????? ????

The face sat frozen in death before me. I don't honestly remember when I pulled the trigger, it's all a blur. I have a vague picture in my mind, a whispered sentence, whether it was said now or then I have no recollection. "Kill him," Nickolas' voice growled, as smile on his lips. My heart sped up, my vision blurred, and suddenly he lay dead in the leather chair, the barrel of the gun in my outstretched hand still smoking.
Let me begin my story now, in the year 1935. I live in St. Petersburg, Russia, communist capital of the world. At least on the outside. Communist Russia is built around two things, the government and the government's money. So the Pavlova Family made their own. My own father, Vladimir Pavlova, was once the most revered man in all St. Petersburg. Albeit, most men confuse reverence with fear, so perhaps my father was the most feared man in all St. Petersburg.
But I knew him not as Vladimir Pavlova, mob boss, and gangster. He was simply Vlad, the sweet man in dark suits, wearing a merry smile. He would come over everyday, right after I got home from school, and give me sweets, tell me fascinating stories, and kiss Mama often. Then he would go home to his wife and child, and I would see him the next day.
When I turned thirteen, however, my life began to change. Vlad got me a job in his restaurant, as a busboy. Instantly I warmed up to the job. I watched my father be the Big Boss of a Mob Family fit to run a country. I was in heaven. I loved to sit in the booth two away from the Group after hours, and listen to everything they said. Sure I could get killed for it, but that didn't matter. I was just some stupid busboy, what did I know about the Family Business?
It wasn't until I was sitting upstairs in Mama and my room, when I first heard of my life. There was a knock at the door, a loud, commanding knock. I didn't want Mama to wake up, she rarely slept as it was, so I darted to the door and yanked it open. There stood Vlad, his eyes glinting of cold steel. "What'd you learn tonight, boy?" he growled, his eyes flashing angry gray.
I shrugged, feeling the heat in his gaze. Never had I seen Vlad angry. "Don't lie, boy!" he nearly screamed, slamming his fist into my throat. I was caught off guard, I choked and fell backward.
"How," I stuttered, clutching my bruised windpipe, "How to kill a man with my bare hands." I shouted, crawling backwards on my hands and heels. Vlad simply nodded and outstretched a hand to help me to my feet. "How'd you know I was there?" I asked, confused and befuddled.
A smile crept over Vlad's lips, as he whispered, "I saw your foot." I felt dismayed. How long had he known I was there? How long ago had he noticed the stupidity of a child? How long had I been betraying him? But Vlad didn't seem angry, he was laughing. "You'll make a damn good second," he added, "Some day."
At first I was taken aback. Second? What the hell was he talking about? Apparently, he told me, he was the leading mob boss of a Family that ran St. Petersburg. I felt like hitting him upside the head and saying, "No shit," but I figured it would only get me killed.
So I sat there and listened to his stupid "Take over the world" story, thinking all the while, "Why take over the world when it's just as easy to go for the universe? Sooner then I thought, all those questions would be answered.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The day Vlad "borrowed" me from the restaurant to take me to his office. Outside stood one of the usual guards, his black suit gleaming against the white walls. He watched me out of the corner of his eye, and I felt very exposed standing before him. But Vlad led me into the office, telling me to shut the door behind me.
The desk sat in the midst of a sea of gray carpet, a great crouching mahogany monster littered with pads of paper and pencils. "Sit down," Vlad said, motioning to an overly plush chair. "I want to talk to you about this second business." That was about the time the guy vanished from the room. "One day all this will be yours," Vlad was saying to me. Instantly, I became awed. His very words thrilled me.
So much of me couldn't wait to be the Boss. I'd be able to set Mama up for life, outside this hotel. I needed to do this, needed to prepare myself to be the Boss. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

The kitchen reeked of boiled grease and cleaning solution as I stood there with gloves up to my elbows and boots up under my heavy apron. I heard Nickolas and Vlad arguing in the next room, something about a grand piano. When the discussion became heated, I moved toward the door. Just out of the crack I could see Nickolas, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. I caught the gleam of metal too late. The shot had been fired.
I fell out the door, crashing into the tile. Nickolas spun to see me, laying there, pale and icy faced. Vlad reached into his pocket and drew out a blade of silver. In one quick gesture, the silver streak soared past Nickolas' cheek, leaving a mark of red on his toned skin. Another gunshot rang out, and I leapt from my knees. I didn't stop until I was long gone, past the old brick wall and down the cobblestone streets that laced Inner City.

The grand staircase swooped around into the tiled foyer as I stepped within the revolving gold and glass doors. Same as ever, the hotel stood even as it did ten years ago. I never forgot the sweep of the walls, the dents of the floor, the smell of the carpet. It all stayed with me, ever since I rushed from that very building a decade ago.
The muscle man at the front desk stared at me in my sweeping cape and my silver tipped walking stick like I was some threat to him. If only he knew. But I smiled as I walked up to him, and I think he knew it was forced. "Dimitri Vladimir," I said, glaring at him warningly. "I'd like to speak to Vatigan."
His eyes narrowed, turning into slits. I didn't budge. I'd learned that when I was young, I lived with a god damn mob boss. "Who, exactly, are you?" he asked, crossing his arms.
I had waited for that question for so long that I had thought it would never come. "His new assassin," I replied, glaring right at him. The man almost laughed. "Just announce me, Jocko," I demanded.
To tell you the honest to god truth I have never been more terrified in all my life. As I stepped into the office that I had known so long ago I felt my heart hammer louder in my chest. There, in the chair that I knew so well sat a man that couldn't be a Mob Boss. He was scrawny, blonde and freckled. He looked as if he'd never held a gun before, looked as if he couldn't kill a fly, but I knew better.
"Please take a seat", he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He rambled on about different affairs. I was only half listening. ".Which reminds me. I have a job for you." Only then had he bothered to look up at me. I nodded. He continued to ramble on. Finally getting to the point, "I need you to off this prick Roger for me. You up for it?" I could feel a crooked smile about my face.
"Yeah, sure. No Problem." After that I left.
A day had passed, as I remember it. Roger was another "no name." I made my way up to the hotel, same as before. Again, the muscle man at the front desk challenged me. When I arrived in Nicholas' office, he had been sitting as before, except this time he had a lit cigar in his mouth. He only glanced at me, as if he was busy and that was all he had time for. I waited. Finally he stood up and shook my hand.
"How you doing, Dimitri?" he asked. I nodded.
"I got this problem. You see, there's this guy."
His eye brows raised, "Yeah, what about him?"
"Well, this asshole has been on my list for a while. I think tonight is the night to do it."
Almost sneering he chuckled to himself, "How you going to do it?" grinning.
I continued, "Well, I'm going to walk up to him, kind of like this." I slowly approached.
He played along very well.
"I'm going to ask him to take a seat." I motioned.
He sat willingly.
"I'm going to pull out my gun like this.." I yanked it out.
He didn't even flinch. "I'm going to point it at him."
I aimed. "I'm going to tell him, 'You killed my father you asshole son of a bitch.'"
He looked at me. Then he growled, "Kill him."
I blew him away.