Vladimir paced in his office. He held his cell in one hand, glaring at the device as though it had committed some crime. Finally, he hit the button that "woke it up." He looked through his contacts, found Wesley's number, and hit "send."

He stood still, listening to the ringing. Vladimir's gaze shifted toward his brother, who was on the couch across the room. Again, his anger was kindled. They did this.

"Vladimir?" Wesley's voice was cautious.

"Da... yes. I," he gritted his teeth. He'd already decided what to say-still, it was hard to ask. "Does F-your employer-still want deal?" He heard Wesley laugh derisively on the other end of the line.

"Yes. Are you ready to deal?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you with the details then."

"Fine. Where?" Vladimir asked.

"Hmmm... Union Allied building… Half hour."

Vladimir said nothing more. He hung up and returned his attention to his brother. "It's done," he stated quietly.

Anatoly stared blankly for several long seconds, before vaguely nodding. He tried to sit up, but the only movement and progress he made was a slight flinch as his muscles twitched. "When's meeting?"

Vladimir licked his lips and frowned slightly. "Half hour." Anatoly didn't have to come-in fact, Vladimir thought it better that perhaps his brother stayed. He would leave him with Sergei. Meanwhile, he would probably end up going with Piotr and a few others to meet Wesley. But that was still yet to happen.

A knock on the door drew Vladimir's attention. "Voydite," he replied absently.

(Come in)

Piotr and Sergei both entered. "When do you leave?" Sergei growled, looking at Vladimir. Piotr stayed silent.

Vladimir nodded to them, then looked at Sergei. "Vy ostayetes', chasy Anatoly." He then directed his attention to Piotr. He told the other man to head to the car, and that they were leaving now.

(You stay, watch Anatoly.)

Piotr and Sergei both nodded, Piotr walking back out the door with a grim expression while Sergei stayed where he was.

Vladimir watched Piotr walk out, then he turned to look at Sergei. "Ubedites', chto on imeyet vse, chto yemu nuzhno." He turned and followed Piotr out the door.

(Make sure he has everything he needs.)

Piotr clambered inside the taxi, starting the engine and waiting for Vladimir. He glanced over his shoulder and out the rear window.

Vladimir walked along silently. He made his way to the taxi Piotr was in, and tapped on the trunk. Once it was opened, he looked in the trunk. They had everything they would need to start a war. Really, it didn't take too much; that much was clear to Vlad.

He got into the passenger seat.

Piotr briefly looked sideways at him, before driving out of the garage in silence, one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm against the door.

Vladimir sat in the passenger seat and shifted. He glared out the window for a moment, then looked back. Several other taxis followed behind them. They were more for backup... just in case. Vladimir didn't think they would need them... but he couldn't be too careful when starting war.

Turning his attention back to Piotr, Vladimir spoke. "Vy gotovy?"

(Are you ready?)

Piotr looked over again. "Da." He didn't say anything about Anatoly, and he didn't ask if Vladimir himself was ready - un-necessary questions.

Vladimir nodded. "Spaseeba." It wasn't something he said often, but he figured the past week warranted it.

(thank you.)

Piotr tried not to look surprised. He nodded as a response. The drive to the building wasn't long - and soon he was pulling into the parking lot, and turning off the car.

Vladimir pulled open the glove box and pulled out two Glock 9mm hand guns. He handed one to Piotr, and slipped the other into the waistband of his jeans. With a stoic expression, he got out of the car and looked up at the towering building with one thought; they would pay for what they did to his brother.

Piotr guessed they would be waiting for perhaps five minutes before Wesley arrived. Which, was enough time... He jogged to the trunk, opening it and pulling out the *Supplies*.

"Dayte mne korobku." Vladimir stated, holding out a hand and nodding to the empty box in the trunk.

(Give me the box)

Piotr handed it over. He'd known the Ranskahov's since the one time - when they'd all escaped. He remembered being freed by the men escaping the prison with nothing but two ribs; the determination and will kept them alive. He recalled leaving, fighting their way out - so, when paperwork asked him when and where his place of employment was...

Vladimir nodded and took the box. He glanced through the rest of their *Supplies* and breathed a sigh. Today, Fisk would learn who it was he'd gone after, and today, he would learn never to do it again.

Vladimir put the box in the back seat of the car and then shut the door. He closed the trunk and waited. The place was abandoned, so... whenever Wesley showed up, they could do whatever had to be done.

He brought "the box" as Piotr and Sergei called it, and the "supplies." All they needed was Wesley.

Piotr eyed the empty place with wide eyes, waiting. It was quiet, except for the soft breeze. The other taxis weren't far away, just parked in places where Welsey wouldn't see unless he was expecting them.

