*losing faith

[ksenia]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] AM I MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR YET? INFERNO HOTEL - VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA The Words: 1236 The Outfit: here. The Notes let it begin! it's not very good but it's my first with kay so i'm pretty happy with it. The Tags asssiiaaaa/jamie. The Pic Credit aliceeee! of caution. ksenia sakahrov pressed the end call button on her phone and threw it carelessly onto the bed behind her. she glanced down at the scrap of paper lying on the table in front of her and read over the address again. it was strange how familiar she had become with the various techniques of the russian bravata. only two years ago she would have been bewildered by the call but now, she knew exactly where to go and what to pack. as per usual an unknown woman had spoken in a toneless voice, informing her that since james collins could not be reached the assignment notification would be passed on to her. she curled a lock of blonde hair behind one ear and chewed her bottom lip. it wasn’t the assignment that worried her, it was the fact that the woman had called her at all. over the past two years, kay had spoken to the woman only a handful of times. during those times, it had been through jamie’s phone as a training exercise, readying her in case she were to ever become an independent torpedo. kay frowned. there had been something…off about jamie lately. over the past few weeks he had been acting erratically as if he were a hormonal pregnant woman instead of a cold blooded killer. during these moments, kay had put it all down to the fact that they hadn’t worked in weeks and jamie was getting tired of waiting around the inferno all day but this was something else. she could see he was bored, but there was something else too. and now this missed call? sure to someone else it might seem unusual to be worrying about a missed phone call but on the very first day of training, everyone learned to answer the phone if it rang, especially if it was a superior calling. from what she had experienced of the bravata, it was extremely organized and it depended on that organization to sustain it’s growth in the underworld so the higher ups didn’t like people who couldn’t obey the rules. anyone who didn’t obey the rules was quickly dealt with as a warning to everyone else. the bravata was not gentle in it’s teaching methods but it was one of the most successful organized crime families in the world so it had to be doing something right. kay had quickly learned that the bravata was not a weekend job that could be ditched now and then, it was a way of life. for the past two years, she had been working back to back jobs with jamie as the bravata tried to arrange all their new members. it had come as a shock when she had arrived in america only to find that the mob had no jobs for them. when she had been told to come to america, she had thought she was needed for something big. finding out the mob was just relocating their resources was a bit of a let down and since then kay had been struggling not to die of bordum. she may not have been born into ‘the life’ but she had certainly warmed quickly to it. in fact, it could be said that kay had a certain talent for it. a smile quirked her lips upwards slightly. at least she would have inherited something from her father besides money. kay picked up the piece of paper, stood up and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. she had to remember to keep the piece of paper safe. if she lost it and it fell into the wrong hands, the russian bravata could be linked to a death of someone under the protection of the american government. that would mean a quick death and a shallow grave in the middle of no where for her. she looked down at her clothes, a plain white shirt, dark blue skinny jeans and low heeled boots. she shrugged. her outfit was good enough for an assassination. contrary to popular belief, mobsters didn’t go around wearing dark suits and sunglasses while speaking in some foreign language. that was just hollywood making it seem as glamorous as possible. her thoughts gravitated back towards jamie and what sort of trouble he had to be in to not be able to hear his phone ringing. kay frowned yet again. she could have sworn he was in his room just up from the hallway from her so why he wouldn’t be answering the phone was a mystery to her. she shrugged. as soon as she had grabbed her bag she would be able to check on him and if he was just being lazy or something she’d kick his ass out of his room and into the car. kay bent to pick up her leather jacket in one hand while she grabbed her key chain in the other and stuffed it into an inside pocket. leaning over, she reached underneath her bed and dragged out a plain black gym bag. it wasn’t particularly expensive or noticeable and that was why she had chosen to use it as the bag she carried a spare change of clothes, fake i..ds and various weapons. to anyone who might be watching her, it looked like she was planning to go to the gym, but any bravata member would instantly recognize it as a very important piece of equipment in any torpedo’s closet. kay shrugged her jacket on, picked up her phone and slipped it into one of her front pockets and shouldered the strap of the bag on one shoulder. grasping it, she took one last look around the hotel room that she had been calling home for the last few weeks and headed out into the corridor. with a quick flick of her wrist the door was closed and locked behind her and with a few lazy strides, she was at the door of jamie’s room. kay tried the handle but she knew it would be locked. jamie was like her, he didn’t trust anyone, even in a hotel owned by the bravata. kay sighed once, shifted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder and then banged a couple of times on the door with her fist. ”jamie! get your ass out here or let me in. we’ve got somewhere to be.” kay was careful not to use any words that might incriminate her if a snitch was hiding around a corner. even though the bravata owned this hotel and it’s people, the police were always trying to smuggle their own people in to try and bring them down. she stepped back a little from the door and as she waited, she mused over the assignment. in words, it was quite simple. find the witness who was about to talk on the bravata at the given address of the safe house and shoot him without getting caught by the cops. however, before they went in there, they would have to form some sort of plan. kay looked up and down the empty corridor before turning back to the door. she was impatient, she knew that, she’d barely given him thirty seconds to get to the door but she didn’t care. she wanted to get out of the inferno and get on the road. kay raised her fist again to rap sharply on the door when it suddenly opened. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[james devon sakahrov-collins]

