NO COURTESY

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I hope you're well and here I am, back with a new chap and stirring some more shit…To that purpose I decided to alter the initial plot of the story and bring in some more action because Tino and Berwald deserve it ;) Also, thank you guys so much for the continued support!


While brewing some more coffee at the filter in the back room, Berwald had heard Tino on the phone with someone, his voice hushed, and as he walked back to the front of the store he found the Finn hunched over the counter, head in his hands. The sight instantly made him anxious – his employer slash boyfriend was always in a mood above average (except for the unfortunate episode when Sebastiano Vargas had barged in and had tried to rob them).

"What's wrong?" the detective inquired cautiously, laying the steaming mugs down, next to Tino's slouched form. "What happened?"

The petite blond sighed deeply, giving his phone a lazy spin against the hard wood of the counter. "Pfftt… shit happened. Say, the other day, when you asked me where I stand with my clients… did you…" he turned his head slightly, looking up and giving a thoughtful glance which sent a cold shudder down Berwald's spine. "… have a foreboding or something?"

Berwald shook his head slowly, blinking. "Why? Who w's on the phone?"

"Katya… The thing is, the Italians trespassed on their turf. They want to take it. Looks like the fuckers want to get their hands on the whole fucking city."

Motherfucking-… Okay, this really surpassed the Swede's worst nightmares (and the Chief Inspector's, no doubt). The police department was aware that the Vargas family gearing up and recruiting could only mean some really bad stuff was brewing, but they'd hoped to get their hands on the Italians before they started a full-blown gang war and the streets got littered with corpses. This always happened with 'newcomers' sooner or later.

"So what's happening now?"

Tino sighed again and straightened his back a bit, reaching for one of the mugs. "Fuck is happening now. Lovino Vargas is a Sicilian – you know what that means, he's built up an army and will just go full out. Ivan and his sisters… they're really nice people, they don't stir unnecessary shit, unless you come after what's theirs. If you do, they unleash fucking Stalingrad all over again," he explained, producing a bottle of Vodka from below the counter and pouring some into his coffee.

Just as Berwald had feared. "…and where do we stand in this?"

"The fuck do I care, it's not my war," the Finn replied with a bitter snort, taking a gulp of his dubious beverage. He was putting a tough front, as always, but the anxiety was there.

"But the Russians are your friends!" the detective pointed. Somehow he doubted Väinämöinen would have just dropped them like that. Or maybe he would have?

"They are," Tino confirmed. "So I gave them a hella discount, but what else can I do? I'm a supplier, not a soldier." He smiled wryly when the other looked surprised. "I mean, it's always been just me. And now you, but we still aren't much. Not to mention, I ain't going to war for anyone, I never fired a gun aside from self-defense."

Berwald allowed himself a small smile, adjusting his spectacles. "Arthur said you walked into a grocery store with a Kalashnikov…"

"I was fifteen!" Tino replied, rolling his eyes. "I just wanted some free snacks and some pocket money. And I didn't fire either, didn't have to." Yeah, the Swede could bet on that.

"Speaking of, wh're do the Magic Club stand in this?"

The Finn shrugged. "Aside, I think. They do finesse jobs and sweeping the street with a heavy machine gun is hardly a finesse job. Besides, they're very keen on their neutrality and taking sides on a full-scale war would fuck their reputation."

Meanwhile, Berwald struggled with shaping a quick action plan. He had to warn Adnan about this! He had to deliver the info on the Italians' headquarters so that the police could storm it before anything started! But… he didn't have all the data just yet and it was too late now to go investigating some more – if he left now, the Finn was going to think it very suspicious so Berwald had no choice but to remain by his employer's side no matter what.

The detective wandered into the back of the store again, whipping his phone out the moment he was out of Tino's sight. As quickly and relevantly as possible, he relayed to the Chief Inspector the news, as well as what he'd discovered so far about the Italians' location. Ears alert to any sounds or to the Finn receiving or making any more phone calls, he hovered by the coffee filter pretending to wipe the small shelf on which it was placed with a tissue, until a discreet ring tone announced that he had a new message.

"Pull out immediately!" was the Chief Inspector's only reply, even though Berwald could easily imagine him cursing and pacing back and forth like a lion in his smoke-infested Swede'shands began to shake slightly as he read the three words over and over again. He didn't want to leave Tino, although probably Tino could take care of himself just fine and also, could he actually leave? The shop had no back exit, the only way out was through the front door and how… Was he supposed to just try and dart out, hoping Tino wouldn't come after him?

However, his terrible dilemma was eliminated very quickly.

The doorbell rang and Berwald turned on his heels on impulse, heading back, sweaty hand already on the gun tucked at the back of his belt.

The unexpected visitor turned to be none other than Ludwig Beilschmidt, one of the bodyguards of the infamous Vargas family. The solid blond's face was impassive and unreadable as he gave Berwald a quick, assessing once-over before turning to Tino.

"Did you hear the news, Mr. Väinämöinen?" he asked simply, in lieu of any greeting. This was a bad sign.

"I've heard some news, yeah, but I'm not sure I have the whole picture just yet," the gun dealer replied cautiously. "What's this about, anyway?"

Ludwig Beilschmidt took two steps forward, slowly, his expression unchanging. "I think you know what this is about. We are aware of your established policy in regard of your clients, but that won't be possible anymore. You will have to make a choice and Mr. Vargas is hoping you will make the right choice."

Tino stood up brusquely, his gaze narrowing. "Say what?" he demanded.

"Mr. Vargas greatly appreciates ze quality of your products, and that's why we need to make sure they don't get distributed to any of our competition anymore, " the German droned. "The offer we are willing to make you is very generous-"

"Or else what?!" the smaller blond cut him off, scowling openly now.

