ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-14 10:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !partner thread, killian jones (captain hook), nikolai luzhin |
Who: Nikolai Luzhin vor & Killian Jones plunder
What: New Year, New Clients
When: Beginning of January
Where: The Need/Want
Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised
Warnings: People who are essentially professional criminals having conversations about illegal activities in a club which offers anything you can need or want: adult content is to be expected.
Status: Complete
Facilities such as The Need/Want operated much the same as any type of 'Anonymous' group meeting: everyone knew the hours for the meetings, who would be leading the session, and what would be offered yet no one would admit to knowing any of these things if questioned. They were not so private as to refuse admission to new clients. They were so private new clients drew attention from the staff which alerted Nikolai who was the on-site security for their club. He was the owner's bodyguard according to his taxes. Everyone knew Nikolai was not merely the bodyguard without him having to say. Official titles were sometimes thrown around with Nikolai proclaiming himself the head of security. Truthfully, Nikolai was only inclined to interact with the patrons if he saw a need for a reminder The Need/Want was a business and the patron was not the owner. A new man had made his way into the club earlier yet seemed comfortable with only watching, sitting at a private table, and approaching none of the many luxuries offered inside their doors. Nikolai was approached about him only because he was not ordering anything. There were worries he saw nothing he wanted or he wanted to be offered something without being asked or perhaps he was police trying to catch someone trading what was legal inside The Need/Want yet not so legal outside its doors. Standing at the side of his table, Nikolai clasped his wrist with one hand, letting his arms hang in front of him, "You are new to our establishment. Are you finding it to your liking?" People tended to complicate matters for no reasons Nikolai could understand. Simple questions were often the easiest way to get simple answers: no complications needed. ~*~ After Meara was born, and brought back home, Killian had cut back on his caseload a little - he needed to focus on tending to a newborn, not wanting to leave it all to Regina. Family was important, and so his life became a mixture of cadmium colours ringed beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, days blurring into nights, those days punctuated by changing nappies and warming up baby formula, stuffing handfuls of food into his own mouth when he remembered. But now, things had settled a bit - he could pick up more cases, which was why he was at the Need/Want, since a new client requested an initial meeting here. Sometimes they preferred the office at JR Investigations, sometimes they felt more comfortable in a restaurant or a bar, or in this case, a special sort of establishment. It didn’t matter to Killian, he went wherever the money did. As a PI, he wasn’t always going to take the cases where he sat in a car and observed philandering spouses or whatever the stereotype was. A lockbox filled with gold nuggets, rare coins, gemstones. It didn’t belong to the man who wanted it (some sordid family history he didn’t want to get too in depth with), but then again, Killian didn’t care. He just got paid to find the treasure, so to speak. When approached by whom he gathered was some sort of security, he flashed a crooked grin that reached his eyes. “It’s grand, I like it quite a bit,” he said, and that was the truth. There was something classic about it, something noir - he liked the darkness of it all, both literal and figurative. Those striking blue eyes raked over the man who spoke to him - he looked like he could break a person in half and then calmly stuff the remains into a rubbish bin, so really, dangerous and the type of fellow Killian would usually flirt with. Then again, who didn’t he flirt with. “I’m waiting for a client,” he explained. “Apparently he’s a regular, and wanted to meet here to talk business. But you’ll do for now - come here often?” Wink. ~*~ Sexuality was not something discussed among Vor. Nikolai knew many whose bodies were marked with eyes to indicate they preferred the company of their own gender; where they stuck their pricks was hardly as important as how they conducted themselves with their knives. A wink from a new patron in The Need/Want warranted only a raised brow on his part. He was not precisely the type most wished for or found attractive when they wore the eyes. He knew better than to presume he understood the wants or desires of the individuals who frequented their club. "I am here if the doors are open," Nikolai allowed, "The only times I am not here? I am attending to my first priority. This regular you are to