Vladimir pulled his cell from his pocket. Wesley was now two minutes late. The Russian frowned and jammed the phone in his pocket. "YA dumayu, chto Uesli khochet razdrazhat' menya."

(I think that Wesley wants to annoy me."

"Ya dumayu tak." (I think so.) Piotr stared at the entrance, arms loosely by his sides. The sound of a car engine started drawing closer, (Luckily for Wesley, Piotr mused upon seeing Vladimir's expression.)

Vladimir shifted, glanced around, and turned to see who it was, though it must've been Wesley. He could see a black SUV driving toward them. Black SUV... like the one they'd used to try and take Anatoly's head. Anger burned in his veins. His muscles tensed, and he pushed away from the taxi. He had to bide his time... he could do that. It wouldn't be too hard.

Wesley gracefully stepped from the car, and straightened his jacket as he did so. He strolled towards them, halting somewhere in front. "My employer is pleased to..." Wesley looked around, eyebrows knitting together. "Where's your brother?"

Vladimir's face twitched. "Days ago, I'd have asked you same thing." It was all he could say without losing it. Slowly, one hand inched toward where he kept his handgun, because this was only going to end one way...

Wesley subtly shook his head, frown deepening. "Excuse me?"

Vlad found himself wondering how long he could play the game of "holding his temper" because really, he'd already decided on the outcome, so now, he was just "playing." He was pretending to be holding a meeting. He was a cat, batting at a mouse... he was just watching, to see if the man felt any remorse for what he'd done.

"My brother... do you know what happened to him? Does Fisk know?"

"What?" Wesley briefly looked at Piotr, who wore a wide-eyed yet somehow un-concerned expression. "We have to be as expeditious as possible with this deal."

"Deal?" Vladimir asked, amusement mingled with anger tinted his voice. His fingers hovered at his sides, waiting until he'd had enough...

"Yes." Wesley's tone held an impatient calm. ""My employer is tiring of this."

"You mean FISK?" Vladimir asked.

Wesley's lips pursed. "Anatoly should have been here. He wasn't as... Cantankerous."

"No, so I suppose that's why you tried to cut off his head?"

Wesley gave a patronizing laugh. "Did you hit yours?" It was condescending; painfully so.

Vladimir snapped. He'd had enough. He pulled the 9mm, and aimed it at Wesley's head. "Were you there? Did you see...? Did you just let Fisk, try to murder my brother? Don't lie to me."

Wesley looked unimpressed. "Yes."

Vladimir shifted his grip on the gun and his expression darkened still further. He wasn't sure shooting the man would cause enough pain. He didn't even regret what he'd done-what he'd let Fisk do to Anatoly.

So, he turned to Piotr, silently telling him to take care of the driver, and returned his attention to Wesley. His aim lowered, and he pulled the trigger, shooting the man's knee and sending him to the ground. Vladimir was pleased to see the lack of a smug expression.

Piotr left to do just that, and his walk turned into a run when the man started driving. A gunshot rang, and a tire blew - the driver getting out to run, only to be tackled by the Russian.

Wesley gasped in pain, blood gushing through his fingers as his hands moved to cover the wound.

Vladimir glanced up only long enough to make sure Piotr was all right. He was-not shockingly.

He turned his attention back to Wesley. "You left my brother to die. You and Fisk. Now, I get payback." With that, he aimed, and shot a bullet straight through Wesley's chest, into his heart. He watched the man's blood flow freely from the wound, knowing Wesley only had moments.

Casually, Vladimir walked back to the car, he pulled the door open and got out the box. He set it on top of the car, then moved around to pop the trunk. He pulled it open, and retrieved the machete from its place, then made his way back toward Wesley.

Welsey gargled on the crimson pouring from parted lips, his hand now desperately scrabbling at the fresh injury. His muscles spasmed and his head slammed against the concrete, the rise and fall of his chest abruptly ending. A tortured scream came from the driver, and a shout from Piotr.

Vladimir glanced over in the direction of the shouting. The sight that met him wasn't surprising. Piotr had "taken care of" the driver.

In one movement, Vladimir hauled the now lifeless body of his enemy up, and leaned Wesley against the taxi. With relative ease, Vladimir did what Fisk had tried to do to his brother. He removed Wesley's head.

Blood sprayed against the yellow vehicles side, and onto the concrete. It felt like a victory. Yes, Vladimir would admit to that. He dropped the head in the cardboard box, and sealed it, with one final look at Wesley's body, he called over Piotr. It was time for them to start their battle.

God bless!