Chapter Text
Fyodor ran a powerful organization that specialized in gaining and selling information for money. Fyodor was impartial to whoever he worked with; he had worked with almost every head of every organization at this point in his career. He did gain all of his information illegally, so he was unfortunately hunted down by the government. But fortunately, he has given the government information on wanted criminals making it easy to slip from their radar's sights.
Fyodor Dostoevsky was indeed a powerful man. He owned a medium sized ship he named, Harbor of Death, after his organization, Rats in the House of the Dead, he had loyal followers that did his bidding, skilled navigators, fighters, builders. Fyodor was most definitely feared, but what didn’t fear him was: Mother Nature's cruel retaliation.
The week before his crew had run directly into a storm. They didn’t necessarily run into the storm. The storm quite literally formed upon them, the fight was unavoidable. Fyodor lost two men to the sea and the mast broke and the sail ripped as it was being lowered due to careless workers.
Fyodor himself managed to gain a horrid illness due to the cold rain. He had an abnormal IQ but not great physical prowess. Now, Fyodor was managing a dwindling crew with a fuzzy brain that was crying for sleep.
Besides his illness, the broken mast, ripped sail and loss of two men were an easy fix. He could simply bribe two new medics, as the two who drowned were doctors who were exiled from their home. Fyodor could repair the sail and mast in most likely under two weeks. Food and supplies were plenty stocked, they had just left a port which was why they were in a storm. He had no meetings that were dire to arrive too so he felt leisure and was in no need to rush.
Fyodor held his head as he flipped through a binder that was named Hunting Dogs. The hunting dogs were his most formidable foe. He had shared information about the Port Mafia before and he used that as his trump card that singular time he got caught, he was sneaking into their ship when he was in his early twenties attempting to find the file he was currently looking threw.
“Captain! Captain! We have a problem!” A man busted through the dark wood door. Fyodor looked up, “another?” He sighed, closing the dark red binder. “Please don’t tell me someone choked on poorly filtered coffee beans.” He said seriously. “Ah- no.” Fyodor’s subordinate said. “We’ve been floating aimlessly because our sail and mast broke…” He paused. Fyodor raised a brow, irritation rising in him, “have we run into enemy territory?” Fyodor guesses.
His subordinates' eyes raised, indicating he hit the jackpot. Fyodor stood up from his wooden chair before pushing it in and walking to the wall filled with binders and files and documents of all different types of organizations, captains, ships… there was a whole extra room filled with more documents. Fyodor just kept the important ones in his office. The floor squealed as he walked. He gently touched the bookshelf before saying, “who’s territory?”
Fyodor paused, No… we haven't left Ogai Mori’s territory yet. We are not an enemy here, the storm and the currents shouldn't have pushed us out- The Port Mafia’s land extends way too far for that. Fyodor gave the port information on their rival: the Armed detective agency. They had a small island and a couple ships, solving crimes and being ‘the good guys.’ “Has an enemy ship been spotted?” Fyodor tries again.
“Yes.” The other scrambled out, “It's… The Decay of The Angels.”
Momentarily, Fyodor’s heart stopped. Fyodor, the man whose god complex rivaled many. Heart stopped at the one name - not out of fear of death, but because of a strange feeling of foreboding. “Have they been spotted? Have they spotted us?” They’re ambushing in the dead of night? Why? That’s suicidal to most, they don’t know if we’re battle ready. Quite literally; going in blind.Unfortunately they weren’t ready for any type of scrabble.
Terror was relevant in the other’s eyes, “they are thirty minutes away, arriving possibly quicker.” Fyodor remained his composure, “go on deck, I’ll figure something out, go now,” His crewmate trusted Fyodor’s words and left. Fyodor internally felt anxious for the first time in years. Fyodor hated being unprepared, it was repulsive yet nobody can truly fight against the trials of God, he’d just have to pass them. Fyodor brought his hand to his crucifix, sighing.
