04-04-2023, 02:24 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-04-2023, 02:49 AM by Alistair Bishop.)
Go rest, Alistair
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Alistair's heart was racing, and sweat was falling down his face. The threat had instantly shaken him. A man had been gagged, and a threat was made if a call wasn't made to someone who owed money. What the fuck had he walked into? This was not some two-bit territory booker with some questionable friends. This was different. Life or death was at stake.
A better life, a job, and making it in fighting were the reasons he had come to Russia. But now, he was standing in front of a mob boss, waiting for his life to end.
As Alistair was sweating, Mr. Petrovich paused and watched him. A young woman strutted out from the side and opened a cigar box. The tension grew as a cigar was selected, and the sound of sharp metal filled the room. The cigar box was snapped shut.
Alistair had stared with sweat rolling down his brow as Mr. Petrovich looked up and rolled his first big toke. "I'm just busting your balls," Mr. Petrovich quietly laughed, speaking in a thick Russian accent. The air left the room. "I don't want you to kill anyone. I'm just having some fun." The man in the gag on the other hand was going to die, as he had stolen money and messed with Mr. Petrovich's daughter. "You don't mess with my money or my family. You, on the other hand, I have brought here for a reason."
The guard was motioned by Mr. Petrovich to take the gagged man out of the room. His stare turned to Alistair. "My plan for you is simple. You are here to make me money. Protect my investments, my clubs, and of course, entertain me."
Alistair stared blankly at Mr. Petrovich, his body numbing, feeling as he does before a match, one that separates his body from his innermost being.
The ladies reentered the room and slithered back to the sides of Alistair. "Ladies, see my boy out. Make sure he makes it home. Go rest, Alistair. I want you rested up for next weekend. I have a high-roller game happening, and I need some entertainment for them."
(closed - moving on to a new thread)
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Alistair's heart was racing, and sweat was falling down his face. The threat had instantly shaken him. A man had been gagged, and a threat was made if a call wasn't made to someone who owed money. What the fuck had he walked into? This was not some two-bit territory booker with some questionable friends. This was different. Life or death was at stake.
A better life, a job, and making it in fighting were the reasons he had come to Russia. But now, he was standing in front of a mob boss, waiting for his life to end.
As Alistair was sweating, Mr. Petrovich paused and watched him. A young woman strutted out from the side and opened a cigar box. The tension grew as a cigar was selected, and the sound of sharp metal filled the room. The cigar box was snapped shut.
Alistair had stared with sweat rolling down his brow as Mr. Petrovich looked up and rolled his first big toke. "I'm just busting your balls," Mr. Petrovich quietly laughed, speaking in a thick Russian accent. The air left the room. "I don't want you to kill anyone. I'm just having some fun." The man in the gag on the other hand was going to die, as he had stolen money and messed with Mr. Petrovich's daughter. "You don't mess with my money or my family. You, on the other hand, I have brought here for a reason."
The guard was motioned by Mr. Petrovich to take the gagged man out of the room. His stare turned to Alistair. "My plan for you is simple. You are here to make me money. Protect my investments, my clubs, and of course, entertain me."
Alistair stared blankly at Mr. Petrovich, his body numbing, feeling as he does before a match, one that separates his body from his innermost being.
The ladies reentered the room and slithered back to the sides of Alistair. "Ladies, see my boy out. Make sure he makes it home. Go rest, Alistair. I want you rested up for next weekend. I have a high-roller game happening, and I need some entertainment for them."
(closed - moving on to a new thread)