Special Note: All dialogue contained in Italics is not being spoken in English, but are rather in a number of possible other languages, more than likely of which is Russian.
Chapter One: Pop Rock Malady
Nikolai "Kolya" Sevastyan Sokoll P.O.V.:
I throw my brown trench coat over my shoulders and stare up through my hair at one of my girlfriends, Soya. She just won't shut up today. No matter how many times I glare she just doesn't understand that closing her lips would be really nice. That's the problem with rich girls. They think just because you're old money they have a right to talk to you. I'm pretty sure her family's money comes from some stupid microchip enterprise that nobody gave a damn about because some big name computer monopoly got it.
No. Wait. That's expecting too much intelligence from her and her gene pool.
Thank God I only use her for the sex. I'd hate to ever think of her as actually important to humanity.
I run my hand through my bangs and give a scoff as she continues to ramble on at me. I suppose she doesn't notice that I'm walking in the completely opposite direction of her classroom. She's oblivious like that.
I whip around and grab her shoulders, deciding that I'd really like to shut her up right now. Class is unimportant. I press my lips against hers and slip my tongue past them, causing her to full body twitch against me. Well, that definitely shut her up, but I can tell by the way she presses against me that she's looking for more. Stupid whore. Honestly, can't a kid just go to his speech class and listen to people bitch for an hour in peace?
She tugs me against the lockers, and pushes some random geek away who's obviously just trying to get his books. I've seen him before. He's just some messy haired kid named Modest. What the fuck kind of name is Modest anyways, by the way? He's in fourth period with me. He doesn't need his books. It's speech class for fuck's sake.
I guess I'm obligated to fuck her or something now by the way she grabs me, smiling. "How about we skip fourth period today? I'd rather spend it with you."
"They installed a video surveillance system over the bathrooms," says the geek kid. I don't recall giving him permission to speak to me, so I tilt my head towards him and glare with a scowl.
"I don't give a fuck if there's surveillance up your ass, Queer. Get the fuck away from me, and if I hear you speaking directly to me again I'll fucking force your head into that locker until your eyes pop." I think I handled that well for me. I smile as Soya's lips meet mine again. I can feel her body heaving from the laughter she's suppressing.
His face goes bright red, and Soya finally breaks into hysterics. Her black hair covers her face and she puts her hand on her stomach, giggling louder. Modest faces the floor and even still I can see his auburn eyes through his mess of dark brown curls. "I-I'm sorry. I'll –"
"You're talking to him again, peasant," she spits out snidely, her ruby red lips curling back up into a wide smile. "I'd suggest you leave Nikolai alone! Run along to class, you're already going to be late." As if she's just conjured some sort of crazy nympho magic, the bell beings to ring. "Nikolai and I are busy."
Modest rears up and gives a noise similar to a large squeak as he lifts up his head and looks towards the direction of his classroom. "Oh no! Mrs. Amabella said if I'm late again she'll-"
"Stop talking," I command with a scruff tone that makes him freeze. Our eyes lock, and I swear I can feel his body shaking from even the few feet away from each other that we're standing. I grip Soya a little tighter, and grin at him.
He nods his head as if he's frightened I'd take it off, which I probably would do, and runs off to class as if we haven't just had this little meeting. My lips immediately go back into contact with Soya's and I don't let her go until I hear a muffled groan in the back of her throat. "Apparently geeks only fuck in the bathroom. I'd feel downright low class fucking in there with such a beautiful girl. Shall we hit the library?"
She laughs mischievously before eagerly throwing her arms around my neck. And so we head towards the library, my hands never once stopping from groping her and holding her close to me.
Well, at least the idiot knows how to be quiet in the library. Then again, ever since I threatened the librarian with a gun she's been more than willing to allow me to do whatever I want in the backrooms there. I even have a cot set up.
I lock the door to the backroom, and just as my uniform is beginning to leave me my phone rings. I sternly direct Soya to keep herself busy and grab the phone. She decides that keeping herself busy consists of pulling down my pants and consuming me –something extremely rude seeing as I'm trying to talk on the phone. Ungrateful little whore just can't even wait four minutes for me to take a phone call.
That's not to say I'm stopping her or anything.
