our war : tino

[anya czarina petrova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #772244 8px solid; border-bottom: #772244 10px solid; background-color: #ffeedd; background-image: url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Caution/24o0v2t.png);] [atrb=width,400] the little victories i'll miss the wind was bitter, raw, lashing out at her in the anger that winter seemed to bring forth. this season brought on depression, administering thousands of little pills in array of colors, but all fought the same cause. like soldiers off to war, cars in the streets, leaves on the ground - same purpose, different shapes, and different colors. It was a cold world, colder with the falling of temperatures, and this city was dull and lifeless, no hum of life despite the horns of cars and the chatter of phone conversations. Lifeless and unsuspecting, some of them would be victims, all of them would be victims. For what she was planning spared no soul, it was an attack on all, a grand announcement. She was anya petrova, once unknown to this city, just a student, a pharmacist down on 53rd. they would come to know her as the hellbringer, the Russian bratva leader, a Satanist, a sinner, the one who brought the reign of terror. She was not a woman that would be disrespected or disregarded as harmless, for she was not and she was never raised to be. She was raised to be a leader, raised to be a killer and if she didn’t fulfill the purpose for what she was raised for, than she was more useless than a bastard child spawned from unprotected fornication. She needed an inside man in the police department and she had to find the weakest link that was still strong enough to fulfill the duty. It wasn’t hard to sort them out; the lot of the patrol were similar copies of another. They followed the same book, wore the same uniform, and drove the same car with different numbers attached to it. They were drones, pawns even, to protect a city that didn’t deserve to be protected. What good was boston bringing in this world? It was a hellishly fun place to call a playground and connor Selwyn didn’t want to share the sandbox. He brought forth rat dogs, skanky women, useless siblings, and above all, a whiney bitch to call the queen. Yet, they were so superior because they played dirty and they acted on feelings. The Russians, no, the Russians weren’t the same. They didn’t base their standings on family, familial ties meant little to none. See what natalia’s father done to her father? It meant nothing. She may have won this title from inheritance alone, but she is damn if she wasn’t worthy. She trained for this day, for this title, and for this play of dominance. She lived a separate life, she made up an entire new alter ego just to convince the world around her that she wouldn’t follow suit. She was clever, she wasn’t stupid. She knew what she was doing the moment she set out to do it. She played coy and acted out the tale of a woman who came from a crime family that wanted nothing to do with it. It was all false; she was just well hidden underneath a sheath of lies. She waited for this day, for the fall of her cousin and for a congregation of a following. Those who didn’t know her before would know her now. Those who didn’t know what fear was or how terrifying the dark was, they would soon find out. No one would be there when the explosions rang off, no could call you to comfort you, no one could stop the loss you’d feel or those last thoughts as they flashed before your eyes. The citizens of boston deserved to know what they were pinned underneath. They were her ants underneath her jimmy choo’s and she wanted them to feel stomped on before it was reality. Impatient, she glanced at the time on her watch. She was early and he was late – these roles should have been reversed if this was based from the readings of a magazine. She let out an irritable noise followed by a tangible breath of frosty air. What man could be of any use to her if he was going to be untimely? She would better judge him, but she would scold him for this. She came alone, she wasn’t afraid to be set up when truthfully the department had nowhere to base an argument over meeting a police officer. They didn’t know her attentions, only one other did and it was a harmless meeting. She could play coy, act as if she was nothing more than a loose woman who had a fascination and a drive to sleep with men in uniform or fancy dress. She didn’t run on emotion, she ran on sensation. This Tino Mancini she read on, she had a suspicion that he had something to hide. If he had something to hide than she could threaten to expose it. No one wanted something of that sense and she smiled as she saw him approach. Well built, a smaller frame, but it wasn’t without muscle tone. If she had a type, he was it, but he wasn’t her lap dog nor was she interested in taking him to bed. She had a purpose and she had a goal. He was a step in the preparation, but even he wouldn’t know what the true reign of terror would be until it was here. That was how she wanted it, how she liked it. ”you’re late by my standards. What sort of a man could be so careless when it comes to the desires of a woman?” tag: tino word count: 923 notes: a few brief words.

