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On The Run

By XP Author

Evgeniy sighed as he heard the boisterous man shouting slurs, not for the first time that evening. The sergal could only take so much. He set his drink down, only for a hand to touch his. "I wouldn't, mate." He looked up to see the bartender, Davi, shaking his head. The hefty goat was a good friend, since he and his boyfriend, Artem, were somewhat regulars at the pub. Of course, Artem didn't drink, so he only came for the surprisingly good food the place served. Thankfully, the raccoon was not here right now to hear the man shouting slurs.

The sergal still clenched his fist. "You really just going to let that asshole get away with shouting all that bull in your place?" Davi just shook his head again, giving his fist a gentle squeeze. He pulled it away, but didn't unclench his hand. "I won't start anything unless he does." The goat sided, but knew he really couldn't stop him.

Evgeniy pushed away from the counter and got to his feet. He marched his way over to the loud, orange cat in an equally loud floral shirt, getting maybe a little too close and glaring down at him. The obviously drunk feline turned to look up at the white furred individual looming over him. "Oh look, anoth'r fag'sh c'mout'a the woodwerk." His words were so slurred they blended together. Unfortunately, not so badly that his bad attitude was not still understood.

He kept his tone even, though with a dark edge. "You're in a gay bar. If you didn't want to see 'fags' then you shouldn't have come here." He smirked a little. "Though guessing by your clothes, you're about as gay as the rest of us. So maybe shut your trap or get out."

The man blinked several time before drunkenly swinging his head further up to attempt to look at his face. There was a moment of confusion on his face. It quickly turned to anger. "Th'fuck did yoo shay to meh?"

The sergal did not back down. "I said you should leave. You've had enough, and you're ruining the evening for everyone else."

The cat's anger rose, and he slammed his hands on the table, making the several empty glasses upon it rattle and clatter. The noise in the pub was already getting quieter. Now, all conversation stopped entirely. The man pushed himself up unsteadily to his feet, turning to stare directly into his face. Or as best as he could. "D'you have any idea who I am, y'little shit?"

He shook his head, still not backing down. "No. And I don't care. Now leave or I'll help you out the door the fast way."

The cat growled. "I'm Leo Fuck'n Bashw'nn..in... You don't talk to meh like tha, ya flaming shitmuncher!" The windup for the swing he took was so telegraphed, that it only took a lazy sidestep to avoid it. The cat's fist hit nothing but air, and the momentum from the huge swing took him stumbling forward a step. The sergal just put his foot out in front of him, and the man tripped over it, sprawling out onto the deck with a thud. "Ah... fuck!"

Evgeniy sighed, reaching down and grabbing the man's arms. "Alright, that's enough of that." He yanked the man up to his feet, keeping both arms locked at the cat's back. He started forcefully leading the drunkard to the door. "You go outside now. I'll not have you breaking any of Davi's stuff."

Naturally, Leo was trying his best to struggle out of the hold as he was ushered to the front. "Lemme go, ya shitstain! 'm not yer boytoy!"

The sergal sighed heavily. "You really don't know when to shut up." He led the man to the front door, then forcefully shoved him through it and out onto the street, letting him go after the shove. The cat staggered several steps forward, until he was halted by the car parked at the edge of the street. He managed not to fall, but did slump over it for a second before pushing himself back up and turning. Evgeniy was not particularly huge, but he still stood in the doorway to block it. "No. You're not going back in. Go home and sober up."

The cat growled again. "How dare y'touch me!" A knife was suddenly in his hand, flicking the blade out with practiced ease. He lunged at the sergal, taking him by surprise. In that moment, he was thankful for just how drunk the man was. The aim was off, and what could have been a fatal stab instead only managed to graze his arm, tearing his shirt and cutting his bicep, though not deep. Evgeniy reacted on instinct, grabbing the now extended wrist and twisting. Leo shouted as his arm was suddenly at an awkward angle, his hand opening to drop the knife. Then the drunk cat was screaming in agony as a palm slammed into his elbow, not hard enough to break any bones, but there was still a crunch as something moved the way it shouldn't.

