Money In Progress (Nebesa's Gate Casino)

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Pavel (Pasha) Vasiliev

A second disturbance darkened a frown to Pavel’s usually stoic expression. A flick of the fingers dismissed those gathered, and he stood from his chair. The call for paramedics would not usually necessitate a personal visit, but current circumstance made a suspicion of such poorly timed coincidence. Whatever Pavel’s private opinion of his brother-in-law, the man was family now – and the Vasilievs closed rank on threat. Pavel attended himself not because one of the casino’s valued patrons had died on the property, but because Maksim had been in attendance when it happened. At the very same table.

The suite door swept open when he approached to exit. He instructed his second on route, until the man peeled away with a nod. A small flank of security remained, though there were no visible firearms on show. The Bratva had legitimacy under Ascendancy’s rule, but it was not ostentatious in its power or violence – and certainly not under its own illustrious and public roof.

The patrons were being filed out and cared for by the casino staff when he arrived. Leonid was old. But even a natural death was not good for business. Meanwhile the casino was already pulling the names of staff on duty. The CIDs of tonight’s high-stakes players. Security footage. Publicly it remained nothing more than an unfortunate tragedy.

“Boss.” His man handed over a folded note almost as soon as he passed the threshold. Clearly handwritten even before he’d flicked it open. “Given to the host.”

Pavel met eyes with the employee standing some distance away with a nod.

When his attention turned to the paper, what he read hardened his jaw. 

[[Pavel would have responded as soon as he was told Maksim was at the table. Assume he enters whenever is convenient. Likewise the paramedics arriving and doing their thing. Once he’s read and pocketed the note Pavel will head for you guys with the intention of checking on Maksim’s welfare.]]

[Maksim Marveet]

Maksim sat with his forehead in his hands for many minutes. He was sure that if he looked up he was going to vomit, and he could think of nothing more humiliating than that. Physical weakness was no more tolerated than mental, but true to culture, the others gave Maksim his space in silence. They ignored him out of respect excepting for the European among them. 

His gaze was fixed on the floor and he only noticed Kristian’s approach by the shoes that populated the carpet in front of him. Max said nothing in response, but he tried to answer the question in his own head. He’d not seen dead bodies outside of the funeral house, but even at a funeral he paid his respects as swiftly as possible and moved on without lingering. Death bothered him, and nobody talked about it. Grief was as shunned as psychotherapy. Was that the source of his ill ease? Or was it something more? 

Soon, uniformed servicemen filed into the room. Maksim only noticed the disturbance from the additional voices. Then, he only noticed that someone was kneeling at his side after they spoke his name.

A scanner flashed in and out of view. Still he did not lift his head. He’d have gone to the bathroom if he thought he could make it, but hell if he was going to carry a trash can the whole walk there. He'd just sit here until it passed. Surely it would pass soon.

“Mr. Marveet, can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

Maksim shook his head no. If he spoke, he was sure he was going to lose his stomach.

Then the voice spoke to someone else nearby. “His heart rate is very high. I think we should take him in just to be sure.”

“Agreed. He could be in shock.” Someone responded. Afterward, the host indicated that there was a back way out to avoid the more popular areas of the casino.

Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. Maksim did not resist when they helped him to his feet, but as soon as his head moved, everything went black, and he passed out.



[[All the blood left his head when he stood, which is why he passed out. It’ll only be about 30 seconds before he wakes back up.]]

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Pavel (Pasha) Vasiliev

Stay out of our way.

Pavel folded the note in his jacket’s inside pocket. Given Yun Kao’s death the risk of such provocation was dangerous and far overreaching, for irrespective of intention or target, brazen threats conducted on Vasiliev turf could not go unanswered. Without the Syndicate’s influence over the CCDPD to smooth and mediate between Moscow’s crime titans, things might easily escalate. A foolish gamble. Should it prove to be the case, his father would need informing, but for now Pavel would let his people do their jobs.

His stern attention settled on Alina’s husband, presently stooped in a chair with head in hands. Maksim was soft; Pavel would frankly expect better comportment from his own children in public. Though the possibility the man might have been the intended target of the message could not be entirely dismissed. Scion moved in high circles these days. Powerful men earned powerful enemies, and Maksim was the weak link in the chain between their families.

He liaised with the paramedics who presently began to check his brother-in-law over, and accepted their recommendation with a nod.

