Corporate Enforcer
- Eddies
- 254,073
Location: Japantown, Jig-Jig StreetTime: 8:00pm
Tags: @Beau Frost
Have You Tried the Borscht?
"Hey baby, you want some company tonight...?"
Ahhh... there was just something about the joytoy catcalls on Jig Jig Street. Sometimes, it made a man forget how pathetic it was to 'pay for company' in the first place. Dmitri glanced at the woman, but nodded as he returned to his noodles. "Not tonight milaya. It's just dinner for me and a quiet night after.".
The Joy Toy pouted like a pro. "Y'know, if you wanted to be a gentleman, you'd buy a girl dinner..."
Dmitri chuckled and turned again to the Joy Toy. She was pretty, in a very slutty kind of way. She had classically Asian features, likely a mixture of Japanese and Korean. He'd... 'solicited her services' on a few different occasions - enough for them to have a bit of banter between them. "You should know better than anyone that I'm no gentleman." The look he gave her seemed capable of motivating a piss-stained bum to take a hot shower and wash away the feeling. Yet she seemed unfazed.
"Fine, have it your way. See you around I guess." The way she walked away was enough to make Dmitri's blood boil, but he meant what he said. Tonight wasn't a night for that, mainly because... well, he just wasn't in the mood for that type of love tonight. He'd probably change his mind in an hour, after another drink.
He slurped down some of the broth of his noodles, and brought his glass up to his lips when he could see the shadow of someone standing behind him... with the accompanying feeling that crawled up one's spine when you were being stared at. Dmitri turned slowly to see who it was behind him while his left hand casually rested on his pistol.
A towering man clad in a black suit with a thick black silk shirt underneath the jacket stood there. There wasn't much exaggeration to say that the man's muscles had muscles, which meant that if he was here for trouble... Dmitri was at an extreme disadvantage. Shortly after Dmitri turned around, the man spoke in a strong, baritone voice: "Дмитрий Антонов? /// Dmitri Antonov?"
Even though he only said Dmitri's name, his Russian accent was thick and obvious. It caught Dmitri slightly off guard; even though there was a Russian ethnic minority in the city, most of them spoke with a watered down, Americanized accent. The man standing in front of Dmitri spoke with a heavy Muscovite accent, of which Dmitri only had an ear to recognize it by virtue of his Grandfather, who was born in Moscow and still carried the accent when he spoke their mother tongue. "Кто спрашивает? \\\ "Who's asking?"
The behemoth of a man glowered at Dmitri with a very Russian expression; undoubtedly sizing up Dmitri with equal measures of intimidation and curiosity. Dmitri met the man's gaze, unwilling to back down. This was his city, and even though this man was a countryman - he wasn't about to disrespect Dmitri in public. Not like this. Eventually, the stalemate would break as an unspoken understanding would pass between the two men. The black-clad man nodded to the street: "Мой босс хочет поговорить с вами, если мы сможем отвлечь вас на несколько минут вашего времени. Пожалуйста. /// My boss wishes to speak with you, if we could trouble you for a few minutes of your time. Please." He extended his hand in a beckoning gesture, and added the polite nicety with an equally conciliatory tone.
Dmitri sucked on one of his teeth as if he were mulling over the request. After a moment's reflection, he downed the remaining sake in his cup, then nodded at the owner of the food booth. He tapped his chip on the payment pad, then hopped off of the stool he was sitting on. He shrugged, then tilted his head. "Прокладывайте путь. \\\ "Lead the way." The man nodded his head and led the way to the street. Dmitri looked around at the carts and booths lining the street. Everyone seemed more interested in whatever they had going on, and this area was frequented by corpo types like him. Seeing two more men dressed like corpos departing together would hardly have stood out as anything other than mundane.
Dmitri would be led to a black car with tinted windows, with the man opening the back passenger door. His hand once again beckoned for Dmitri to enter. He paused as he glanced at the man, but then entered the car. Another man sat within the car next to Dmitri. He was slightly older than Dmitri, maybe by a decade or so; and he carried himself with an air of authority the previous man - likely a bodyguard - lacked. The man eyed Dmitri up and down, with the two men regarding each other in silence until he eventually spoke, this time in english: "I understand you're an... associate of mine."
While the man's english was good - impeccable even; it still bore the tell-tale accent of a Russian. Dmitri knew what he was talking about, but remained silent. It was true; Dmitri's grandfather made him a 'made man' in their life a few years back, when it was clear Dmitri was cut from the same cloth as the old man. Even though their family's former business was defunct, they still had a culture; a code to live by. For a 'made man' to be properly introduced to another such person, a mutual friend would typically introduce the two men. But under the extraordinary circumstances at play here, namely that Dmitri's grandfather was the only person who could make the introduction and he wasn't in the car with them, it was understandable why the man went about this introduction the way he did. Even still, there were rules.
Rules this man obviously understood, as he chuckled to himself with a paternal air and followed up on his previous statement: "Georgy sends his regards... or should I say... Anton Kirilov." Dmitri's expression grew all the more dour. That name had not been uttered beyond the walls of their home for many years. Anton Kirilov was thought to be dead, along with his family. Georgy Antonov was the name his grandfather chose to protect them all; to preserve their family legacy for it to return at some point in the future. Only a handful of people still alive today knew of his grandfather's actual identity, and it would seem this man was among them. "My name is Yevgeny Sokolov, and I'm from the Golytsino Organitskaya in Moscow."
The car began to move as it drove through the streets beyond, giving the two men time to get acquainted. "The pleasure is mine. You seem to know alot about me. Mind telling me why you're here, why you went to all of the trouble, and where the hell we are going?"
Yevgeny smiled: "Those all are fair questions, Dmitri. I will answer those first two questions after we meet up with another associate of mine. He's at the place we are driving to. A small Russian restaurant in Watson - I think you know it."
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