighed, "I'm here to see Felicia." The girl pouted and leaned in and bit his ear. Peter yelped and she giggled as she waddled off in persuit of another buck.

"She's in the back. All you have to do is get Uncle Vlad's cut, and walk out. Should be pretty simple." It was never simple with Felicia but Uncle Vlad hadn't told him to say anything other than the instructions. He was not to tell Yuri any of the things he had learned when he too had been sent out on these little missions.

Yuri sent Peter a sneer looked down the hallway. Lots of rooms to either side, each with beds and little else in the way of furniture -- efficient layout. The whore who'd bit at Peter's ear disappeared into one of the rooms, giggling as she wiggled a quite shapely ass about to fall out of shorts that hardly deserved the name. She'd probably be a pretty good lay if you turned her around first. Yeah, Yuri kind of liked this place.

The effects of that mystery pill were starting to kick in. Holy shit, it was good stuff. It had the mellowing high of green mixed with the euphoria of ecstacy and the racing drive of blow all at once. He was floating on a cloud and at the same time a bundle of raging energy.

He regarded Peter again. The kid had seemed shaken by what he'd seen over at that stupid mooch's flat. Yuri had told Peter they should go, but no, instead he had to delay their getaway and go see what had happened. Fucking weak.

"Yeah, I got it, I'll be right back"
Yuri said to Peter. "Chick over there was digging you. Why don't you relax and go get yourself some of that tail while I take care of shit? Put a bag over her head, it'll be good."


He turned away without saying a word and walked down the hall, ducking in the room where the whore had gone. She was alone, so Yuri fished out a $100 note and tossed it her way. "Go keep my buddy Peter company while I'm busy."
She caught the bill with a giggle.

Yuri turned back down the hall and came to a door in the back. Knocked a couple of times. "Eh, Felecia!"


He heard a syrupy, musical voice respond: "It's open..."

Yuri shrugged and turned the knob, pushing the door open. And he wondered if this miracle drug shit was inducing hallucinations.

Red velvet carpet lined the floor. Classy. Along one wall a rack sat holding various things Yuri might have imagined in a dungeon -- handcuffs, whips, two ball gags, a flaggelan...beads, interesting... To the other side of the room there was another rack -- and this one was occupied, by a man with a black mask and a gag, and wearing little else, his arms held outstretched by manacles. A young woman with straight golden blonde hair, sporting high-heeled leather boots and tight fitting leather pants and snug leather vest -- all crimson red -- played a feather tickler over the inside of the man's armpit.

At the center of the room, there was a circular bed with four sturdy metal posts and hooks that descended from the ceiling. A slightly older woman -- maybe in her early 30s -- fire red hair kept back neatly and an equally well-fitting and revealing black leather suit, sat cross-legged on the bed. There was a whip in her hand.

"I am Felicia," said the woman on the bed. She gestured to the other two in the room. "That is Nikita. And over there is Mikael. I am teaching Nikita how to make Mikael a good boy. Wouldn't you like to be a good boy for Nikita and please her?"

Yeah...he'd certainly like to give the both of them a pleasing. But he wasn't about to let himself get all trussed up and be toyed with. Nah, he'd do it his way. Fast and hard and him on top. He turned his attention to Felicia and grinned. "I'm no good boy,"
he said. Maybe another time, though. Just here with Peter for the usual cut."


Her eyes lit up. "Ah, one of Vladimir's boys!"

Vladimir. Oh, so that was Mudak's name. suddenly, without a word she lashed out with the whip. It wrapped around Yuri's arm and she tugged with a deft flick of her wrist, jerking Yuri toward her. Yuri considered lashing out with the power to stop her, but nah. Bitch seemed crazy, but crazy hot. Yuri'd rather fuck her than fight her any day.

She held up a hand to his chest and stopped him at arm's length. "So." Ooh, yes, that was such a sexy voice. "I could give it to you. But you have to please me first. You must be obedient. Now kneel."

Chick was definitely teetering playing a fine edge along the Hot/Crazy Scale. "I'll stand, thanks,"
he said. I bet I could please you without lifting a finger."
Her eyes flared at his disobedience, but he caught her stare.

"Just. look. at. my. eyes."
That was a diversion, of course. He simply reached out with a flow of air and touched it - firmly - to the back of her neck, trailing it down to press each vertebra, down inside her vest, all the way to the sensitive area just above the tailbone. He made it cold, first, then laced it with a thin thread of fire -- pulsing just a bit to warm and send tingling sensation through her nervous system. Other flows, next, down the cleavage that showed in the front of her tight leather vest -- slowly -- creating pressure and a warming sensation that sunk lower, past her navel, against her thighs, and...

Felicia fell back against the bed. Her legs sprung apart of their own volition. She tossed her head, chest heaving, and screamed. Nikita dropped her feather tickler in shock.

Yuri let the flows vanished. "The money, please. Time is short."


