come back and haunt me [konstantine]

[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] Running in circles, chasing our tails eight years of living in boston and she never once found her way down to the waterfront. of course, she knew what lay hidden behind the buildings, the chilling truth behind it all. this is where the russian mafia staked it's ground and claim, this was there territory. she should have, by all accounts, started working for them when she entered the states for college. she chose to avoid it, for at the time she wanted nothing to do with this life she was born into. she still believed strongly in her mind that she did not want this, but her heart was conflicted. she was raised to be a leader and at heart, she was a leader. yet she chose a profession where she stood behind glass and poured pills into bottles. she wasn't exactly sure why she chose pharmacy, but now she knew more than any other person out there when it came to drugs. the russian's could have an advantage with her on their side, but there was nothing there anymore. natalia had failed and albeit very miserably resulting in her death and everyone around her. the russian mafia was no more if you asked around the area. she squared her shoulders as she walked, with her head pointed down and her hair blew against the whipping winds. it chilled her to the bone, dusted her skin with a raw red that was not welcomed but accepted as it were. she didn't want to think of the carnage that they told her father when she was by his side for the summer. he looked at anya and nodded, that was all he did. she was being sworn as a new leader - she didn't want any part of it. it was not to be confused with cowardice or silly notions of romance - anya didn't want any part of what natalia mutilated by her rule. natalia wasn't the brightest creature, she was arrogant and haughty, her decisions were poor. anya petrova was nothing like her cousin and she did not want the men that knew her cousin to look at her in the same light. anya was intelligent and if some fool wanted to be the master of all the mafia than he could have it. otherwise, if and when anya would step in as leader was at her decision and she saw it fit to let it die. pulling out the key to the old headquarters, she turned the key and pushed the heavy door open. wiping her feet on the mat she bent down and pulled two gloves from the box she picked up a week prior and pulled them. she turned to grab the bucket filled with various cleaners and mop from her last visit. this was what she took to doing on her evenings rather than drinking with coworkers. no matter how many times this one man in particular "hinted" which was him all but humping her leg repeatedly asking her to go out; she wouldn't spend an ounce of her spare time with a man like himself. he was years older and he probably blew dust from his dick and probably had no idea on how to even eat a woman. she was interested - she was completely and utterly selfish in bed. that's ultimately what his goal was and she puts her needs flat out on the table and first and if they couldn't please her, their dick wasn't getting wet. that was just how she worked: her needs first, the man second. she pushed open the door and kept it propped open with one of the cement block she was sure was used to break fingers in a cruel fashion. while the idea of torturing a skunk that sprayed on the person was amusing, anya wouldn't be using it for anything of the sort. she set out her cleaners on the table she cleared off first. the floors only needed three more scrub downs before they would glisten free of any blood, scuffs, grime, or dust. running the water until it was scalding, she measured with precision how much cleaner she needed to the amount of water. she sighed, she hated cleaning such carnage, but it was almost gone. if anyone came into the flat, it looked as if it was getting ready to be filled once again. anya threw away anything and everything that was blood spattered, anything that wasn't valuable was thrown and anything beyond repair was thrown. in the end, it was practically empty except for filing cabinets, safes, and locked weapon cases. she didn't hear anyone come up to the headquarters, she could hear the boats moving and cars rumble by from the open windows. standing, she stood by a window to breathe in air, that was probably not fresh but it was all that she had to breathe in. could she truly run such a mafia? she knew she could, she could have done it better than natalia. if it had been anya who ran the show from the beginning, they would still be on top and not so many would have died. they had good people, a little rough and some much less to be desired, but they served the bratva well and now all of them, dead. she spent hours cleaning their blood from this room and now she stood, alone in it's emptiness. turning she met the eyes of another and instantly she was on guard. how dare she allow herself to be caught off guard in the first place? Coming back as we are tagged konstantine words 926 notes hope this is ok credits irisheyes of C.20

