Igor's Fire (Starring Vasily)
This is the most recently-written of my Vasily stories, but timewise it belongs in the third or fourth spot. It takes place about two years after Vas got chewed on by Fydor, and things are changing fast for our big Russian werewolf. I hope people enjoy it, and PLEASE give me input- I need to know where I'm going wrong, what things don't look right and where (if at all) I need to expand the story. Thanks!
Vasily Polykov and this story and the characters within are copyright to me.
He'd not been to this place before; relatively upscale, just on the edge of the territory claimed by the cell. Vory territory. Igor's territory. He doubted that any of his fellow lowlife enforcers had been either. A fire burned low in the fireplace, vodka filling two glasses on the desk he faced. Igor gestured, picking up his glass with the sweeping motion. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
The chair groaned under its burden as the big man did as directed. "I don't understand," he rumbled. "Why am I here? None of us knew where you lived- it was safer for you. Why bring me here now?" He picked up the glass, raising an eyebrow to his host for permission before drinking- it wasn't the usual poison Igor drank in public.
"Because." Igor refilled his glass. "Because... Of all the men who work for me, you re the only one who is honest and unbending in that honesty."
Vasily nearly choked on the drink. Setting it down, he laughed. "Honest? I'm Vory, same as you! I..." He stopped when he saw Igor's expression. "My pardon."
Igor sighed and waved it off. "I didn't mean you weren't a criminal. You're honest. You never break your word. You obey my directives without question, and always have. Always. Even before you changed." Another sip as he let that sink into Vasily's mind. "I know you. You were... Sociopathic. Homicidal before. Yes, you still do my bully-work, but now... You don't relish it anymore like you once did. It was the dog attack, yes?"
Vasily nodded. "I have been hurt before. Even nearly killed. But... Something was different. It isn't something I can explain. I feel now. I mean, I /feel/ now. I hadn't felt like a normal person since..."
"Since your father died. I know." At Vasily's confused look, he grinned. It looked ghastly, Igor's face even behind the beard looked almost skull-like. "I research everything Vasily. Everything and everyone. It is like a magic trick, knowing things other's don't expect.' He frowned at the empty glass, refilling it once again. "To answer your question, I need an honest man. There is something rotten in our little fragment of the Vory reality, but I cannot act and I cannot trust any of my lieutenants. You, whom I have watched for so long... I can trust."
Expression darkening, Vasily set his glass down so as to not crush it. "I can kill them all if you need it." His heart might not be that of a monster anymore, but for Igor he'd do nearly anything. "Tell me when and where, it will be done." Besides, he thought, "evil men deserve evil fates."
Igor laughed, the sound trailing off into a dull series of coughs. "No, no. It won't be necessary. All things end, even Igor. Even you, one day. Let it come, I cherish the idea." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "It will be soon. This is to give you, my most loyal soldier, your freedom. When it comes, you are free of obligations. You have never betrayed me, even if I know you let Fydor go."
THAT rocked Vasily back. "You... How do you know?" He'd told nobody, not even Pavel of that.
A grin. "I told you. I learn everything. You paid the debt for him out of that insane pile of rubles you've saved in that so-secret account of yours. Barely made a dent. Also, Fydor was seen by my people, quite alive, leaving Moscow. Which is why I don't care. I got what was owed, and Fydor ceased being an issue to me and my suppliers. Problem solved. But others would see that as betrayal. I know otherwise. I won't even ask why; that is the thing I don't know. But who knows, maybe one day, yes? Bah." Another drink of vodka, almost a violent gesture. "So. You are here to bear a secret for me. It eats at me to tell someone, but others would use this against me. Ready?" He gestured for Vasily to refill his glass and drink.
He waited til Vasily had drunk deeply and lowered his glass before saying, "I will be dead in six months."
Vasily stopped moving, then quite deliberately refilled his glass and drained it in one slow motion. "And you trust me to know this? Why?"
"I already said. You are honest. You have no wish to lead, also. Thus you are no threat to me." Igor set his glass down. "Advanced liver disease, esophogeal cancer. One or the other will get me. A new liver would only delay the inevitable... And my history with the original is anything but good, right?"
Pale, Vasily nodded. With Igor's reputation he was getting the creeping sensation that his boss might know his real secret... And that might be a request he'd have to refuse. "When did you learn this?"
