06-23-2014, 09:24 PM
"Stay with the old man. I can be there in ten."
He ran back inside to pull Vasily aside to get him to cover for him as well as his tab. Emergency, was all he told the guy.
Stupid stupid girl. Dzhanki? Seriously? She had no idea how many times he had gotten called into the place to break up an altercation or to take a report. It was the worst. And Zoya-I-like-to-break-into-buildings-and-free-bunnies-and-oh-yeah-I'm-also-all-kinds-of-hot-Bocharov decided to get drunk in that place. Where pimps, hookers and other low-lifes loved to hang out. AND she was drunk, the slurring and confused account clear in his memory.
He didn't remember getting in the car or starting it up and making his way onto Leninsky for a straight shot. He knew he'd had a few and probably shouldn't drive, but it didn't matter. The fear and adrenaline was pumping and he could see the familiar light Ascendancy had taught him was the power. He drew on that power now, felt it flood into him, even as he drove frantically. He'd wished he'd had his cruiser to flash some lights, but he made good enough time. The power coursed through him making everything clear, every movement of every other driver, every turn in the road, every flash in his mirrors. He took in all in and while he might have been impaired according to a breathalyzer, he knew that mentally, he was as sharp as ever.
He only hoped he'd get there on time. Flashes of her words came back to him. "Someone did grab my ass though."
Fucking yeah they grabbed her ass- perversely, the phrase they'd always jokingly used, 'two scoops of fruit', popped into his head. If she wasn't careful they'd grab a lot more than two scoops. It was nighttime, after all, when all the hookers and call-girls made their way in. He could easily see the situation in his mind's eye. But she had mentioned an old man had stopped it. She was lucky. Not many old geezers around the place went out of their way to be gentlemanly. He was seriously gonna have to talk to Igor about the place he ran. Maybe get some better patrols too. He might volunteer himself. He just hoped the old guy stuck around rather than go home to have supper and fall asleep in his easy chair watching that old show She Wrote a Murder or something. Despite himself, he laughed. The adrenaline was funny, the way it came out in all kinds of weird ways.
The car screeched to a stop and Ivan got out and ran to the door. He thought about his gun, but with blood showing alcohol, that would be bad news. Besides, the power surged in him. He'd learned enough from Ascendancy to be deadly without a gun. He slowed himself. He needed to be careful. Only a moron bursts into the room without being careful. He listened for a moment and when he was satisfied, he opened the door slowly and carefully....
...and found nothing out of the ordinary. Course that didn't mean anything. He looked around, heightened sense picking up everything. The Sisters in the corner, clearly looking him over dismissively; one or two rough guys who seemed to be there for more than a drink; Igor at the bar looking up at him and nodding over to the corner; Zoya in the corner with an older guy drinking a beer. She seemed no worse for wear, but he held onto the power and walked in slowly.
The guy wasn't old, though Ivan still thought of him that way. 15 years older, if he'd have to guess. Hard man too. Then again, he'd have to be to protect Zoya from the guys around here. Course, that didn't mean he was a good guy. All kinds of types around here, playing all kinds of roles. Savior, hero, father figure, knight in shining armor. And then they'd get you alone and that was it. So he approached warily, but at least relieved that she was ok.
Slowly- power still flooding him- he asked, "Zoya, are you alright?"
Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jun 23 2014, 09:48 PM.
He ran back inside to pull Vasily aside to get him to cover for him as well as his tab. Emergency, was all he told the guy.
Stupid stupid girl. Dzhanki? Seriously? She had no idea how many times he had gotten called into the place to break up an altercation or to take a report. It was the worst. And Zoya-I-like-to-break-into-buildings-and-free-bunnies-and-oh-yeah-I'm-also-all-kinds-of-hot-Bocharov decided to get drunk in that place. Where pimps, hookers and other low-lifes loved to hang out. AND she was drunk, the slurring and confused account clear in his memory.
He didn't remember getting in the car or starting it up and making his way onto Leninsky for a straight shot. He knew he'd had a few and probably shouldn't drive, but it didn't matter. The fear and adrenaline was pumping and he could see the familiar light Ascendancy had taught him was the power. He drew on that power now, felt it flood into him, even as he drove frantically. He'd wished he'd had his cruiser to flash some lights, but he made good enough time. The power coursed through him making everything clear, every movement of every other driver, every turn in the road, every flash in his mirrors. He took in all in and while he might have been impaired according to a breathalyzer, he knew that mentally, he was as sharp as ever.
He only hoped he'd get there on time. Flashes of her words came back to him. "Someone did grab my ass though."
Fucking yeah they grabbed her ass- perversely, the phrase they'd always jokingly used, 'two scoops of fruit', popped into his head. If she wasn't careful they'd grab a lot more than two scoops. It was nighttime, after all, when all the hookers and call-girls made their way in. He could easily see the situation in his mind's eye. But she had mentioned an old man had stopped it. She was lucky. Not many old geezers around the place went out of their way to be gentlemanly. He was seriously gonna have to talk to Igor about the place he ran. Maybe get some better patrols too. He might volunteer himself. He just hoped the old guy stuck around rather than go home to have supper and fall asleep in his easy chair watching that old show She Wrote a Murder or something. Despite himself, he laughed. The adrenaline was funny, the way it came out in all kinds of weird ways.
The car screeched to a stop and Ivan got out and ran to the door. He thought about his gun, but with blood showing alcohol, that would be bad news. Besides, the power surged in him. He'd learned enough from Ascendancy to be deadly without a gun. He slowed himself. He needed to be careful. Only a moron bursts into the room without being careful. He listened for a moment and when he was satisfied, he opened the door slowly and carefully....
...and found nothing out of the ordinary. Course that didn't mean anything. He looked around, heightened sense picking up everything. The Sisters in the corner, clearly looking him over dismissively; one or two rough guys who seemed to be there for more than a drink; Igor at the bar looking up at him and nodding over to the corner; Zoya in the corner with an older guy drinking a beer. She seemed no worse for wear, but he held onto the power and walked in slowly.
The guy wasn't old, though Ivan still thought of him that way. 15 years older, if he'd have to guess. Hard man too. Then again, he'd have to be to protect Zoya from the guys around here. Course, that didn't mean he was a good guy. All kinds of types around here, playing all kinds of roles. Savior, hero, father figure, knight in shining armor. And then they'd get you alone and that was it. So he approached warily, but at least relieved that she was ok.
Slowly- power still flooding him- he asked, "Zoya, are you alright?"
Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jun 23 2014, 09:48 PM.