Normally, this situation would be easy to avoid. His ship, Harbor, was built for speed and fast escapes. Fyodor pulled all the information he had about the Decay of the Angels and splayed them on the floor, much to his displeasure.
The Decay’s ship was one made for combat, slower than his own but very efficient when attempting to wipe another out. Named: Svoboda. Or Freedom. Ironic in Fyodor’s opinion, but now wasn’t the time to ridicule Captain Nikolai’s name choices.
On the Svoboda, all were wanted criminals. All had a bounty a little over or a little under one million, where some of his crew didn’t even have a bounty yet, his men were all simply pawns to drive him around, do his bidding - his men could not fight. The few that could wouldn’t not be able to withstand Nikolai Gogol‘s vicious crew mates. Nikolai Gogol, the captain and his right hand man, Sigma. Two very opposite people yet on the same ship, collaborating with each other, though it was obvious the two disliked each other, they worked well together, plans were fine, in Fyodor’s opinion. Messy, yet they got the basic point across of their terrorism.
Sigma, Fyodor always found him to be curious. They had met on multiple occasions. Attending parties, in back allies, in taverns… What Fyodor had taken away along with the knowledge from his many documents:
Sigma had lost his memory, apparently he says he never tells anyone but Fyodor knew better to believe that. Sigma liked to dress fancy, always had to have some sort of jewels. He was the brains behind the decay of angel’s operations. He had more brains and a heart than Nikolai would have.
Nikolai, a weird person. Fyodor hadn’t ever met him personally, but he was a popular topic among locals in taverns. The three things he had gotten out of all that gossip were this: One, Nikolai follows the direction of his saber more than his logic or heart. Two, his heart was non-existent. Three, Don't Jest the Jester.
Based on Fyodor’s documents, he had gained these three ideas on the captain: One, searching for his sick idea of Freedom was his main objective. Two, The fire power behind the Decay’s operations, extremely talented when it came to anything battle related. Three, past unknown but certainly depressing. Fyodor could relate to this. In addition, Nikolai also had apparently dabbled in medical practices when he was younger.
Fyodor reaches a white gloved hand to a stray paper. The paper he would attempt to be his trump card - hopefully… A simple letter that was given for an unknown reason, but this was actually given to him by Sigma. At a party he was attending, hosted by the Port Mafia, Sigma approached him to his surprise. He felt no fear, he was around his allies after all. Instead of small talk- Sigma had given him a letter, his words were, and in a sharp tone; “Do not be jest for love, the Jester is a fool, as one would expect. I expect more from a Demon, Demon Fyodor.”
Fyodor loved word games but he was never able to decipher whatever Sigma was trying to tell him. “ Do not be a fool for love, Nikolai is a jesting fool. I expect more of you, Fyodor.” Is what he deciphered so far, but he had no clue, which was rare for Fyodor. Pared with the contents of the letter… Still, no clue.
Dear Fyodor.
I pondered the subject many times, how to address this to you? My fair demon? Demon? Demon Fyodor? No, I just landed on Fyodor. I take it Sigma delivered this to you, I couldn't go, I’m just a bit not welcomed by my friend Mori. Yet I couldn't stay silent.
Your Bestie, Nikolai.
It was short and complicated. What was a better time to bring this to the surface, but when the jester would visit himself? He assumed the letter was just a greeting, from one captain from another. Yet it was so brief, contained no notice or wanting for a collaboration. It was just like the Captain was just wishing to keep him on his toes. If Fyodor had to be brutal, it was like the letter had no real purpose, it was written for attention.
“Captain!” A cry rang from the surface, then a loud bang. Fyodor threw all the papers into the binder, he rushed to the top of the stair before saying to a nearby crewmate, “put all the documents in a waterproof bag.” he says. They nod and rush down the hall, meanwhile Fyodor climbs the stairs. Just in case the ship goes under… Fyodor dreaded this, he really didn’t wish to restart.
