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Have Mercy On Me

Vladimir's POV in 3rd person.

"Avtoritet Vladimir please, we're both parts of a close-knit Bratva, which I would never betray, you know me!" The bald man beseeches, shirtless body suppressing the tremors under coils of ropes bounding him to a chair.

He's striving to keep his fear hidden from the formidable eyes of the avtoritet.

He leisurely paces back and forth in front of the trembling man under harsh fluorescent lighting.

The soft clicking of boots echoes sinisterly throughout the vast storage area of the closed cargo port. The avtoritet finally arrives to a disquieting halt, inches away from the bald man.

The bounded man's eyes nervously flit towards the trademark silver gun holstered at the belt of the notorious avtoritet, the one in authority. The one imminently feared by many amongst the ranks of the Molotov Russkaya Mafiya.

"Nikita, Nikita, Nikita... To think you would have abjured by now." Ensures the sleek velvety reply, as black leather gloves are slowly peeled off, reveal
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