,HE HADN'T REMEMBERED he had broken that bottle until it tore open his skin. it was just a nice little surprise for jamie collins. you stumble to the vanity in your bathroom in an attempt to smarten up, and five seconds later you're making a mess. see? that's what he got for trying to change. fuck off and let him do what he wanted. no one ended up requiring stitches that way. the unfortunate thing was that he hardly noticed the pretty red pool staining the marble surface. well, he'd always thought that the inferno would look better with a little color. he wasn't concentrating on that either. he was looking at his reflection. the person that was glaring back at him was not jamie collins. it was some other random bastard with blank eyes. he looked like someone had wrapped his heart in barbed wire and pulled. covered it with black velvet and let him continue on his way. that was not jamie collins. jamie collins did not have a heart to encase with that damn wire. and if he did, there was no chance he would hang around long enough for anyone to succeed. when had he stopped caring? the person...all he did was shoot back the tequila to dull the pain as clammy hands worked their magic. he hardly felt it as his heart was punctured. when the black blood was flowing, all he did was stare at it. was he that dark inside? the smooth velvet was comfortable against the wounds. it was nice of those hands to provide it at all. anything to build that mask up again, i suppose. after surviving that, do you honestly believe the glass of a tequila bottle slicing your hands would affect him any?

it took almost ten minutes for the room to come into focus. that took longer than usual. it had to be a sign that he was dying. the world goes out of focus and doesn't clear up, right? that's what all those freak stories about "seeing the light" claimed. whatever. he didn't honestly care at this point. after his mind had to agree that yes, the pained bastard staring back at him was, indeed, jamie collins, that's when it decided to acknowledge the physical pain. it never matters what his psychological state was, his body had to react eventually. it was fucked. he swore softly, finally looking down at his sweaty hands. it had clotted by this time, only showing remains of tequila-fueled bloodshed. his hands were stained. the counter was stained. maybe it was a message. show him enough stains, and he'll finally realize that he was just a stain on life, too. one that boiling water couldn't wash away. continuing his tirade of russian profanity, jamie distractedly scrubbed his flesh clean. bleached and shining paleness again. the way the russians liked it. i guess they would be proud. clearing his throat, the subservient ruski nobody dried his hands and looked at himself again. it was different than when he would stare at himself in the cracked mirror in his room at the days away motel. that's where he wanted to be. everything at the inferno was impeccable. bleached and shining, just like how he was supposed to like it. there was no hiding his flaws here, just the icy truth. also what the russians affectionately clawed at. ten minutes and jamie collins loved all of that too.