He made it to deck, the cold night air hit him. Adrenaline pumping through his veins. Fyodor blinked, There it stood, the large ship, Svoboda. It was an elegant ship, the dark wooden exterior with a light birch interior. The railings a dark color, deeper than the ships body. The two mast was tall, crows nest at the top of only one of the two. Two sails were white, it was noted instantly that the sails looked like they were splattered with a great amount of blood. The crew of the Svoboda all held guns towards his shivering crew that were all right for cowering at Nikolai’s presence. Pitiful, Fyodor thought scornfully, Goncharov could be less pathetic than these cowards.
Sigma and the Jester; Nikolai Gogol. On Fyodor’s ship. Nikolai snickered at the looks of cowardice, he looks so childish! Fyodor shakes his head in disapproval.
Letter tucked into his pocket, he approached them, hand lighting grazing his gun. “For what do I owe the pleasure?” Fyodor eyes making moon shaped crescents, voice polite and he dressed himself with a cold smile. “I can hear the sarcasm in your voice.” Sigma slyly snaps. A lie. Fyodor thinks. He knows he is an excellent actor, or possibly just one of his egotistical opinions. “Why, you're so rude!” Nikolai chastises towards Sigma. Nikolai then bounds to Fyodor, in the split second he grabs his hands looking at him gleefully.
“It's been so long, bestie!” Nikolai cheers, “my hearts’ going to burst!”
Fyodor asks dryly, “We’ve met before?” Fyodor smirks, “You don’t seem like you’d be worth my time remembering, Captain Gogol.”
Bright eyes grew dark. Fyodor felt Nikolai squeeze his hands harder, “Fedya, you don’t remember?” His tone was sincere, unsure if he was just as great of an actor as he, Fyodor decided to take the honest approach and replied, “no. I do not.” Apparently, it was the wrong move. Nikolai was so messed up in the head Fyodor couldn't even use his study of psychology against him. Is he just trying to work agains human nature? Is he purposely trying to go against Gods will? Fyodor scowled internally, what a fool.
Fyodor saw Nikolai looking him up and down, “that's fine…” Nikolai Gogol says, “I’ll help you remember!” Eyes returning to their normal glittering appearance. “Yes, please do.” Fyodor grumbles, shaking his hands free from Nikolai’s grip. “Unfortunately, now is a bad time. We were about to fix the Harbor before going to a trade of information.” He lied.
Nikolai blinks before he breaks out in laughter, “okay- Quiz time!” He says, throwing his cape dramatically behind him, spreading his arms out wide, staff in hand hitting the deck with a loud thud. “A man as knowledgeable as you must already know the answer- what’s the way to survive this?”
Fyodor replies quickly, “my instinct are telling me that there isn't a way with violence, so now, part of me wants to offer up my information as a well known informant. But you should know I’m not giving anything to you.” Fyodor’s eyes close, a small grin appearing, “not without a good price.” Nikolai lets out another laugh, “incorrect, I don’t need your information! But because you're so wondrous you get a pass my dear!” My dear? Fyodor’s eyes narrow, who does Gogol think he is? Fyodor frowns, moving back to the more important topic he should be thinking about.
Incorrect? Does the Decay want something else from me? “Hm, Any other quizzes?” Fyodor asks, crossing his arms. Fyodor knew what their fate was, death was almost certain. “Sigma,” Nikolai turns, but Sigma was already walking in the direction of his office, which contains the important documents on all sea and land organizations. “You didn’t age a bit.” Nikolai whispers, getting way too close to him. Nikolai was a taller than him, he had a larger build than him too, if he was anybody else he’d say he’d be scared, again - maybe more egotistical thoughts of feigning his feelings of being ‘fearless’. Nikolai’s hands rested on his shoulders as he grinned down on him. “May I ask how old you are?” Fyodor ask, gingerly looking up. E
“Twenty six.” Nikolai says, “I’m surprised you didn’t already know.”
