The Den (Mafia Members Only)

Posts : 11 Join date : 2011-09-01

(I am working from a clean slate and ignoring the previous Russia's actions .)

Ivan walked up the sidewalk, humming to himself contentedly. From where he was on the block, things did not seem to be well with the Italians. He raised a hand to adjust his scarf. It was going to be a wonderful evening, he mused to himself. Up ahead, he saw a tall outline with a familiar, smaller one. The tall one did not seem to happy so by default it had to be Marcus. A grin spread over his features. And it appeared he had little Raivis with him. Oh the Latvian mafia! Ivan giggled to himself. This was a perfect opportunity.

"Good evening, comrades! What seems to be the problem? Did Raivis do something...unpleasant? I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to poison your borsch."

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Thu Oct 06, 2011 5:45 pm

The young man that burst through the doorway barely even gave Raivis a chance to glance at his face before shoving him roughly aside. But despite his drunken state, Raivis was still able to recognize him. It was none other than Lovino Vargas, the heir to the most powerful Don in the district. The shock of being pushed over by such an important mafioso in addition to his already impaired senses was enough to send the small blonde toppling to the ground without much resistance. The world spun, and Raivis suddenly felt sick and dizzy, pressing his face to the cold floor. His stomach heaved, but the alcohol stayed where it was, deep in his belly, though the blonde could feel his throat tighten at the same time. He knew this really wasn’t the best spot for him to be lying. However, Raivis didn’t feel inclined to pick himself off the floor any time soon. Instead, he crouched there and watched Lovino approach his father. The teen was mouthing off at him so loudly it made Raivis’ head throb. There was definitely something wrong here, but he was too confused to make sense of it at the moment.

Suddenly Don Vargas was on his feet and approaching him. Raivis cowered before the man, wishing more than ever that he could just disappear. His heart pounded when the tall man pulled him close, and his eyes widened at the Don’s words, sending a chill down his spine and making his whole body go stiff with fear.

“N-no, Don V-vargas…She’s f-fine…” Raivis squeaked.

He was trembling now, shaking so hard he thought the Italian would drop him for not being able to hold on. He really hoped his family hadn’t gotten rough with their hostage in their impatience. He secretly agreed that his father, the head of the Galantes, had been too hasty with his decision. If he had waited longer for his payment, Raivis wouldn’t even be in this situation right now. But there was nothing he could do about it.

It was then that things took a turn for the worst. Raivis didn’t even believe such a thing was possible till it happened. A familiar voice made his blood run cold. He couldn’t even force himself to turn his head to look back out the open doorway. He didn’t have to. He already knew that deceptively sweet voice that belonged to the man who was responsible for so many of the scars that lay hidden beneath his clothing.

“Braginski,” Raivis gasped, and suddenly any self control he had left exited his body…in an unfortunately visible form. Through his mouth. All over Don Vargas. The blonde’s face paled, and he found himself hoping that whatever was done to him, it would just be quick.

Posts : 76 Join date : 2010-10-19

Marcus was pleased with the fear he instilled in Raivis, and it showed with the grin that appeared on his face. While it was there for only a split second, and then a moment later the Italian man was serious again. His amber eyes looked down at the trembling Eastern European with a sort of disgust. The man's hand was still gripping the front of the young man's shirt, and he was about to say something to Romano until he heard a familiar, and thick accent. Tilting his head the older man looked over to see Ivan Braginski standing there with a smile on his face. When did that Russian not have a smile painted on his lips? Not relinquishing his hold upon Raivis the Italian cracked a smile as well.
"Ah, Ivan! It has been too long friend how do you fare?" The Italian inquired jovially as if nothing were wrong. To be honest he was going to shift the conversation over to the Russian, and then drop Raivis right then and there. However that was until he heard the most ungodly gurgling sounds, and suddenly this warm sensation splashed over his suit coat, pants, and nice shoes. Slowly Marcus looked down at the damage, and he felt his blood begin to boil. Raivis was all shaken, pale, and looking more sick than he had been before he decided to throw up. Then there was the obvious mess that was all over his new suit, and he just got this the other day! Obviously angry the Italian practically threw Raivis to the ground instead of dropping him.