"Not long ago. The doctor I saw doesn't know I am Vory; he think's I'm just a businessman, so he isn't an issue." Igor held the empty glass up, staring at the fire through the cut crystal. "I do not think I fear this end. But things will end in fire either with my death or when my enemies move against me. The only variables are what burns and how hot the fire. I have things for you to do, for you to get your little con-man friend to do as well. Can I count on you?"
"Always." Vasily's expression returned to his usual glower.
"Vas, I don't like this." Pavel had repeated this line more than once, and Vasily snorted in annoyance. "I mean, I'm hardly big-league! I'm a card-scammer, a second-rate con-man; why me?"
"Igor wants it, that's all. If he didn't think you could pull it off, he wouldn't have asked me to approach you. Besides, you'll be paid. That's good, right?" Vas glanced at Pavel as he drove; the smaller man was hunched at the partly-frosted window, making circles in the fog with a finger.
"Shit. You'll help if I need it?" Pavel shifted in his seat. "We're friends, right?"
Vasily's expression shifted to something less grim. "Yes. I think we are. I think you may be my only true friend. If I can, I'll help you. And if you do this right, Igor will put the word out that you're protected."
After a pause, Pavel said, "that's likely worth a hell of a lot more than the cash. You said If you can... Where will you be?"
"He has a few errands for me as well. And relax- you're one of the best forgers in Russia. You'll do fine. Talk your way in, use your forged papers, get the records and get out." Pavel didn't look convinced, but Vasily knew how capable his friend was. "You are a very smart operator, Pavel. It's only when you get caught up in one of those grand schemes of yours that things go shitty!"
"I still don't get why he wants these records, or why he wants certain ones destroyed..." Pavel hesitated. "Then again I probably don't want to, do I." Vasily just grinned at him.
Vasily pulled up to the curb, and Pavel opened the his door with a sigh. Smoothing his tailored suit he said, "Wish me luck." Vas nodded before the door closed then pulled away, leaving Pavel to his work.
And now he had to start his own; the kind he was known for.
There was a sickening crunch as the body impacted the far wall. Lesser goons were backing away from Vasily, his knuckles bloody from the blows he'd been landing. None of his opponents had been able to hurt him, at least that they could tell; fists and knives seemed to marrk him but never slowed him down at all. He grabbed at another with terrifying speed, missing his grab only just- he'd wanted to miss, and he got the desired result- the man's lurch to evade him drove him into his fellows and they fell in a heap. Vasily snarled, then spat a bit of blood on the floor; the only proof that he was human to the array of frightened lowlifes before him. "This is a message from Igor." The words were a molasses-in-gravel growl of promised mayhem. "Igor says, this is not a war. He says he has no claim on this territory." Vasily made fists again, knuckles popping like gunshots in the silenced room. "Igor ALSO says that I can kill you ALL if you do not remain out of his territory! Tell your boss that. Tell him Villany wants him to ignore this advice. Tell him what happened here today." Kicking one prostrate form from his path, Vasily left through the broken door of the bar, followed by the two enforcers that had met him outside.
"Do you think this will register?" One asked him outside. Mikhail, he remembered.
"I do not care. If they don't, I will kill them." Mikhail looked at him and swallowed. The reputation of 'Villany' Polykov remained as it had always been- a monster amongst monsters. For his companions' reaction he said, "I look forward to their being stupid. It has been a while since I have had such an opportunity." He smiled, and was gratified and somewhat shamed to see the pair edge back.
The other, Viktor, looked at Vasily's side. "Shit, you're bleeding- you need a doctor?"
In truth, the bleeding had stopped before they'd left the bar, and little was left of the stab wound other than a red mark. Vasily glanced down and shrugged. "That little poke? No. I will tape it later." The knifer had been good, and scary-fast. He'd cut Vas twice and landed the stab on his side before a massive fist knocked him cold. "The little one was quick, ah? Too bad for him."
The enforcers split away from Vasily as he got into his car, presumably to make their own way back to Igor with their reports. He himself had another stop, but he knew that he'd better clean up first. This one wouldn't be such an open fight. The trick would be finding his target, and a bloodied bald giant in workman's clothes would stand out far too much. Nothing would change his height, but the clothes and the mess he could deal with.
He thought about the fight as he cleaned up in his apartment. It should have been terrifying, facing a dozen opponents like that, even with his now-departed backup; instead, he'd known they couldn't do any truly permanent damage to him. Or at least so he thought. He shuddered at another memory, that of Fydor's eye being gouged out only to regrow in the torn socket. Not for the first time he wondered just what he'd become. Cleaned, shaved and dressed, he called a taxi to take him across town.