Fyodor himself was twenty nine, he wasn’t sure when they would have met before…
“Got it all.” Sigma sighed, he approached them… white attire covered in blood. “There was someone putting it all in waterproof bags. Guess the demon knew his ship was going under.” Fyodor’s brow twitched. He pushed Nikolai’s hands off of him, “thank you for your visit, Sir.” Fyodor said, violet eyes shooting daggers, his words were laced with venom. He saw Sigma board the Svoboda with his documents in hand.
“Quiz Time!” Nikolai cheered, clapping his hands. “At what time in our conversation did Sigma place three bombs on deck?”
Fyodor’s eyes widened, he spun around and his eyes were met with a gut wrenching sight. Blood was infecting his vision, I was too worried about the documents, why would he- “Bang.” Nikolai said next to his ear. He felt a cold hand grab his arm and dragged him backwards, he was thrown against the wood of a lighter ship, Svoboda. He heard his own explode. His body shook, on his hands and knees he scrambled up, Screams and cries followed behind, “Captain!” He heard someone cry. Debre flew everywhere. Fyodor dangerously rushed to the side, watching his life’s work go up in flames. Fyodor wordlessly glanced to the side - observing Nikolai’s wild and maniacal laughter.
A large slab of wood went flying at Fyodor’s face, he jumped and stumbled back - to his horror, he tripped on air and fell to the ground, a gun shot and the slab was reduced to splinters. He turned to look at whoever his hero was before realizing it was Sigma, who was scowling at him.
Fyodor began to turn his head around but Nikolai stopped his head, hands that wore two black fingerless gloves held his head in place, “it's best you don’t see your life's work up in flames.”
Fyodor bit his tongue but poison laced words still slipped out; “It’s not the first time I’ve restarted.”
Nikolai bent down to his height, “I know.”
He let go of his head with force, “Liam, Go take this Demon down to the prison cells.” A tall figure came forward. He had cuffs in hand, most likely stolen from a government ship.
Fyodor would hate to admit this aloud, but he was most definitely saddened for the loss of his ship, Harbor of Death. His ship Harbored many demises- but the one he stood on… the Svoboda. Freedom. It was the opposite, the sick idea of freedom Nikolai had, Fyodor had no time to grieve, he needed a plan to get off of this ship.
Luckily, all ships have to dock, Fyodor had many emmys but most were indifferent to him. Nikolai on the other hand… had too many enemies to count. Fyodor needs a plan before they dock. Fyodor’s hands were cuffed and the tall figure, Liam, brought him down many flights of stairs. So far under he could see fish swimming by in a small window. They were so far down that Fyodor saw one of his past crewmates severed head sinking… and sinking…
Fyodor swallowed hard. He turned around and saw Nikolai looking at him from above, cheeks red from the adrenaline off it all.
-
Nikolai looked at Fyodor from above, he felt his face flushing and he turned around to find something cool to drink. It was the dead of night and it was freezing but he still felt so hot. “Nikolai.” Sigma approached him, “I cannot believe you just sunk The Rat’s ship.”
Nikolai grinned, “well Fyodor is safe now.” “wasn’t he safe before?” Sigma glared, “I know you’ve been fascinated by him for years- but remember who he is.” He warned as they walked side by side to the kitchen. “He has an excellent memory and probably knows everything about everyone, on this ship included.”
They enter the dimly lit kitchen, three medium sized candles illuminated the room. The counter’s were all made from stone and the cabinets were all dark wood. An island counter in the middle with a sink that was extremely rusted.
“What’s the worst Fyodor could do?” Nikolai smiles. “He’s like an angel! He’s so free, I'm envious of him!” Sigma hands Nikolai a glass of water and questions, “are you high?” Nikolai shakes his head, “what makes you think that?”
