01-22-2014, 11:45 PM
He stood on the street in front of the expensive sky-rise patiently. Next to him sat a police squad car and two officers, who went mostly ignored by the handful of paparazzi desperate enough for money to still be waiting to catch photos of the party goers departure. Many had already taken their leave, alone or in pairs mostly, and from what Drayson could overhear from the camera-carrying rats, there was no shortage of men leaving with a different woman then they had arrived with hours earlier.
Building security had tried twice already to dislodge the officers and their vehicle, as it was parked dead center in the round-about driveway, and many a limo was greatly inconvenienced, more then one going so far as to pop a tire onto the curb just to get around them. Drayson of course would hear nothing of it, and after what he went through getting into the building, they weren't willing to put up much of a fight to get him to leave.
The two officers worked at what was widely considered one of the worst precincts in the city. Technically, they had no jurisdiction so close to the heart of Moscow, but it hadn't taken much effort on Drayson's part to arrange it. His new friend would certainly enjoy his accommodations for the night. Of course, that all depended on Mr Alkaev being foolish enough as to leave through the front doors. Drayson had given the lad fair warning, after all.
Sure enough, long past the party had passed it's zenith, Rurik came strolling out the doors with friends and women in tow. All wore expensive clothes, and most showed the symptoms of the various designer drugs that had been making their way around the party. The paparazzi's cameras flashed as they snapped pictures, and the group were clearly in high spirits as they spun or struck a pose to show off their dates and attire, making boyish comments about burning the midnight oil, or the boundless stamina of youth.
Their vehicle was already approaching before the group exited the doors, and Drayson calmly nodded to one of the two officers he was standing with. The man stopped the limo and moved around to the driver, informing the young woman that she was going to be one passenger short. Meanwhile, Drayson and the other officer approached the group, much to the interest of the paparazzi.
He smiled warmly as he approached the group, calmly flashing his badge to the group. "Rurik Alkaev. You are under arrest for disorderly behaviour, death threats, and illegal purchase of recreational drugs."
The group stopped in surprise; they were not the type that were used to hearing those sorts of sentences directed at themselves. Even Rurik's click were high enough on the social ladder that the idea of police not staying out of their way was alien to them. The group came to an abrupt halt as Rurik struggled to come to grips with what was happening.
"Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov shall be your chauffeurs for the evening. Golyanovo District precinct has a nice VIP cell set aside for you, and have been gracious enough to put the pressure-washer to use. It may still be a bit damp by the time you arrive, but rest assured, damp is better then the faeces drawings the previous tenant left."
Drayson stood in front of Rurik, towering over the man and wearing that same friendly smile. Officer Konstantinov calmly plucked the handcuffs from his belt, while Officer Sokolov took up a position a few feet to their right, where he could watch the group in case one of the men got any bright ideas.
"You don't think you can get away with this, do you? I can ruin you all with one phone call!"
Rurik stepped away from the officer with the cuffs, pointing at all three of them angrily. "Do your pets have any idea who you have them trying to arrest?!"
Both the officers smirked and Konstantinov grabbed Rurik's forearm and gave it a twist to get it behind his back, despite the young man's protests. "Rurik Alkaev, son of Privilege Alkaev. Dominance II. The upizdysh who OK'd the demolition of state subsidized housing for pensioners. Yeah, we know who you are."
One of Rurik's friends stepped forward as if he were going to grab the officer's arm, but he stopped at the sound of both Drayson and Sokolov unholstering their sidearms. Sokolov opted for his taser instead of a pistol, but Drayson only had the one option at hand. "I suggest, children, you say your goodbyes and go to bed."
Drayson's smile hadn't changed, but it no longer seemed as friendly or amused as it had a second ago.
Two SUVs pulled up about that time, one coming to a very abrupt halt near the limo while the other pulled onto the curb and sidewalk and barreled towards the group. By the time it came to a stop, three men had climbed out of the first vehicle with SMGs in hand. Rurik's bodyguards.
A similar group climbed out of the nearer of the two vehicles, although none took aim just yet. A grey-haired man, apparently the team's leader, approached them. "I am Artair Nevin, Mr Alkaev's head of security. Would you care to explain what's going on here?"
The man's expression and tone were cold stone. Scottish by accent.