His goal was the rail-freightyards, that rusting relic of a bygone era that looked to outlast even the current day and age despite the rust, oil and soot that layered the land it occupied. This time of year everything was white with snow, but the hundred-odd years of rail traffic had permanently tainted the air with smoke and iron. He trudged along the tracks, avoiding the sporadic railmen in their inspection-circuits, looking for one of their number. With such a large area, it took Vasily almost an hour to spot him, climbing into a partly-open boxcar. He approached, listening to the man within cursing quietly to himself. "Olav. Igor sent me. He said to say, 'all things in iron travel in silence.'" The man's cursing stopped with Vasily's low call. Then, a sigh. "Fine. Come aboard."
Pulling himself into the partly-opened door, Vas was greeted by the dull glimmer of an American Colt revolver pointed at him. He raised an eyebrow, then leaned against the grimy wall. "So. You planning on shooting me?"
The man, bundled against the chill didn't move. "It depends. What do you want?"
"To talk." Vasily yawned- an honest gesture. It had been a wearying few days. "Igor sent me, as I said. He didn't tell me you were an idiot."
The lack of fear seemed to bother Olav, and the gun's muzzle dropped a bit. "I did not live this long trusting anyone. I know you. You're Villany- Igor's pet killer. People say you're indestructible, that you've taken wounds that would kill any other man and kept fighting. That you enjoy it. You expect me not to be cautious?"
Vasily grinned. 'Nah. I expect that you won't be stupid. At this distance you might not kill me with your pop-gun. American snub .357, right? Short barrels make for lousy accuracy. Put that thing down and we can talk like civilized men. If I was here to kill you, I would have done it while you were crawling in here."
Seconds passed, then the gun lowered. "What message do you have for me from Igor?"
Flexing his hands, Vas carefully sat on the floor of the car. "I have news. Not good. Igor says you can be trusted, and I trust him. You move goods for Vory- Igor and others. Things are about to go very bad here. Warehouse everything you have for Igor. If things go bad as we think they will, contact Leonid Gorodin in Kiev. He will make arrangements. I must give you something; may I take it out?"
Olav nodded, and Vasily carefully took a thick envelope out and skimmed it over. "That is money, and Igor's specific instructions. You will know when to get out of sight. Enough merchandise is available to last up until things go wrong, if they do. If things remain stable, so much the better. If they don't... Well, you will know. Not being in Moscow will be wise for you."
Olav paled a bit, and he holstered the gun. He picked up the envelope as if if might be red-hot. "Are things that bad?"
Vasily nodded. "That which is not seen makes it worse. I know, but I cannot tell you. Good luck, Olav. Oh- one other thing. There is a second envelope in there, pre-adressed. Mail it when... Well, you will know. Do not, if you value your life, open it. I will find you if you do." No emphasis at all on the last sentence, but Olav stepped back unconsciously. Vasily stood and moved to the door. "Stop using this car for black tar heroin, by the way- it reeks of it."
"How did it go?" Vasily asked. Four days had passed since his talk with Igor, three since he'd begun his 'errands.' He sat across a table from Pavel in a small restaurant the both favored. Pavel was squirming in his seat, looking nervous.
"Fine. It was simple. Which is why I'm worried. It was too easy!" He kept looking towards the door, as if expecting an army of former KGB goons to suddenly storm in.
Vasily laughed, a low rumble. Stretching in his seat, he pointed at his friend. "You, are a paranoid. What you did was a good job and you know it. You just have trouble believing in yourself!" He took a forkful of food and chewed it while Pavel mulled it over.
"Maybe. It wasn't like I broke into the Kremlin, after all." He took a deep breath and released it, then swigged from the imported American beer he'd ordered. "So how did your jobs go?"
"As expected. Mikhail told me that Igor's requests were all fulfilled. So, we have no worries for a time. How can you drink that piss? Americans are terrible brewers!"
"I like it!" Protested Pavel. "If they're so terrible, why do you keep ordering American bourbon?"
Lifting his glass, Vasily grinned. "It's not beer. Also, it is not vodka." Vasily shuddered. "Igor loves vodka. I am not so fond. Something that tastes like drain cleaner is not high on my list of preferences."
The pair ate in silence for a time. Vasily eating with some deliberation, Pavel bolting his food, slowing only when he realized what he was doing. "How is it you're so fucking calm? It's obvious something huge is up. I get the shakes just from normal jobs- this, you don't even break a sweat. How?"
