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[potenzas]

The line of work in which Anastas actively participated in did not force him to rely heavily on communication skills. This meeting was hardly any different. He offered simple nods of agreement as the man explained that the medications that were being withheld were nothing that even bordered on being particularly legal. The way of transport was also far from legal as well. That wasn’t any of Anastas’ problem, however. Whatever it was that The Good Doctor wanted Anastas would play fetch no matter the cost. There were no questions asked. Until now.

As the piece of paper slid across the desk Anastas leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning the incredibly brief piece of paper. He leaned back, eyes moving up to meet the other man’s gaze. “Where I come from,” he stated simply. Any individual involved with Alex’s experiments were thoroughly cleansed of their histories as soon as they entered the process. Oddly, some of the other test subjects had actual histories beyond Anastas’. Perhaps they were not extensive histories; however, they were more than an unnamed boy in a remote orphanage in northern Russia. “Yes, they are thorough.” 

Alex had selected Anastas out of a run-down and extremely corrupt and horrific orphanage in Russia many years ago. The facility was practically a farm which turned out nameless and unloved children who would be subjected to whatever Alex selected as the flavor of the week. Oddly, Anastas had continued to be the selected flavor for several years running. A VIP of Alex’s tests. Another victim of Alex’s inquisitive and misplaced scientific mind was his sister. Although she had failed to be subjected to his testing, she had been subjected to dealing with him. With that, Anastas thought for a moment if he should have alerted this man to there being more like him. Perhaps someone else, someone with more potential could be of more use to him. If Anastas was to accept work with this person what would come of his sister? Would Alex’s cruelty be expressed through her? Or would he send the others after Anastas himself?

“So what would you like from me?”

Naz wanted to know who these people were, that he had been working for, but he figured that’d be a save it for later topic. Right now they were focusing on him solely, and why he was here. 

The suited man stood from his chair, a quiet ahem in the form of a clearing throat resounding in the room that was suddenly very silent in anticipation of Nazario’s answer. It was the quiet that often comes from Nazario’s presence, from people expecting him to speak. There were only two people here, and yet still that common audience he was awarded, that spotlight, was there and made the room somehow even stiller. He walked himself around to the front of his desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. 

“I think I could use a man like you. A man that’s a fair fight for this brute behind me is a man I’d like to have with me, not against me.” He grinned fairly. “Not only would it be an asset in business terms,” he stood straight again and shook his head, “don’t think that. You’re not just business. I’m thoroughly intrigued by your ability to take Damiano on.” He carefully placed his hands in his pockets and walked around Anastas in his chair, studying him. “This isn’t just a business.” A family, an empire, an organization. 

He walked back around his desk and stood next to Dom. “I’m not sure what exactly for yet. Whether you’ll be replacing this man here on jobs, or perhaps join him. Stay here with me while he’s out. Maybe even just work with the soldiers, or spar with Dom. You may even just have your own choice of work. That’s up to you.”

“The question isn’t why I want you, it’s if you want this.” Normally, a person wouldn’t have a choice. If they showed up, they got involved. They were done. “And I have a feeling this isn’t the same thing you were doing before.”

[potenzas]

sevnthcircle‌:

Few of Anastas’ encounters with other working individuals typically resulted in a clear and pronounced winner. Although he would never toot his own horn, 98% of the time it was Anastas who prevailed in those situations. The other 2% of the time were generally composed of being called off the hunt. However, with one of the latest encounters he had surprisingly met his match. The two had finally come to physical blows in a battle of hand-to-hand combat which had shockingly left the two beaten but not defeated. In the midst of it all, they had somehow come to split the shipment which both had been after and returned damaged but, again, not defeated. 

While the encounter had been eye-opening and a shock, Anastas had never figured that something else would have come out of it. He had not been interested in having anyone seek out his information. His information was beyond private, most images just dark blurs of someone who could’ve been anyone… Yet he had been sought out. An offer had been made and the lure was in place. He had nothing to lose at this point. 