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[KONSTANTINE DMITRI KIR]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px;] I REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE DRIVING we gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way? [/style][style=background-color: 1b1b1b; width: 200px; height: 300px; float: right; border: 0px solid #0e0e0e; padding: 8px; color: 454545; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;]konstantine spent much of his time alone. he was a solitary man, despite his experience being a soldier both before and after his initiation into the bratva. he was quiet unless there was a necessity for him to speak. this often left him alone since most people enjoyed company that actually talked back. it never bothered him though. it was an admitted lone wolf. however, he would be required to do some talking if he was going to accomplish the mission he set for himself. when the bratva was slaughtered by connor selwyn, konstantine had miraculously lived. he had believed himself dead, as had connor or he never would have left that day. he'd bled so much that he had almost died from blood loss before his wounds could kill him. he had scars littering his body from that day, mixtures of knife and gunshot wounds: whatever weapons connor felt like using at the time. he'd been the bodyguard assigned outside of natalia's quarters as she fucked some random member of the mafia. distracted, and disgusted, by the sounds coming from the room, he'd been a second off beat as connor came down the hallway and shot him. the wound caught him square on his knee cap, taking him to the ground with the crippling pain. he had a high threshold of pain, however, and he'd managed to stab connor in his calf as the man advanced on him. that action had warranted him the thick scar from the bottom of his ribcage up to his armpit on his left side where connor had gouged him and pulled upward with his knife. next came the punch to his windpipe that had shut down his breathing, followed by a clever twist of a knife through his ribcage that had only barely missed his heart. his stomach had been reconstructed because of that one. the final blow was a knife cut around his throat, stemming at his left ear and crossing beneath his chin almost to his right ear. this cut wasn't as deep as the others, it had really only barely cut through the surface of his skin, but the blood was so dramatic and instant that connor hadn't finished the job and cut his head off. left to drown in a pool of his own blood, konstantine had been helpless to assist natalia as the irishman burst into her room and killed the man she was fucking before killing her as well. she was a stupid, self-centered bitch. she should've seen it coming. after what she'd done to eli byrne, connor's lover and now-fiancée, she should have expected him to retaliate. konstantine had been the head of that operation, a fact connor didn't know, and he'd raped the woman multiple times. he knew the atrocities she'd been through since he'd personally administered most of them. he had expected connor to show up, he just hadn't know when to expect him. the warehouse had been destroyed as well from the irish truck bombs connor had thrown in an attempt to burn the place down. he still remembered that heat; he had a scar from where he'd been burnt on his wrist by the licking flames. ironically enough, blood did nothing to stop the burning flames, but it had eaten the blood flooding the floor, turning the bodies into charred, unrecognizable masses. it covered the irishman's tracks, removing the evidence, but it made a horrendous mess. konstantine had done little to cleanse the place, not having the desire, but he'd seen it changing every day over the past few weeks. he knew it was her. anya petrova, natalia's cousin and the rightful heir to the bratva. he knew of her, of course he did. he'd worked for her family; he'd been very high up in the ranks of protecting them in fact. now, he was the only one left in the states, and he needed a leader. he wasn't cut out to be a leader himself. he didn't want it. he preferred the secondary role of soldier. he was a violent, war-like man with no desire to be a figurehead. he preferred the killing and the planning with none of the business. the petrovas could keep that shit. he'd begun to map out her usual schedule, knowing when she got off work at the pharmacy down to the hours she spent at the warehouse and then returned to her apartment. walking into the abandoned warehouse, he smelled the familiar scent of dried blood and soot, a smell that curdled his stomach whether he cared to admit it or not. stalking through the burnt out rooms, he caught sight of her cleaning and he moved toward her through the shadows. he knew by the way she moved that she was unaware of his presence, but he didn't intend to spook her. he wondered about her motives in being here at all. she hated the bratva, he knew that much by how distant she'd been when natalia was in charge. she wanted nothing to do with it, and he got the impression she would rather it die in a hole somewhere than to be revived. but he needed it revived. he needed connor selwyn dead, and he couldn't do it alone. the bratva had been his company - his family even, if you're sentimental enough to use such terminology - and he knew, and wanted, nothing else. anya was the key to having that once more. she said nothing as he finally caught her attention and she rose to look at him. she was a devastatingly beautiful woman, one he'd like to fuck, but he wouldn't. she was off limits. business and pleasure never mixed for him. he actually killed most of the whores he took to his bed because he was a violent, unfeeling douche bag. such was his existence. pushing thoughts of fucking her hard against the wall out of his mind, he slid his hands into the pockets on his black leather jacket and returned her intense gaze with an impassive look of his own. "you've been busy, princess," he commented, referring to her by her nickname throughout the bratva. she was a princess until she took on the role of queen, and he honestly didn't know if he could convince her to take that role. he could only hope to try. [style=letter-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: 2px solid; padding: 2px; font-size: 9px;] IDK IDC | ANYA | COMPLETE here are the notes [/style]

