The Captain was getting ready to go home when the door to his office burst open.
Mr. Petrov's angry voice could probably be heard across the whole floor. “What the hell is this, Captain. I've talked with that bastard. He says you won't even try to help me. Well, let me tell you, I sure hope he's lying, or else, I swear you'll regret it, you hear me?”
The Captain let out a deep sigh and looked at him, a mix of pity and uneasiness showing up in his eyes. Dealing with Andrei was unnerving to say the least. “Mr... Petrov. Look, I'll be completely honest with you. There's nothing I'd like more than to stop him.” He bit his tongue, not wanting to say too much. That, too, would have consequences. “But... Last time I tried, I lost about a dozen men. There's no way to stop him.”
Mr. Petrov exploded. “Then call the Army for all I care! Special Ops! Whatever it takes, but you can't tell me you'll just sit there and have me wait for the next goddamned envelope!”
The Captain smiled nervously. This wouldn't end well. It never did. “Call them, go on. They'll tell you the same. Nobody's going to try to stop that man, I tell you. Look... let me be honest here. Best... no. Only thing you can do, is give him what he wants. Accept you have no way around it, get it over with.”
The old man leaned threateningly over the Captain's desk. “Do you know who the hell I am, Captain?!”
He reclined onto his chair, grabbing his forehead, in vain trying to massage out the impending headache. All that screaming and treading over thin ice wasn't good for his head. “Look, Mr. Petrov. I know who you are. Now, let me ask a question. By any chance, do you know who he is?”
“A sick bastard, that's...”
“Well... yes, even he would agree to that. But, no, that's not what I meant.” The Captain sighed, his eyes focusing far away from his office. “I guess nobody out of... certain circles actually knows about him. I... can't really tell you, I'm not risking him... figuring out and paying me a visit.” He looked at Mr. Petrov. “But I'll tell you this. I don't know of anybody that's actually met him, that wouldn't rather die than betray him. ... And I'll be honest, I'm in that boat too. So... Sorry. No, I can't help you, Mister.”
“I'll have your goddamned head on a spike, Captain. Mark my words.”
The Captain sighed as Mr. Petrov left with an angry door slam. Empty threats. Every single time the same. Shit. He hated doing this. Looking the other way had never been in the job description. But alas, it was better than the alternative.
Once he was sure he was alone, he locked the door to his office and unbuttoned his uniform. His shirt. He looked down at his chest. His eyes locked on an old scar in the shape of an X. The mark. He gently traced it with his fingers as he muttered to himself. “You son of a bitch. I swear I'd have your head if I could.”
