The Deal with the Bratva

Alexei's Fate

Alexei never wanted any of this.

A gun against his head, a blow to the face and a threat against his family's small convenience store. A simple threat: podavat' ili umirat'... Submit or die.

They didn't look like ordinary criminals, the group of men whom trapped him in a circle were all smartly dressed in suit and ties. They didn't look like the petty thieves that ran across the slums of Leningrad.

This really wasn't good.

He had only heard legends about the men in the shadows, whom would force local businesses into giving them money by 'offering' protection and prepare to attack the moment they stopped. He thought that Stalin had gotten rid of organised crime when he came to power, yet it was 1935 and nothing had changed.

Alexei was confident that the Mafia had kidnapped him, the last thing he could remember was that he was walking back from the factories. He was tired, he was overworked, and Stalin demanded an increase in production. He remembered someone pulling him into the nearest alleyway and stuffing his mouth with a cloth before he could scream. The next thing he knew he woke up, tied to a chair, inside a dimly lit room, it must have been in the alleyways as he could barely see anyone walk past the windows. The room was almost like it was a bar room, with a few doors leading to other rooms – one potentially being their boss' quarters.

"So? Your choice?" The man with the gun had bright blonde hair, his sleeves were rolled up to reveal a dragon tattoo on his left arm. His eyes showed no emotion and his body was relaxed, he would have had no trouble at pulling the trigger. The thought of this made Alexei shiver and his eyes began to water, he tried to open his mouth but very few words came out.

"Please... don't hurt me, or my family. They've done nothing wrong."

It seemed that his answer didn't impress the men, they thought that this young man would have a bit more spine – or would at least agree to serve them. The blonde simply raised an eyebrow "Your family? Ah, da. They run the Golovin Magazin, we've yet to retrieve our tribute from them. Do you know what we could do to your family? To your sister?"

At the mention of his sister, the colour from Alexei's face drained completely. He pictured his younger sister, whom was almost a spitting image of him: long, wavy black hair, deep green eyes, a blind devotion to Stalin and only the bright young age of 13. He didn't know what they could do to poor Oksana, he was sure that he didn't even want to know. They could abduct her, they could murder her, they could even...

"Do we have to beat an answer out of you? So be it." The blonde quietly whistled and the rest of the men crowded around him. One by one, they landed blow after blow on Alexei's face and stomach. It felt that each punch to the stomach was taking the breath from his lungs, it felt like torture. "Otvet' mne!" The men demanded an answer, they wouldn't stop until he responded.

The returning thought of his sister's fate almost made Alexei sick to his stomach, Oksana must not be involved in this. 'Blyat. I have to be a responsible adult. I have to be a man. I must not let my family get involved in this. Sure, I could risk a lot for this but if that's the case I can always pull the trigger myself.' He took a deep breath and wriggled around in his binds as he tried to articulate his words properly. It was almost as if he had admitted defeat.

"...Fine. As long as you don't harm my family, I'll do whatever you want. If you want me to submit, I will. If you want me to work for you or to be your mole, I will. Just don't hurt my family." Tears almost forced their way down Alexei's face but he remained strong. The punching slowed to a halt, which gave him some time to catch his breath. His face was bloodied and he was hoping that his stomach wasn't too damaged.