Sigma leaned against the stone counter, white jeweled outfit shone even with the dim lighting, “Have you truly met Fyodor Dostoevsky before?” Sigma was good at reading people, and he couldn't tell if Fyodor was lying when he stated he had no idea if Nikolai and Fyodor had met before. Nikolai looked at him appalled, “You're doubting your captain?” He dramatically gasped. He spun around and pointed a finger at him, “I indeed have! I was fourteen!”
Sigma’s eyes lowered figuring it out. Sigma knew Fyodor did not know this about Nikolai Gogol, despite his extensive knowledge, was something only Sigma could know. Sigma only knew this because they had started this crew together. They both decided to put their lives on the line together to represent Freedom.
Once Nikolai had a desire, an obsession, it would never be let go.
Nikolai’s past was devastatingly tragic which must have been the result of this maniacal trait he had, yet he was saved by a man Nikolai refuses to inform him about… If Fyodor had met Nikolai when he was fourteen, that means Fyodor must have been at least seventeen. Was he even in business then?
Nikolai then decided to break the silence, his voice was at his natural tone, deeper than he typically makes it. “Have you figured it out, Sigma?” Sigma raised his eyes, “I have.”
-
Fyodor sat in the damp cell feeling disheartened. The cell was standard, a small rectangle that bars were keeping him from escaping. A stone slab as a bed and a rolled up blanket he could either use as a pillow or for its intended use. Fyodor was still in his attire from before, a long black coat that went past his knees, the ends were frayed and he had a white collared shirt underneath. Black pants and black boots. A pure silver crucifix he was surprised Nikolai had not stolen, and a white ushanka. Fyodor couldn't go anywhere, his arms and ankles were attached to a chain that was built into the floor.
Fyodor wasn’t alone in the damp cell. There was a boy he had recognized, which wasn’t surprising as he was the most informed informant across the sea. The ginger was named Karma. An orphan who was sold to the recently deceased Port Mafia executive member; Ace. Fyodor might have been the cause of the tragic death of the member. It could be possible that Ace had such tempting information on the Port he just had to commit all of it to memory, of course after killing the witness.
Karma was seventeen, dreamed of becoming the boss of the Port Mafia yet he wore a slave collar to show his ‘loyalty’ to Ace. Fyodor’s guess as to why he was here had a simple explanation. It was most likely due to one of Sigma’s plans. Fyodor must have gotten to Ace’s information before the decay and so the Decay of The Angels must have decided to take Karma, to not leave empty handed. Fyodor knew that Karma must have witnessed many deals that many don’t know about. Fyodor included.
He felt no need to question Karma, even though the teenager has obviously shown interest in talking to him. “Hey, I know you're awake!” Karma said for the eighth time. “You can hear me, I know it!”
“I hear you, but I'm not listening.” Fyodor replies. “Karma, do you know what silence is?” Fyodor sits up and stares across the room to the other cell that was identical to his. Karma had a dark green shirt and black pants. He had taken off his shoes that rested next to his ‘bed.’
“You talk!” Karma cheered before he paused, “how do you know my name?” Fyodor sighed, Fyodor’s name was well known, but his face wasn't. “My name is Fyodor. Fyodor Dostoevsky.” Fyodor delighted in the boys shock, his mouth went agape and saw the panic fill his eyes. He then slammed his back against the wall to get as far away from him as he could, “Y-You! You were the one who killed Ace!” Fyodor sighed, “indeed. Do you hold a grudge?” Fyodor knew the answer and Karma replied as expected, “I do not, Ace was evil.” Karma’s body trembled before he realized that the both of them were in separate cells, Karma realized Fyodor could not hurt him.
“I feel like I should be thanking you- but then again…” Karma looked down. “Why are you here? Did you get caught on purpose to get something from the Decay?” Fyodor looked curiously at Karma. “You don’t know who’s ship you're on, do you Karma.” Fyodor grinned, crossing legs. Karma swallowed hard, “You didn’t answer my question.”