Maksim passed out almost immediately.

Pavel let the medics do their work, and intended to accompany him in the ambulance. He directed his security as much with a few words of Russian. Meanwhile he eyed the man loitering. He knew many of the regular clients, but did not recognise his face.

"And you are?" It was not said with hostility, just the directness of a man accustomed to being in charge.

[Xander]

Xander was moved away from the fallen Marveet. He watched as the paramedics handled the care of the heir. But it was the man who came down to oversee things that drew his attention. Money was written all over his aura. He was not necessarily a nice man, but then neither was Xander. He often wondered what his aura looked like.

He inquired to his person. Xander gave a wry smile. "Kristian Osterhagen, Antiquities." He didn't bother offering his hand. Though he gave the man a knowing node. "The asian man at our table left in quite the hurry just as the bodies fell. Foul play seems suspect despite what the medical experts might say." Xander gave a wink. "I have sort of an eye for these things, and the man left me with a foul vision as he fled." It still irked Xander that he'd left his shield up. He was in the den of vipers and he had left his greatest asset at the door. Migraines might be worth it if he kept himself out of fucking hot water.

"I do hope he will be alright."

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Pavel (Pasha) Vasiliev

The name meant nothing in particular. But the warning was frankly strange. Pavel wasn’t a superstitious man, but he’d seen first hand the things his youngest sister could do. His stern attention did not falter as he decided whether this man had viable information. Until he knew more for certain of what exactly had transpired here, even the rumour of foul play could not be left to circulate freely. Kristian spoke in what sounded like good faith, and he had stayed by Maksim when he could have left. But he could not be left to repeat whatever it was he thought he knew.

“I have a use for eyes,” Pavel said. A glance over his shoulder patiently acknowledged the summons of the ambulance crew. Alina would not forgive him for allowing Maksim to travel to the hospital alone. Given the circumstances Pavel would not allow it anyway. A Vasiliev did not take risks with their own.

“My family values loyalty, Kristian,” he said. “Maksim will have appreciated the comfort, I’m sure. I will thank you properly upon my return. Excuse me.”

He made a gesture as he departed. In the meantime Kristian would be well looked after.

[Alistair Bishop]

Alistair had spent the week with a newfound flush of cash from Mr. Petrovich., his patron. It had been a whirlwind of a few months, having left Ohio, landed in Moscow, and now fought for an alcohol mogul. Or so he thought.

Alistair had spent the week wandering, getting his bearings, seeing sights, bumping into people on the street, and making all kinds of cultural faux pas. Such as tipping. He had always tipped in America. Typically, to a cute waitress. In Russia? He had tried tipping and was looked at like he was insane. He laid the money down on a table and was shouted at, being told that the cute female was not a prostitute.

He had learned quickly. On the third interaction, a patron had leaned over and said, "Stupid American. We don't tip in Russia."

Alistair had doled out some money for a new suit. Mr. Petrovich had recommended he check out one of his accounts, Nebesa’s Gate Casino. Alistair had strolled in late and headed straight for the bar. The name outside read: “Empyrean.”

As he stood there surveying the room, leaning against the bar with his Manhattan, he noticed a commotion in the distance. A stretcher rolled across the casino in contrast with its elegance. The paramedics disappeared into a dark room in the back. Alistair turned to look at the bartender. "What's that about?"

The bartender looked up. “An older man passed away. Heart attack or something. It happens sometimes,” he explained before changing the subject. Alistair noticed his gaze didn’t linger long on the direction, almost as if he was uncomfortable bringing it up. 

“How’s the drink? Want anything else?” 

Alistair shook his head for now.

[Maksim Marveet]

Pavel & Maksim

The paramedics stabilized Maksim while he was on the floor. They were careful with the transfer to the ambulance, which was rigged outside. Despite the passage indicated by the host, it was clear from the common casino floor that something was happening in the high-rollers room, and there were plenty who recognized the face of the casino boss in attendance. This meant that the casino was witness to two people being wheeled from the premises: one fully draped with the shroud of death and whispers wondered about the fate of the other.

As for Maksim, he was an unwitting participant in these events. He’d never experienced anything like it and mostly he wished to sleep and for everything to be over. It wasn’t until the rig doors closed him into the confined space of the ambulance that he even recognized one of the faces belonged to Pavel.

