Walked the streets a soldier and he fought the world alone

    The Russian put out his cigarette on the street and stepped back into his running heated car. He felt

exposed in this neighborhood, watching this house were very little seemed to go on. It also felt like a

massive waste of time on Anatoly's part. After all, they gotten what they wanted- the club. A place to base

their operations, bring in their women, sell their drugs. Why not just wipe them all out? That was how the

Russian felt. The longer they were alive the more angry and resentful they would become, thus more of

a threat.

          He looked at the clock on his car's dashboard, it was fifteen minutes after 3, where the hell was this

guy? They worked in shifts, 7-3, 3-11, sometimes someone on overnight but not always. However usually

his relief would have called or tapped on his door by now.

        It was all so stupid, in the Russian's mind. Anatoly had them watching the mobster's houses because

he wanted leverage over them if they should try to do something, to retaliate. They'd been watching this

house for a week and more and more and Russian felt like they were the ones being watched. They'd told

the Berardi's that if anyone in their household did call the cops, they'd kill everyone. 

        But the Russian didn't think that was likely to happen. He'd done a little research on the 

neighborhood, still heavily Italian, some who had only come over 20-30 years before. Still very distrustful

of the authorities. 

        The Russian knew, some of these old ladies, retired, nothing better to do, loved to just look out their

window and observe any strange coming and goings. And, just as likely they were telling these comings

and going to someone, who told them to someone else. 

        Occupiers in hostile territory. That's what it felt like to him. His father had served with the Red Army

in Afghanistan. He'd survived, and what little he'd spoken of it was how the Russian felt now. Alone, 

being watched at all times.

            The Russian's cell phone rang from the center console and he picked it up, checking the ID, Mom,

oh shit. She lived over in Franklin and when he'd moved out here he'd told her if she needed anything all

she had to do was give him a call and he'd be over.

        'Hey, Mom, what's up? I'm kind of in the middle of something.' He said as he answered. 'I fell down

pretty bad, I need a ride to the hospital.'

        Fuck, the Russian thought, they'd kill him if he left his post, but what if she's really hurt?.

'There isn't anyone else you can call?' He asked her, feeling bad. 'No son, you're all I've got.' She replied

meekly.

        'Alright, Ma, give me ten minutes I'll be over.' He said, starting the engine. Hell if my relief had been

on time, this wouldn't even be an issue, he thought as he sped away.

        'He is on the way.' The old Russian woman told Steve Berardi as she hung up the phone. He kept his

.45 trained on her the whole time.

        'Good, as soon as he gets here, we'll take a ride and be out of your hair.' Steve said to her smiling. 

He'd been up for over 24 hours, plotting, scheming, thinking of a real way to retaliate against these 

scumbags. 

        'What are you going to do to him?' She asked. She was on the recliner in the living room and he was 

standing across from her. 'Don't worry about it.' He replied. 

            After he'd found from Matteo, a couple days ago, how's Bobby's meeting had basically done fuck-

all to change the situation with the Russians, with getting the club back or even getting them to call off

their goons that were still watching their houses, Steve had decided for himself that if something was

going to be done about all this, he'd have to do it himself.

        He'd gotten in touch with his nephew Gaetano, told him about the situation with the House of Venus

and the Russian's, about the goons. Then, he'd improvised, starting making up a story of his own, telling

Gaetano that Bobby had formed an alliance with Eugene and his crew and was looking for a way to strike

back.

       Guy had told Steve he was actually a dating a Russian right now, Marina, who he was pretty sure

was connected with these same Russian gangsters. He knew because they'd all gone out the week before,

they'd smoked some strong weed before they went out and Guy had been confused, because the club they

took him to reminded him of the House of Venus, but it was different. It was called 'Odessa,' now.

        When Guy had asked Marina's step brother Anatoly, about it, he'd explained that that was it's old

name, and that it was theirs now. 

        Steve could feel himself crashing. He'd done some coke earlier in the morning at his girlfriend 

Shannon's house, and had taken a couple OxContins before picking up Guy and having him drive over

to the Russian's mothers house.

            That was about an hour ago and he could feel himself coming down. Need something to even it

all out, bring him back down to earth.

        'You got anything to drink in here?' He asked the Russian's mother. She was still sitting in her recliner

watching TV and responded with a stone-cold glare.

        'Ok, I'll help myself.' He said, and walked into the kitchen, opening the freezer, finding what he 

expected in there, a bottle of Stoli, Russian Vodka. 