"Nikolai," comes the call of my father over the phone. Great. My father just has to be the one making the call. I bring my knee forward and knock Soya in the shoulder hard enough to make her unbalanced and then just kick her to the ground. She's used to the treatment, but she just goes back to what she was doing anyways. "Are you busy?"
"Well, I'm in school, Papa. Anything you need exactly? I'm a little busy."
"Oh? Busy? Well, this should be simple for you, son. Kazimir is bringing a police car to the front of the school to pick up a boy, which means he'll be on business and can't take you home. You can ride in the police car or you can get a cab or a ride. Just know that he's busy, all right?"
"Whatever," I bite my lower lip and shoot a glare down at the innocent faced Soya. She wears that expression like she's a saint touching the devil – one little purge can't be a sin for sweet Soya, now can it? Sometimes I wonder why I'm attracted to such stupid whores.
"I'll see you later then, son. Have fun with your own business, which knowing you isn't school work!" He has such a happy sing-song tone to that thick Russian accent that I almost feel sick hearing him, and that's even with the blow job. I snap shut my phone and cast it to the side at the same time that I bring my knee forward and slam it into Soya's shoulder blade again. She gives a shout of pain this timeand falls backwards, and I simply grab her and force her onto the cot.
I've never been a very nice boy, and I'm pretty sure I never will be.
The rest of the school day seems irrelevant and Soya is still clinging. Nothing unusual occurs today. I give a stretch under my coat as I remember that Kazimir shouldn't be giving me a ride today. That's definitely an inconvenience. There's no way I'm going to take a taxicab. I'd rather blow out my own brains, and I've seen some of those drivers.
Then again, my family's driver isn't exactly the prettiest man alive either. He's my grandfather Daniil Sevastyan Sokoll VII's cousin from when my family was still in Russia or something like that. I don't really care. All I know is that the mental guy is older than me and related. My dad says it would be rude to let him pretend he's part of the family but not give him an actual job, so he's been the family driver for nearly thirty years now. He drove my dad around.
I can't stand admitting that he's my driver. My friends usually ask me why I don't just hire a new one. I say something stupid along the lines of he's from a service for the mentally handicapped – which he should be because he is mentally handicapped. That's why my grandfather even bothered bringing him to America. We all know he couldn't last a second in Russia seeing as my family is known for being rebellious. My grandfather had to run from the country for selling nuclear bomb secrets or something like that.
Really, whatever grandpa did can't be half as bad as what my father and I do every day. Human trafficking, drug trafficking, loan sharking, weapons trafficking, and owning illegal gamboling rings, and roulette rings are just a few of the things my family is pretty well known for around here. Of course, we're well known but no one knows our names unless we've helped them. I think that's the best benefits of being a mafia prince.
The police car's sirens are blaring and my eyes instantly lock onto it. Bingo. I just found my ride. Soya goes to talk to me, but I ignore her as I whip out my cell again and call Kazimir directly. "Kaz, I'm getting a ride with you." Soya looks at me strangely. It's funny how she claims to be Russian but knows nothing about her own native country's language. I'm pretty sure she says that stuff to suck up to me. When I was little all I knew was Russian and Korean. (My mother is Korean, smuggled from North Korea to be exact. My dad has a bit of a Korean fetish.) Luckily for me, neither of the languagesmanages to accent my voice at all. I've lived in America for all of my life, and I consider myself American above anything else.
"You're not talking to one of those other girls are you, Nikki? You only seem to speak Russian when you're talking to them. It's so rude of you, just because I don't speak Russian." Oh god, the girl is talking again.
I turn my eyes towards her, and simply manage a curt nod of my head. "Yes, Soya, I'm talking to another of my fuckbuddies you seem so convinced I have. Don't worry though; she's obviously not as wonderful as you. If you listen carefully you'll even hear how ugly she is, being as I'm talking to an old, retarded, Russian man."
Her eyes fade in color for a moment as she sucks in a deep breath and I watch the lights of the sirens flash over her hair for a moment. Her hair is too shiny. Then again, my father says my hair is just like hers. That is, only mine's a few inches over my shoulders and slicked back against my head. I can't even begin to explain the annoyance hair causes when you're trying to fire a gun and it isn't secured against your head. At least, that's how it is for me anyways.
"I'm sorry, Nikolai. Can I make it up to you? Do you want to come over to my house? I'm sure I can make it up to you for being so mean." Her eyes dash about and it seems like only just now does she notice the sirens. "I wonder who that car is here for."