table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0

[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] Running in circles, chasing our tails her life had become remarkably average during college and now after as a pharmacist. that was the way she wanted it, because this life she was literally ridding the walls of this warehouse from was gone. with natalia and it crashed and burned, she was careless. she was raised to be careless, she wasn't raised the way anya and her brothers had been raised. they didn't fool around, natalia did. not everything they wanted was given to them, but with their cousin anything she thought of on a whim was hers. their uncle should have known he was setting his daughter up for failure when he spent little time training and honing her skill set. to be a leader it was more than just having the proper personality for it. natalia just had the cold and cruel personality down to a science, but her skills lacked. in anya's eyes, natalia lacked overall and that was why they failed. she didn't want to fail the bratva and it was precisely why she chose to let it stay stagnant. there was no one left in the states from the old bratva according to her knowledge and she wasn't about to call in recruits. she was simply telling everyone that everything was running smoothly, because things were in her personal life. the business life of the bratva was radio silence and she didn't want to disturb it. now she was joined by someone who she was sure didn't want this lifestyle to end. she wasn't a pacifist, and she wouldn't be mistaken for it, but they simply had little to no resources to rebuild a lacking empire. she knew of only few people she trusted to call upon to bring them over to the states. her brothers at young ages of 24, 22, and 20, a few of the boys she grew up with, some of her brother's friends. the rest were too old, but they were reliable and they could teach, they would have to call upon relatives of the bratva men that died within this warehouse. this man, she didn't know him and if she had ever met him, she didn't recall him well enough for it to matter. she took in his features and his manner of dress. she didn't trust him, but she was sure she knew what he came here. to pitch the idea of being his leader once more or perhaps he wanted to be the leader himself. if it was something else, like to pay a debt, anya wouldn't reach out to the limited resources the bratva had. this man didn't know how bad off the bratva was that natalia left. the resources weren't there, the property damage, things were stolen, money was embezzled. natalia was literally the worst leader this bratva could have chosen, but it wasn't anya's place to complain over what was done. she had to fix it now to the best of her abilities and the bratva had to lie low. if they went to mess around with the irish, they would ruin themselves before they began. everything about the russians were lacking and they were prideful few, anya wanted the resources and capital to back them up, not just the man power. men were not hard to sway when it came to giving them an opportunity to show their strength and skills. they would come running, she knew it well - natalia proved it all by spreading her legs for a good fuck. she arched an unimpressed eyebrow at his comment on keeping her busy. for he time she had been cleaning this warehouse, she knew she had a fly on the wall following her. now her suspicions were right, he finally came to meet her. she wouldn't underestimate him, she was sure he knew as much about her as he needed to. where she worked, where she lived, her day to day routine. it bothered her in one way and it did not in the other. this was as to be expected by someone that worked for the bratva. if he was indeed the lone survivor, then he was capable of many things she was sure and she wouldn't turn her back on him. she was respectful of all the people in this business around her having a wide skill set. the term princess, however, she hated it. she was no princess, she wasn't spoiled like natalia was. she was anya petrova, a woman who worked harder than her late cousin ever did for what she had in her life. natalia was a princess, spoiled, haughty, lazy. anya scowled at the term, even if she knew he was only using the term they all came to call the women. anya was a lady, a woman of power (or well she could be easily) she was not a girl spoiled by her daddy's wealth. if it had been her over natalia, the irish wouldn't have taken over and destroyed what thy had. it all could have been avoided, yet it wasn't because of family hierarchy and succession. "Do not call me 'princess,' as I do not find the term one gram on endearing or respectful. My name is Anya and that is what you shall call me. Is there reason why you're bothering me, little fly? I've had this feeling you've been buzzing around my head this week past and now I know I was right. Is there something you want? Money, there is none. Everything this bratva was burned alongside it's pitiful leader." Coming back as we are tagged konstantine words 921 notes hope this is ok credits irisheyes of C.20