        He walked over to the pantry, took out a glass, and poured himself a couple fingers. He shot it down

in one gulp, and felt it burn all the way down.

        He poured a smaller one, took it down the same way, slowly feeling his senses return. Almost 

showtime, he thought as he walked back into the living room. He looked through the blinds, and saw that

a car had just pulled into the driveway. 

        Showtime, he thought. He positioned himself behind the door, putting his gun in his waistband and

taking out his other weapon of choice, his taser. His nephew Guy had told him a lot of Anatoly's goons

were ex-military, some ex special forces, and he wasn't taking any chances. Plus he'd known some 

Russian's in the joint, tough motherfuckers from what he remembered.

        He'd made a shushing motion to the Russian's mother as he heard a knock on the door, standing on

the other side, his taser in his hand.

            As the Russian entered Steve stuck him with the taser, observing for a brief moment the look of

horror on his mothers face, then quickly got his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. As he took

out the blindfold and put it over the Russians eyes, Steve felt a pang of guilt. His mother reminded him

of his grandmother, who was from Italy, nicest person he ever knew. But hey, he thought, as he put the

Russian on the couch, giving him a second to rest before marching him outside, these assholes started

all this.

                  Steve's nephew Gaetano sat in Steve's girlfriends car in the back of the old Russian woman's

house, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He'd called out of work that morning because Steve had

called him the night before, saying he needs his help for something the next day. He hadn't gone into any

details over the phone, he never did, but Guy had had a pretty good idea of what he was planning from 

their conversation a couple days before.

        The Russian woman's house had a backyard which led to the street. Steve had looked up the address 

on google. He'd even broken in during the day and stolen her house key to make a copy. Guy had found

out from his girlfriend Marina, that one of her brother Anatoly's goons had a mother who lived in Franklin

who he took care of and checked in on from time to time. 

        Guy had learned that because he'd been hanging out at her brothers house, playing video games and

smoking weed when he'd gotten a text from the goon saying he was going to be late. 'Late for what?' Guy

had asked Anatoly at the time, but Marina had shushed him up. Later when they were alone she'd

explained how Anatoly had gotten Matteo to sign the club over, and that they had men assigned to the

houses of some of the Berardi Family members, to keep them in line. Make sure they don't try anything

stupid.

        Well, too late for that, Guy thought. He had the car running and the radio on as he saw Steve emerge

from the back of the house with a large handcuffed man, with a blindfold over his eyes. 

        'Open the trunk!' Steve said to him as he approached the car, Guy opened the driver side door and

popped the trunk.

        Steve shoved the man into the trunk and slammed it down. Guy heard a few muffled curses in a 

language he didn't understand from the trunk before Steve got in the passenger seat.

        Guy started the car, heading down the side street. He could hear loud thumping from the trunk of the

car. 'Take a right here, I know a spot.' Steve said. 

        Guy took the turn, knowing there was no going back at this point. He didn't care. There was 

something exciting about it, he felt like he was in a real life version of GTA5.

          Steve took out his bag of coke from his coat, put a little on his fingers and took a quick snort. Just

a little while longer now. They were on the highway now, Steve knew a spot about 20 minutes away from

Franklin, these farm fields that you could drive out on that no one really went. 

        The fields were by a river and he planned on driving up near the bank, taking the Russian out of the

car, and shooting him there. They'd find him eventually, hell Steve wanted him to be found. To send a 

message. To do what his gutless, useless, boss refused to do. 

        The thumping in the back had subsided, 'It's this next exit.' He told Guy, pointing. As Guy made the

turn, Steve cell phone started ringing in his pocket and he saw that it was his girlfriend, Shannon. As he

was about to pick it up, he turned to Guy, 'Don't say anything.' He told him.

        'Hey Honey.' Steve said as he picked up the phone. 'Where are you? You were supposed to be back

20 minutes ago.' Shannon asked.

        'Take a right here.' He said to Guy, taking him down a dirt road. 'Who are you talking to? Where are

you?' She asked Steve, sounding concerned. 

    'I just have to take care of something real quick and I'll have your car right back to you.' Steve explained

to her, knowing from where they were right now her house was almost an hour away.

        'Well I have to leave for my shift in 10 minutes will you be back by then?' She asked. They were 

down the road a bit now and Steve gestured for Guy to pull over.

        'Baby, I'm sorry, I won't be able to.' He said. She paused for a moment and when she spoke he could

feel the anger in her voice. 'I'll just get a ride. We'll talk about this later.' 'I love you.' Steve said, but she

had already hung up.