be meeting, have you a name or a description? I know our patrons. I could tell you if you will wait much longer." Business was a private affair when conducted inside their doors. Nikolai had no interest in knowing what business this man wanted with a regular of the club. All he wanted was to offer what he could in way of comfort to a new guest. It was not in his nature to be a gracious host. Kenya would appreciate his efforts to try all the same which meant he would try. Courtesy was as Old Country as himself and this was what Nikolai drew on to appear genial. "I am Nikolai. If anyone claims a security role here, it is mine. I am good for enforcing what few rules exist inside these walls. We do not frown on private business being conducted here. We only become concerned when that business threatens our own. You seem not this type to me though I do wonder at your eyes for you to be sending winks to me with all of the far prettier flesh on display." For Nikolai, the tease was as close to a joking manner as he ever came with anyone other than Kenya or the DJ boy, Alak, for whose family he had worked. ~*~ “Killian,” the Captain introduced himself, and usually the or Hook, if you’d rather was tacked on here - but preferably when he was actually wearing the grotesque appendage. Now he simply had his prosthetic hand, the robotic sort of appearance to it that often inspired curious stares but hardly any questions. People were so reserved about that sort of thing. “It’s a pleasure, Nikolai. I’m a Private Investigator, so no, nothing will be interfering with business here - I presume the fellow I’m meeting will be wanting to mix in some pleasure when we’re done.” As for him, he was considering ordering a drink himself. Something he could nurse, while he took in the ambiance. “And pretty is in the eye of the beholder, my good man. You’re plenty pretty to me.” He enjoyed tall, menacing, and looked like he’d seen the darker side of life. Hook was a man who even enjoyed that sometimes too. “Though I detect a bit of an accent.” His own was a burr of an Irish brogue, bits of English toffee and posh roses filtered in there too; how promising to be foreign in the era of a Trump administration. “What brings you to this side of the pond?” ~*~ Nikolai laughed loudly, a rarity for him under any circumstances much less when in the public eye where he had a reputation to uphold. It was surreal to think anyone would call him 'pretty'. The man wasn't even under the influence of anything. He actually was a pretty sort himself which made his compliments more amusing besides. Nikolai waved away the looks cast his way by those who dared to look at him with questions in their eyes. "You are much more bold than most who speak with me, Killian. I am to the liking of some among my brothers in the Old Country. By some, that is to say few," he clarified, shaking his head, "I do not mind this as I've only had the interest when it was the only option. Prison is a world unto itself." The other PI who came to visit often was not to Nikolai's tastes. He was annoyed by the man easily. His attitude toward the women was fine as was his attitude toward any of the staff. It was his distraction of one of their better attractions -Baby- which cast shadows over him in Nikolai's eyes. There was no room for distractions for the staff at The Need/Want when they were working. They had to always give off the illusion they wanted every customer. Their business was pleasure, fantasy, perfect illusion. Personal devotions had no place in the club while they were on the clock. "I am finding I like you more than other Private Investigator who comes here. Would you care for a drink while you wait? I came here to provide security. I brought the Old Country with me on my skin, in my preferences, and in my heart. Our bar is stocked with much from my homeland. It is also the owner's homeland. Mother Russia, yes? Not so nice as Lady Liberty. Yourself? You come here to America for work or play?" ~*~ A man who had only been with other men in prison - that was what the young ones might call hardcore. Killian could respect that. “Were it another time and place, I’d see if I could shift your interest even outside of the clink,” his grin stretched a bit wider, Cheshire cat and pleased. “However, I suppose even if that’s not an option, we’ll always have vodka - or whatever you recommend, from Mother Russia. That sounds delightful, aye, I could go for a drink.” He was glad that Nikolai sought him out; it was a lot more pleasant to chat with someone than to wait by his lonesome. Arriving early was always something he did, when it came to clients - that way he had a chance to assess the place. “I came here for work as well,” he said. “Had to deliver a final report to a client, and just ended up staying. Sometimes I wonder what possessed me, considering I lost a hand and then literally died - but I suppose I was just destined for this madness.” Besides, it wasn’t in his