"You idiot! Cosa c'è di sbagliato con te? Idiota! Do you even know how much these things cost me?" The Don started to ran and rave, hand gestures galore. The whole scene was like something you would see at most family dinners in Italy. That is if you were looking at this little display with humour, and not knowing the man ranting was a mafia Don. Not caring that there were now people possibly staring at him, the man turned around to face his son.
"Lovino, get me paper towels and water or something!" He ordered and then turned to look down at Raivis with narrowed eyes.
"You, you are going to clean this up! Inutile pezzo di sporcizia!" The man went off in Italian again towards the end. Marcus was apparently too angry at this moment to realise what he was saying.

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Thu Oct 13, 2011 11:34 am

Lovino followed his father towards the door, muttering curses in Italian and glaring at the old man’s back. Why couldn’t he move faster, dammit? It’s not like they had all fucking night! Now his father was messing with the blonde Lovino had knocked over on the way in. He paid little attention to their conversation; he was too preoccupied with thoughts of his poor mother being held hostage who-knew-where by who-knew-who doing who-knew-what to her. His mood was significantly worsened by the sight of Ivan Braginski near the door that was their exit. He already didn’t like the man much –fucking creepy bastard- but he had no patience for that stupid smiling face in this moment of desperation. How dare that idiot smile when Lovino himself was feeling so distraught? How dare he flaunt his happiness when inside, the Italian was a mix of emotions like anger, hate, worry, and frustration? What was worse was that he was blocking their path with his huge ass. Lovino gritted his teeth and prepared to hurl some insults at the larger man, but his idiot of a father opened his stupid mouth first and greeted him like nothing was wrong. As if he was just saying hello to an old friend. As if the life of the mother of his children wasn’t in danger at that very moment.

Lovino turned his anger towards the Don, rage boiling through him as he tried to determine the best way to punish his father, but after another moment, justice was delivered from an unlikely source. That pathetic runt that the old man was holding threw up all over his father’s expensive clothes, and as shocked and disgusted as Lovino was, all he really wanted to do was laugh. Served the bastard right! Lovino was a little more than amused and satisfied with this turn of events…Until he realized this mess was just going to end up slowing them down further.

He glared daggers at the young man his father threw on the ground and itched to scream profanities at him, but the old man already seemed to have beaten him to the verbal abuse. When he ordered Lovino to fetch some paper towels, the young heir let out an audible snarl of frustration and stepped forward to give the trembling blonde a good, solid kick to the face.

“Watch who you blow your chunks on next time, motherfucker!” he shouted at him and spun around to approach the bartender, looking demanding and furious. “You! Water and paper towels NOW, bastard! Make it quick, or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”

This was probably why his father didn’t actually allow him to carry a gun yet…Not that Lovino needed one. He was practically a loaded barrel himself ready to go off at any given moment, especially now.

“Did you hear me? I said move!”

Posts : 11 Join date : 2011-09-01

Ivan just smiled as the events unfolded in front of him. Raivis' puking elicited a laugh from him. "Marcus, really you need to watch what you wear around little Raivis; he tends to get queasy." It served the Italian right, in his mind. When the Italian don demanded that Raivis clean it up, Ivan just smiled and moved forward.

"Now, now Marcus; He doesn't need to clean anything up. It is your fault for scaring him so. Besides, we eastern Europeans are allowed to make demands to each other. After all, why should we take orders from a greaseball, da? But I suppose it is like you to be uncivilized; word on the street is that your mother was a pig, sent to the slaughterhouse. It makes sense that you are a barn animal, Marcus. Because you have the civility of one."

In Ivan's mind, he felt the Italian was out of line here. Marcus had overstepped his bounds as a don for some time in his opinion and needed to be taught a lesson. Which set the cogs turning in his dark mind; not a good thing for the general public.