I see Kazimir walk out of the car and stand before someone that's slightly hidden in the crowd, until he suddenly calls out, once more in Russian. Kazimir isn't the best at English. "I'm looking for Modest 'Desya' Popov. Please step forward. I'm here to escort you to headquarters."
Modest? What business would that little geek have with my father? I arch a brow and walk forward, slamming Soya to the side. She lets out a grunt, and I hear some of her friends complain from behind me about the way I treat her. If she had a problem with how I treated her, she'd of left me a long time ago. Too bad nobody ever seems to leave me. They're not quite that stupid as to test the kid with the gun.
When I get behind Kazimir, I notice he's as badly dressed as always. "Isn't that your driver?" Soya asks from behind me, and I feel my muscles tense. If that bitch says anything that'll mess up whatever my dad is planning I'll shoot her myself. I cast a look that tells her to shut up before I turn back to Kazimir.
"Nikolai," he says with a smile, fading into English. "My orders are to escort you as well." He opens the back of the car, and I cast Soya a scowl before climbing into the back of the car. The air conditioning blares and I tilt my head back against the top of the seats. Finally, I don't have to hear her talking anymore.
A few minutes later the door opens again and Modest 'Desya' Popov slips into the vehicle with sigh. His dark eyes scan over me for a moment, and I simply turn my gaze to the mirror that shines through the dividingglass to the back seat. I'm so much cleaner looking than that pauper and we're sharing a vehicle. I'd rather take a cab. I go to say such, but Kazimir is already backing onto the road. That's the good thing about having a stolen cop car in the city – people have to pull over.
"Mr. Sokollof," Modest begins with a slight shift. "I was wondering you have any news about my father yet."
"Ah. Yea', I do." He smiles dumbly and continues driving. Desya lifts his head as if to ask a question, but he clearly chooses against it and looks down. I give a cough, and tell Kazimir in Russian that the boy wants to know about his father, not just whether or not Kazimir actually has information. I also tell him that if Kazimir was told the information and wasn't told that it was classified, then it's not.
Desya's expression falls from beneath his shaggy mess of hair and he looks up at me. "You don't have to defend me. I- Oh god I'm sorry for talking to you again!"
I narrow my eyes at him and scoff, turning my attention out the window. Innocent pawns of the outside world, that's how they all are. Every single one of them is so far beneath me the heel of my boots could crush them without me even noticing. "You speak Russian, Modest? I should have guessed when Kaz called you Desya, I suppose. It's sad to learn that the Russians would bare namesake to such a stupid name as Modest."
A blush spills over his cheeks, and I manage a cocky smile. A nineteen-year-old geek that blushes at my command I could get used to. I only know he's nineteen from speech class. I hate that class. Why should I talk about myself to a bunch of undeserving idiots? Hence then comes my cot in the library.
I reach over and pat my hand against those messy brown curls of his like he's my new dumb dog, and then cross my hands in my lap with a scowl. "You done now?" the driver asks with a smile. "Your father is dead, Desya. No more, no less, little boy."
His face falls, and I can't help but break out into laughter. His auburn eyes turn to stare up at me as if he's going to start crying, and I laugh slightly harder. "Please stop," he mutters so quietly I don't even acknowledge it as I press my head further back against the seat. "It's not funny. My father died yesterday. It's-It's not funny. What if your father died?"
"My father is dead," I reply with a solemn expression, stopping my laughter for a moment to grab him and bury my face in his shoulder. "It's horrible!" I let the sarcasm leak through my voice before I break back into hysterics against his shoulder. I feel him shake against me, but he doesn't fight the grip I have on him, and even Kazimir begins laughing.
"Your father is well alive, boy," Kaz says to me sternly. "Leave Desya alone. He is having big trouble."
I suppress another set of laughter and raise my head to place my nose a few millimeters from his, my amber eyes shining into his auburn. "Now, now, cheer up. I was trying to make you laugh. Don't you think I'm funny?" I run a hand through his messy hair, feeling my fingers get caught along the way. "Take a deep breath. He's right though, my father is alive and kicking. So by the way how'd your dad die?" I release him, and he just stares forward looking both like I just tried to rape him, and like I'd slapped him in the face. I see tears brim on the corners of his eyes, and I smile. Just as I guessed, even though my father wants the geek, he still has no spine.