At his right, the paramedic was pressing a needle into his arm that made Maksim grimace with the prick. Medicine was pushed in after that that swarmed his head. On his left, Pavel’s stern expression monitored the proceedings. He did not know his brother-in-law well. They’d barely spoken to each other the past few years but for the civil exchanges mediated by family gatherings. The rock currently pressing into his gut seemed to grow just to imagine why he was there at all.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing he could think to say. Laying flat, the fear of vomiting was fading. Maybe it was the medicine they gave him.

He had to wonder if Pavel called Alina yet. On one hand, Alina would be a comfort as nothing ever seemed to fluster or bother her. On the other, he didn’t want her to see him like this: how he must look. He feared for his more than disheveled appearance, but also that he was surely pale and pathetic, but when he spoke, it wasn’t to any of these thoughts. It was about someone else completely. “I’m sure I’m fine. Please don’t call my father,” he looked away when he said that second part.

After several minutes of travel, the ambulance took a wide turn. The speed slowed drastically and rolled to a stop. The paramedic previously working on Maksim glanced at Pavel, shrugged and promptly climbed toward the front of the rig. Doors slammed after that as the two men left the ambulance at the same time.

When the main bay opened, it revealed the interior of a warehouse and the shadow of someone standing to the side. On the periphery, the paramedics slipped from view.

Alarmed, Maksim sat up.
“What’s going on?” he asked his brother in-law. Shockingly, Pavel pulled a gun from beneath his jacket and readied it at his side.

Pavel’s stern gaze swiveled to him, but Max’s eyes were wide on the firearm.
“Who have you pissed off, Maksim?” he stated. Max’s response was stuck in his mouth just as a new voice spoke just out of sight. He’d done nothing!

“Don’t shoot me,” it said. The accent wasn’t quite Russian, but it was rough and deep. Maksim watched tense with nerves as a figure rounded into view.

He was tall and blonde, dressed in street clothes that included dark pants and a jacket. Notably, his face was covered in a mesh of scars and one eye was drooped with a former injury.

His attention was momentarily fixed on Pavel. “It wouldn’t do you any good anyway,” he added with a dry smirk.

Pavel sat straighter, but he did not rise. The line of his jaw was tense, gaze steadily studying the new figure. He did not seem to recognize him.

“What do you want?” Pavel asked what Maksim could not. He felt himself swallow and the queasiness of the moment had nothing to do with being physically ill.

The man leaned against the open door of the ambulance.

“You two have a problem on your hands that I’m going to solve for you. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to let me beat the shit out of him.” He spoke with such directness, Maksim had a feeling he wasn’t joking. When the man’s strange half-gaze turned to Maksim, it sent a chill down his spine. He shifted in his seat. Were they being kidnapped? As a young man he’d been schooled on what to do if he was ever taken for ransom. The children of Moscow billionaires were all similarly educated. It happened far more frequently than one would imagine.

It was clear that the man’s admission wasn’t going to be accepted without additional explanation, so he went on.

“I know what happened at Nebesa’s Gate. More, I know what was supposed to happen and how the fuckup Yakuza who was sent botched the job. I also know that if you make it to the hospital, that one will be dead by tomorrow, and you’d be well within your rights to start a full on war.” His attention moved back and forth between Pavel and Maksim on the regular. Every time it did, Max grew steadily more afraid.

“So, here’s my proposal. Let me beat the shit out of your brother in-law then they won’t kill him.”

"You're asking me to start a war in exchange for Maksim's life?” Pavel’s question was cold.

“You’ll retaliate. They’ll retaliate. Soon you’ll both be escalating over each other and we’ll have a war on our hands either way, but this way Scion Marveet’s son and heir will be right as rain… in a few weeks anyway. Or I could just kill him right now and save us the time of this discussion if you prefer.”

Maksim was white as a sheet. He couldn’t believe his ears.

There was a long pause. Max’s jaw was parted.

“Pavel! You can’t possibly…” his voice was shaking. Maksim looked over his shoulder. Could he squeeze out the front the way that the paramedics left? The warehouse looked large. It was unlikely he could outrun this guy, though.

Finally, Pavel’s voice broke the silence.
“What’s in it for you?” he asked point-blank.

The stranger laughed immediately. Somehow, the laugh was worse.