He then moved to loom over the Latvian. "Get up Raivis; ignore these pigs. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." Ivan smiled pleasantly. He was not the least bit intimidated by the parties present.

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Sat Oct 15, 2011 8:23 pm

Frankly this was all starting to turn into a big mess as far as Feliks was concerned. The Don was more interested in the arrival of his bodyguard than the boy he was actually here to meet, the messenger was too spineless to just get it over with, and Christof was brooding over his personal problems and since nobody was actually saying anything worth listening to, Feliks wasn’t even getting entertainment out of it. What a waste of a busy bar.

The poor blond man didn’t even seem to know anything about dealing with the don. Beating around the bush and dragging things out were not good ideas. The Don was not especially patient and a little ADD besides. Did no one tell this guy about that? Though perhaps he would have fared better if his brain wasn’t swimming in alcohol. Feliks supposed that was partially his fault. He should have probably cut the little guy off. But how was he supposed to know that the guy had some real big important meeting with the big boss? Ah well… wasn’t like there was anything to be done to change things now. Feliks heaved a sigh to himself and returned to tidying up around his bar and pretending he wasn’t listening in. He hoped this didn’t turn into something physical. He didn’t like the idea of having to mop up the remains of that little guy from his nice clean floor, though he would have probably been the most adorable corpse the Pole would have come in contact with up to that point.

He turned back around when he heard the slam of the timid man’s hand on the counter and saw the young man’s tab left there. And a really nice tip besides, which made Feliks extra glad that the man – Raivis? Was that what the Don said? – didn’t seem like he was going to become just a blood stain on the fancy oriental rug. Grinning to himself, he picked up the bills and began to count them. But the smile left his face as a new person entered the bar, one that caused Feliks’ face to fall. He did not like the Don’s bratty son. Lovino was loud, obnoxious, foul-mouthed, and aggressive and he had a tendency to ruin the atmosphere of the bar as far as Feliks was concerned. Within his first two seconds of being in the Den, he’d already knocked Raivis onto his ass and was yelling at the top of his lungs. The Pole winced at the noise and aggression, which were to him like nails on a chalkboard. Feliks was not particularly sensitive to anger and could be a hot tempered one himself when in the mood, but this was a place for lively attitudes and spirited drinking, and all the shouting was killing the good mood his high tip had put him in. And for no reason that the Pole could understand, the young Italian was shooting a glare at him, to which Feliks just raised an eyebrow and looked thoroughly confused.

Seriously, Italy would be so much better if not for all the Italians… or at least the ones Feliks found himself dealing with. But he supposed that was his fault for getting involved in mob affairs. But it was hard to regret the choice when he picked up his second large tip of the night from the Don himself. Feliks was very materialistic when you got right down to it.

The excitement was quickly moving towards the doorway as the party was trying to leave, but things were rarely so easy anymore. As Feliks very casually took his polishing cloth and began work on the tables closest to the door, he caught the sound of a most unwelcome voice. Ick, Ivan…. Feliks had had some limited dealings with him – mostly serving as a messenger between his Italian employers and the Russian mobster. The large and imposing man had come off as creepy even before Feliks started hearing stories about him. If half the things he heard were true, then Ivan was definitely crazy in that not-to-be-fucked-with sort of way. Feliks hardly even had time to wonder how the arrival of another Mafioso would change the situation before….

Damn. He had been so close to avoiding having body fluids tainting his bar. Now the place was going to smell frat house. And that Raivis guy would probably not see another day. You just don’t puke on a mafia don. You just don’t.