Felicia gasped for breath and lifted her head from the bed, red hair tossed in disarray. "I don't know what...what the fuck that just was..." she struggled to her feet, legs seeming to shake as she crossed the room to a dresser. She held herself against it as she opened a drawer and pulled out a tight bundle. "...But here's your money." She handed to him with a kiss on the cheek. Yuri was thoroughly amused -- maybe the dominatrix just needed to get off to soften her attitude. "You come back any time...Vladimir doesn't need to know."

Yuri bobbed a nod in thanks. "Hang in there, dude,"
he said to Mikael, who was still gagged. He walked out the door and shut it behind him, wondering if Peter was getting Yuri's money's worth.


Edited by Yuri Obrechennyy, Sep 23 2013, 04:07 PM.

Danika, the girl whom Yuri paid to be with him came back for Peter. Peter sighed. She was ugly. Sure she probably knew what she was doing in bed, but she was ugly and nothing...well not nothing. Peter patted his pockets, maybe he had a little of his stash left. Since working for his Uncle in this business his own drug use had been tempered. It was probably all part of his mother's plan. Show him the shit side of the thing and maybe, just maybe her little boy would come home. Fat chance of that happening.

The only thing in Peter's pocket was a small back of Vlad's special blend. Why the man made it and how was really a feat of magic in Peter's eyes. There was no possible way. Peter wasn't a smart boy, but he knew the way of things. Sugar was not a drug, yet Uncle Vlad made it into one. The small bag contained only 5 little pills. It was all that it was sold in. One for each week day. They high was supposedly incredible, but it was far more dangerous than any drug on the black market today. If you could afford one of these bags you were living the high life, or you were stealing from someone who did.

It wasn't the bread and butter of the business, but it was the only thing Peter ever saw. He rarely ran coke or any of the other drugs his Uncle might sell.

It was important if you sold this new fangled drug to tell your buyers of the dangers. Vlad didn't want his clients dead. Dead clients can't buy more. But there had been a few deaths. That little boy in the paper his uncle had shown him was the only one that Peter had seen connected to the little bag of little pills. His uncle was upset at him for that. He'd sold the drug to the kids mother. Peter sighed. That bitch had gotten him into a shit ton of trouble and now he was babysitting a new something. Peter had no idea what his uncle wanted him for.

Danika kissed on Peter's neck and snapped him out of his thoughts. Peter grabbed two of the little pills that were for another client and popped them in his mouth. They tasted sweet and went down like candy. Peter still was sckeptical about it. But soon Danika was leading away a foggy Peter.

The little room was dark but Peter saw a wonder of colors. He didn't think that was supposed to happen. Danikia literally threw him on the bed. Or did he just fall over. Either way it didn't matter to Danika as she made to pleasure Peter. Soon there was nothing, nothing but darkness.

****

Danika smiled at the as the boy with young Peter paid her. Peter had always thrawted her plays before but not this time. She put on her best smile, and made her way to Vlad's little nephew. He was a powerful player in the game her mistress played, if only she could score some of those special pills he sold.

Danika watched as Peter popped the pills and wondered if he would off her any. But he didn't. She'd just take them from him later.

In their room Peter seemed out of it. Much more than anyone on drugs she'd ever seen. He fell over on to the bed. It made Danika's life easier. She pulled at his clothes and readied the boy so she could give him the time of his life. She rode the boy but he didn't seem interested. It hurt Danika's feelings he didn't care.

But she took a second look and his head lay limp, his hands lightly closed around the small little bag of pills. She snatched them out of his hand and made her way out cautiously and carefully. He seemed asleep.

Danika left the room in a hurry. She nearly ran into the boy who had paid her. "Your friends in there." She nodded back the direction she had come. She hurried to Felicia. She hated to disturb her mistress, but it was important.

Felicia was as usual playing with her boys. Danika stalled to watch them. They were fine specimen. They too would probably get her what she wanted, but she had a few left now.

Felicia, "I think the boy is dead."

In her silky soft voice Felicia asked, "What boy?"

"Peter."

Felicia immediately stopped what she was doing. Danika frowned that the show was over. Felicia grabbed her wallet and started dialing a number. Danika cried out, "No. Don't call him. Please don't call him."

Felicia turned back with a sneer. It still didn' detract from her mistress' face, was there anything that could.

****

Felicia ran towards Danika's room. He better not be dead, she chanted to herself. Vlad picked up the phone. "Hey sweety. I think you need to come down here. We have a problem." She didn't give him time to ask what kind or why he should come, she just hung up the wallet and handed it to one of the girls, "Go put it back in the room."

Felicia saw Peter lying on the bed, lifeless. She didn't want to touch him. She turned to Danika who was behind her. "Check for a pulse." She was such a power player, every one of her regular clients was someone Danika deemed to be a power player. Too bad this one turned out to probably be the end of her so called career and potentially her life, if Vlad beleives she had something to do with Peter's death. Danika confirmed his demise. Vlad was going to be so angry.

((OOC: Valds on his way but giving you time to respond.))