When the arm was let go, it hung awkwardly at the man's side. "Y'fuck'n broke my arm! You piece of sh-"

The sergal got closer, standing to his full height and looming over the cat. "Get the hell out of here while you still can, or I'll do even worse."

Leo glared at him for a moment, but did take a step back. He growled at him. "I won't f'rget this, ya flaming piece'a shit!" He stumbled to the side several steps, then broke into a run. He nearly tripped several times over his own feet, but he managed to keep running. As the sergal sighed and knelt to pick up the knife, he heard the cat shouting. "Yer a dead man!" He continued to ignore him.

Stepping back inside, he saw everyone still staring at him. "Sorry about that, everyone." He gave an awkward wave, and most people turned away to go back to their conversation. He sighed, never liking being the center of attention like that. He moved back to his own drink at the counter, setting the knife down and pushing it to Davi. "Here. He dropped this. Might come back for it once he sobers up."

The goat just stared at him in horror. "Do you have any idea who that was?" He shook his head. "That was Leo Baskwyn." The name sounded familiar, but he could not place it. Davi clearly saw the confusion on his face and clarified. "Of the Baskwyn family? The mob!? It's Mikail's little brother!"

Evgeniy nodded. "Oh... clearly the fuck up of the family if he's acting like that." He caught the scared look in his friend's face. "Look, I didn't actually do anything to him. Maybe dislocated his arm at worse. He'll be fine. And he was acting like an ass, he needed a good reality check. I'll just keep my head down for a bit and it'll blow over."

Davi sighed, sliding the knife under the counter. "I sure hope so, Ev. For your sake as much as mine."

* * *

The next day, Evgeniy had already mostly put the incident out of his mind. On his way home from work, there was even a little bounce in his step. He debated swinging by the pub to kill an hour, since Artem would not be home until then, but he thought better of it. He had promised to keep low, and he really didn't want to cause more trouble for Davi. Instead, he thought maybe to get home and try to cook something nice... though cooking was more the raccoon's specialty. Maybe he could pick something up.

As he rounded a corner, he was jarred out of his thoughts. Two men were standing not far past the corner, a wolf and a fox. They smirked as he came into view, pushing off from the edge of the building they had been leaning on and moved to block the way. He knew a threat when he saw one, and casually turned to go back the way he came and take a different route... only to see two more men, a ram and a rat this time. He remembered passing the rat a few streets earlier. Now he was blocked in.

The sergal sighed, rolling his shoulders and getting ready. He was sure they were going to jump him. "Relax, my friend." A deep voice spoke behind him, with a northern accent so think it sounded almost comical. He turned once more, this time to see the source of the voice. Stepping between the canine and fox was a squat black cat in a well tailored suit, a large cigar in his muzzle. "I only wish to talk."

Emerging a moment later was Leo, taller and thinner, but the resemblance to the squat cat was unmistakable. His left arm was in a sling. "That's the guy! He's the one that attacked me!"

Evgeniy didn't relax his posture. "I'm guessing you're Mikail?"

The cat grinned. "Ah, good. You've heard of me. That will make this much easier." He took several steps closer, the smell of cigar smoke assaulting the sergal's nose. "So, is it true what my little brother says? You attacked him yesterday?"

He stiffened a little. He was outnumbered, and he could guess the thugs on either side were probably armed with more than a tiny knife. Honesty might get him out of this in one piece. "That's not exactly how it happened."

The short man nodded. "Then please. Elucidate the situation."

He took a breath, then spoke as evenly as he could. "He was making a scene in the pub." He hesitated, then clarified. "The gay pub..."

Mikail nodded. "Yes, I'm aware he's queer. Continue."

Evgeniy winced, but did continue. "He was very drunk and shouting all kinds of... slurs. I asked him to leave since he was causing a scene, he took a swing at me, missed and fell, so I escorted him outside. Then he drew a knife and attacked, so I disarmed him. I made sure not to actually hurt him bad."

