I own no one but my sick, sad mind.
Nicholas Demetri was not a patient man. He did not like to wait for anything. When Demetri had to wait, people got killed.
That was one of the reason why Demetri hated to work with inexperienced wannabe godfathers who imagined this life something out of a Robert DeNiro movie. Things were late, things were sloppy, and when he was forced to clean up their messes, he didn't like it. One did not want to be around Nicholas Demetri when he didn't like things.
It just so happened that on this day, he had come to expect a rather large sum payment from one of his biggest people.
A pimp and drug dealer who ran one of his biggest whore houses in Manhattan named Krokus Razeer. Demetri never would have even considered adding him in his ranks had he not known his parents from the old country.
A nobody, a lowlife who would never rise up the totem pole, who never would have even laid eyes on Demetri had he not been so vital to the business, thirty five percent of all profits Demetri made came from this rat and his whores.
But today, Demetri didn't care. Not only was he late, he had ignored his calls, E-mails, and was not at his home or business.
He had checked with his contacts in the FBI who assured him they weren't hiding him, and his CIA informants told him that they had no idea where he was either.
From the looks of it, Razeer had seemed to skip town, something that Demetri did not tolerate one little bit.
"I do not care if Alexanders daughter is on that flight," Demetri growled into the phone, flicking his cigar butt into the ash tray. "If that little bastard is on the plane out of here, then I want it gone within the hour. Do you understand me? No one steals from Nicholas Demetri!"
He threw the phone down on the receiver and rubbed his temples in annoyance. This little bastard was causing him too much trouble then he was worth.
He got up from the chair and looked into the window over looking the New York City skyline, the glass mirroring his reflection.
He looked rather good for a man who had just turned forty six three months ago.
Tall and slender, his muscles showing clear cut evidence of his years of hard labor and work outs at the gym. His jet black hair with just a kiss of gray so slicked back so that it almost seemed to shine. His dark brown, almost black eyes contrasting his pale skin. Wrinkles beginning to tug on the corners of his eyes, a look of icy, unrelenting, unforgiving coldness on his face, demanding both fear and respect. And anyone who worked with him knew the two went hand in hand.
Demetri went back to his chair, collapsing in it, trying to find some form of peace from his most recent problem.
He opened the case full of the brown cigars and lit one up, puffing on it, trying to calm his shattered nerves.
A loud knock on the door interrupted him, and he growled loudly.
"What?" he snapped, not getting up from his leather chair to answer the door to his intruders.
The door opened and in walked his underboss and oldest friend, Ivan, 'the terrible', Romanoff; a large, built, intimidating man with dark green eyes and pale skin, along with a scrawny little man, his scraggily, dirty brown hair falling in his face, his dark green eyes alive with excitement, a smug smile one his face.
"Whose this?" Demetri asked, not really in the mood for anyone smug at the moment.
"Guys name is Jon Nash," Ivan said, looking at the man in disgust. "He says he's got something to tell ya... about Razeer."
Demetri raised his eyebrows in mock fascination. "Really? And what would that be, Mr. Nash?"
Jon chuckled; a cold, sly grin on his face. "Nope. Not until I get something in return, Demetri."
"Fifty thousand dollars in cash," Ivan answered.
"My how original," Demetri sighed, rolling his eyes to the heavens. "Fine fine, it's a done deal. Now tell me about Razeer."
"If you're looking for money, consider yourself screwed. Razeer is dead, his girls freed, and half of his clientele arrested."
Demetri growled, anger overtaking every emotion, every feeling he had.
"Tell me what happened, and tell me what happened now!"
Jon chuckled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up, taking a long puff on it before he told his story. "Razeer's friend Bushido was being investigated by the cops, had agents infiltrate his animal smuggling business."
"How does he know Razeer? He never dealt with animals."
"Used to find girls and sell them to your boy Razeer real cheap. I guess Bushido got a piece of the action for free before they were used by anyone else. Well anyway, some chick cop got into Bushidos ring, and Bushido found out about it, got pissed, and sold her to Razeer. But it turns out, her partner was also undercover in Bushidos outfit, and when they tried to rape her or something, he killed both of them."
Demetri cocked his eyebrow in confusion. "I have known Razeer for a very long time. He's had to deal with cops before. Why not just kill the two of them and be done with it?"
Jon chuckled, a cold-blooded grin appearing on his face. "If you saw this chick... you'd be thinking much different, Demetri. They were both cops, and Bushido was one of his closest friends and they wanted to take him down. He wanted to make them both suffer. You know, 'you do anything and I'll kill her, you do anything and I kill him' type thing."
"They were both stupid enough to actually let themselves suffer for the other one?"
Jon nodded. "Yeah. Hell just a lie saying they were going to kidnap the mans family was enough for the girl to pretty much say 'do me now!'."
Demetri got up from the chair and walked over to him. "How do you know all of this?"
"I over heard the two of them talking in his office, I was right next door but got out before the place got raided."
"Do you know the names of the cops?"
Jon nodded once more. "Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler, Manhattan SVU."
Demetri turned to Ivan. "Do we got anyone on the payroll there?"
Ivan nodded. "One guy. I'll give him a call later on."
"Be sure you do. If these two cops found out the connection between me and Razeer, it's all over," Demetri mumbled to himself.
Jon cleared his throat loudly, the smile growing even bigger.
"So uh... when do I get my payment for this information?"
Without even glancing at him, Demetri reached into his pocket, pulled up his gun and shot, the bullet going in the front of Jon's head and out the back.
Demetri put the gun back in his pocket and walked back over to is chair, a thoughtful look on his face.
"I got this from our guy in records," Ivan said, stepping over Jon's lifeless corpse, sitting down on the opposite end of Demetri, pulling two manilla folders from his jacket and handing it to him. "Jon was right. Benson is quite a looker."
Demetri opened one of the folders and let out a low whistle when he saw her picture. "She's beautiful. She reminds me of the women from our country."
Ivan nodded in agreement. "So do you want me to take care of them?"
Demetri shook his head, still looking down at the picture, his fingers tracing over Olivias photo, almost as if it were it was the real thing. "Not just yet. These two little pigs destroyed almost half of my income."
Demetri let a rare, cold smile sneak though, chucking cruelly, pulling the cigar from his mouth and touching it to the photo, burning a large hole in Olivias face, her beauty melting away with the paper.
"This needs to be dealt with in a... 'special' way."
How's that for a first chapter? Next chapter will involve the actual characters from the show, I promise. Please Review as awesome as you did the first one!