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[KONSTANTINE DMITRI KIR]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px;] I REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE DRIVING we gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way? [/style][style=background-color: 1b1b1b; width: 200px; height: 300px; float: right; border: 0px solid #0e0e0e; padding: 8px; color: 454545; overflow: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;]he knew every detail about the russian bratva that there was to know. before he'd been initiated into their ranks, he had been a soldier in the russian military. his life had always been militaristic, from the time he was a child on the streets breaking other orphans' fingers to get their food until the time he was a young man, having been adopted by a general in the russian army. his adoptive father raised him to channel his natural violence to a greater means: war. it had worked. konstantine had become a colonel in the army, after he joined at the age of eighteen, moving through the ranks much faster than anyone around his age. but he always had a stubborn streak. he'd been raised to know good war discipline and technique, and his sharp tongue got him in trouble with his superiors. he saw them as stupid men, men who made choices depending on their emotions and not what was best for the military. on one particular mission, his company was sent into a no man's land: a place where they would surely die. konstantine argued with his superiors that it was a horrible idea, an idea that was leading them all straight to their death. no one listened to him, and he was ordered to lead them in. the mistake led to every one of his men being killed, excluding himself and one other man whose legs were destroyed from the waist down. instead of allowing the man to suffer, even as he plucked shrapnel out of his own skin and tried to calm the ringing in his ears, konstantine put his last man out of his misery with a bullet directly through his temple. after that day, he'd lost his control over his violent nature altogether. the dark side that had ruled him as a child took over completely, and he lost all sense of care about his country. all he could see was the goal to kill the men who had sent all of those soldiers in to die such senseless deaths. he'd taken them out methodically and secretively. no one knew who killed them, only that they died of heart failure, or food poisoning, or suffocating in sleep. during this time of methodically planning out the deaths of the men who had betrayed his company, he found out the mission was set to fail from the beginning. failure brings sympathy, and the army had little sympathy from the citizens of russia. with the loss of so many men - men with families and friends and children - the country rallied to the army's cause. the idea sickened konstantine, and he ruthlessly murdered the last two generals with no remorse. the government never found him out, but the russian mafia did. since he'd successfully removed his ability to ever meld back in to normal society - thanks to his murderous personality and warlike ways - he slipped into the mafia easily. they were a notoriously violent group with little honor or loyalty, and konstantine rose through their ranks as swiftly as he had in the russian army. he brought a sense of order to the disorderly unit, and his loyalties only lied with his leaders. he was born to be a soldier, a follower and not a leader, but he refused to follow a leader who he didn't respect. because of his close involvement in the russian bratva, he was familiar with the petrova family and their internal squabbles. the woman before him was the rightful heir to the seat of power - being a female didn't make her any less eligible for the russians who didn't care if their heirs were male or female - although her cousin had been his former mistress. natalia had only been in charge because anya's father had handed over control to his younger brother who died in a skirmish with the irish mob. his death gave the leadership to natalia who was a lusty, mouthy young woman with little sense in her pretty little head. konstantine had shown her respect because she was the one chosen to lead, but he'd never liked her, and he'd even turned her down when she wanted to sleep with him. he knew he would have put a bullet through her head if he'd ever fucked her because she annoyed the shit out of him, and he would rather remain faithful to his cause than kill the leader just to get his dick wet. he didn't quite understand the shifting in power within the petrova family - because he wasn't a power-hungry man himself, he didn't fathom people fighting to control other people - but it ultimately didn't matter to him. all he could see was that anya was the rightful heiress, the person he should be following, and she was doing nothing to lead. it frustrated him, although he hid it well, and he had an urgent desire to groom her and mold her into the leader he knew she could be. he knew she was different from her cousin, more disciplined and far more intelligent. she didn't kill for power which meant she deserved it more. he could follow her, and he knew it. he just had to convince her to lead. her irritation at the pet name he pinned on her was obvious as she glared at him, and he smiled slightly in the face of her ire. honestly, he liked fiery women, and he could tell she was one. this arrangement would certainly be an interesting one. "i will be your fly as long as you put off what is rightfully yours," he noted, not taking offense to her jab. she knew he had been tailing her; that suited him just fine. knowing of his presence meant she expected him, and he wanted it that way. he would shadow her as long as it took to coerce her into her place. "i don't want, or need, money. i have enough to get by, and that's all that matters," he noted, sliding his hands into his pockets as he watched her. "i want you." he paused for a moment, pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. "i want you to take your place where you belong. fix what your idiot cousin destroyed. help me take down connor selwyn." [style=letter-spacing: 2px; border-bottom: 2px solid; padding: 2px; font-size: 9px;] IDK IDC | ANYA | COMPLETE blah, i should have replied sooner /slacker [/style]