Leo scowled. "That ain't true! You just jumped m-"

The shorter man interrupted him, his calm voice somehow menacing. "What kind of slurs?"

"Uh... well, he was calling everyone things like fags, flaming shit munchers... cock fairies... colorful things like that. It got worse as he got more drunk." He saw the taller of the two clenching his fists.

Leo again tried to defend himself. "Well, you lot were all being a bunch of glitter queens anyway! You still atta-OOF!" His words were cut off by a loud grunt as the wind was knocked out of him. Mikail's fist connected solidly with his brother's gut, a blow so hard that it made the taller of the two take a step back and clutch at his belly. A moment later, he fell to one knee, having to take a moment to try and regain his breath.

The shorter man's voice was as even and menacing as ever as he spoke to his brother. "You shame yourself, Leo. You don't go saying things like that." He gently pat the gasping man's cheek, a gesture that seemed threatening. "Apologize to him."

Leo looked up, confused. "W-wha...?"

"Apologize." The word was repeated with a very hard edge.

The younger of the two grit his teeth, but still nodded. "S-Sorry..." The hand touched his cheek again, and he flinched. His next attempt was a little less sarcastic. "Sorry I shouted all that at everyone. That was wrong..."

Mikail smiled. "There." He turned to Evgeniy. "Does that work for you?" The sergal just nodded, not wanting to say too much. "Good! Then we can put this behind us." For a fleeting moment, Evgeniy thought that this situation might just end here, that it was a teaching moment for the younger brother. "However..." Then his heart sank. "There is still the matter that you did still attack him in public."

"I didn't attack him!" he countered, hearing his voice shaking a little. "He attacked me! I just defended myself."

The squat cat nodded. "Oh, yes. I believe you. But it was still in public, and that is still a problem for us. See, we have an image that we need to keep up. If it gets out that a Baskwyn got beat up, by a gay may no less, and we did nothing about it... well, people would start to talk. They might think we're weak." He took several steps forward again, making the sergal take a step back defensively. "Relax. We're not going to jump you. No, that's too crude, plus, I do respect the gay community. No, I think this situation is much easier settled with good, old fashioned money."

He winced again. "How much...?"

The feline smiled. "Mmm, good man. Well, this was my idiot brother's fault, so I won't ask for too much. I think 100,000 should do. Pay that, and this will all go away."

Evgeniy balked. "100,000!? I... I don't have that kind of money!"

Mikail shrugged. "Oh, I don't expect you to have it on hand. But I'm sure you can come up with that. Sell some things. Your boyfriend... Artem, wasn't it?" The sergal tensed up. "He's a handsome fellow. He could sell some pictures or videos. You've also got a nice house. I'm sure you've got some fancy things in there. Sell those. You would be surprised how much money you can come up with when your life depends on it." The message was clear. Make the money, or he and Artem would have to pay the price a different way. "I'll give you until the end of next week."

"I-I..."

"Oh." The cat continued. "It should go without saying that if you talk to the cops about this, then we will know. And it would make me very upset. You don't want me to be very upset. Then I'd have my boys do something... drastic." He laughed and pat the man's arm. "But you won't do that. You're a smart man, right?" Evgeniy just nodded in response. "Good boy." He nodded to the pair guarding one side, then turned around and motioned to Leo. "Get up!" Leo winced, but had mostly caught his breath by then. The other two thugs moved to flank the cats as they all walked away. "I'll see you soon. End of next week."

Everyone walked away, leaving the sergal alone again. He felt sick. "What have I gotten myself into..."

* * *

Evgeniy stared at his phone, the browser open to his bank account. 34,000. That was all he was able to scrounge up in the last week. He had been trying everything he could think of while also trying to keep Artem from finding out. He sold their gaming consoles, and all of their games, making up an excuse that he was going to get the next gen one that was coming out soon. He sold several of his possessions, from clothes to books. He even looked into getting another job, but it would never pay enough in time. He was going to have to swallow his pride and tell Artem what was happening. They'd have to sell... pretty much everything they owned. Even then, it might not be enough. The deadline was in two days.