"Maybe I'm fatalistic. Or maybe... Maybe I think that we'll be okay. You're right. Something big is up. I can't say more. But you're safe regardless, so stop panicking. You make me itch, fidgeting like that."
"I wish I knew nothing at all about this, or all of it. This middle-ground crap bothers the hell out of me," Pavel groused. Vasily just grinned in return.
Gunfire sounded up and down the block, men's screams and the sounds of burning buildings rolled around him. He drove his fist into the face of a kalashnikov-bearing thug, then broke the man's neck. Picking up the rifle, he chambered a round and started moving again. Anger boiled in him, and he so deeply wanted to just let loose, claws and fangs freed to shred the scum around him. He leaned into his run, heading for the bar where Igor had held court- flames flicked from it already.
Two more men stepped out, and he shot both without breaking pace. Fire came back at him from a rooftop, one round ripping through his shoulder. Snarling, he spun himself into an alley, out of the line of that fire. Up the fire escape and onto a roof, he continued towards the bar, wound already sealing itself. It was a short jump to the roof of the bar, and the stink of burning wood, alcohol and flesh was strong in the air. He kicked open the roof access and started down, the sounds of fighting and dying men swirling like the smoke.
The bartop itself was engulfed. Dead men slumped across it, lying on the floor. The invaders were backing in retreat from the flames, victory in their hands. Four of them. With little thought Vasily emptied the rifle into them, killing two and stopping the other pair in their tracks. "Shit- Villany! Kill that fucker!"
Vasily grinned, eyes wolflike- his new soul providing caution, but the old wish to kill strong in him. This was HIS territory! He tensed to leap, to tear the men apart, when a low moan reached his ears. Igor! He looked, but didn't see the Vory boss in the smoke. The pair at the door took the distraction as an opportunity, and opened fire with pistols on their worst fear.
Hit once, Vasily snarled and hefted a burning table, throwing it into the two men- the impact carried them through the doorway and into the street; he didn't bother to follow- he knew they'd run. Coughing, he searched for Igor... And found him. Alive, but curled about himself with a shot to the belly. "I will get you out!" He scooped Igor up and started for the front when Igor wheezed, "No. Back... Room. Go!"
Vasily saw that the door behind the bar wasn't aflame yet. He went around the bar and through as quick as he could, shying from the heat of the burning bar. "Where?"
"Filing cabinet. Take what's in the third drawer. Burn the rest." Igor started coughing, bloody drool coming from the corner of his mouth. Kicking the door shut, Vas set his burden down on the guest chair and did as requested. The third drawer held only a new laptop of American manufacture and keyboard, as well as a case with a shoulder strap. He slung it over his shoulder, then pulled all the papers from the other drawers, dumping them by the door. A bottle of Igor's ever-present vodka was sacrificed upon them, then the door was reopened. The papers caught with a whump of heat and sound, and Vasily fled with Igor out the back.
"Wait... Wait... Vasily. Stop!" Igor gasped, ragged breaths between each word.
"No. You need a hospital! You'll..." He stopped when he saw the expression on Igor's almost-skeletal face.
"It is... Okay. You did more for me than anyone else. Take me... To a priest. I wish... To confess if I have time." Igor closed his eyes, breathing slowly as if trying to save his few remaining.
Grimly, Vasily nodded. "I will call Mikhail. If he lives... He will... Deal with cleaning up." A tear streaked the soot on his face. "I wish I could..."
"You cannot. That was decided long ago. But my enemies will pay, that is what we set in motion with all those errands. The right information... To the right ears." Again Igor fell silent, and Vasily could hear sirens in the distance.
Father Karl Rustov heard the bang of the church doors as someone came in; it was terribly late- after ten- and he'd been preparing for bed. Slipping back into his robes, he quickly made his way to the sanctuary. He prayed that it wasn't someone there to steal the poorbox. The sight stopped him cold. A giant of a man, bloodied and covered in soot holding another whose blood had coated the entire leg of the giant. "Lord preserve us." Another man came running up behind the giant, dark haired, young and just as grim as the big man.
"Priest. Forgive us... But he is dying. He wishes to make confession before... Before. Vasily cleared is tightening throat. "He is Igor Volgolev. I am Vasily, this is Mikhail. Mikhail will... Tidy up, after. I... Must leave."
Father Rustof, not a young man, swayed a moment as if he were about to faint, then steadied. "This is about the violence tonight? Bring him. He gestured where Vasily should set Igor down. "Why not take him to a hospital?"