table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0

[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] Running in circles, chasing our tails She knew what he wanted but she wasn't sure if she was ready to leave what she started. She was currently in every sense of the word a no body. To become the Russian mafia leader like she was always meant to be left meaning the life of someone who didn't matter behind. In this life she was currently living she awoke every morning alone with only the thoughts if an ordinary working soul. She had to worry about what she was going to wear underneath her white lab coat, what she was packing for lunch and how she would style her hair. The heavy worries of a mafia leader didn't weigh her down in the morning and she didn't know if she wanted these burdens. She knew she could do the bratva better than Natalia ever could have, but was it worth it? Anya had a normal life going for her, she was naturally hesitant, but she didn't see much of a choice. Sighing she watched this man as he spoke to her, generally not amused by his antics. his words were reassuring, but she was hesitant to give up this life she had set for her but she knew it wasn't for her. there was something else she was meant to achieve and administering drugs wasn't what she was born to do, this was what she was born and raised to do. her father trained her and her talents were extensive, but she was forced to live a normal life and now she felt attached to it. She didn't want to leave it all behind. To be in a mafia, it took time and dedication, along with the skill set she already acquired she shrugged his shoulders, rolling them to ease tension. She moved closer to him, standing in front of him as she stared him down. He wanted a leader, because she could tell he wasn't capable of ruling with a level head. It was obvious that Natalia was unable to do the same as well, and i showed from past events. Yet the man, Connor Selwyn, was what the prime target against them. He wasn't invincible and despite the Irish's wealth, she knew it wasn't all from their earning. They were getting cuts from businesses and it was something that they would have to do as well. Yet Anya played dirty and she could tell a weak link when she saw one. Reading in the newspaper, she knew that there was a newly revealed heiress and she was throwing a party on a new casino and despite it was for the man Konstantine wanted to take down, it wasn't her plan. Smirking, she placed a hand on her hip and then turned back to her pail. If she slowly moved into this new lifestyle, than it wouldn't be so hard. "Now, listen, little fly, there is more at stake here for me than you. You know I have a life already planned out, a career that eats up time...'" She stepped away, the clack of her heel as she moved away. Anya wasn't naturally a pacer, but when she had the urge she wound walk back and forth weighing options. She was cornered and she knew it, she had to relent but she didn't want to make it look so easy. She didn't want this man underestimating her and she didn't want to be viewed the same as her cousin. Her eyes turned and stared him down. "We need financial backers - it takes more money than what is left in this ruin. I have a plan and it's quite simple, the two of us can do it. We will go to this new casino boat, but we have separate targets. I'll be working to regain the trust of our old clientele base, we need them and they are crucial. You have one person to focus on and I do not care how rough you are with her, whatever method you must take, do it. Tell me your name, soldier, and I'll tell you your target. In other words, I am your leader, but not because you asked me. I was always waiting for Natalia to fail, but our bratva affairs must not intrude or mingle with my career."

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Coming back as we are

tagged konstantine words ideknotes hope this is ok credits irisheyes of C.20

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