The sergal stopped dead in his tracks as he got close to his house. He saw two men standing out front. He recognized them. It was the rat and the fox that had blocked his path when Mikail encountered him. They stood near the front door, leaning on either side of it. There was no way he was going to sneak around them. He suspected the other two he had seen were watching the back of the house anyway. He just hoped that Artem was not home right now.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the street and up the path to his front door. "Can I help you?"

The rat shrugged. "Maybe. Boss sent us to check in on you. See if you're ready to pay up."

He shook his head, but stood his ground as the rat stepped forward towards him. "I still have two more days."

The fox chuckled. "That sounds like you don't have the money."

Evgeniy tensed, ready to fight if he had to. "Look, it's going to take a little longer, but I have some of it. I can give that to you now."

The rat clicked his tongue. "Boss ain't going to like that. How much you got?"

He hesitated, debating if he should say more or less. He decided to just round to the closest. "...30,000."

The fox scoffed. "Pff. Not even half? You even been trying, little man?"

He grit his teeth, clenching his fists now. "Yes! I have! I've sold nearly everything I own! I can't just get a loan from the bank for that much money. It's going to take a little longer, that's all!"

The rat got right up next to him, though he was several inches shorter than Evgeniy, so had to stare up at him to try and be menacing. "Boss won't like that at all. You best come up with the money, or you will be sorry." He smirked a little. "Or maybe we should just take it out of your cute little boyfriend."

The sergal's eyes went wide. "No! He has nothing to do with this! Leave him out of it!"

The fox chuckled, getting closer now as well. "Really? I dunno, I think he'd work to pay off your debt. There's quite the market for cute boys like him getting their ass plowed. You even tried that? Selling you two butt fucking each other?" he looked over at the rat. "What do you think, Roger?"

Roger shrugged. "I'll do it myself if he won't. Looks like a pretty tight fit." He looked up at the sergal again. "Whadda ya say? Let me have a go at the cute boy. Bet I could knock a few thousand off the total. Though he probably wouldn't be able to walk for a while after. I'm not exactly gentle with my toys."

The fox laughed darkly. "If he'll be able to walk at all. Boss might just have us break his legs." He shrugged. "Or we could just take him out to the woods and put a bullet in his brain."

The rat shrugged. "Eh, I'd still fuck him after that. Tight hole is a tight hole. Sometimes they're more fun cold." He looked directly into the horrified eyes of the sergal then. "So. You gonna have the money? Or are we going to have to play with that cute 'coon?"

Evgeniy nodded quickly, his mind racing with panic. "I-I'll... I'll have the money. I'll find a way. Just... leave Artem out of this! Please!"

Roger grinned wide, reaching up and patting the man's cheek. "Good boy." He nodded to his companion and the two moved around the now shaking sergal. "See you Saturday."

He just stood there trembling. "I'll have the money..." he repeated.

* * *

There was absolutely no way he would have the money, and he knew it. Even if he tried to sell every single thing in the house, they would never make enough in less than two days. So instead, he was packing. Very hastily packing. He was not bothering with folding anything neatly, more just throwing shirts, pants, and underwear into a duffel bag as he grabbed them. Not just his clothes, but also Artems. He also ran around the house, grabbing whatever he could that he thought was important. Toothbrushes, shampoo, a pair of towels, all of it shoved into a bag.

It was this scene that Artem walked in on. "What's... going on?" He looked at his mate, who looked like he was in a state of absolute panic.

Evgeniy stopped, holding a bundle of towels in his arms. "Artem! You have to help me pack. We need to get the hell out of here now!" With that, he rushed back into the bedroom to jam the bundle in his arms into the bag. The thing was filled to bursting, so he started tossing things into a second back.

The raccoon slowly walked to the bedroom doorway. "Evie? What's... what happened?"

He flinched when the sergal rushed forward, grabbing him firmly by the arms. "We don't have time! We need to leave now!"

Artem tried to pull his arm away, but his lover was clinging to him painfully tight. "Y-you're hurting me... And scaring me!"

