The Bratva's heir awoke as he normally did: butt naked and with new wounds he couldn't immediately remember. He felt the fabric of the sheets peel off of one wound on his right side, grunting as he shuffled across the wooden floor of his master bedroom. He was able to make it to the bathroom and flick on the lights, immediately regretting the blast of the incandescent bulbs above the mirror. His eyes remained closed for a moment as his left hand felt around the wound. It was a small divot in his side... probably a bullet that grazed by. When Nikolai opened his eyes, he was able to confirm his suspicion: the minor graze of a bullet wound that was already scabbed over. He gave a reassuring nod as he turned away and got in the shower to begin his day right. He felt his hand pass over the wound again, and it only took a moment to realize what exactly had caused this...
[color=firebrick][hr][h3][i]The Night Before...[/i][/h3][/color]

Nikolai stepped into the small bar with Dmitri on his tail. Sitting throughout the bar were about ten men, all dressed casually but clearly not average patrons. [i]Samovar[/i] was a hole in the wall located in the basement of a housing project that acted as one of the Bratva's lower-scale brothels. The men here were protection, certainly born into the family. As soon as Nikolai entered, all sound and movement in the bar stopped. Some of them looked afraid, as they knew exactly who the heir apparent was. Others... they looked almost excited. Like they wanted to be the ones to kill The Bear. But as the room got silent, a Russian in a fine suit walked out of the back room and lifted his hands in greeting. This Russian has silver hair, and his face was clearly marked with age beneath the shaggy beard he had grown. He was a friend of Alexi Petrokov who went by the name Vladmir Tykovski, and he was the one responsible for runing the [i]Samovar[/i]. Vlad greeted Nikolai in Russian. [color=gray][i]"Ahhh, Alexi's little boy... What brings you to my domain?"[/i][/color]

[color=firebrick][i]"I came to collect the tax."[/i][/color] Nikolai's response was cold and calculated. His words were clear and businesslike.

Vlad laughed and shook his head as he walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Vodka, removing its top and pouring two glasses. [color=gray][i]"Your father is the one who collects the tax. We came over to this country together, and he has always shown me that respect. Now he sends his son to collect from me. What am I to think of that, little bear?"[/i][/color]

Nikolai took a deep breath as he walked towards the bar, fetching his glass and downing the drink as if it were a cold glass of water on a hot day. He turned his gaze around to acknowledge each of the men in the room before turning back to Vlad. [color=firebrick][i]"You have always been good to my father, so I will show you this kindness. He has come down with the flu, and is resting. Until he is recovered, I am taking his place in all business. Treat me as if I were him."[/i][/color]

Vlad shook his head, finishing his drink in like fashion before pouring each of them another glass. [color=gray][i]"You are not your father, little bear. If you won't leave until you get the money, you may as well sit and get comfortable. I am not handing it over until your father collects it himself."[/i][/color]

Nikolai's face was stoic, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The other men in the bar began reaching towards their waists for their weapons. Dmitri grabbed his boss' shoulder with his left hand as his right reached for his own sidearm. The singular, frozen moment seemed like it went on for an eternity. But Nikolai's hands relaxed eventually, and he made his way towards the stairs. The two made their way outside and onto the streets of New York, walking towards an old black muscle car by the curb. They went towards the trunk without saying a word and opened it. At first, it looked like just a normal trunk... shallow, but unremarkable. Dmitri felt the side of the trunk's bottom to flip open a latch, and it swung up to reveal a small arsenal of weaponry. Two guns and loads of ammunition were on display, as well as a set of tools for torture that would make the CIA's mouth water. Nikolai reached for the Vepr while Dmitri fetched the AKS, and both loaded their respective weapons with drum magazines. The Bratva's heir slammed the trunk with his free hand, and the two men moved like one unit back towards the bar.

Dmitri kicked in the door and began opening fire, a line of bullets impacting against the wall in a line. Three of the men were caught in this spread, and jerked violently as they were killed before they could draw their weapons. Nikolai was right behind him, aiming straight ahead and aiming the shotgun towards a table of made men. Six pulls of the trigger saw the visceral death of four men as they too were slain before they could even stand. The last three had just managed to pull their weapons out and were running for cover as Dmitri was able to kill them too with a spray of bullets, leaving Vladimir for Nikolai to handle. Vlad was quick on the draw, almost expecting this to happen. Vlad's finger rested on the trigger of his sidearm and pointed it towards Nikolai just as The Bear began to squeeze and release his own trigger over and over again. Nikolai fired his shotgun into Vlad six times out of pure rage. He didn't notice that Vlad had managed to get a single shot off as he was hit with the first blast of the Vepr. The shot wasn't fatal, but just graze Nikolai's side through his suit. The "firefight," if you could even call it that, was over in about twelve seconds. Blood hadn't even truly begun pooling on the floor by the time Dmitri held out his weapon to Nikolai.

The two had an unspoken agreement at this point. Nikolai took the guns back out to the car and packed them away while Dmitri got on the phone with the Bratva's janitors. The heir got in the back of the car and waited for his assistant. Dmitri pulled out a rag and picked up the glass of vodka that his boss had drunk from moments before, knocking the drink back himself before pocketing it. He gave the door handle a quick rub down, and then went out to drive his boss home. Dmitri had become efficient at figuring out his boss' temperaments and could anticipate his actions most of the time.
[hr] Nikolai closed and locked the door to his house in Staten Island as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for him on the street. Dmitri was there, right on time. As soon as the heir had sat down in the back seat, Dmitri was handing back a few papers and letters. [color=orange]"I updated Zhanna on what happened last night, and she's smoothing it over with the boss. No meetings today, but as you can see... it looks like the Latins are calling all the families together for an event. They're expecting-"[/color]

Nikolai simply raised his hand to silence his driver. Dmitri gave a nod and put the car into drive as they began to coast down the streets of NYC and join its traffic. Nikolai looked over the metal invitation, giving a short nod. [color=firebrick]"Get in touch with Diabla's people. Let her know I'll be there in my father's place. If she has a problem, tell her we can discuss it in person."[/color] The Petrokov looked out the window as he spoke, his thick Russian accent almost suffocating the words as he spoke them. He would never admit it, but Nikolai knew how important his reception was at an event like this. It was only a matter of time before he was the official head of the family... but how that event went would determine if he would be able to stay that way once his father was gone.