"Ah, Mr Nevin. I expected you much sooner from what I saw in your files. Getting rusty in your old age, maybe?"
Drayson waved the comment off as being just a little joke, and flashed his badge to the one-time SAS member. "You should tell Privilege Alkaev that he needs to teach his son manners, and common sense. Telling a Chief Inspector that the Privilege can have me killed, on his son's request? That looks bad, don't you think?"
"You cannot prove a word of that!"
By now Rurik's hands were cuffed behind his back, with Officer Konstantinov holding one arm with his other hand resting on his undrawn pistol. Even he wasn't quite suicidal enough to draw his gun with seven armed men with guns already drawn staring at him.
Drayson frowned as if confused by Rurik's statement, and fixed Artair with the sort of look parents shared between a child's back when the kid did or said something especially stupid. Then he glanced at Rurik finally, deciding to grace the boy's foolishness with a comment. "It is 2045, boy. Do you honestly think anything you say is not recorded?"
Rurik growled angrily and was about to respond when a new idea popped into his head. "Artair! Get these cuffs off of me, now! What the fuck is my father paying you for?!"
Rurik's guards cocked their weapons, and Artair drummed his fingers on his holstered pistol with a bored expression for Drayson. "Neither one of us wants this to get messy, inspector. Take your boys and go home before this gets troublesome."
Drayson cocked his head slightly and stared at Rurik, then glanced to the two officers that were with him. Neither looked nearly as nervous as they should have been. Rurik was gloating, expecting to be let free at any moment, and flashed his arrogant little smirk back at Drayson. Drayson just sighed quietly and shook his head. "Are you threatening violence, Mr Nevin?"
Artair smirked and thumbed the catch on his pistol's holster, letting the weapon ease free of the hard-plastic case, but not quite drawing it fully. "Only if you and your boys don't leave."
The paparazzi had really taken an interest in what was going on, but even they weren't crazy enough to get too close with all the bared weapons that were being flaunted. As the tensions rose, a few of the more prudent ones took that chance to leave. A few guests of the party had gathered inside the doors, where the building's security were corralling them for the moment, at least until the situation blew over.
Drayson let out a raucous laugh and grinned ear-to-ear, finding the whole situation entirely amusing. "I hoped so, Mr Nevin. I've a few unsolved rape cases with your name all over them. Team B. Bring the paddy wagon would you?"
A second later and the whine of sirens could be heard, and a few seconds after that a dozen ghost cars came screaming onto the street around the high-rise. They had been laying in wait just out of sight, police lights flashing from magnetic strobes slapped onto their roofs. The real clincher was when Drayson nodded to Artair, glancing at the man's chest to draw the ex-SAS's attention to the red dot that hovered over his heart.
"This is my city, Mr Nevin. I do not take kindly to people looking to cause trouble here. Konstantinov, Sokolov, would you please take the boy to his cell? And if he gives you any more trouble, feel free to taser him. And you lot? I told you to get in your limo and go home like good boys and girls, didn't I? You don't want to be arrested for trespassing on a crime scene, do you?"
Drayson held a hand out for Artair's pistol, even going so far as to calmly holster his own. He wouldn't be needing it now anyway.
Artair barked a foul curse and slapped his weapon into Drayson's hand, while plain-clothed officers sporting assault rifles and shotguns swarmed the rest of his team, disarming and cuffing the lot of them with more then a little extra aggression. The uniformed police harboured no shortage of dislike for mercenaries like these, unsurprisingly.
Rurik's protests went from indignant outrage to childish anger quickly, bucking and kicking at the two officers dragging him towards the waiting squad car. The fight was taken out of him with one quick tap of a taser however, and the unconscious punk was tossed into the back seat and buckled in place in short order, all while his dear friends wisely scampered to their still waiting limo and took their leave.
"Your boss paid quite well to have those charges buried, Mr Nevin, but it is not that easy to make these sorts of things disappear. He should have known that. I look forward to sending you back to Dominance VII."
He smiled warmly as one of his men cuffed Artair, who just glared and spat on Drayson's shirt before being hauled off with the rest of his team to be loaded into waiting police vans.