So when he walked into that dark establishment, he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of an ambush. While he continued to be someone who, if they disappeared, nothing would come of it and a person who had literally nothing to lose he didn’t find disappearing all that charming at the moment. 

Anastas took pause as the man in the suit who gestured towards a chair. His eyes peeking silently at the man he had come to blows with. The two standing near one another exposed their differences. Looks, for starters, but stature in short. Anastas was not quite as tall nor quite as muscular as the other man yet the two had still managed to fight with one another extensively without fail. 

He said nothing as he took a seat, eyes still taking in the area, the colors, the noises, and of course, the people. 

“This doesn’t feel like a typical house call,” Anastas supplied, “I must admit - I was thoroughly surprised by your efforts to find me.” 

The door to Nazario’s office closed, shutting the three men inside. Dom clenched his jaw without realizing he was doing it. It was strange to see this person, once nothing much more than a blur as they fought hand to hand, up close. Or, close enough. It was strange to see him here, in this room, in his space. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was a good idea or not. 

“If you can consider the goings on around here ‘typical house calls’ by most standards, anyway.” Nazario grinned. He hummed and moved his hands to his lap, leaning back in his chair. “And efforts they were.” Dom pursed his lips behind Nazario. “The circumstances of your meeting, you and my good friend here, helped immensely. Those weren’t common medicinals for anyone, much less for, ah, less than legal operations looking for the same cocktails you two happened to be quarreling over.” 

He flipped open a folder on his desk. “Still, you were a hard man to find,” Nazario said. And you had way too much fun doing it, Dom thought. The folder wasn’t littered with tons of paperwork, words and images scattered throughout. No, instead it was a single sheet of paper with very little information. About how much anyone would find on Damiano. Naz pushed the paper to him. “Is this your work, or that of where you come from?” He leaned back again. “It’s thorough.”

In Dom’s case, it was erasing his identity -- not that he was given much of one in the first place. Now, his character lies within the confines of this organization. Damien died in a car accident with his father at the raw age of nine years old. He wanted to know how this man had come out so clean. A new identity? A slate wiped clean? Or was there ever one to begin with?

[potenzas]

With the resources Nazario had available to him to expend, considering the shroud of secrecy surrounding him, it wasn’t too hard, nor did it take too long, to locate this mysterious soldier that had come up against Damiano. Not too long, though it was much longer than the usual suspect. A click here, or a facial scan there, or five minutes on the phone with any of their sources from the police departments and they had names, addresses, histories, then add another five minutes and he’d have their life in his hands. For anyone else, it may have been completely impossible to find him at all. This one was his toughest catch, but that made it fun -- for Nazario, anyhow; he had been the fairest match for Dom yet, and it very much so intrigued the both of them, excited them, but... also disappointed Dom in the slightest -- not that he particularly showed it, but Naz was well aware. 

Regardless, they’d found him, this silhouette of a man, hardly anything but a name and a face. Initiating contact had proved difficult but it’d finally been done and all that was left now was waiting. Hoping, that perhaps he’d arrive. It drove him mad with interest that someone had walked away with half of his loot, and proved an actual foe for Dom. And, it just so happened that Nazario was in need of another fighter like him. 

“I can feel your angst, Damiano,” Nazario said sternly, “stop it.” He was right, Dom had, in the last few minutes, tensed up, because he didn’t know how, but he knew the man, this Ostrovsky, was nearing. And he was, of course, correct.

The door opened, and Nazario looked up with a reserved smile, though he was beaming inside. “How glad I am to see you.” 

He stood, and drank the man in with entitled eyes. He was smaller than Dom in a few ways, but measured up all the same in others. His demeanor and strange appearance a balancing act against his own guard. 

“Please,” he said with a gesture toward the chair in front of his desk, before sitting back down in his own, hands crossed and fingers intertwined on the smooth laminated wood. Ready for business -- as always.

[potenzas]