Vasily coughed. "He is dying. Even without the gunshot." Mikhail looked in shock and sudden insight at Vasily's words. "Give him what peace you can."
A cough,then an ugly fit of hacking gasps came from Igor, who inhaled deeply. He opened sunken eyes and looked at the priest. "Vasily... Go. Do what you must. Father..." More coughing.
"It will be done. Mikhail... You know what to do after?" The younger man nodded, tears in his eyes as well. "Good." Vasily strode slowly out of the church.
The last words Vasily heard were, "I am Igor Volgolev. I come to you freely to confess the sins of my life, that I might make amends with God for what I have done..."
Kristoph Bors stretched in his office, decadent in its decor. The attack on Igor's bunch had gone... Terribly wrong. Igor had at least had died; he'd shot that vodka-soaked shit in the belly and left him to burn. But the police had arrived too fast, and too many of his men died in the raid for it to have worked. He'd have to rebuild, maybe run... No, he'd use what they DID get to pay off the police, to consolidate. And he'd find that little shit Dmitri, too- he'd promised Igor's territory, and had said this would work! Had SWORN it would work! He'd given Kristoph Everything he'd needed. Names of all Igor's lieutenants, where they'd be, what the delivery schedules were... But the drugs weren't there! The lieutenants were killed, but everything pointed to Igor having known what was coming! He suppressed and eerie shudder. Worse... Villany was still out there, somewhere. That one... He'd said he'd come back and kill his men. That brought a laugh, quickly stifled. "Hah. Fuck you, Villany. They're already dead!"
A thud sounded outside his door, suspiciously like something man-sized hitting the wall. he pulled out his pistol, a Desert Eagle in .44 calibre. "Theo, what was that?"
The door handle turned, and the door swung open. Theo, eyes glassy, fell into the room, the shaft of a floor-lamp jutting from him like a lance. "You should have run, Kristoph. I, Vasily, have come for you."
He fired at the unseen voice, three shots, and was rewarded with a grunt. "Fuck you, ape. I lost here today, but I won, too- Igor's dead!"
"You imagine that you hurt me. You should be afraid. I will show you a REAL monster now." Sounds followed Vasily's words. Sounds that Kristoph couldn't place, but which reminded him of limbs being dislocated... And of American horror movies. Something shadowed the doorway, and growled. It stepped into the light, hunched to fit through the doorway, and ROARED.
More gunshots followed, then horrible sounds, screams... And silence.
"Vasily Polykov. You are charged with 25 counts of assault and lesser charges too numerous to be listed today. We are cogent of the fact that you turned yourself in without violence, that the assault that took place two weeks ago was a Vory territorial dispute, and that you provided a great deal of evidence to allow us to sweep up those responsible. This will be taken into consideration in your sentencing." The judge paused to look at Vasily directly. "You have a nightmare reputation, Mr. Polykov. You are said to be a monster amongst monsters; what do you say to that?"
"I would say... That is what I was. I have done terrible things. That life is over now." Vasily shifted slightly, the handcuffs and leg-irons uncomfortable. "I would say that many Vory died, many more were arrested, and you have the drugs that were being sold. I plead guilty to the charges against me." He looked with clear eyes to the judge. "I am guilty."
No voices were raised in shock, no photographs were taken at this; this was not the circus of an American court- this was quite the different theater. The judge read through a few papers on his podium, then back at Vasily with a nod. "I have heard of the things you've done. Leg-breaker. Enforcer, maybe even murderer. I find it hard to reconcile fully with a man turning himself in. Regardless, you must be punished. I sentence you to a term to not less than ten and no more than 20 years, to be served at Vladimir Central Prison. This court is adjourned."
Vasily sat quietly in the holding cell, strangely at peace. He was clean of the blood and smoke, though his imagination was doing a fine job of replicating the stench and sensations in his mind. He hoped things would end well, but he was too pragmatic to believe that they would. A guard approached the bars, saying, "You have a visitor, Polykov. Five minutes."
Pavel nervously approached the bars. "You okay?"
Vasily nodded. "Perhaps better than I have been in years. Are you?"
"Yeah. No problem. I heard what the sentence was- you sure you want this?"
"I need to make amends, Pavel, for the things I've done. So yes. I will see you when I get out, or maybe you could visit?"
Pavel laughed. "If I can. It's a maximum security facility you're going to. Just try to survive!"
"That is something... I think I can do," Vasily replied.