        'So this is where I need your help, we gotta get him out of the car. In the past I'd just do him, leave 

him in the trunk, park the car somewhere. But with forensics these days, plus my girlfriends would be

pissed because I'd have to to get rid of her car.'

        'You're gonna kill him?' Guy asked. 'The fuck you think we were gonna do?' They both turned as

they heard a loud thud from the back. 'That's why I need you.' He reached into the center console of the

car and grabbed a black, hand-held device, he handed it to Guy, 'You might need to tase him, he's a

live one.'

                Steve got out and stood back a little from the trunk, his pistol in his hand. Guy had gotten out

of the driver seat and reached down to pull the switch to open the trunk, 'Ok, I'm about to open it.' He said

and pulled it. 

           Steve grabbed the bound Russian and pulled him out of the trunk, pressing his pistol to his back

and telling him to move, Guy closed the drivers side door and followed them, taser in his hand. Steve 

marched the Russian toward a strand of trees near the riverbank.

            When they were almost there Steve raised his pistol and shot the Russian in the back of the head.

The body fell to the ground near the trees. Guy's mouth was wide open, 'Here help me move his body into

the bushes.

            'Just so you know, I'm not acting entirely alone doing all this. We got allies, other people in this 

city who don't want to see this fucking pricks moving in and setting up shop.' Steve explained as he drove

them down the dirt road and out of the field.

            'I have to get this car back to my girlfriend pronto, so I have to drop you in Franklin, you can catch

the bus right?' Steve asked Guy as he got on the highway.

Brooklyn New York

        'Listen, we have a serious situation on our hands and I need to speak to him as soon as possible.' Tony

explained, slightly out of breath as he spoke into the payphone. Boris never talked business on the phone,

nothing. Indeed he avoided talking on the phone at all as much as possible, so when anyone needed to get

in touch with him to talk business, they had to call the restaurant, where he was most of the time, and

whoever it was would talk to him and arrange a good time for the person to stop by.

            'Come by this evening, 7.' The woman said on the other end, and hung up. It was always like that. 

He hung up the phone. 

       Fuck, Tony thought, as he headed down the street towards his apartment. As the manager of the Oasis

nightclub, Tony had gotten used to seeing a lot of shady activities going on, drug dealing, hiring girls to

work in the club who were in the country illegally. After all, it had been that way when he'd accepted the

position. 

        He wasn't stupid, he knew not to ask too many questions about these things. One time, however, 

he'd met Boris, and managed to work up the courage to ask him, in a roundabout way, weather he was

worried about the authorities. 

        'My friend,' Boris had replied with a smile, 'In America, if you have enough money, you can get away

with anything.'

        What Tony had seen walking to work that afternoon had confirmed this was a lie. He'd been across 

the street walking into work for his 4 to closing shift when he'd seen all the cop cars and FBI vehicles 

outside the club.

            He had turned around immediately then and started walked in the opposite direction, nice and slow

to not attract attention, heading to where he knew there was a payphone. That was another thing, you had

to call him from a payphone, which, were becoming increasingly hard to find. 

        Tony went through the door and up the steps of his building to his apartment. He had some money in

there in a safe he'd stashed away, he'd been stealing from the club for years. He'd go to meet with Boris 

this evening, tell him what happened, assure him he'd keep his mouth shut when they picked him up, then

after that, he'd disappear. 

    'So you guys are ok with us running that place now?' Anatoly Kerimov, asked Eugene. They were in 

Jamal's cousin's apartment, about to make a transaction. 

        Eugene took a hit of his blunt, passed it to Jamal. 'Hell no, why should I give a damn who runs that

place? Berardi's did nothing but take money out of my pocket when they ran this town.' He explained. 

        'They're dinosaurs, man, their time has come and gone.' Lay it on thick, Eugene thought to himself. 

'I know for a fact that my boss Luis, feels the same way.'

         Jamal passed the blunt to Anatoly, 'Your boss,' he remarked, making a face, I thought you were the

main man in your operation.'

        Eugene could hear the sarcasm in his voice, asshole, he thought but maintained his cool. 'He gives me

the freedom to run my operation as I see fit, plus it helps for external threats, other gangs, law

enforcement.' He said, watching Anatoly's eye rise as he said that last part.

             'Yes, that kind of protection is important.' Anatoly remarked, 'My Uncle Boris has a lot of

connections like that in NYC. So do you have what I need?' He asked.

