Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Painting the Roses Red
Chapter One
Winter Wonderland
Edward's POV
"...why am I doing this?" I mentally sighed to myself, somewhat noticing that even my most personal thoughts sounded lonely and broken as I kept my indifferent stare focused on the dark-blue airline seat of front of me.
"...why am I even here...on this plane...why the hell is this my responsibility...?" I continued to internally chastise myself as well as my current situation as I briefly drew my bottom lip in my mouth and ran the tip of my tongue over it, moistening the uncomfortably dry flesh there, before subtly directing my gaze to my right, towards the other agents aboard this flight.
The other suited men looked completely unperturbed as I noticed a few of them calmly reading a magazine or closing their eyes to rest.
All of them looked at peace with what we were about to do once we landed in Russia...and it was with bitter spite that I realized that I should be, too.
Sighing out loud this time, I directed my gaze straight ahead once more, as I ruefully recalled the events that had lead up to this moment.
"Masen, come to my office right away. There's something I need to speak with you about," the Assistant Director of the Counterterrorism Division of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Carlisle Cullen, had phoned me at my desk, his voice always kept pleasant even though his sentences were usually stern and demanded immediate action of his subordinates within our branch.
I had arrived in Cullen's impressive office only minutes after receiving his call, and had stood loyally before his large, oak desk with my hands folded behind my back, my cold gaze lingering somewhere amongst the shining white of the blinds adorning the large windows behind my superior.
"Yes, sir? You wished to see me?" I had responded to the aged, platinum blonde-haired male sitting quietly at his desk going over some notes, my features and manners having been expertly trained to remain neutral no matter which emotion I was feeling, as I had waited patiently until Cullen had removed his glasses and looked up.
"There's been some recent activity in some of the western providences of Russia...drug trafficking, extortion, and possible accounts of homicide in an effort to gain intelligence against the US;" Assistant Director Cullen had begun briefing me immediately, having not wasted any time with politesse or small talk, "...everything that we've been able to monitor shares the exact same characteristics of the Morozov Faction even though that founder is deceased. I'm sending you and a specialized team to their location to shut down their operations and bring them in."
I had not hesitated in the least before automatically answering him with the only reply we had been taught to say to his orders.
"Yes, sir."
Now, sitting on this small, FBI-delegated aircraft with several more hours left before we touched down, I frowned to myself as I lifted my laptop out of my opened briefcase below me and set the machine down on top of the pull-out tray.
Quickly booting up the system, I cleared my throat, personally disliking the abundant silence amidst myself and the other agents whom I presumed to be sleeping at this late-night hour, before I settled my hands along the keys of my laptop and clicked to open this mission's files for review.
I tiredly swallowed down some spit that had collected in the back of my throat, as I routinely scrolled through the Morozov Faction's history in dealing with drugs and people, functioning more like a higher-class gang than anything else to my knowledge, but with strong, widely-known opposition to the United States and our government.
I cleared my throat again, as I shifted a little in my seat, my overall exhaustion beginning to claim the better of me despite the way I dutifully read over the scant facts about Nizhny Novgorod, the city in Russia where we were going, and then moved onto the few photographs that we had of some of the Faction's living members.
The first photograph was of an older gentleman with long, black hair and a deceptively gentle smile, as he faced another person while standing on the city streets with several, recognizable buildings behind them both.
"...Aro," I quietly pronounced his odd name, knowing that this man was, most likely, the leader of the Faction and thereby calling the shots when it came to their strategic maneuvers for territory and money.
The next photograph was of a large, well-muscled young man with close-cropped dark hair who was currently embracing another person outside of a local bar, their hands clasped. His smile was grand across his face as if he had not a care in the world, and I keenly took note of his intimidating size and strength.
"...Emmett," I read his name aloud as well, seeing the footnote on the young man's file that his actual birth name was Edik, but that he goes by Emmett for some unknown reason.
