Title: Dire Consequences 07/??
Fandom: Viewfinder
Pairings: Mik/Fei overall
Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder or any of its characters. This is a fanfic and I am not making any profit from it.
Rating: R
Note: Yay, Mik! LOL, yeah, everyone, here he is! Just a quick note here: in the light of how NT ended, it is likely that the character of Mikhail is very OOC in this fic. And since I've received complaints that certain parts of my story are disturbing and need to have appropriate warnings, here goes:
Warning: There is none for this, I think… except for the fact that since this is AU and it abandoned the actual VF plot somewhere around NT 12, Uncle Yuri is still ALIVE here and back for vengeance! *laughs evilly*
So, if that didn't freak the hell out of you all, please, read on, but it is a pretty boring chapter though…
Part 07
It was three in the morning by the time when Mikhail finally exited the conference room, with Yuri on his heels. His men immediately jumped to attention, groggy from waiting out the endless hours he had spent inside; negotiating the leverage he needed to obtain what he wanted, and yet keep his own empire from collapsing under him in the process.
Mikhail paid them no heed. He stalked past them and they scrambled after him to keep up with his demanding pace. His head throbbed and he did not bother to hide his irritation. His mouth was pressed tight, brows drawn low and his eyes shadowed and dark. The tension of his strong, agile body was so dense, it was almost visible. He had won that night's battle, but just barely, and his men knew him too well to question his mood.
He vented his ill temper on the elevator buttons when it refused to come as soon as he'd have liked, and he punched his fist into the wall when the evil piece of machinery refused to budge under his violence.
"Mikhail, calm yourself," his uncle reproached and the man's reasonable tone grated on his nerves so badly, it was sickening. "We are not alone yet. They are watching, so do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you lose control."
Mikhail flashed him an angry glare, nearly growling at him, but Yuri met his gaze evenly, totally unfazed by his ugly mood. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Chinese shifting quickly out of his sight and he knew that the man was right. Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes and counted, waiting for the mad hostility clouding his judgment fade.
With a melodic chime, the elevator door opened, almost surprising him, because his worry and weariness had almost made him forget what he was waiting for.
Sighing deeply, he went inside and fell back against the wall. His men followed and the door slid shut. The sheer need for sleep throbbed to the marrow of his bones and he gave into his exhaustion as the elevator hummed on its way upwards. He kept his eyes closed, drifting on the hazy edge of consciousness for the duration of the ride. He heard his people talking among themselves, but their voices seemed somehow distant and unreal, because though he knew what the words they were saying meant, his overloaded mind could put them together into coherent wholes.
The silver chime sent a shuddering thrill down his spine and he snapped to full awareness. He caught the disapproving glare of his ever watchful uncle and taking a deep breath, he bit his tongue not to say anything when Yuri opened his mouth to speak. He chose to ignore him, boldly striding out ahead of them all as soon as the door slid open, but the man hurried after him, undaunted.
"Mikhail, wait!" he heard him call, but he refused to obey.
"I am not in the mood," he said tightly when Yuri caught up anyway.
"I don't care whether you are in the mood or not," Yuri replied. "You will hear me out. Mikhail, this is… What the hell…?"
The sudden ringing of a cell phone cut him off and he pulled the little device out of his pocket to stare at the ID.
"Thank God," Mikhail muttered under his breath as his uncle quietly fell behind, walking away from the company to take the call. It was probably something important, but Mikhail was too tired to care.
"I don't want to be disturbed," he told his men and he swiped the card at the entrance of his luxurious apartment.
"Of course, sir!" they said and automatically took up their positions there as his personal guard.
He shut the door on them and the dim lights automatically came alive when he stepped over the threshold.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Mikhail fell against the closed door. The thick, welcoming silence soothed his frayed nerves and he threw back his head, rubbing his nape with tired hands. Moments later, he caught himself nearly falling asleep right then and there, still dressed and standing. Yawning, he walked into the bedroom and groaned as all his cramped muscles protested when he stretched.
Carelessly, he discarded his jacket and looked out through the unveiled, floor-to-ceiling window, to see the storm still raging through the night. The sharp, golden spears of lightning flashed within the impenetrable darkness, but he was too sleepy to appreciate the wild beauty of it all.
It had been an incredibly productive day for him. The negotiations with the Triad had gone well, but then he had never doubted that they would, because the price of the Baishe underworld was only money after all, and he had more of that than he could ever possibly spend.