Evgeniy flinched his hands away, not meaning to hurt him. "S-sorry... but we don't have time. I'll explain later. Just... help me pack. Only grab important things. We have to go!" Artem nodded, though he really was not sure what was going on. He had never seen his lover acting anything like this. He was always the brave one of the two, so anything that scared him must be really serious. He started helping pack things up, though was a little neater about it. He folded the clothing and towels quickly, which let them fit a little better into the bags so they could get a few more in.

He stuffed another shirt into the bag, looking at the panicked sergal. "Tell me what's going on. Please."

The taller man took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "There are some bad people after us. I owe them money, but I don't have it." He held up a hand. "I'll explain everything later. Okay?" Artem nodded. "Good." He then grabbed the phone out of Artem's hand as he tried to put it into the bag. "No. No phones. They can track those."

Artem watched as his phone was tossed to the side. "I thought only cops could do that..."

Evgeniy shook his head. "I don't want to risk it. These people might own the cops. Or have someone inside. Or just... hackers. I don't know. It's not worth the risk." He zipped the bag closed, hefting it over his shoulder. "C'mon. We're going to get out of town. We can call a cab from a pay phone and get out of town."

The grey-furred raccoon took the offered hand to get to his feet, picking up his own bag and pulling it up over his shoulder. "A pay phone? Do those even still exist?" He followed as the sergal started to move quickly to the back door, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. "I guess credit cards are out, too? How are we even going to pay for anything?"

The taller of the two grabbed his hand tight, though not so tight it hurt this time. "Cash. We'll swing by the bank and I'll pull everything out of the ATM. We'll find a motel somewhere outside of town and lay low." He looked at his boyfriend, seeing just how scared he was now. It killed him inside to panic the man so much. "Trust me. I'm keeping you safe. I won't let anything happen to you." He squeezed his hand a little. "You trust me?" Artem nodded. "Good. Now let's go." With that, the two fled the house and ran.

* * *

The motel room was... exactly what they paid for. Cheap. There was one bed, which was far too firm for either of them. The TV in the room looked to be nearly 40 years old, and even when plugged in, it was so bad it was more fuzz than picture, and more static than sound. The carpet once was a shag thing in some ocean blue, but was both faded and stained dark, depending where one looked. The wall paint was faded to a dingy brownish tan, and everything smelled of both disinfectant cleaner and cigarette smoke. The barred windows were dirty both inside and out, though the blackout curtains looked brand new. Probably the only thing that anyone cared about. They had been there for only a day, and already hated it.

Artem sat on the edge of the bed, beside his mate. He held the sergal's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Evgeniy had just finished telling Artem everything... mostly everything. He had left out the threats directly against the raccoon. The man was scared enough as it is, there was no need to make him even more afraid. "I wish you'd told me. I could have helped get the money..."

Evgeniy sighed, his head hung. "Maybe. But... even then, I don't think we could have gotten everything they asked for in only 10 days."

The raccoon still huffed. "All this because someone powerful guy's idiot brother was being an arse in public? It's not fair that you should be punished for that man's bad attitude!"

The sergal nodded. "I know, but... this world isn't fair..."

He felt the arm put around him, the gentle embrace and warm body up against him. "We'll get through this." He couldn't help but smile, despite everything. Here he was, doing everything he could to protect the man, and he was the one being comforted. He just nodded and leaned into the embrace. He really did hope they would get through it.

Another two days passed. Now it was the day after the deadline, and he was sure that Mikail was pissed that he had not only not paid, but fled the city with Artem. The motel was over a day away from the city, far away from any main road. It was the kind of place that people took prostitutes and had love affairs. The clerk at the front was the kind that asked no questions, and paying in cash was preferred. Thankfully, it was also very cheep. They could stay here for over a month if need be. Though Evgeniy hoped they could move on long before then. The idea of spending a month in this place sickened him.