“Nothing. I don't exactly get my kicks from beating up wimpy suit types, but it will be the highlight of my day.” His gaze settled wry on Maksim, who by then was rendered utterly speechless. 

He went on. “‘Why am I here?’ is a better question. To that, let's just say you have a friend out there who will show himself soon enough. So what do you say?”

When Pavel looked at him, Maksim knew the answer without a single word being said. Max was breathing fast and heavy like he was going to have a panic attack. He barely understood everything that was being explained. The Asian was there to assassinate him? Why? He’d met with Asians all week, though he could hardly recall any of their names. A group was seeking to resource steel for a big project, and Maksim was eager to land his first construction sale. They couldn’t be related, could they? But talk of wars and retaliation ran his blood cold. He wasn’t so ignorant to think shit like this didn’t happen, but he’d never thought to be caught up in the middle of it.

Pavel grimaced with the weight of a decision and slipped his immaculate suit jacket from his shoulders. A firearm holster was strapped along his back, into which he deposited the pistol as he stood.

The most subtle of nods shot a look at the guy outside.
“He's family. It should be me,” he explained as he climbed out of the rig.

What? Maksim watched in shock.

“Come on,” he ordered as he began to roll up his sleeves. His forearms were tense; the strings of tendons tightly coiled.

Maksim stayed exactly where he was. Pavel’s previously calm exterior shattered when he didn’t comply. His voice echoed in the empty warehouse even as he pointed sharply at him.
“You will do this for Alina!” Max flinched, and shaking, he slowly climbed out of the rig. He was light headed; legs weak.

The blonde guy folded his arms with a look that made Maksim think he was surprised things took this turn. He stepped back to give them space.

Max brought himself to meet Pavel eye to eye. The same emptiness filled Pavel’s expression as once filled Scion’s years ago.

”Pavel?” Maksim’s voice broke on the question.

“Be a man,” was all he said as he struck.

[Xander]

What the fuck had I done! Opened my fucking mouth. Xander growled under his breath as he was unceremoniously escorted to a private lounge where he was asked to wait for the big man's return.

"Can I at least get a drink? Not the vodka, mind you. I'll have an unopened bottle of whiskey if you don't mind." No fucking way he was drinking from something he couldn't verify was untainted. Though there were ways around that shit too -- like owning a bottling company and adding the poison before it ever left the bottling factory. Pessimism was his game and now he was stuck in the fucking Casino wondering why he'd said anything.

A voice in the back of his head told him why he'd said it. Somewhere deep down he knew why, but Xander denied it one thousand percent everytime that little voice said, your a good guy deep down.

Bull fucking shit!

An unopened bottle and a glass were set on the table and Xander sat down. At least they understood. He wasn't being held hostage -- not really. At least not until he could explain himself, that much was clear. But the Mavreet heir had to be tended too -- couldn't have him dying on his watch he was certain of it.

Xander didn't want to get mixed up in all this, but he already hedged a bet and now he was paying for it.

At least the people who were standing watch over him weren't special in any form. Their auras only spoke of content people. No images, just a soft light of color ringing them. There was always a slight ring of death around security it was like they drew the darkness to them, but at least there were no images or swirling colors or anything like that. He could drift off with his drink and at least pretend the world was normal. It wasn't ever going to be normal again. And Xander was pretty sure that Kristian was fucked big time. So long as Xander Mitchel and the rest of the gang survived unscathed he could drown Kristian in whatever business this was. Drop a body in the bottom of the river -- that wasn't a thing he was ready to do. But he'd faced his death more than once to beat a shit rap someone else thrust upon him. This time it was his own carelessness. Fuck me!

But now all he could do was wait. They weren't going to let him out and he had no place better to be. At least the whiskey was good and the place was serene enough.

[[ I'd have had him sit down with you alistair, but I'm pretty sure they don't want Kristian talking to anyone for now so off and alone it is ]]

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Pavel (Pasha) Vasiliev

The Yakuza act could not go unanswered, but it could have been a tempered response. Retaliation would have escalated, about that the stranger was correct, but it would have been a slower burn too, giving time to reestablish everything that had been destroyed with Yun Kao’s death. Pavel had intended to reign in his siblings’ response, but he knew the path of mediating peace would not have been smooth or easy. Vengeance burned like hellfire in Vasiliev veins. Understanding that Maksim’s life now hung in the crossfire either way made the decision plain. The stranger would not let them leave, even on the promise of blood. There was not a third option to fight for. Between peace and the protections of his family, Pavel would always choose family.