I can't even begin to think of what interest my father has in him. I don't apologize for my words, and I press my forehead against the glass and Kazimir begins to pick up speed. I don't bother putting on a seatbelt. I'm used to Kazimir's idea of what's fast. To him, the chance to soar down the road at a hundred and twenty miles an hour since people are out of the way can not be missed. I hear Desya make a loud squeak from beside me, and when Kaz takes a sharp turn Desya falls to be face first in my lap. I'm not complaining.
He lets out a girlish squeal and throws his arms around my waist, seemingly not even noticing that he's clinging to me. I don't do anything, realizing that he probably just isn't used to such speeds. I'm not surprised. He'd probably never even gotten the joy of touching a sports car before. It's such a shame, really, the things the poorer classes must endure.
The car leaves the city and begins heading towards one of my father's mansion estates outside of the city limits. All the while, Desya clings to me, and he's even begun to start crying. I assume the fear from the car ride is just too much for him, but I've never seen anyone cry so much over the speed of a vehicle, especially a guy.
As the car finally starts to decelerate, Modest pulls himself together and realizes that his pale face is buried deeply into the eagle design on my trench coat, a family symbol. "You done now?" I ask calmly. His puffy red eyes stare at the eagle as if he expects it to fly away. I stare down, debating whether or not the boy needs to be hugged or slapped. I op for slapped. So, I lift my hand to hit him.
Desya raises his hand and catches my wrist. His bony fingers tighten against mine, and feel myself go tense. Did he just do what I think he did? My amber eyes fall down to see his fingers clinging tightly to my wrist. He did! I can't believe that little runt has the nerve to touch me, let alone stop me.
"Let go," I direct as sternly as possible. Desya stares at my wrist, and whimpers.
"I'll let you go if you promise not to hit me and make fun of me any more."
That's definitely not going to happen. I bring my other hand to punch Desya in the ribs. "Let the fuck go of me! Now! I don't have to make any promises to you, and I don't want you touching me unless I tell you to touch me. Is that understood?"
He lets out a faint groan, but he doesn't release my wrist. I realize that's probably because he's distracted by pain, but I don't care. When I give an order I expect it to be done immediately. I wrench my wrist free and grab his throat just as Kazimir slams hard upon the breaks, sending us flying back against the seats hard. That only makes me more pissed.
I land a punch right square onto Desya's eye, and he shouts out in pain and grabs at it. I bring my hand up to punch him again in the stomach. Desya lets go of me, and Kazimir opens the backdoor. "Boys," he says in Russian, his voice coming out like a deep growl. "Knock it off. Get out of the car and follow me. Don't make me put you both in handcuffs."
I snarl up at him as Desya begins to curl up into sobs against the backseat. Kazimir puts his hand out and Modest 'Desya' Popov takes it, getting out of the vehicle like it's going to eat him alive. I follow suit, though I'm still irritated. When I look up, I see the gates of one of the family mansion's shining down at me, a large eagle crest designed into the iron gates. Kazimir can't drive a cop car past the gates because it'd be instantly attacked by those that didn't take the time to notice that Kaz was the driver. Frankly, nobody would give a damn that Kaz was the driver – so us having to walk up to the house doesn't seem like a bad idea.
"T-This isn't the station," Desya whines as the gates open and Kazimir begins to push him through.
"Congratulations, you're observant yet again, Pauper," I reply snidely, casting a glance to Kazimir. "Can you please gag him or something?"
Kaz stretches slightly and then nods his head, suddenly kicking Desya in the back of the knees and sending him falling forward face-first onto the pavement. He then leans down and puts a gun to the back of Desya's head and grins. "Welcome, little one, to the beginning of the rest of your life."
A/N: Well, I hope you've enjoyed that beginning! This story alternates p.o.v. between Desya and Nikolai periodically because it's easier to explain some things as Nikolai, and it's easier to explain other things as Desya, and I apologize for the constant use of the word "fuck" but it's how I talk and Nikolai is an arrogant asshole (obviously) with probably no understanding of what the word "morals" even means.
I have this story pre-written pretty far so keep an eye out for updates since FP has been a real jerk about sending out update information! Grr!