The scene was quickly brought under control, and in only a few short minutes the police vehicles were scattering back into the night, leaving Drayson alone again. He glanced up at the building, watching the light of a helicopter as it departed the roof, then shrugged and looked at one of the valets, waiting over behind the line of building security. He fished in the pocket of his jacket a moment, and produced his ticket for his car, and smiled warmly at the confused lad. "My car, please?"
Building security had tried twice already to dislodge the officers and their vehicle, as it was parked dead center in the round-about driveway, and many a limo was greatly inconvenienced, more then one going so far as to pop a tire onto the curb just to get around them. Drayson of course would hear nothing of it, and after what he went through getting into the building, they weren't willing to put up much of a fight to get him to leave.
The two officers worked at what was widely considered one of the worst precincts in the city. Technically, they had no jurisdiction so close to the heart of Moscow, but it hadn't taken much effort on Drayson's part to arrange it. His new friend would certainly enjoy his accommodations for the night. Of course, that all depended on Mr Alkaev being foolish enough as to leave through the front doors. Drayson had given the lad fair warning, after all.
Sure enough, long past the party had passed it's zenith, Rurik came strolling out the doors with friends and women in tow. All wore expensive clothes, and most showed the symptoms of the various designer drugs that had been making their way around the party. The paparazzi's cameras flashed as they snapped pictures, and the group were clearly in high spirits as they spun or struck a pose to show off their dates and attire, making boyish comments about burning the midnight oil, or the boundless stamina of youth.
Their vehicle was already approaching before the group exited the doors, and Drayson calmly nodded to one of the two officers he was standing with. The man stopped the limo and moved around to the driver, informing the young woman that she was going to be one passenger short. Meanwhile, Drayson and the other officer approached the group, much to the interest of the paparazzi.
He smiled warmly as he approached the group, calmly flashing his badge to the group. "Rurik Alkaev. You are under arrest for disorderly behaviour, death threats, and illegal purchase of recreational drugs."
The group stopped in surprise; they were not the type that were used to hearing those sorts of sentences directed at themselves. Even Rurik's click were high enough on the social ladder that the idea of police not staying out of their way was alien to them. The group came to an abrupt halt as Rurik struggled to come to grips with what was happening.
"Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov shall be your chauffeurs for the evening. Golyanovo District precinct has a nice VIP cell set aside for you, and have been gracious enough to put the pressure-washer to use. It may still be a bit damp by the time you arrive, but rest assured, damp is better then the faeces drawings the previous tenant left."
Drayson stood in front of Rurik, towering over the man and wearing that same friendly smile. Officer Konstantinov calmly plucked the handcuffs from his belt, while Officer Sokolov took up a position a few feet to their right, where he could watch the group in case one of the men got any bright ideas.
"You don't think you can get away with this, do you? I can ruin you all with one phone call!"
Rurik stepped away from the officer with the cuffs, pointing at all three of them angrily. "Do your pets have any idea who you have them trying to arrest?!"
Both the officers smirked and Konstantinov grabbed Rurik's forearm and gave it a twist to get it behind his back, despite the young man's protests. "Rurik Alkaev, son of Privilege Alkaev. Dominance II. The upizdysh who OK'd the demolition of state subsidized housing for pensioners. Yeah, we know who you are."
One of Rurik's friends stepped forward as if he were going to grab the officer's arm, but he stopped at the sound of both Drayson and Sokolov unholstering their sidearms. Sokolov opted for his taser instead of a pistol, but Drayson only had the one option at hand. "I suggest, children, you say your goodbyes and go to bed."
Drayson's smile hadn't changed, but it no longer seemed as friendly or amused as it had a second ago.
Two SUVs pulled up about that time, one coming to a very abrupt halt near the limo while the other pulled onto the curb and sidewalk and barreled towards the group. By the time it came to a stop, three men had climbed out of the first vehicle with SMGs in hand. Rurik's bodyguards.
A similar group climbed out of the nearer of the two vehicles, although none took aim just yet. A grey-haired man, apparently the team's leader, approached them. "I am Artair Nevin, Mr Alkaev's head of security. Would you care to explain what's going on here?"
The man's expression and tone were cold stone. Scottish by accent.
"Ah, Mr Nevin. I expected you much sooner from what I saw in your files. Getting rusty in your old age, maybe?"