nature to fuck off just because of a little dismemberment. It was always a pirate’s life for him. “Now I’m curious as to how you landed yourself in prison.” Oh, please let it be for something fantastic like shanking a man with a vodka bottle. ~*~ "I am learning to appreciate this time and this place as it comes. Why do you not come with me," Nikolai gestured with one hand toward the bar, "I will get us my favorite from the stock and take you to watch the club cameras. It keeps you out of sight of the patrons while letting you keep the patrons in sight." He would not miss his client in Nikolai's office. They would have the freedom to be more relaxed without the staff looking; everyone would relax more with the table free for someone interested in the company of a paid employee other than Nikolai. Kenya trusted him to take whomever he pleased to the security office. Theirs was a trust born of necessity as much as earned through right of passage. Nikolai knew he could gather a bottle of Pyat Ozer from the bar along the way and his small refrigerator had delicacies enough to entertain. It would be no bother to take an amusing man away for his own amusement. The club was not under any threat at present. All the other patrons were known. Their security staff was discreetly positioned. Cameras gave him the benefit of being able to get away from the crowd without sacrificing safety. "I may answer your question. If you decide which time I was in colony care, that is to say. I have served three sentences." It was Nikolai's turn to offer a wink. He was Vor. They were proud to serve the full time of their sentences. ~*~ “Oooh, fancy, how can I say no,” Killian was up and following right away, because a good drink and a tour of the private office - that was just the sort of thing to get him to drop his trousers. Well, before. He’d evolved a little since then - perhaps into a posher brand of scallywag, but that was simply something he’d probably never get past. Nor did he want to. It brought him to interesting places. Here he was, about to drink with a multi-sentence prison sentence server. Always delightful when he ran into one of those - he’d never served time in this life, slippery as he was, but in the dreams he’d become adept at picking his way out of any lock, disappearing into the shadows where he belonged. It was a skill, the art of escape. And as he once told Emma, you’d be surprised, what they teach you in the Royal Navy. “So three terms, then?” He leaned against the bar for the moment, sharpness of hipbones pressed against it. A leonine form in black leather, both jacket and boots. “That’s a lot of men.” Oh, ho - but obviously he was impressed; his tone reflected as much. “Let’s start with the first and work our way up.” ~*~ A confused look crossed Nikolai's face as he considered the logic behind Killian's thought process as to how many men he'd seen to or been seen to while inside the penal colony. In Lgov, Penal Colony 3, Nikolai had known a single lover while he had seen to far more men in the first years he had come to stay in Vladimirsky Central. American prisons were made jokes of with their talks of 'dropping the soap.' No jokes existed of such like for Russian prisons. Taking a tray with the bottle of vodka and two tumblers, Nikolai balanced it on his arm as he gestured again to Killian to proceed him, "Toward the edge of the bar there. We are discreet in all things here. Our doors were designed to blend seamlessly with the walls. I made certain my office would open only beside the bar. Easiest way to ensure can always get out to handle problems while ensuring problems not so easy to come to me." He found the notch where the latch existed and tapped the numbers into the number pad to have the handle come unlatched. The door swung open only far enough for the width of a single man's shoulders making it necessary for Killian to step first through the opening while Nikolai followed him. It was a bit like following Kenya, she a sleek thing made of prowling movements and provocative strides while he was the hulking servant stomping decisively behind her. The inner office was narrow yet spacious enough to house three chairs, a host of monitors showing every camera inside and outside the club, the long desk Nikolai worked at, and the small refrigerator which held his personal stock alone. It was designed to allow him to maintain control while interacting with even the most violent of potential offenders; the extra furniture was rarely used by anyone other than Kenya or one of the staff when an incident occurred requiring Nikolai to bring them off the floor to have time to recover. "Please sit," he placed the tray down, opening the bottle to neatly pour two fingers of vodka in each tumbler, "This is Pyat Ozer. Finest vodka in Russia if you are a man who has known punishment. I was sent to Pyatak for a year as punishment for the revolt at Lgov. This prison is famous for its---lack of charms. It lives