those were the lessons he had been taught since birth. bleach and ice, truth and loyalty. it's all that matters, really. life is fucked without those four pretty words. you are supposed to fondly practice them all the time. he shouldn't have taken those ten minutes at all, actually. no good russian (they say that word like it's some sort of species) should ever need time to stop and try to get back to their perfect robotic state. this is who you are, who you're supposed to be. so it had to be natural. dwelling on yourself, your darkness and your insecurities, isn't on the agenda. you do your job and you go home. it's all supposed to be okay. you go through life unaffected, and you be happy. satisfied - that is the definition for "happiness". it's supposed to be enough. nothing else is supposed to seep into the cracks in your mind. no one is supposed to make you feel like shit unless their surname is verrentenikov. yeah well, there aren't supposed to be any brigade purges or wicked rumor mill, either. jamie had been taught all of this. but the "real world" speech is no lie. things are different once you're forced to practice this solo. people talk, and they make you feel like shit because they get bored. it's so they can look themselves in the mirror and remain that perfect ruski creation. they probably took those ten fucking minutes, too.

they were just smart enough not to let it go beyond that.

that's where he was falling. jamie collins had always been regarded as one of the most lethal members of his bravata. no one could deny his reputation. and they definitely could not ignore his actions. the words were not just words. if anything, they were sugar-coated. he liked to have fun with his demons, dancing with his personal devil. he pushed every job to the edge, threatening to push them over. but never actually doing it. not until he was satisfied. yeah well, that had also been before he was trapped in some broken california town. the "had" is the constant here, comrade. things were different now. he was different now. but he didn't know why. and that's why he was falling. he kept tripping in the mud and couldn't get up in time. jamie had been shoving all of his issues to the back of his mind, into the messy filing system, for most of his life. but the plan had for it to continue that way. sure, his logicial side knew it would erupt one day. but so soon? he was thinking maybe in twenty or thirty years, when he was rotting in some prison cell. it was the only explanation, he knew that. didn't make it any fucking easier. if anything, accepting this fact was turning him even farther backwards. it was his nature to continue evading the issue. which is what he was doing when he was standing there, facing the ugly dragon. his strength came from his aloofness, his detachment. he didn't know how to balance things. and it was fucking everything up.

he still hadn't moved. after watching as the blood swirled down the drain, all jamie did was continue to stare in the mirror. he was trying to figure out who that person was. that couldn't possibly be him, the pain splashed across his face like bright yellow paint. it was supposed to be hidden, refusing to be dealt with. that's who he is. was? the deadliest russians had reached a point of neutrality, a healthy psychological state. they saw their issues and sorted through them until everything was bleached and shiny. just like how everything should be. he had seen it in everyone worth respecting. it was all he saw in his father. so everyone thought jamie was there, too. so what? it'd worked for awhile. but now that he was beginning to crack, he was getting messy. fuck. he just didn't know what to do with that. sniffing softly, he took to pressing a cloth against the cuts on his palm. he mopped the tequila from the counter, carefully picked up the pieces of glass. if he looked in the mirror again, he would shatter into hundreds of pretty pieces. he would hide in the corners and no one would be able to sweep him up, not completely. maybe that was what he wanted? he didn't know anymore. he didn't know himself anymore.

the harsh bang on his door made him look back. the eerie silence had become normal. no one bothered with him anymore. and the stone cold soberness wasn't helping. cheap tequila dulled it, at least for awhile. wiping the seeping blood on his jeans, running a hand through his messy hair, jamie stumbled through his messy room toward the door. who made him move here in the first place? he'd been perfectly fine in his little hole at the motel. pulling it open, he stared at ksenia for a minute before realizing it was actually her. his little minion, his protege. hadn't she realized by now that she was better off without him? leaning against the doorframe, his left arm resting on the half-open door, he continued to watch her. "it's my day off." the misery lacing his words, he only paused as he began to slam the door. wait a second. pulling it open again, he raised his eyebrows, the familiar energy all of a sudden deciding to make an appearance. things were interesting now. "you don't need me for your whatever work." his stated his words slowly, throwing the obvious to the still air. "so we have something important to do," his voice was still slow, choosing his words carefully. pulling the damp cigarette from behind his ear, he pulled the lighter from his back pocket and easily lit it. no smoking indoors my ass. he broke worse rules. letting the ash float to the ground, an uneasy coldness filled his eyes. "want to tell me why you knew about this and i didn't?"

[/size][/blockquote]

-----------------------------------------------------------

TAGGED, j/k !
DATE, march, 2012. the inferno/the los angeles, california.
LENGTH, 1590 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, eep, hope it's okay.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to hollywood undead - "dove and grenade"

[/blockquote]