His plans were finally coming together and the trade-off with Asami had gone down just like he had wished. The casino deed was his and the man himself was probably on his way back to Japan and out of Feilong's life for good; along with the constant ache of what he had meant to the Triad dragon and the dim possibility that the two of them would ever resume their ill-fated romance.
As bewildered as he was by Asami's choice in men, he could not help but to feel grateful for his odd taste, because it left the road clear and wide open for him to claim what he wanted. Even though he was intimidated by the major part that Asami had played in Feilong's life, he wished him the best of luck with his feisty little lover, as far away from Hong Kong as he could possibly get.
He was close, so close to finally having the man of his dreams, that he could almost taste his skin under his lips already.
"Feilong," he breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his hot forehead against the cool glass. "It won't be long now."
Yet this nagging sensation that had been trailing him for the whole day was still with him, raising the red flag of alarm, even as he mentally recounted all his achievements. It throbbed in his chest like a chronic ache; cooling a little, only to resurface a regular interval later, reminding him that something was very wrong in the midst of all his success. It was as if a thread of a dark, mysterious force was working against him; crawling up the current of his good fortune and undoing the fruit of all his efforts. He had a feeling that something was awry, but he could not quite pinpoint what exactly it was. His mind raced in futile circles, but no matter how much he thought about it, how carefully he examined his actions, he could find no flaw in his plans. Everything was going well… almost too well, except for that gnawing, crawling sensation that all his endeavours were about to fall apart. It was beyond frustrating; the feeling of having something at the tips of his fingers, only to see it pull away when he tried to reach for it.
An ill omen lingered over the entire night and he was tense and expecting, fearful that by the time this menace exposed itself, it would be too late for him to do anything about it. Slowly, he began to undress, almost tempted to forego the shower he desperately needed in the favour of just collapsing on the spacious, comfortable bed.
The door behind him clicked open and he spun around in surprise, only to see Yuri come inside without knocking; easy and comfortable, as if he wasn't invading his privacy at all.
"I believe I said that I didn't want to be disturbed," Mikhail said icily; his hands leaving his belt half unbuckled as he strode away deeper into the apartment, barefoot and bare-chested.
"You are nowhere nearly old, or powerful enough to deny me entrance yet, child," Yuri said. "I have something to say and you had better listen to me. My opinion is still of value to you."
Mikhail snorted in derision and looked at him coldly.
"The shock of the day when you don't have an opinion on my private life will probably kill me, uncle," he said and the man frowned.
"When your private life spilled over to include the entire organization, it stopped being private," Yuri said. "I can't stand by and be silent when you are risking so much for this ridiculous infatuation."
"It is none of your business," Mikhail said tightly.
"It is my business, Mikhail," Yuri replied. "It is not only yourself you are putting in danger here, but all of us, too! This is the Baishe! Have you forgotten that? A snake is a snake, Mikhail! Even if its colours are pretty to look at, it is still poisonous. Do you really think that you are competent to handle one and not get bitten?"
"Uncle…" Mikhail said wearily.
"Your father must be turning in his grave now."
"Leave my father out of this."
"How can I? He had such high hopes for his children and you are his only living son! You are the only one who can still see his dreams come true, but you still choose to waste everything he's done for you, everything that you've become, everything that you can still be, just to satisfy your base, impure needs!"
"Uncle," Mikhail said, "now would be a good time to stop."
"God will punish you, son," Yuri said dramatically, his fist clenching and his face bulging in the fervour of his belief when Mikhail rolled his eyes with infinite boredom. "He will smite you down with His mighty ire for your unholy desires! He will ruin you for indulging in sin! He will destroy you for your lack of humility and unwillingness to repent! Your arrogance and your lack of faith are unrivalled!"
Mikhail waited out his rant with disinterest and yawned widely when he was done.
"You just can't stand it, can you?" he said lightly. "The fact that you no longer have the power over what I do or do not do. I am the master of my own actions and it is eating you alive."
Yuri's eyes glowed subtly. His fists clenched and his nostrils flared as he struggled to contain his rage.
"All I ever wanted was the best for you," he said hoarsely and Mikhail's mouth curved upward in a cold humourless smile.
"Only the best for me?" he said, almost sounding amused. "Well, I am sure that you think that's true, uncle, but you know what they say. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
With that, he turned and walked towards the bar, feeling Yuri's eyes burning on his bare back and lingering on the terrible scars there. It shut the man up nicely and Mikhail grinned darkly as he poured himself a much needed drink.