The last picture that the FBI had in its database about existing members of the Faction was unforgivably blurry, offering an unclear depiction of a much more slender male as he quickly walked down a stretch of sidewalk, his hands cupped by his face as he lit a cigarette.
I mindlessly licked the front of my teeth as I squinted at the unfortunately fuzzy photograph before me on the screen, able to make out this man's long, jean-covered legs that just barely peeked out from his long, black overcoat, as well as the image of chin-length, light-colored hair.
"Is his hair...curly...?" I found my thoughts asking my own conscious as I zeroed my gaze in on the man's partially covered profile, as most of his face was obscured from view by his cupping hands, soft-looking hair, and the lapels of his coat.
All that could be seen of this man's features were his closed eyes, smooth forehead, and just a hint of a high cheekbone.
I hurriedly averted my eyes down to this man's facts and known whereabouts, just like I had with the others.
"His name is...Jascha...but he goes by..." I whispered to myself, seeing that, like his overly-muscled cohort, he also had an alias as I let my gaze sweep through the few sentences of information we had on him until I found what I was looking for, "...Jasper."
X
Third Person POV
Meanwhile, inside one of the bleak and demolished warehouses that lined part of the Avtozavodsky City District...
"Nothing! I told them nothing! I swear!" a man shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice made haggard due to his constant crying, as he hung his balding head low and tugged once more at the thick ropes binding his hands together behind the back of the chair he was currently sitting in.
"What do you think, Jascha? Is he telling the truth?" spoke a towering, athletic man whose handsome face seemed to never lose his cheery grin, as he turned his head towards his tovaras, his comrade, who was leaning nonchalantly against one of the large crates whilst he sparked another cigarette to smoke.
"Probably..." the blonde-haired male rose to his full height, taking a long drag off of his cigarette and blowing the curling, grey smoke into the frosty, nighttime air as he sauntered up close to the bound, sitting man, the lengthy flaps of his wool coat moving about his legs with every graceful step he took.
Jascha crouched down in front of their captive, holding his cigarette in between his fingers as he waited for the man to open his clenched eyes and look upon him whilst he continued speaking partially to his grinning, leather coat-wearing comrade, "...especially since he has already lost a few of his toes because of his mouth, da?"
The bound man shot open his red-rimmed, watery eyes upon feeling the blonde-haired man tap a few of his fingers against one of his boots, the Faction member having indeed correctly pointed out the disability he now suffered because another organization having reprimanded him, as he fixed his eyes on Jascha for the first time since being captured.
"...w-wow..." the sitting man breathed the word, his shocked stare locked onto Jascha's perfectly shaped face, his delectable, plump lips, straight nose, and commanding eyes the color of frozen winter lakes.
"Ha! You made another one fall in love with you, Jascha!" Emmett laughed boisterously from behind the honey-blonde male, who only smirked and lowered his beautiful eyes from their captive's intense but pitiful gaze, "...they take one look at you and BAM...they are lovestruck forever. If only they knew that behind that face of an angel is a demon waiting to destroy them!"
"Be quiet, Emmett...you talk too much," Jascha responded plainly, only now rising up from his crouch as he continued to hold his burning cigarette in his hand as he considered their hostage for a minute more.
"...p-please...angel...h-hear me out..." the man pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper but stopped short the moment that the gorgeous male with sunlight-colored hair and porcelain features rolled his eyes and brought his cigarette to his tempting lips for another puff.
"I've heard enough..."Jascha said, his velvet-laced tone bored even though Emmett beside him looked ready for anything, "...you're free to go."
The man's eyes widened in disbelief as words of gratitude toppled over one another from him, all of them directed towards the silently smoking male before him, as Emmett smoothly stepped behind the seated man and cut the ropes that bound his wrists, ankles, and chest.
