Misha
I’ve been in many a creepy building in my days as a Bratva assassin.
I’ll even go so far as to enjoy touring them occasionally, after I’ve cleared everyone out of course.
The basement of this old theater may take the cake, though.
As soon as we walked in, I could feel it.
The air is so thick with evil, and I know these halls have been witness to some of the most heinous horrors imaginable.
Relief floods me at the thought that we found Abby before she had to come here.
Not that Conor’s basement was much better.
Still, having her safely guarded gives me the peace of mind I need to complete this mission.
We sent the other women back to Thunder Bay on one of our jets.
As soon as we get this handled, we’ll sort through everything and make sure they’re taken care of.
I’d feel even better if I had her with me, but she’s being guarded by our best men, including Mila.
There’s no one else I would trust to watch over my girl, and I know now why I was the only one she trusted with Thatcher. Hell, I’m struggling enough as it is.
The threat is gone. You killed every last soldier of Conor’s, save for the ones with him now, and have him totally surrounded.
The plan to take out his entire outfit didn’t originally include me as the one and only assassin, but I couldn’t resist. Gabri insisted that we had plenty of men for the cleanup and that there were better uses of my time.
But I learned long ago that the only way to make sure someone is dead is to kill them yourself.
I also learned that the best way to make sure someone is dead is to cut off their head. Which is why I have one hundred and thirty-one heads strung up like balloons in the auditorium of this “pageant” or whatever the fuck the rat bastard calls them.
House by house, bunk by bunk, I took them out in the night, like a death Santa.
Next time, I should totally wear a Santa suit.
Maybe they won’t scare as easily that way.
The defecation gets old. Of course, I could just kill them in their sleep and avoid that altogether.
But seeing the moment they realize that their pathetic life is about to end is half the fun.
Gabri convinced me to let our men handle the bidders, as long as I got to pick who did the job. So while two of our best men, Rusev and Kirill, stealthily take care of the audience, I’m waiting backstage with the Santori brothers, Teddy, and Thatcher.
“This is why I stay hairless.” Thatcher is the first one to get his dress on at such a speed that I wonder…“You never know.”
“Women don’t have to be hairless,” I sigh.
I’m really not in the mood for his antics right now.
I would have preferred for him to stay home altogether.
I’m not sure who told him about the mission in the first place, between Teddy and Mila.
When he asked if he could join, my answer was a resounding no.
But then he went and pouted to Mila and of course the spoiled brat always gets his way…
“I know, I love Mila’s bus—”
Teddy throws a rolled-up sock at Thatcher’s head, knocking his wig out of place. “Hey! That’s my sister, man.”
“Oh ho, ho, now look who doesn’t want to hear about sisters,” Nikki mumbles as he struggles to zip up his gown.
Gabri steps in, helping him get the job done, and then turns to Nikki to repay the favor. “This was not part of my plan,” he grumbles.
I can’t help but chuckle. “But, Gabri, you look so beautiful.”
“Watch yourself, Mavrin.” His curt tone would be scary enough if he wasn’t trying to put on a long curly wig. “I don’t see your dress.”
“I’m not wearing one.”
He growls. The others don’t seem to care, but smoke is practically coming out of Gabri’s nostrils.
I throw my hands up in surrender. “What? It’ll make for a better effect when I drop the heads if I’m dressed more…menacing.”
“The heads as balloons is wild…You’re wild, man.” Nikki bends over to secure his own wig, then flings his hair back as he stands up. “I love it.”
“Yeah? Just wait for the finale. My pièce de résistance.”
Gabri finally chuckles. He’s the only one who knows, and I swear his eyes lit up when I told him.
Time passes like molasses as we wait for the event to begin.
Luckily, Fitzpatrick didn’t come back here to check on us himself.
I would’ve just recalibrated and killed him here, but I’m quite looking forward to the theatrics.
One of Santori’s men has been on the inside of Conor’s outfit for months, and the lazy bastard trusted him to “watch over the girls.”
Finally, Conor makes the opening announcements. My stomach curdles when his voice rings through the speakers, and my thirst for blood becomes insatiable yet again.
The lighting ensures Conor won’t be able to see past the first few rows, so only those bidders remain alive.
But Rusev makes his way through them as soon as Conor takes his seat, leaving only Fitzpatrick and his right-hand man, McKenzie O’Reilly.
He’s the one who threatened Abby to leave, and notoriously, the worst of his crew.
He’ll regret sending those pictures of what he allowed his friend to do to my sweet angel.
The bidding begins with our men dispersed through the lifeless audience.
They place believable fake bids on “the girls,” a.k.a.
the boys, until it’s time for Abby. The drugs I slipped into Conor’s drink earlier should be wearing off now enough for him to recognize that Abby is, in fact, a man. Thatcher, to be exact.
He leans forward to get a better look. But before he can stand, I drop from the beams above, landing in front of him. Rusev incapacitates him before he can draw his weapon, and Kirill does the same to McKenzie.
“What is all of this?” he growls, trying to sound tough despite his current predicament.
“You wanted payment for Abby, didn’t you?”
“Niamh,” he spits.
“Whatever she prefers. Either way, I came to pay the piper.”
