Shells Falling, Chapter 2: Thawing the Cold

After the discovery of the documents, the Federal Police left and took the credit for discovering the documents, but thought that the documents were not important enough to be stolen by criminals, and were left with the state police. Ewan took the documents back to the station and began to read them.1

I always knew I was not Sergei’s true born son, because I had been left with my old name around home: Kaplan. In the Russian Mafia, I was treated like a child prodigy: Respected, Honored, and given care my even other mob bosses. I was taken in as a baby, and raised by the various figures in the organization, and at an early age, I was forced to train how to fight. It was a strange, curious life, as I was never exposed to anything emotional, in fact, if anyone out of the street showed me any sign of affection, I would cringe at a young age. This would, however, cause Sergei to smile, as if he had accomplished his life’s work. Over time, I grew out of this and just began to ignore emotion, and it allowed me to grow in the ranks as a ruthless killer. The beginning of the end began when I was 17, and the Mafia was at it’s peak in Moscow.2

It was a simple job: go into the store, and demand the money the owner owed us. Doing the job was three people; Me, a lackey, and Sergei’s right hand man, Joey Luciano, who used to be in the Italian Mafia. We walked through the snow filled street casually until we reached the distiller’s store, and as we came through the door, he freaked. I started to walk over to the counter, a baseball bat in my hand,3

“Urich, you know how much my father hates it when someone doesn’t pay…” I said coldly, Urich fell back onto the floor and started to scramble backwards, 4

“D-Domonic! I need j-just a little more time! Please!” he pleaded, I kept walking,5

“Don’t give me that, old man, this is one of the most popular alcohol distributors in Moscow, you’ve had nearly 2 months, which is far too long…” I swung at a collection of bottles on the wall, smashing the contents onto the ground and Urich. Urich began to whimper,6

“Domonic, you know what to do…” Joey said quietly, the member behind him began to chuckle. With a quick nod I kicked Urich sharply in the ribs, hearing a satisfying ‘crack’. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I was incredibly strong for my age, which was really helpful with these kind of jobs. 7

With a quick twirl of the bat, I began to beat the writhing man with a cold brutality, his cries and begs falling upon deaf ears. A sigh of relief was broken in-between the sobs coming from the beaten figure as I stopped, a small pool of blood began oozing from what used to be his nose. I stood back Joey walked over and stepped on Urich’s fingers, causing a strained cry of pain to emit from the broken man, Joey leaned in close,8

“I think this’ll remind you to pay us on time next time, eh?” he said, Urich nodded weakly, and Joey gave him a swift kick to the stomach. We turned around to walk out, chuckling amidst the small group which had joined me here, before Joey growled as he saw what was in the window. There was a woman, staring horrified on her phone into the store.9

The next few moments were what I would never forget.10

She began to run, her blonde hair flowing behind her,11

“Domonic, get her! She mustn’t tell anyone!’ Joey yelled, and like the machine I was, I sprinted outside. She was average: average height, average build, even average looking. I don’t know why she stuck into my mind, but still, I drew the pistol from my coat, a Yarygin Pya, nothing special, basically your average 9mm pistol. I brought it up quickly and fired,12

One.13

Two.14

Three. The woman hit the ground with a dull thud, blood already pooling on the ground. I kept the gun raised, as a figure ran over to the body; just one solitary figure. The street was empty, which was lucky for us. The figure (a small girl) wrapped her arms around the woman,15

“Mommy, what happened?... Mommy? Wake up….” She kept saying, slowly beginning to sob, and tears began to cascade down her face. A pain in my chest, like a swelling object about to explode, the blood draining from my face.16

It was then my brain registered the noise of those bullet casings hitting the ground…17

The noise I’d never forget18