"Thank you...thank you...thank you..."the man spoke over and over as he slowly stood up from the simple, wooden chair and began walking towards the one who issued his release, his tear-stained eyes wide and never leaving Jascha's lovely face as the blonde-haired male was forced to re-light his fading cigarette, his hands cupped around his face once more as he performed the task.
However, after the rambling, newly released male had taken a third step towards the curly-haired man with the features of a Greek deity, his dirty hands outstretched as if to take hold of Jascha in some way, the blonde Morozov Faction member barely lifted his gaze up as he quickly took hold of a few of the man's fingers and snapped them in half.
"Gyaahh!" the man hollered in horrendous pain as he stumbled backwards, knocking the chair down to the ground as he doubled over and cradled his injured hand close to his chest, his broken fingers pointing out at painfully unnatural directions as he tried to steady his racing breathing.
"He said you are free to go...so go, idiot!" Emmett roared at the shivering, whimpering man who quickly turned his back on the two Faction members and ran out of the warehouse and into the chilly, Russian night.
"Heh...I told him you only have the face of an angel. But did he listen? No...now he has broken fingers to take care of..." Emmett began joking again with his comrade and personal friend, walking over to Jascha and patting him on the back, admittedly feeling a little proud that he was one of the very few people on the planet that were allowed to be so close to him like this.
"Emmett...how many times have I told you..." the blonde-haired male spoke somberly as he dropped his finished cigarette onto the cold, concrete floor and stepped on it with his boot, "...call me Jasper."
"I know, I know..." Emmett mock-huffed at his icy but stunning comrade, still smiling brightly at him as Jasper shoved his hands inside his coat pockets and turned his curly head to regard him further.
"Have you heard from Riley?" Jasper asked Emmett as the two of them began casually striding out of the dreary, abandoned warehouse and towards their parked car, their breaths now visible in the inky nighttime atmosphere.
"No...I fear he may still be in prison, tovaras...I'll speak with Aro about it tomorrow," Emmett provided as the two of them navigated towards Emmett's black sedan and stepped inside, Jasper choosing to ride as a passenger rather than drive.
Jasper sighed quietly through his nose upon hearing that they have no additional news about their comrade Riley, as he solemnly closed his eyes and rested his head and shoulders back against the car seat, drawing unbelievable comfort from having a moment to relax his body and not have to deal with any immediate problems.
"What is wrong? You seem so sad lately..." Emmett spoke once more to Jasper as he turned the key in the ignition, bringing the automobile to life before shifting the car in the appropriate gear, and then driving the two of them down the service streets and onto the main road.
Jasper cast Emmett a brief, sideways glare, his cobalt eyes sharp towards his garrulous cohort before he turned to look out at the snowy road once more, his posture extremely relaxed in his seat as he remained reclined back against the firm interior, with one leg crossed over the other.
"Have you ever thought that..." Jasper began but trailed off, his eyes appearing to have softened tremendously as he watched the the night-shaded scenery and glistening Oka River blur passed them in black and blue smudges tinged with the silver-spun moonlight from overhead, as they exited the Avtozavodsky District.
Emmett chanced a curious look over towards his mysterious, typically serene companion whilst he drove them back towards Jasper's side of town located in one of the many, quaint residential areas that were scattered at various points around Nizhny Novgorod.
"Have you ever thought that maybe...you weren't meant to smile anymore...that you couldn't even if you wanted to...that nothing makes you happy anymore...? No. No, I suppose not. You do not have those kinds of thoughts, Emmett," Jasper finished his inner-most musings to himself before half-way turning his attention back towards his companion.
"Your English...it's gotten a lot better, Emmett...perhaps even better than mine," Jasper commented with a quirked eyebrow at his fellow Faction member, seeing as Emmett instantly beamed another jovial smile, easily forgetting how troubled Jasper had sounded just a moment ago.
"Ha ha! I think you are right!" Emmett exclaimed as he cackled loudly, maneuvering the car down the darkened, empty neighborhood streets until he arrived at Jasper's apartment complex and parked, "...maybe I am going to have to give you lessons, Jasper!"