The Don called for water and towels to his son, and like the little mafia princeling that he was, Lovino shoved the task onto Feliks, yelling and cursing like the Pole was somehow to blame. Well, he had supplied the booze that was currently soaking into the expensive Italian suit, but that was beside the point. Feliks gave and exasperated little shrug and turned back to the bar, muttering not so quietly to himself. “Not like towels and water are going to do much to get Peroni puke out of a suit…He’s still going to smell like the bathrooms at the racetrack afterwards. Be better off just getting the hose.” He grabbed a stack of dish towels from beneath the bar sink anyway – they would work better than paper towels – and a jug of water. Knowing better than to try and hand them off to Lovino, he brought them straight to the site of all the action, holding them out. For who, he wasn’t even sure yet. Ivan was interfering…that couldn’t be good. He gave Raivis a look of sympathy, something that would no doubt be unappreciated by his bosses, but he couldn’t help it. The guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or a murderous Italian and a psychopathic Russian as the case may be. Pity to lose such a cute guy who knew how to tip.

Posts : 56 Join date : 2010-11-07

Everything turned chaotic in the few seconds (minutes?) the Germanic man was out, off in his mind. Looking around now, Christof could see that allowing just a few moments to himself was a bad idea. Puking, screaming, threats, everything enhanced his headache.

The putrid smell coming from the Don's suit was just.. Unbearable, for a lack of better description. He went to go retrieve the paper towels and water from the bartender, murmuring an apology for his 'idiotic boss' disturbance'. Sometimes, Marcus embarrassed him. And his son, mein Gott, the little prick was annoying.

And that Russian.

Honestly, he had no problem with said Russian. He was just.. Odd, to say in the least. Those creepy smiles he gave, the child-like innocence he seemingly had. That pipe. Creepy man. Very spooky. Focusing his attention on Feliks', he sighed.

"Could you find some bi-carbonate baking soda, or just baking soda? Then direct me to the bathroom?" Since he used to deal with drunks a lot, he knew how to deal with vomit stains. Yay for that knowledge. He finally turned to Marcus.

"Either you come with me so I can wash this out or strip off all of the stained clothing right here. Honestly, it's just a little vomit." Don't throw a hissy fit, you big baby. he wanted to add but this was his boss. This being said, he couldn't really yell at Lovino for being as annoying as his father was at times. Little tomato loving... Enough of that train of thought. Christof ignored Ivan and Raivis, now waiting for his boss to calm down and answer the damn question.

Italians. Lovely..

Posts : 76 Join date : 2010-10-19

Marcus snapped his attention to the Russian man who had approached, and forced a small smile of greeting on his face. Great, now he had Ivan Braginski here who was not his favourite person on earth to speak to. Looking down at Raivis with distaste still, and looked back towards the interior of the bar waiting for Lovino. It was of course at this moment Christof was also approaching, and Marcus gestured to Raivis as if saying 'yes this is the criminal who ruined my suit'. Ignoring his bodyguard's comments about venturing into the bathroom he had more important matters to attend to. One of such matters was the sudden word greaseball that registered into his mind.

Greaseball? GREASEBALL?

Who in the living fuck did Ivan think he was? Speaking to him so carelessly as if he were just another person on the street. He was Marcus Emilio Valentino Vargas the Don of the entirety of the Italian mafia! A name that was feared in the underground, and not without good reason. The cunning Italian was just as much ruthless as he was friendly to those who deserved his kindness. Now prior to this altercation Marcus had no real problems with Ivan in the least. However, to hear those words uttered with such flippant disregard set his blood to boil.

"If that is the logic you wish to work by then by all means, how about you lousy Eastern European scum stop trying to boss around the Western portion of Europe, eh? Cannot tell you how many times people from your region make unreasonable demands. Such as Raivis's family..." He practically growled the last part, and cast a venomous glance down at the Latvian.

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Wed Nov 09, 2011 2:29 pm

Raivis hit the ground with a yelp. The Don was already shouting abuse at him in Italian, but at least he had released him. Not that Raivis could go anywhere. Instead, he cowered on the floor, curling up into a tight, defensive ball. So the Don was going to make him clean up the mess…He wasn’t surprised. It’d probably be his last act alive- wiping his own puke from Don Vargas’ expensive suit before the Don wiped away his existence. Pain came faster than Raivis expected though, when the younger Vargas’ shoe met his forehead. The blonde whimpered and held the aching spot. He just wanted to stay on the floor and let it end already.