Drayson waved the comment off as being just a little joke, and flashed his badge to the one-time SAS member. "You should tell Privilege Alkaev that he needs to teach his son manners, and common sense. Telling a Chief Inspector that the Privilege can have me killed, on his son's request? That looks bad, don't you think?"
"You cannot prove a word of that!"
By now Rurik's hands were cuffed behind his back, with Officer Konstantinov holding one arm with his other hand resting on his undrawn pistol. Even he wasn't quite suicidal enough to draw his gun with seven armed men with guns already drawn staring at him.
Drayson frowned as if confused by Rurik's statement, and fixed Artair with the sort of look parents shared between a child's back when the kid did or said something especially stupid. Then he glanced at Rurik finally, deciding to grace the boy's foolishness with a comment. "It is 2045, boy. Do you honestly think anything you say is not recorded?"
Rurik growled angrily and was about to respond when a new idea popped into his head. "Artair! Get these cuffs off of me, now! What the fuck is my father paying you for?!"
Rurik's guards cocked their weapons, and Artair drummed his fingers on his holstered pistol with a bored expression for Drayson. "Neither one of us wants this to get messy, inspector. Take your boys and go home before this gets troublesome."
Drayson cocked his head slightly and stared at Rurik, then glanced to the two officers that were with him. Neither looked nearly as nervous as they should have been. Rurik was gloating, expecting to be let free at any moment, and flashed his arrogant little smirk back at Drayson. Drayson just sighed quietly and shook his head. "Are you threatening violence, Mr Nevin?"
Artair smirked and thumbed the catch on his pistol's holster, letting the weapon ease free of the hard-plastic case, but not quite drawing it fully. "Only if you and your boys don't leave."
The paparazzi had really taken an interest in what was going on, but even they weren't crazy enough to get too close with all the bared weapons that were being flaunted. As the tensions rose, a few of the more prudent ones took that chance to leave. A few guests of the party had gathered inside the doors, where the building's security were corralling them for the moment, at least until the situation blew over.
Drayson let out a raucous laugh and grinned ear-to-ear, finding the whole situation entirely amusing. "I hoped so, Mr Nevin. I've a few unsolved rape cases with your name all over them. Team B. Bring the paddy wagon would you?"
A second later and the whine of sirens could be heard, and a few seconds after that a dozen ghost cars came screaming onto the street around the high-rise. They had been laying in wait just out of sight, police lights flashing from magnetic strobes slapped onto their roofs. The real clincher was when Drayson nodded to Artair, glancing at the man's chest to draw the ex-SAS's attention to the red dot that hovered over his heart.
"This is my city, Mr Nevin. I do not take kindly to people looking to cause trouble here. Konstantinov, Sokolov, would you please take the boy to his cell? And if he gives you any more trouble, feel free to taser him. And you lot? I told you to get in your limo and go home like good boys and girls, didn't I? You don't want to be arrested for trespassing on a crime scene, do you?"
Drayson held a hand out for Artair's pistol, even going so far as to calmly holster his own. He wouldn't be needing it now anyway.
Artair barked a foul curse and slapped his weapon into Drayson's hand, while plain-clothed officers sporting assault rifles and shotguns swarmed the rest of his team, disarming and cuffing the lot of them with more then a little extra aggression. The uniformed police harboured no shortage of dislike for mercenaries like these, unsurprisingly.
Rurik's protests went from indignant outrage to childish anger quickly, bucking and kicking at the two officers dragging him towards the waiting squad car. The fight was taken out of him with one quick tap of a taser however, and the unconscious punk was tossed into the back seat and buckled in place in short order, all while his dear friends wisely scampered to their still waiting limo and took their leave.
"Your boss paid quite well to have those charges buried, Mr Nevin, but it is not that easy to make these sorts of things disappear. He should have known that. I look forward to sending you back to Dominance VII."
He smiled warmly as one of his men cuffed Artair, who just glared and spat on Drayson's shirt before being hauled off with the rest of his team to be loaded into waiting police vans.
The scene was quickly brought under control, and in only a few short minutes the police vehicles were scattering back into the night, leaving Drayson alone again. He glanced up at the building, watching the light of a helicopter as it departed the roof, then shrugged and looked at one of the valets, waiting over behind the line of building security. He fished in the pocket of his jacket a moment, and produced his ticket for his car, and smiled warmly at the confused lad. "My car, please?"