Balalaika x Reader (NSFW)

A Problem Package

Welcome to Roanapur.

Thailand's famous port city of sex, drugs, and money. The criminal underworld's capital city. This was not a place where you wanted to be, by any means. Some people come here to die, others believe the city's inhabitants are dead already; hence it gets its name: the city of the walking dead.

The city greets you with a noose by the entrance bridge, but you did not arrive on land, so the threat or invitation of the grim reapers rope was unbeknown to you. You arrived by ship, bound by hands and legs, your mouth gagged; a victim of trafficking. You were caught up in this Thai human kidnapping special as your skin and ethnicity stood out in this country's slums. You were already captured the moment a foreigner like you decided to take the privilege of human rights and quality of life for granted in this country. This scenic vacation turned into a more physical kind of activity trip.

There was about a dozen of you on the ship, knelt or laid down in the warehouse-like storage section; it was a cruise ship. You spoke to nobody, most of them were Asian of some heritage and did not seem to speak English. But even if they did, they would not want to talk, so it didn't matter.

Not like any of you could, with your mouths gagged and all. Thinking of making friends? You really are fucking stupid.

When you arrived at the port, you were all taken and put in the back of separate vans that awaited you. You were split off into 4's, all by these men in suits and masks. After a short journey that felt like the ride to your final destination, you arrived at a warehouse.

The rope on your legs was coming loose. Now was your chance..

As the door opened, you shoulder barged out straight into the masked man, landing on top of him. Using your bound hands, you punched his face like your arms were a hammer, right at his nose. One time, no two, no, make that 4 times. But you did not look at your own mess..

You quickly got up, dashing towards the road, trying to shout at the top of your lungs despite the gag. The adrenaline felt unreal, your legs moved like you were in youth athletics, you did not bother to find out if you were being chased.

Bang, that's what you would have expected to hear. But your legs they just, they just turned to jelly. Your hearing went dull into a blur. You dropped onto the road. A sight of red spreading in your hazy vision. The sounds of people talking. A phone call?

*a ringing in your ears starts to fade away*

"Yeah, one of the packages is trouble. It's one for the club. Provided by.. yeah. yeah." You lose consciousness.

"Hotel Moscow"

You awaken in an office chair, with your arms tied around the back of it. You look around to the site of a big, spacious office, with book shelves against the walls, 2 small windows with blinds to your left side, and a rich wooden desk in front of you.

You had your head down, it was instinct. The pressure you felt made you obey the position of subordinate instinctively..

"Ostav' nas Sergeant." You feel and hear a man walk out of the room behind you. Some Eastern European language, is it Russian? You think to yourself.

You have bigger problems to worry about than what fucking language people are speaking you dumbass.

"Well, well.. I wondered what all of the fuss was about."

A deep, mature voice of a woman spoke from in front of you, as an acquired taste of tobacco filled the room. You go to raise your head to see a b-

"Don't raise your head until i give you permission, you piece of shit"