for the sake of insanity

Land of None

This bar, земля никого, the land of none, hid secrets. The dim light concealed faces, thick winter coats concealed guns. A wall of cigar smoke concealed from me from the man across the room, his face swimming in and out of the ghoulish haze. His long, straight nose, dark brown eyes were not unfamiliar to me. With him, he carried the features, and the threat, of the Tiovsky family.

It was not the first time I had seen one of his kind, but he was the first I had to kill. And from his presence here, it seemed his father had given him the same orders in parallel. It had been a dance between us around Moscow, gathering weaknesses, learning strengths. One whose climax was to end here tonight, in this bar. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, the shiny gun in my pocket devoid of the weight of murder, but not for long. The perspiration from my hands slicked the grip, caused my fingers to slip over the trigger.

As I watched him, I recognised a similar strain. The stiff posture, not to demonstrate alertness but because the bruises of beatings prevented him from sitting any other way. The white fingers around his whiskey a sign of fear, not a threat. His face was crinkled with stress, dark bags circled his eyes. As he gently waved away a waitress, I faltered. He did not want to kill me either. This was not our fight. I knew the weight of what my father was asking. I would not. I would leave tomorrow, with my fiance Piotr, in the runaway plan we had always discussed.

My gun became a weight on the inside of my coat, pulling down the right side of my body, calling for my attention. I took my coat off, freeing myself from its burden. The night air kissed my shoulders, chilling, but free.

I would have no other use for that coat. I reached for my drink, and the reyka tasted sweeter that night.

Across the room, Katya Lankov reached for her drink. I braced my hand upon my gun, each of her moments causing me to stiffen. As she raised the drink to her lips and took one long sip, I scowled. Playing with me, taunting me, that accursed Lankov seductress. She had been following me around the city, little more than a shadow as she watched and learnt and adapted. To learn about me, to kill me.

"Can I get you anything tonight, sweetheart?"

"No," I replied, irritated. This waitress had been relentless. I scowled up at her, and waved a dismissive hand. "Leave me."

My focus returned to Katya. The sight of her coated my mouth with disgust. The Lankovs had wrong us, stolen our land, killed our children. I had seen the destruction they did not hesitate to bestow upon the city. And there was another before me, prepared to perpetuate their twisted traditions. She would not hesitate to kill my family, my beautiful Svetlana. To protect them, she had to die.

Katya's hand had been dipping in and out of her pocket all night, a silent threat. I knew the gun she carried in there, the bullet with my name on it. Twin to the bullet that I carried, inscribed with hers. I would not let her destroy me first. We would not fight in here, where there was a chance someone would try to save her.

In one movement, I motioned my head towards the exit. Katya paused and then nodded, rising from her seat. Her coat hung on her chair behind her. The gun must be concealed elsewhere. That was smart. It would take too long to pull it out from a coat. I pulled mine off, smoothly hiding my gun in my waistband, concealed by my shirt. She scanned my empty hands and smiled at me, a grim, twisted thing. I responded in kind.

I exhaled slowly. She was a kill unlike others: this would start a war. The cold metal of the gun burned against my skin, heavy with my task, as I exited the Land of None.