He stood. It was clearly implied that this "friend" orchestrated a reprieve on Maksim’s life. In Pavel’s experience such friends usually required favours in return. He would decide for himself if an ally or enemy pulled the strings here, but for now it was accepted. The flat of his stare was hard though. The stranger should know exactly who he was dealing with on behalf of his benefactor.

Alina would be hurt by the act, but not so much as Maksim’s death would devastate her. Pavel was not a violent man. He did not relish the task ahead. Yet he would not give consent nor blithely watch a stranger lay hands on a member of his family.

If a man was willing to allow this, then he should be willing to enact it.

Maksim was pale with shock and fear as the reality of their situation tightened the noose around him. He trembled like a child. But he at least found his own feet, and walked out to his own fate. It would have been shameful for them both to have to drag him from the back of the ambulance. Any man should be able to take a beating. To do so for his own family was nothing but duty.

Still, Pavel was surprised Maksim did not immediately cower. In their meeting of eyes he realised there was a flash of recognition in the other man’s fear. It tightened the clench of his jaw, but it did not save him.

***

Afterwards, the paramedics were allowed to return. Pavel did not watch as they loaded the bloodied and crumpled Maksim back into the ambulance; instead he began to unroll his sleeves, and landed a cold stare on the stranger. The blonde man had given space, and watched on with a blatant approval for the violence Pavel found distasteful. Now he approached with a wallet. Cheap. Single-use. Pavel stared on, silent and weighing, but did not reach to accept it until he had finished buttoning his cuffs.

"In one hour, I will send details to this device. Meet me at 11 pm where it says. As a gesture of good faith, bring no more than 2 of your people with you and we'll do the same."

Pavel took it with a short nod, then climbed back into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut behind him. Inside, he adjusted his suit and sat. Then he returned his wristwatch, and slid his wedding band back on his finger.

“I suggest you look after Maksim well. I have seen both your faces,” he said to the medics as he retrieved his own wallet. There was work to do between here and the hospital.

---

Some time later, an aide entered the private lounge containing Kristian Osterhagen. He had been well cared for in the interim, and whatever he asked for provided to him in quite some plush comfort. She smiled as she approached.

“Mr Vasiliev sends his apologies, Mr Osterhagen, however he has been detained for longer than expected at the hospital. I’m assured Mr Marveet will make a recovery. In the meantime he extends an invitation to continue your conversation at a later time.” She presented a device containing the details. A car had been arranged for the time shown. Kristian only had to turn up. “We would of course advise you against discussing the things you may have seen or heard tonight. The family takes its privacy quite seriously. I’m sure you understand.”

She stood back, and gestured a hand at the door. “The rest of the evening shall, of course, be our pleasure to accommodate as a token of gratitude. We hope you continue to enjoy your time at Nebesa’s Gate.”

[[Freeing Xander up. Hopefull that works for all ]]

[Xander]

Xander grumped though only inside his head. He gave the aide a knowing nod. Why the fuck couldn't this end now! Stupid fucking mouth.

But he took the information and would adhere to the meeting. That was something he'd rather not have hanging over his head and who the hell was he going to tell about what happened? Kristian knew no one other than himself. And Xander's only contacts knew him by other names. So who the fuck would he tell? If only they knew.

Xander walked slowly out to the bar with the fresh bottle of whiskey still in his hand, the glass was emptied several times over and if he knew any less he'd say he'd probably had a bit too much to drink if he were driving home. But he wasn't. And he wasn't fall down drunk yet. Though he should be. He should lose the time and place and be heady for a good long while. He'd just witnessed a murder after all.

Xander sat down at the bar next to a man who looked familiar but it was the images of boxing gloves that floated through his aura that gave him any idea of what the man did for a living. And probably why he looked familiar. He leaned against the bar a seat away from the boxer with a guffaw. "So that fucking happened."

He climbed into the seat next to him and set the bottle down between them. "I should probably share this." Xander was about to blurt out 'You don't want anything unopened from the bar this night. No telling who else spiked the drinks in an unfavorable way.' but he only thought it and smiled at his new bar mate. "Kristian Osterhagen, Antiquities. Drink with me."