Beilschmidt said nothing, but lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" the Finn shouted. "When that sniveling brat of yours waltzed in here and shoved a gun in my face I think I was very courteous not to fuck him up, and this is what I'm getting in exchange, a fucking ultimatum! While if a five-year old would put a toy gun in your boss's face you'd take them down no questions asked, yeah?! Because that's what you're like, you fucking garbage on legs!"

"Mr. Väinämöinen, throwing a tantrum is not going to help you," the bodyguard said unfazed and a little patronizingly. "I'm just here to deliver a message and take back yours-"

But Tino had had enough and in the blink of an eye his twin Berettas were drawn, aiming straight at the German's face and instinctively Berwald did the same, pointing his own gun at the intruder. "Well your fucking body riddled with bullets could be a very good message! I think those fucking macaroni eaters would get it, don't you think?!"

Beilschmidt didn't even flinch.

"You have exactly six hours to make up your mind," he informed them bluntly, before turning to leave. "In the meantime, we're keeping an eye on you, so don't even think of stepping out of these premises. If you try to escape, we will consider by default that your answer is negative and you will be taken down without any other warning."


"Fuck…" Tino breathed out, slumping over the counter. "Now we are fucked. Fucked with capital 'F'," he concluded.

Berwald was still staring in utter disbelief at the large black van parked across the street, finding it hard to process how they'd gotten in a pinch so fucking fast. He had to give it to the damned Vargases, they'd surely been thinking things through before making their moves. Now there was really no way out for him! And Tino-…

"IF I DON'T SEE ANOTHER SLICE OF FUCKING PIZZA FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE IT WILL STILL BE TOO SOON!" the Finn roared suddenly, jumping to his feet and storming through the curtain behind him, and the detective heard a door slamming violently somewhere in the back.

"Shit…" The Swede whipped out his phone again and stared blankly at the screen. There were no new messages, but probably Adnan was anxiously waiting for an update. Letting out a shaky breath, he scrubbed a weary hand over his face and pushed his spectacles up on his nose before quickly typing down a message with the latest developments. After a few agonizing minutes during which he wrote, deleted, re-wrote a couple of lines and mentally cursed the text autocorrect, he finally pressed the send button. At the right time, as it turned out, because the gun dealer returned, a determined expression on his face.

"Berwald, come on. We need to pack some stuff," he said bluntly.

"Wha-? But we can't leave-"

"We can and we fucking will, just you watch!"

Taken by surprise by this sudden development, the Swede obeyed on autopilot, following Tino into the back room, where the petite blond had thrown two empty duffel bags on the floor.

"Fuck my luck, I never wanted to do this!" the Finn spat, tossing several boxes of ammo and heavy machine gun bullet belts into the bags. "I never wanted to be a fucking soldier!" Four Heckler&Koch MP5A submachine guns and five AKMs were swept off the racks and thrown in as well.

"We gonna go join the Russians?" Berwald asked, kneeling to zip the now full bags.

"Better the devil you know," Tino replied warily, with a bitter smile. "I would have really liked to dispose of those fucks outside myself, but I don't have the right tools," he stated, sticking his bottom lip out in a childish pout he was probably not ever aware of. "But… Ber, if you don't want to do this… I uh, I'll understand."

The detective looked up in shock – was the gun dealer really thinking of letting him go?! The phone vibrated discreetly in his back pocket, causing more beads of sweat to break on his forehead, but he ignored it, he deliberately ignored the message he didn't even have to read. As crazy as it sounded, his mind was made up and he couldn't leave Tino alone, not now and besides - his logic mind threw in – he'd be more useful to the Chief Inspector if he stayed in the front lines.

He rose to his feet and stepped over the bags, grabbing Tino's face with both hands as he glanced deeply into those large, gorgeous lilac eyes. "You really think I'd leave you?!" He kissed the smaller blond square on the mouth, then pulled him flat against his chest, protectively. "You think I'm afraid to face these bastards?"

Tino sighed, snuggling closer. "You should be afraid, motherfucker, they'll be coming after us with all they've got…"

Not two minutes into their relaxed embrace a huge explosion shook the whole street and the shop windows exploded inwards, blown by the blast. Berwald found himself on the ground, on top of Tino, ears ringing and glasses askew. A loud, alarmed bark was coming from the upstairs apartment, various screams could be heard outside and heavy smoke was beginning to invade the area. Coughing, he sat up on his knees and allowed the Finn to extract himself from under him.

"You okay?"

Berwald nodded, dizzy.

"Good! I'm going upstairs to take Hana, grab the bags and we'll head for the exit."

The front of the shop was a complete mess, shards littering the floor and the clothes racks hanging around, and the front door was barely holding on the upper hinges, glassless. Through the waves of smoke the Swede saw the still burning pieces of what had been the black van littering the asphalt, a lone tyre still rolling head on the road. The store across from Tino's (which had been fortunately closed that day) had taken even heavier damage, the whole façade was gone, charred remains hanging around like a sinister frame and he could see smoldering remains inside. Sirens could already be heard in the distance and the Finn, who was now on the phone with someone and carrying the petite ball of fluff in his arms lead them through the debris out in the street.

There, a bit further away, the detective recognized the Russians' van from that day at the shooting range. As they walked towards it, the side door slid open and Ivan Braginski himself came to view, a disturbing smile on his face.

"You had a bad day, da?" he asked innocently, as if talking about the weather. "Come on, hop in."

As they did so, Berwald saw the icy-blonde beauty Natalya in one of the back seats, still donning impossibly high heels and short miniskirt, a last generation portable grenade launcher resting in her lap.

To be continued

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