The only other benefit it had was its own laundromat area. Several large washing machines, and a few driers all tucked into a little room off what passed for the main lobby. Evgeniy was just finishing up washing their clothing... and the sheets. Even clean sheets did not seem that clean. He had spent several hours there, not wanting to start the clothes and walk away. He had a feeling that if he did, the clothes would 'walk away' as soon as he was gone. He had left Artem in the room, promising to get some food afterwards. Food meant a fast food place a little down the road. Cheep burgers and watered down soda. Not exactly high cuisine.

When he got back to the room, he knocked on the door. "It's me. Open up, fuzzy." No response. He felt his heart skip a beat. "Artem?" Still nothing. He really hoped he was just in the shower. He quickly unlocked the door and shoved it open. "Artem!?" There was no water running in the bathroom. He looked around, suddenly in a panic. That's when he saw the note on the bed. 'Got hungry. Went to get food without you. Back in a few. -A'

He cursed aloud. "That idiot!" He rushed out the door, only for it to get stuck on the clothes he had already forgotten he dropped. He threw the pile inside, not caring about the mess it made, and slammed the door shut behind him. "Artem!?" he cried out. He had no way of knowing just when he left. He started at a jog, heading down the road to the food place. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows on everything. Every time a car passed him, he expected it to pull over and a group of thugs to jump out and attack.

His jog turned into a run. He looked around everywhere, hoping to spot the fluffy grey and black tail. He got to the food joint in record time, only then realizing just how out of breath he was. He had ran nearly the whole way, his heart pounding in his chest. He shoved the door to the place open, looking around. Several people looked up from their meal to stare at the panting sergal that barged in. No raccoon was among them.

He walked to the counter, calling out to the cat behind the register. "Hey! Did a raccoon come through here recently? A little shorter than me, skinny, grey fur?"

The cat shook his head. "Nope. Sorry."

He pressed further. "M-maybe he came through earlier? Is there anyone that was here before your shift?"

The cat gave him an apologetic look. "My shift started at noon. I've been here all day. Sorry, I haven't seen anyone like what you described."

Evgeniy nodded. "Okay..." he backed away. "Th-thanks..." He quickly left, going back to the street and looking around. There weren't exactly many places that Artem could go. The only other building nearby was a few gas stations. He couldn't think of a reason the man would go to those. He checked anyway. One by one, he got the same response. No one had seen anyone matching Artem's description today.

He really wished they had kept their phones now. Night had fallen by the time he chose to head back to the motel. Darkness surrounded him on all sides, making the passing lights of cars seem even more menacing. He walked at a fast pace, but his legs were still sore from the near constant sprinting from door to door he had been doing for almost two hours now. It still took him a half hour to get back, maybe a little longer. "Maybe he came back while I was out. He's probably worried sick that I ran off..." he talked to himself as he got to the place. "I'll get an earful about the laundry..." He wanted that to be true. Hoped. Prayed.

The lock clicked as he turned the key, then opened the door. His heart sank. The laundry was still strewn all about. Nothing was straightened or put away. No lights were on. No one had come back while he was out. He felt the tears welling in his eyes, his body shivering. "Artem..." He silently berated himself. He had withheld just how much danger his lover was in. That it was Artem they were going to use to hurt him. "This is all my fault..."

He closed the door and walked to the bed... then froze. Sitting up near the pillows was a closed laptop. He recognized it. It was Artem's. He had specifically made sure to leave it behind when the fled the house. He looked around, expecting to find someone hiding in the room. There was no sound but the muffled hum of the motel's sign outside. He turned on the lights. No one. Cautiously, he checked the bathroom. Also no one. He even opened the tiny closet, though he already knew it was too small for anyone to hide in. It was empty, of course.

He went back to the bed. Now with the lights on, he saw there was a flash drive sitting on the table, with a tiny post-it note attached. Scrawled upon it in neat letters was 'Watch me.'

Evgeniy flipped open the laptop and turned it on. After it booted up, he plugged the flash drive in. It had one file on it, a video, also labeled 'Watch me.' He felt his hands shaking, and he swallowed, doing nothing to help his dry mouth. After staring at it for what seemed like an eternity, he finally did what the filename told him to do, and started the video.