Jasper grimaced dryly at Emmett's lighthearted jab, knowing that his English was more than adequate enough, before the blonde-haired male opened the car door and quickly stepped outside into the freezing cold once more, not even bothering to secure the heavy folds of his overcoat that fluttered around his waist as he peered back inside the car to Emmett.
"...tomorrow at seven...da?" Jasper clarified with the other Faction member who nodded straight away at the question, Emmett holding up a hand to bid Jasper a good night.
"Tomorrow at seven. Do svidaniya..." Emmett said before Jasper closed the passenger side door, the latter male already turning towards his apartment complex as his comrade sped off into the night towards his part of town relatively nearby.
Jasper sighed through his mouth, dropping his tense shoulders a bit as he vaguely listened to a dog barking off in the distance as he trudged up the stone, snow-dusted steps up to his red and brown-painted complex, fishing out his keys to his apartment as he entered the building.
White walls trimmed in a fading tan surrounded the Morozov member as Jasper once he was inside, as he immediately began walking up the plain staircase, passing by the elegant Russian artwork that hung on either side of him, none of the paintings catching his eye, until he reached the second floor.
Giving his neck a stretch from side to side, enjoying the peacefulness and solitude of the other residents of the complex being asleep, Jasper unlocked the door to his apartment and slipped inside.
Jasper wet his luscious lips, his eyes lowered tiredly and not even looking at his simple living space, as he routinely stripped off his long, black coat and hung it up on the wooden rack, and then brought his hands to his hair, stretching his tight-fitting, long-sleeved grey shirt across his abdomen as well as the brown leather single-holster straps currently strung across his shoulder and chest.
"Ugh..."Jasper grumbled as he massaged his scalp with his fingers for a moment while he strode across the black-and-white-coordinated room and sat down on his black leather couch, only then dropping his hands from his hair as he hung his head low and took a few, deep breaths.
"I really do not feel like going to the club tomorrow...Riley is not even going to be there..." Jasper thought gravely to himself as he brought a hand to his left side and retrieved his Browning HP nine millimeter semi-automatic handgun from the holster, merely holding the firearm in his hand for a moment before setting it down on the glass coffee table before him.
"...I need a drink..." Jasper announced quietly to himself before standing up from the couch and navigating towards his open, adjacent kitchen, already spotting a bottle of vodka sitting on the granite counter.
Snatching the long, clear bottle up from the counter top, Jasper directed his eyes elsewhere as he twisted off the cap and brought the tip to his lips, nearly moaning when the smooth alcohol rushed into his mouth and down his throat.
Gulping down another mouthful of the fine, quality liquor, Jasper pulled the bottle away from his lips with a huff of air, still feeling some of the dull ache of missing Riley within his chest but fully aware that it was nothing he could not handle, especially with the help of alcohol.
That thought in mind, the staggeringly handsome blonde Russian took the bottle with him as he padded on weary legs and with an even more exhausted mind back to his bedroom, the intention somewhat stirring within Jasper to finish the bottle so that he could actually get a good night of sleep for a change.
"Drinking alone again..." Jasper said aloud to no one as he entered his darkened bedroom, not caring to turn on any of the lights, as he carefully set the vodka down onto one of his bedside tables, before bringing his fingers to the small buckles of his gun holster straps, unfastening the leather from the metal until they merely fell to the floor.
"...oh well..." Jasper offered himself no further words of comfort or positivism in his darkly sinister musings of his own loneliness as he promptly collapsed on top of his intricately pattered, blue and white bed, the weighted need to sleep closing his eyes and silencing his senses as the Faction member's thoughts did not stray to remembering his day, but rather, his life...and how tragically miserable it was turning out to be.
Author's Note: Oh, I am just going to have sooooo much fun with this. (evil laugh) XD XD XD This one is going to be crazy, so I hope you stick around for the upcoming chapters, da?