Fyodor’s brows raised, so terrified yet not so demanding? “Alright, my answer will inform you of the position you're in.” He sighed, “did you hear that explosion a while ago?” Karma nodded, “That was my ship, the Decay of the Angels had blown up my crew.” He said plainly, now fiddling with his nail beds.
“What? How?!” Karma gasped, “Was everyone okay?” The boy naively leaned forward looking genuinely concerned.
“No.” Fyodor sighed, “I was the only survivor.”
Karma’s tone softened, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” Fyodor laughed, “Don’t be apologetic. In my business you learn that lives are expendable.”
Karma’s mouth went dry. “Well-” he croaked out, there was a pause, “can you tell me about the decay?” Fyodor nodded, he had nothing better to do.
“The Decay of the Angels is a terrorist group.” Fyodor starts, “The caption, you know; Nikolai Gogol. A sadistic, theatrical murderer. Twenty six and he’s six foot three, compared to me, I am five foot ten inches. Nikolai longs to be free from the human mind. He believes that killing others is how he can prove he is free, doing what is so uncalled, the opposite of normal. Making deals are impossible with Nikolai. Before he started the Decay, he was a drug dealer and a famed assassin going by the name, The Jester, or the Clown. But before all that, Gogol was rumored to be a doctor before his profession… changed drastically.”
“Sigma, the right hand man of Nikolai. His true name is unknown, he’s in his late twenties and he’s five foot and nine inches, my theory is that he himself doesn't know his name or birth origins. He’s the planner of the crew. He uses his brain, he’s the navigator of this ship. He used to work as an assassin, he has extreme talent in killing quietly… I just witnessed it first hand. Despite this, Nikolai still has more battle intelligence and physical strength, this fact probably makes Sigma cry himself to sleep- considering his personality.”
“Lastly, Bram Stoker.” Fyodor scratched his head, “An ordinary member on this ship but his past is why I’m menting him. His adoptive daughter, Aya Koda had a dispute with him, she joined the Detective Agency and their ship is impossible to spot, thanks to a boy name Ranpo. So, Bram Stoker is searching for her and is willing to betray the Decay. I’m very curious as to why he’s here. He excels in human psychology and is an excellent manipulator… but I’m sure Nikolai can avoid that, manipulation requires logic, and he doesn't have any. Everyone else on this ship isn’t worth menting, they all have bounties over a million, all skilled in either medicine, combat, construction, gambling or cooking.”
“Do they know you know all of this?” Karma whispered frantically, looking in every direction but him. Fyodor nodded, “yes. I’m too valuable to kill.” Fyodor sighed, “I have more information on the Decay I haven't shared, on the Port Mafia, ADA, Hunting Dogs…” “The government will want you safe- right?” Karma interrupts. Fyodor laughs, “why do you think that?”
“Well, you must know the ins and outs of the government. They must think you’d share that with the Decay!” Karma says. “No. It's likely they will never find out I was captured for that exact reason. Now please be quiet, I’m quite tired.” Karma shut his mouth as Fyodor lay down on the hard stone. He decided to use the blanket as a pillow, how comfortable. he thinks to himself, rolling to his side irritated from the uncomfortable ‘bed.’ He struggled thew and fell asleep.
-
“Wakey wakey!”
Fyodor’s eyes opened at a fast pace. He rubbed his eyes and felt pain shoot through his whole body. Fyodor frowned, I guess I need to stretch before I fall asleep on a stone slab. Fyodor put his hands and his pockets and he felt a slip of paper. “Good morning, Fyodor!” Nikolai greeted, he wore a white baggy shirt with long sleeves. Black and white striped pants and black boots, a white and black coat that appeared as a cape was worn on his back with a diamond pattern near the top, the coat had multiple pockets, and many different types of knives were displayed. He also wore a belt that showed off his gun. I forgot I still have this letter, now isn’t a good time to question him.