Then, Braginski was speaking again, and the Latvian felt his whole body shiver. Of course it hadn’t been Marcus that had made him lose his lunch…Ivan’s presence and the simple sound of his voice was what Raivis’ stomach had reacted to. What could he possibly want with him? As if this night wasn’t already bad enough. The blonde wished he had the guts and the power to just tell the Russian to leave him alone, that he had enough problems to deal with at the moment, but he knew he had no such option. Ivan was the kind of man who got what he wanted, in whatever way was the most effective. Raivis had already learned that lesson several times in the past. But now the Russian was picking a fight with Marcus and the Latvian had no idea what would come of it. Maybe some bloodshed…but would it be enough of a distraction to allow for an escape? No, he couldn’t run. Where in the world would he go? His family would hunt him down and have him killed. He would never see Peter again. Though at the moment, he didn’t see much chance of that happening anyway.

Tears leaked down Raivis’ cheeks as he forced himself to rise shakily to his feet. A Mafioso crying like this- it was shameful. But Raivis didn’t have a reputation for being strong on the outside. All he could do was endure, endure, endure. That’s what he had been doing all this time. He had to stop thinking about how his life was ending and just focus on making the higher ups happy for now. He stared at the bartender when the other blonde brought over the towels and water. Should he take them from him? Ivan had told him not to, but the Don was still looming over him and giving Raivis a look that made the small blonde wince. The frightening bodyguard was still close by too, and he seemed to have a different idea about how to get his boss’s suit cleaned. Raivis didn’t know what to do. He just took the supplies from the bartender and held them readily, waiting for a cue that hopefully wouldn’t come with physical encouragement.

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Wed Nov 16, 2011 11:09 pm

Gilbert nearly backed right out of the bar when he came in. One look at this mess told him he should high tail it now, before it was too late. But it was his job to get information, and maybe he could weasel some out without actually getting right in the middle of this fight. He had enough bruises right now, he didn't want to add to them.

Keeping an eye on the group of people, yelling and looking ready to draw weapons, Gilbert crossed straight to the bar, and took a seat as close to the action as he could, without looking too obvious. If nothing else, he figured he might get a good drink out of this when it was all over. Maybe even a fuck if Feliks was feeling up to it.

The relationship he had with the bartender left much to be desired on an emotional level, but that was for best. Since Gilbert was basically lying about his entire life, from his childhood to his current situation, he didn't think he could carry out a real relationship, and besides, there was no point in trying, and Feliks wouldn't be his type for that anyway.

Even so, he watched with sharp eyes as the others went about their business, waiting, and trying to make sure the Pole didn't get in the cross fire and hurt. Gilbert wouldn't marry the guy, but he didn't want him battered and bruised either.

Posts : 56 Join date : 2010-11-07

The German man watched, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward, resting a hand on Marcus' shoulder, trying to calm the Don down somehow. He looked to the shaking Latvian boy whom had just rose to his feet and sighed, going over to the boy. Christof didn't take notice to the man that had just come in, thinking it would be some random person who would know to mind their own business.

Setting a hand on the small of Raivis' back, he pushed him away slightly, trying to usher him away from the Don's fit. As he tried to coax the boy to a seat, he kept an eye on the Russian, and his boss, wondering what they were going to do next.

"Try and stay put. For your own sake.. And leave the things on the table.." He mumbled out, eyes flickering up to the bar. He noticed the man whom had came in, both eyebrows raising slightly in shock. What was he doing here? He thought to himself. With his lips forming into a tight line, Christof went back to Marcus' side, rubbing his forehead. He didn't needthis right now..

Why did the Russian have to call the Don a 'Greaseball'?