“I sent that invitation to the Santoris. You and I both know a Russian bastard like yourself doesn’t have that kind of cash.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring cash.”
On my cue, one of our men cuts the line for the net that held the “balloons,” and my balloon heads fall gracefully atop Conor and McKenzie.
“One hundred and thirty-one men. That’s really all you had, Fitzpatrick?
I have over ten times that number who answer directly to me. Not bad for a Russian bastard nobody.”
If looks could kill…well, I’d be dead right now. The puny, pathetic wannabe. Both men are trying so hard to play it cool, but their eyes betray them as they look for aid.
“By all means, look around.” I relish the panic on their faces as realization sets in. “I believe what you’ll find is that I own you.”
Teddy, Nikki, and Gabri emerge from backstage, this time in their regular tactical gear, and join Thatcher, who’s still in costume.
“Where, where’s Niamh?”
“Abby is safe. Somewhere you’ll never be able to touch her again.”
Conor spits at my feet. “You can keep that bitch. She was only ever good for opening her legs anyway, but she’s used fucking goods by now.”
I fight the urge to shoot him in the head and end it now. I want to play first. “About that…I appreciate you sending me that album of photos showcasing your abuse.”
I’m not sure where he thinks I’m going with this, but he looks too happy.
“You see, I didn’t take too well to how you treated my lesnaya for so long. In fact, I don’t believe that you should ever abuse women. Didn’t your pa teach you that?”
Conor growls, and I know I hit my mark. Nikki’s hacking skills uncovered some truths about the connection between Abby’s father and Conor’s, and I was inclined to believe that must be why he insisted on marrying her and torturing her all these years.
He’s a monster regardless, but Abby seemed like a targeted choice.
“You see, those pictures, as disturbing as they are, gave me inspiration for how to get revenge for my love. Not that anything in the world would be enough to right the wrongs you did, but I’ll have some pictures of my own by the end of this.”
The confusion in the two men’s eyes brings me a joy I can’t quite describe. I hold up one of the more disturbing images. The only one I haven’t burned yet. “You two are going to recreate this scene.”
Conor studies the image. “No.”
“You will do it if you want to live.”
He laughs. “You’re killing us either way, so why would we do that?”
“You’ll have lost your wife, your outfit, your political standing…everything. Perhaps a fate worse than death.”
He looks from me to his friend, and McKenzie nods. “Okay, we’ll do it.”
“Strip them.”
Rusev and Kirill strip them bare, removing their weapons in the process.
I’m sure he’s fucked a man before, or at least messed around. It’s a gamble, but I highly doubt he’s been fucked. I sigh an internal breath of relief when he motions for McKenzie to bend over.
“Eh, eh, eh. This picture is of McKenzie playing predator.”
He gulps and nods as they switch places. We slipped McKenzie an enhancer pill hours ago, assuming I’m sure the events would normally turn him on, not to think anything of it.
“No lube. I’m sure you didn’t show the same mercy to Abby, but the good news is that McKenzie is so small it shouldn’t hurt that bad.”
Conor winces as his friend tries to ease his way inside him.
“Oh, come on now. Were you that gentle with your victims? This isn’t some bro-bonding lovemaking experience. You’re going to fuck that man as roughly as you did the poor innocent women you assaulted.” I hold my gun to his head. “Do you understand?”
The threat hits its mark, and McKenzie thrusts into Conor, doing exactly as I commanded.
Blood drips between his cheeks, but that doesn’t seem to affect his arousal.
Poetic really, for him to get off on his own pain after inflicting it on so many.
And I certainly don’t mind. He was losing his pathetic dick either way, but it’ll be easier if he’s hard.
I watch diligently, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Both men seem to be reaching their pinnacle at the same time, but to my delight, McKenzie finishes first. He thrusts to the hilt inside his friend, spilling his release, and I make my move, cutting through the very base of his cock in one clean slice.
Before he makes a peep, though, Rusev muffles him and silently severs his carotid artery.
Conor, unaware that the cock that’s buried deep in his ass is no longer attached to his friend, shakes with the need for his own release.
I couldn’t have timed this more perfectly as I repeat my action, this time neutering Fitzpatrick, right before he finished.
His piercing screams fill the auditorium as his member falls to the floor.
“I told you I would take everything from you.” I grin, stepping away to avoid the blood puddle expanding beneath him.
I snap a picture and smile, then fire my gun straight through his head. I could’ve played with him longer, but I’m ready to get out of here.
Turning, I can’t help but chuckle at the four men sitting on the edge of the stage. Teddy looks absolutely mortified, Nikki is rubbing his temples, and Gabri is smiling. Thatcher is bent over, dry heaving.
“Alrighty. Let’s head out.” I leap onto the stage and start making my way to the back, where our car is waiting outside.
“That was…really strange,” Nikki says, walking up beside me.
I laugh. “I don’t know. They were sex offenders! What would you have done?”
“I liked it,” Gabri says as he passes me, taking the lead.
“I just want to go home,” Thatcher whispers as Teddy half carries him out the door.
Lying in bed, rain beating against the window, trashy reality shows on the TV, Abby in my arms.
“Home sounds great.”