        Eugene nodded, 'Yup, do you have the cash?' Anatoly said something to his bodyguard who was 

sitting across from where he was sitting on the couch, he reached into a bag, pulled out a stack of bills

and put it on the table.

        'Go get it for them.' Eugene said to Jamal, who groggily got up from the couch. I hope he's not too

fucked up for this, he thought to himself. He'd been hearing things about Jamal lately, that'd he'd been

on other drugs, hard drugs, that he sometimes mixed crack in with his blunts.

        Jamal walked down the hall to the bedroom and closed the door. Why the fuck is it us that have to do

this shit? Eugene thought as he waited in the living room for Jamal's return. 

        Eugene felt relief as he heard the door shut again and Jamal returned to the living room with a back

pack. 

        'You got the stuff?' Anatoly asked, as Jamal sat down across from them. 'Yeah.' Jamal said, as he

reached into the backpack, pulled out his .38 and fired two shots, one for Anatoly and one for the

bodyguard.

            Eugene winced at the noise, and the smell of gunpowder. He took out his cell phone and dialed

Steve's number. 'It's done.' He said when he picked up.

Brooklyn NYC

        Boris Kerimov sat at his table near the back of Ivan's restaurant, trying, in his head to figure out what

the hell was going on. 

        He'd just met with Tony, one of the managers of one of the clubs that got raided, who assured him he

didn't talk to anyone, or have anything to do with it. Only a matter of time before they pick him up for 

questioning, and when they do.. Boris had little confidence that one would be able to keep his mouth shut.

After all, he was a civilian. The clean cut frontman they had picked the run the place for them. 

          In all 6 of his clubs got busted in the past 2 days almost one in each borough he operated in. He'd

been steady in his payments to the detective in the organized crime division who kept him up to date on

any and all police and Federal operations he should know about. 

        He poured himself a glass of vodka from the bottle on the table. He'd just finished his dinner and was

waiting for the detective to arrive and give him some kind of explanation for what was going on.

        He took a sip of the vodka. He had an idea, a hunch of why his clubs had been hit, and the more he

thought on it, the more sense it made.

        He felt the chill of the air outside, as the detective came in. Boris sat with his back to the door like

he always did. 

        Boris stood up as he approached the table, 'You're late.' He said to the detective as he sat down. Boris

went to the kitchen and told the person there to get a black coffee for the detective. 

        'I know, look, you gotta believe when I tell you this wasn't on my radar. From what I've learned so far

there's been a joint FBI task force investigating you for some time now. They've kept it on a need to know

basis because they were worried about leaks in the department.' The detective explained as his coffee was

brought out.

        Boris grinned, 'So what exactly, am I paying for for then?' He asked sarcastically. The detective 

took a sip of his coffee, 'You don't need me fine? Go without. See how that works out for you.' He shot

back.

        'Look, you ask me, I think someone dropped a dime on you. Maybe a rival, someone you pissed off

recently, anyone come to mind?' The detective asked.

        Boris's expression went cold, Luis, he knew it was him. He'd known it inside. I need to get in touch

with my nephew, Anatoly, he thought.

    Now if I can just take a look at his car, Dana White thought. She was sitting in her office with a piece

of paper and a pen, writing it all down. Kyle and Issac Papa, Jason Popa, James Rhodes, all 4 murders

connected to the same person. 

        All 4 killed for the same motive- they knew too much. Eddie Pena, living in semi-retirement under

the name Charles Hall, selling large quantities of drugs to a select few, had killed them because they found

out where he lived.

        Of course, it wasn't really his drug dealing operation he was protecting by killing them, he was 

protecting himself, as he himself was the suspect in a triple homicide in Wisconsin 3 years earlier. It was

a fine theory, one she was almost certain was true, except one problem, she didn't have a shred of 

evidence. 

        Indeed, since Kyle and Issac Popa's disappearance, nobody had found any trace of them. In Jason

Papa's apartment no fingerprints, nor at the James Rhodes crime scene. A lot of people in her department

thought it was kid Rhodes was supposed to meet, Tyler. That it was some kind of drug rip off. But the kid

swore up and down he didn't do it, that there was someone else there. Someone who had coerced him by

force to kill Rhodes and arrange a meet. 

        Which, assuming the kid, Tyler, was telling the truth would fit perfectly with her theory. Pena needed

a way to get Rhodes to come out, pop his head out. She'd questioned the kid, looked over his rap sheet,

she just didn't like him for it. Didn't see him as someone capable of murder. The way Rhodes had his 

throat cut, so fast and precise, like a trained killer. 

