Mr. Petrov was still whimpering in pain from the leg wound, lying on the floor like a broken, bloody dummy. I knelt by him, totally-not-on-purpose letting my full weight rest on his leg. He screamed in pure agony. Good. I took out a knife, stabbed the floor just a couple inches before his eyes. “So, where exactly were we, Yegor?”
His sobs made his mumble even harder to understand.“Dammit, no, no, what the hell do you want from me...”
I waited a few seconds, seemingly thinking about where we had left our conversation. “Oh, yeah. I was asking you if I should keep my word.” Again I pointed at the bright red letters on the wall with my head.
“Look, I don't have anything else...” blablabla. You've tried that about a dozen times already, Mr. Idiot. Should be obvious enough by now it won't work, shouldn't it?
I took the signed agreement out of my pocket. Showed it to Mr. Petrov, so he knew what it was. His eyes were fixed on it as I slowly tore it in two. “Look, Yegor. If you think I'm after a few pennies, you're wrong.”
His eyes were wide open in shock. He obviously wanted to reply, but words wouldn't come out of his mouth.
I couldn't help grinning like an idiot. I easily dug out the knife from the floor. “This is what I actually want from you, Yegor.” I said, as I ripped his shirt and carved the mark on his chest. Again deep enough so it would leave a nasty scar.
He started whimpering like an idiot, while blood oozed from the wound. I couldn't help staring. There is something... fascinating about slowly trailing blood drips. The way they taint everything. Or maybe I'm just weird, I don't know.
After a couple minutes of staring, I pet his chest. Cool blood. I spread it all over him as I broke the silence. “You know what it means?”
He stared at me, confused. There was only one kind of people who did that sort of things, right? … Wrong. He started mumbling again. “No, no no no no, please... just tell me...”
“I'm trying to tell you, you blockhead. Would be easier if you shut up and listened, though.”
Silence. Finally.
“It means you better do whatever I ask. Yegor, I know you have quite some influence in certain circles. I'm here after that. …Well, among other things.”
“You... you could have just asked...”
“And an idiot like you would have said no, or, best case, put too high of a price. For just one time. No, Yegor. I want to be able to actually trust you, even if it's only because you're too scared of what happens if you betray me.”
He closed his eyes, not fully realizing what it all meant. “Okay... okay, I'll do what you ask...”
“Whatever. The word is whatever. Anyway. I think nobody has yet bothered to tell you who I am, did they?”
He opened his eyes, preparing himself for the hit. Yet he did not expect... this. He nearly had a heart attack when I flashed him my ID card.
“Now, don't be stupid and think the authorities can help you, because, well, both officially and unofficially, most of them work for me. And don't be so stupid as to think the families – the wolves – can help you, because if they could do anything, I'd be dead by now. Understood?”
He simply nodded.
“Okay. So, you just said, you'll do whatever I ask you to, didn't you?” I paused, long enough for him to nod again. “Good. Now, I know you're not in top shape, but I'm sure you can at least turn around and sit.”
“Please, I'm...”
“That looks worse than it is. Come on. Sit. Looking at them. There's nothing to see on this side.” I got to his side and helped him sit up. Then I knelt just a foot behind him. I was beaming, the test has always been my favorite part. “Now, now. I hope you can understand, I need to see if I can actually trust you.”
“What... what do you want from me.”
I reached into my jacket's inner pocket. There it was. My trusty old gun. I teased him, let him feel the warm barrel against his temple. “Exactly what are you willing to do, Yegor?”
“Please, just tell me what you want already.” His voice broke.
“Nuh-huh. Told you. Answer is Whatever you ask.” I handed him the gun. “Take this.”
He grabbed it, but his shaky hands could barely hold it.
I got even closer, hugging him from the back. Grabbing his arm and steadying his hands so the gun pointed straight at its target. His son. “Kill him.”