Immediately his eyes went wide with horror. The video showed an open room, a warehouse or basement, the walls drab concrete. Sitting center screen was Artem. He was tied to a metal chair, his shirt having been removed, but not his pants, leaving the light grey fur along his chest exposed. Blood trickled from his nose, and one eye looked slightly swollen. He was panting heavily, and looked dazed. He had clearly been beaten. His arms were behind his back, bound somehow to the chair.

A voice spoke from offscreen. He recognized the cartoonish accent. "I am very disappointed in you, Evgeniy. I thought we had an understanding." A hand reached out to grab Artem's hair, yanking his head up to stare at the camera. It was not Mikail's hand, the fur shaggy and brown. Probably the rat, Roger. The cat continued, purposefully keeping his face offscreen. "We've had a little chat with your boyfriend. He was very talkative. Not so much once my boys settled him down, as you can see."

The sergal wanted to turn the video off right there, but he had to keep watching. They might tell him where Artem was. Maybe they just beat him up and left him somewhere nearby. He had to keep that hope. The mob boss continued. "Now, you've gone and made me very upset. I did tell you that you would not like me upset. But do not worry, I will not take this anger out on you." The sound of fingers snapping was hear, and Artem's head was let go. Then some kind of liquid was poured over him. A lot of it, from two different directions. When it was done, Artem's fur was matted down, soaked with whatever it was.

Mikail spoke again. "My brother. He is an idiot. This we both know. But he has a term for you. People like himself. The queers. What was it?"

The voice of Roger spoke. "Flamers, Boss."

"Yes. That was it. Flamers." The man sighed. "I do not know why this is the term he uses. He is very crude. But he does give me an idea." A hand is held out in front of the camera. After a moment, it focuses, and Evgeniy can see there is a lit cigar between the fingers.

His eyes go wide as he puts the pieces together. "No..." He shouts at the screen, as if it could change anything. "NO! PLEASE! GOD NO!" She shouts mean nothing. The cigar is tossed, landing on the lap of Artem. In an instant, the gasoline the raccoon was doused in ignites. The sergal stares in wide eyed horror, unable to look away, stop the video, even mute it. Artem screams in agony, shrieking to the point his throat is raw. The flames engulf him, burning the soft fur to cinders. Even though he is not there, the sergal can swear he could smell the burning flesh.

The video keeps going, capturing every horrific moment. Artem continues to scream as the flames scorch his body, blackening the skin under his fur, shriveling muscles, and frying nerves. He writhes in the chair for an eternity in agony. He pulls at the bindings, tries to kick, flails his head from side to side, but nothing can help him. His tail, now awash in flames, swung wildly from side to side. It took minutes before the screaming stopped, but the flames continued to burn. The video did not pause, cut, or move away. It caught every minute of the raccoon's body burning.

It was not until the flames killed themselves that anything else was said. "I will consider your debt paid." The video ended on the image of Artem's body. It was unrecognizable as the adorable raccoon he loved. It was nearly skeletal, blackened flesh and shriveled muscles barely clinging to the bones. There no eyes left in the sockets, just a hollow void. The mouth was frozen open from his final scream, showing blackened teeth.

Evgeniy's vision suddenly went blurry, tears streaming from his eyes. He shakily reached a hand out, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He felt so many emotions that he could not process them all, and just felt numb. He slid his feet off the bed, not sure what he was going to do. He sat there, staring at the floor, feeling everything and nothing. He kept hearing Artem's screams in his head. Over and over. He closed his eyes, only to see the flames scorching at the raccoon's face in his mind.

He suddenly slid off the bed, falling onto the floor in a heap. He did the only thing he could do and screamed. He screamed and wailed, tears flowing freely from his eyes. It was his fault. He brought this on Artem. He didn't warn him enough. He didn't get the money in time. He started the confrontation at the pub. It was all his fault.

He just curled up on the floor, clinging to himself, and screamed. It as all he could do. Scream and cry. He just lost everything.

And it was his fault.

* * *