        Dana had been under a lot of pressure to solve this case, it made a lot of people uneasy. James 

Rhodes had been something of a local celebrity as the frontman of his band the Mariners, his murder

seemed cold and calculated. Killed over a few grams of coke. But she knew, she just knew, it was more

than that, it had to be. 

        The knock on her door interrupted her train of thought, 'Come in.' She said. 'Hey Dana, her captain,

Mark said as he came in, 'I think you've got this Rhodes case pretty much shore up, we have something we

need you on, in fact they mentioned your name specifically.' Mark sat down across from her desk.

    'What is it?' She asked him. 'A joint task force with the DEA, we're investigating a series of break-ins

of local pharmacy, we think there might be a connection to the Juarez cartel operating in the city.' Mark

explained. He saw the notebook where she was writing down her theory, 'What's that?' He asked.

        'Oh it's nothing important, who do I report to?' She asked. 'Your old friend Dave Porter, he's our

DEA liaison he'll be running the operation.' Mark got up. 'Well all leave you to it,' He said, still looking 

like he wanted too see what she had written down in her notebook, but afraid to ask.

        'So be in at 8 tomorrow.' He said as he headed out the door. 'Thanks, I will I appreciate this great

opportunity.' She said smiling.

        Something is off here, she thought to herself as he left and closed the door to her office. She'd been

investigating the Rhodes murder for a couple weeks, and now that she had formulated her theory about

Eddie Pena, indeed about to confirm this theory with the GPS from Mojo's car, at least in her mind, she

was being pulled from the case.

        If someone had wanted her to abandon her theory and stop digging, they'd chosen the worst way to

do it. Now she knew it was right.

           Bobby Carbone took a sip of Johnny Walker black from his tumbler, listening to the sounds of his

wife sleeping on the couch. She had fallen asleep with the news on, at least it was the news, except now it

was around 3:30, and the programming had changed to infomercials.

        He liked the sound of his wife sleeping, he found it comforting. She was retired a few years older 

than him and liked to watch those all news stations. He always envied how she had always been able to

fall asleep no matter where she was. 

        For Bobby, sleep had come little and then none at all. He'd taken an Ambien around 7, fell asleep for

a few hours, then awoke at 1, in a cold sweat. He's out there, he'd thought at the time, he's out there 

fucking everything up. Dumb crazy asshole is going to start a war.

        He'd noticed then that his wife wasn't beside him and had tried to go to sleep for another hour before

giving up and deciding to wake up for a few hours. Some of his soldiers, especially the OG ones, were

telling him he should have Steve whacked. That if he didn't Steve was going to come after him, he wanted

to be boss. That he was going to pull a John Gotti on him.

        Bobby had told them all that they were crazy, that he's known Steve for over 30 years, that even he

wouldn't pull anything like that. Hell, even when he brought Matteo, him and all the other guys over to

his house to explain to them what was going on with Luis and the Russians, he hadn't seemed mad, hadn't

said much.

            Steve actually seemed happy, barely spoke a word as Bobby told them what had happened with

his meeting with Luis. Bobby had expected him to erupt, to call him a pussy to say something outrageous.

After the meeting, it seemed as though maybe Steve had calmed down.

        Bobby took another sip of scotch, but after the meeting he'd been different. Wouldn't talk to Matteo at

all, wouldn't answer or return his calls. Then Bobby had remembered something his brother, Matteo's

father Sal had told Bobby years ago. They were at the social club having drinks, Steve had just started his

20 year sentence in prison. They were all trading stories about Steve, all the crazy stuff he did, people he'd

pissed off over the years.

            'Yeah, he can be wild sometimes, do crazy shit. But let me tell you something, what you really

don't want, is for him to say nothing at all. When he's quiet, even smiling sometimes, that's when you

know he's going to do something fucked up. That's him plotting.'

        He walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote and turned off the TV. He didn't know

exactly what Luis had in mind, but he alluded that he had other cards to play. Ways to get Boris to back

off without spilling any blood.

        Bobby hadn't told anyone at the meeting that Luis had other cards up his sleeve. He hadn't told them

because the truth was he himself didn't know what Luis had in mind. He brought his drink and walked

over to the couch and sat down next to his wife, drinking in silence. 

    My soldier, he's out there, and he's fucking everything up, he thought to himself.

        

        

        

                

'