Posts : 76 Join date : 2010-10-19

Marcus had taken his attentions away from Ivan for now, and back down to the disgusting and foul mess on his shoes, and the very lower part of his pants. A low growl almost escaped past his lips from frustration, and he watched with a sort of irritated curiosity as Christof led the young Latvian away from his presence. Throwing his hands up in a sort of frustration he spoke.
"Christof! What do you think you are doing!" Marcus inquired in a commanding voice, "Get him back over here to clean my shoes!" Such a request could be considered haughty and arrogant by the casual passerby. However to the Italian man it was possibly the most kind he could be right now. The damned Russian standing not too far from him had already done more to sour his mood than any amount of bile.

"Unless you plan on cleaning it up yourself." He added on and stepped back some away from the lost lunch on the ground. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. Running his fingers through his wavy hair the older man looked over towards his son.

"After this mess is cleaned it, and I take care of speaking to the Russian we are getting your mother." The sound of anger in his voice was ever steady. So it was obvious that the presence of Ivan Braginski, and the news had not just angered the Don. It was the very thought passing through his mind that his wife was kidnapped, and being held against her will somewhere.

Posts : 11 Join date : 2011-09-01

Ivan watched the events transpire in front of him with a cold smile spread over his face. In truth he found this all very amusing: Marcus having vomit on his precious suit, the bodyguard trying to clean it up, Lovino, Little Raivis... it was all too amusing. Upon Marcus' statement about eastern Europeans, Ivan chuckled.

"I suppose then we have a problem, comrade. So what did the Latvians do to you? And what does that say about your hold on power if the cute little Latvians can thwart the big, bad Marcus?"

Indeed, Ivan never saw Marcus as anything threatening. Rather, Marcus to Ivan was just like a spoiled little Romanov child who threw a tantrum when he didn't get his way. And yet it seemed that whatever the Latvians did to anger him, Marcus was too weak to do anything about it. Oh sure he fancied himself as someone threatening, but Ivan had yet to be impressed.

Subject: Re: The Den (Mafia Members Only) Thu Jan 05, 2012 11:19 am

To say that the few remaining ounces of Lovino’s patience were quickly diminishing would have been an understatement. The boy had come in here with his tolerance and leniency already in the negative zone, and he didn’t have any more to spare. He was already furious with his father for everything- for being away from home when he was needed the most, for letting the one holding their domestic life together be taken (only because of her connection to him), for fussing so much over a damn suit instead of getting his ass in the car and getting his mother back. And now he was going to give this Russian bastard priority over his time? Hell no.

“Fuck him!” Lovino shouted, red-faced and pointing at Ivan without even looking at him. “Nothing’s more important than what we have to do right now, old man! I don’t give a shit about your puked-up suit or anyone else. They can fucking wait! I want to leave now.”

He seized his father’s sleeve and attempted to heave him towards the door, but Marcus was bigger than him, and Lovino was still trembling slightly from fear and anger. He didn’t let that deter him though. Instead, he got behind the other man and started to push. There wasn’t any time left to be standing around. They needed to get home so the old man could get the ransom and meet the negotiator at the designated place. No one was going to stop him, no matter how important that person might think themselves to be. The only thing that mattered right now was getting his mother back. He shot Ivan a glare from over his shoulder, and feeling bold with his father by his side, flipped him off.

“Don’t you dare try to slow us down, bastard! It’s not like my father needs your help wasting more of his fucking time!”

Posts : 11 Join date : 2011-09-01

Ivan turned to face Lovino at his outburst, visibly unmoved save for a cold smile. This was becoming more and more intriguing as his mind raced to the possibilities. Ivan adjusted his scarf momentarily and savored the night air, before replying, "What could possibly be so important about Marcus that you are so concerned Lovino? Or do you want to leave because you're afraid? I wouldn't blame you."

He chuckled lightly, still donning that smile of his. "But that kind of feeling is not appropriate for a future don, Lovino. It shows weakness."

His violet eyes held dark promises. So many dark promises. It was too bad Mrcus wasn't alone or he could have some real fun. Like perhaps introducing Marcus to an old Russian prison trick that enabled one to rip out a stomach's lining via towel.