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[TINO AMADORE MANCINI]

[style= width: 350px; height: 250px; overflow: auto; font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; color: black; text-align: justify; padding: 10px; line-height: 11px]Tino’s head fell into his hands, his fingers sifting through his dirty blonde hair with a mix of frustration, stress, and fatigue. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his eyes shut tight and his mind racing. ”You okay there, buddy? one of his colleagues poked his head into Tino’s office, causing Tino to lift his head almost instantaneously. ”Yeah, I’m good, man, thanks,” he gave the man a lopsided smile, his eyes clearly tired and his face paled almost to the color of his bones themselves. Blue eyes shifted back to his computer screen reading and re-reading the words that had been transferred between him and one of the queens of crime herself. An insider? The words twisted Tino’s gut; there was one thing that came from this that truly racked his nerves, and that was the fact that this woman knew what he was up to. He felt as if his hands were tied and he really had no option here. If he didn’t cooperate then she could throw him under the bus, but if he did cooperate then he could be throwing himself under the bus. He clicked out of the instant message and looked at the watch that wrapped around his left wrist.

Fenway Park; he hadn’t been to a baseball game in years if felt like. He may be a Boston native, and that may make him a criminal for not being a baseball fan – particularly, a Red Sox fan – but he wasn’t. It was already five o’clock, so he knew he had to be getting his façade ready to face the Russian bratva leader. God, he hated this already. He was fine making drug deals, but the moment the woman said “insider,” he knew that this was not about any ordinary drug deal. Meaning, this was already way out of his league from the start. He stood up from his office chair, and pushed it in close to his desk. He pulled his suit jacket back on, putting his arms through the sleeves and pulling the jacket to fit perfectly around his bodice. He kept his black tie somewhat loose around his neck – he always hated the feeling of a tight tie for it always made him feel as if he were choking – and he walked out of his office. He said his farewells to his fellow officers in the narcotics division, those who knew of what he was up to and those who don’t know. As he exited the building, the cold air chilled him to the bone. The cold burning his cheeks, and he rubbed his hands together in a feasible attempt to keep him warm. He was a summer kind of guy; he’d rather walk around in a tank top than freeze to death.

Tino pulled a cigarette from the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket, placed it in his mouth as he reached for his lighter before lighting it. He inhaled deeply, taking in the chemicals and deadly toxins with pleasure. A sense of relief seemed to wash over him with each inhalation. Relief at this point in Boston? That was about as possible of catching Santa in your house on Christmas Eve. The amount of shit that was going around in this city now a days was depressing – just straight up depressing. What ever happened to the Boston he knew and loved as a child? Now the weight of the city lay heavily on his shoulders, despite being a “dirty” cop, being a cop none the less seemed to put this sense of responsibility over him. A responsibility he still wondered why he accepted in the first place.

Tired eyes finally rested upon the woman as he entered the park. She was beautiful – but he shouldn’t expect anything less from Anya Petrova. Everyone knew of her beauty – but everyone also knew that she was slightly insane. The fact that she was now the “leader” of this so called Russian “bratva” seemed to give away that fact. Insanity runs in crime. It’s inevitable. Her words caused him to roll his eyes and let out a small laugh. ”That’s just something you’ll have to get used to, I believe,” his eyes watched her carefully. He was unsure what to think of this meeting, but he knew he was trapped from the moment her message popped up on his computer screen. It was a risk for her to do so, seeing as he was on a police computer, and it could easily be tracked and seen by other officers. So, he agreed to meeting her instead. Whatever this was, he knew that he wouldn’t want to be found out just as much as she wouldn’t want either. He took another long drag of his cigarette. What was he getting himself into?

”So, what did you want?”

Direct and straight to the point. He wanted this over with.

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