inside Lake Novozero. The white gulls fly free overhead. They have the only freedom to be found there. Even the guards are prisoners there, slaves to the regime they enforce always. Days are always same there: twenty-two-and-one-half hours inside cell alone, for one-and-one-half hours outside in cage often alone, sometimes with one other prisoner, always watched by guards." Sitting in his familiar chair, Nikolai shrugged, "I learned it was not so much a bad thing to seek flesh company with a man who wore eyes after a year on the island. I knew one man at Lgov before I was placed on the island. After the island? I knew five men at Vladimirsky Central. Freedom was brief for me before I go back to the prison and then I know two men while inside Vladmirsky. In total, I have known eight men in the flesh. I am Vor. No one touches a Vor without permission anywhere. Especially not in the prisons where we earn the right to be Vory v zakone: thieves in law as you would say though the translation is not so good. You think I should have known more men after twenty years incarcerated?" ~*~ Sitting in one of the three chairs, the monitors visible (now this was an office), Killian made himself comfortable and took the first initial sip of vodka. A slight shudder even ran through him - bloody hell, that was good. He thought he could taste black cherry, he thought he could also taste fresh-picked radishes - light and metallic, it was a good burn. It actually singed. Bless Russian vodka. Bless the Mother Land. “Eight? A fantastic number,” he observed, chuckling. “I’m impressed. You tell stories well, Nikolai. You can make prison actually sound romantic.” It was a talent, to be sure - but were it him, Killian would have been proud also, to have endured such trials and to have earned those stripes. He was a survivor to the core, his idea of a gold medal was different than other people’s most likely. “I’m a thief in law myself. So we’re a little alike, perhaps. Do you get out much? You know - “ He waved his good hand, to indicate their surroundings, “...a day off? Spend time with mates?” ~*~ A container was placed between them on the desk to reveal fine slices of fish chilled inside the refrigerator; Nikolai opened a drawer to take out a box of English toasts which he preferred over American crackers. He made certain both were available to Killian as he considered how to answer the man's question without being rude. There were things about being Vor which were difficult to explain. "Prison is the only way to prove oneself to those who would offer the title of 'Vor.' Romance is not something involved in this life. Pledging oneself to this life? It means forsaking every other life. Vor do not have 'mates.' Vor do not have wives. Vor have no children they are fathers to or parents they are children to or brothers or sisters or any other family because the Vor are Vor." He couldn't remember his parents well. They'd been usual. Nikolai felt they were better off without him as their son given he could only think of them as 'usual'. Placing his hands on the desktop, Nikolai nodded at them, "The story of my life is written on my skin. From these hands alone, you know I am a murderer, a man who has been paid to take a life, a man who has been paid to punish others, a man who has served a prison sentence in the worst of Russia, in the north where the vodka is fine yet the prisons are Hell. So much of me on such little skin. All that I am is branded on this flesh of mine. These marks would ensure no one dared meet my eyes in the Old Country. Here? Fools think me a man with a fetish for needles and ink. I spend my free time walking alone mostly. Most of my time is with my charge. Kenya." Nikolai shrugged before reaching to take a cool slice of fish to place on a toast. The crunch combined with the light, fresh taste of the meat a wonderful combination enhanced by the purity of the vodka he sent to chase it down. "What of you? You have lost a hand to this life you lead. I am thinking you have not lost family?" ~*~ English toasts - ye gods, Killian remembered these. Had been awhile since he’d had any though. He remembered when a box of these and the dregs of a whiskey bottle were dinner, back in the UK when he was first getting his ‘business’ up and running off the ground. And it had only flourished over the years, but what could he say, he had a talent for the dirty jobs and finding who or what didn’t desire to be found. He leaned forward to study the markings on Nikolai’s hands, inked and apparently unclean. But who had clean hands these days anyway? The world was a shithole, and it wasn’t getting any better. You did what you had to do to survive. “I lost my brother a good number of years back,” he said, then also reached to prepare fish-on-toast. It made for a perfect snack. “We served in the Royal Navy together, then he was killed during an anti-piracy mission. I was discharged after that, I had nowhere to go so I wandered. Built up my business, doing jobs for people who needed jobs done - any type of job. Didn’t ask why they needed a forged passport or their neighbour to suffer an ‘accident.’ Ironic though, as I later came to realise - “ His teeth flashed in a sardonic grin, “...I became the thing he hated the most. My older brother who raised me, because our mother was dead and our father was always too drunk to care. I don’t think I’ve ever fully recovered from it. You know what I mean? There are some things you just can’t ever recover from.” He usually didn’t talk so much, not about his life defined by loss. But birds of a feather and all that - he felt comfortable around a murderer. He was one too. ~*~ "I've few memories of my blood family. I am told my brothers were killed for seeing too much." Nikolai could not remember when he had last thought of those who shared his blood. They were as far removed from him as his body was from the Old Country. He had chosen the path to become a Vor when he had seen a Vor honored by even the guards. No one tested the Vor. Nikolai remembered envying their power, realizing he could have it for himself, deciding this was his future. It had been an irrevocable decision. Once one started down the road to becoming a Vor, one either became Vor---or died for failure. Nikolai Luzhin was a survivor. Washing down another fish and toast with a bit more vodka, he allowed, "I remember my mother. She had hard hands. A worker's hands. She was very poor, but very good at working. Her face was kind. I knew she would die before growing old." He poured another dram of vodka into his tumbler before offering to pour a bit more for Killian, "I find vodka is good for any kind of talks, but these kind? These kind it is best. My first sentence? I killed a father. He'd five children. All with same wife. The children were taken. Boys to work. Girls to different work. The wife was left alive to think on her sins. Second sentence? Was not caught for murder that time. That time only a history of violence and many---small crimes. Third time? They forgot why I go inside only that I go inside for five years. No more than five years. Ten years. Five years followed by five more years to equal twenty years of my life inside prison colony. Never did I give up the way of the Vory v zakone. I proved myself. Now? I kneel to no man. All of it worth it to me. And you? All of your business worth it to you?" ~*~ “I believe it has been worth it, aye. Sometimes it’s good to know you’ve got what it takes to come out on the other side - I wouldn’t do well with a life full of rainbows, and I’m actually glad I haven’t had one,” Killian mused, accepting the second bit of vodka when it was poured, sipping as it was meant to be enjoyed. The dominoes had fallen in such a way to bring him here, and overall he was grateful for that. Catching sight of his would-be client on the monitor, the man having just entered the club, he unfortunately knew that the break was over - now back to work, alas. But this job would prove to be very fruitful so of course he would end up taking it. “And there’s the fellow I’ve got to meet,” he said, setting down his glass. “I thank you for the hospitality, Nikolai. If you enjoy being by the sea, perhaps you could visit my ship one day - she’s the Jolly Roger, privately docked, but I always love bringing guests aboard. I make a decent host myself.” Just an offer (even though the man said he didn’t have mates - first time for everything, no?), but it was obvious how proud he was of his beautiful lady, given the way he spoke of her. ~*~ Nikolai spared a glance at the monitor. He recognized the face only in passing. There was no threat to be found with this man or his business. It was easy enough to rise and offer to open the door to allow Killian back to his business. Work was always work. There were too many things to be done for men such as themselves to dawdle reminiscing all their night away. He hoped this would prove a beneficial meeting for the man. Killian seemed the sort to be worth being ahead in life. "I will leave you to your work. Signal should you need anything. I am always watching the floor here. As for me? I have never spent much time aboard any kind of water vessel. It seems an interesting thing to me. Curious way of life. Perhaps I will visit you. Friendly visit." It did well to make the distinction in Nikolai's line of work. ---Possibly in Killian's as well. "Best of luck to you. This place? It is mine as much as it is its owner's which means you are always welcome should you need a distraction." Nikolai couldn't imagine a world where he was free to sail away at a whim, but he could appreciate a man who had that freedom. Better yet, he knew Kenya? She would appreciate such a man. That life would be one she'd enjoy. He could use more friendly faces. They would see how things worked out for the future. It was possible Nikolai had managed to make a friend out of a passing acquaintance. |