“Were going to stop on an island, have you heard of it before? It's called Mengjing.” Nikolai said, opening the door and pulling out a key to his shackles. “You're taking your prisoner out on a walk?” Fyodor raised a brow before rubbing his bruised and raw wrists and ankles. “You have a decent reputation, Fyodor. I need you to get me into a tavern so I can make a dear friend Mori.” Nikolai replies. Mori Ogai? Why would the boss of the Port Mafia be on Mengjing?
“Mengjing is a trading port for drugs of all kinds, thus its named dreamscape. Why are you making a deal? And no, I will not help you with this.” Fyodor’s eyes narrowed, “The Port Mafia and the Decay of the Angels are rivals, I doubt you're making a deal.”
Nikolai gasped, “you passed my quiz!” He started to bound all over the room, “you're so smart Fedya!” Fedya? The one person who called me was my mother and… that boy. “We are on Mengjing island but not to make a deal, we need supplies!” Nikolai put his hands on his hips before he grabbed his staff and twirled it around. “I’m waiting for you to shout ‘ quiz time’ again.” Fyodor sneers. “So foul mouthed, haven't changed a bit, Fedya!” Nikolai grabbed his wrist and Fyodor winced at the pain as he dragged him out of his cells, they made it halfway up the stairs before he tried to pull his hand away. There was a small yellow light above them that illuminated the blood that was dripping from Fyodor’s wrists.
Nikolai’s grip got firmer at his attempt to pull away, His head turned around, eyes wide. “What's wrong.” he said, pupils barely visible. His tone was dark and venomous, murderous intent dripping from his words. Merely because Fyodor wanted his hand back. What's wrong with him? “Nothing,” Fyodor said, trying to change the subject. “Why aren’t you bringing Karma?”
Fyodor felt like he accidentally flipped a switch, Nikolai fully turned towards him. Halfway up the stairs Nikolai joined Fyodor on the lower stair he was on, there was no space between them on the narrow dark wood stairs. Nikolai pushed Fyodor against the wall. His back was being bent awkwardly by the hand railing. Fyodor pushed against Nikolai’s chest with his bruised and hurt wrists. His hands and ankles throbbed, the hand Nikolai had grabbed was bleeding and Fyodor was sure his ankles aren't any better from under his socks.
Fyodor felt his heart speed up, “Gogol.” He said quickly, “what-”
Nikolai’s hands started to creep up to his neck, Fyodor’s survival instinct kicked in and he grabbed onto Nikolai’s gloved hands. Unfortunately, Nikolai was much stronger physically, even while Fyodor was in his weakened state. Nikolai’s hands latched onto Fyodor’s neck and slowly suffocated the air out of him, he raised him up against the wall until he couldn't stand. He gasped for air clinging to Nikolai’s hands, squirming for air. “If I give you a near death experience… Will you remember?” Nikolai breathed, the card over his right eye had fallen revealing an emerald colored eye. Fyodor’s eyes widened, an unknown memory came to him, it felt like a brick knocking him out; “you are free now.” Said the memory, the memory’s voice was male, young and full of deranged joy. Appearance unknown - yet he saw an emerald eyes.
“I loathe him,” A familiar voice came from atop the stairs he and Nikolai never made it up. “But now is not the time to kill him.” Sigma said, crossing his arms. Sigma jokes, “Plus, you're beginning to look like a page from an erotic magazine.” Sigma had a white coat over a vest and a white tie. Dark trousers and plain black shoes. He had possibly three or four necklaces and multiple highly expensive rings over his white gloves.
Nikolai dropped Fyodor. Fyodor stumbled and almost fell down the stairs but Nikolai’s hands stopped him before that could happen. “I have to take care of some things.” Nikolai said, eyes looking dim. “Go with Sigma.” Fyodor was still trying to catch his breath, he nodded before weakly making his way up to Sigma and Nikolai went down the stairs. Fyodor was at the last step, he saw Sigma’s eyes widened, Sigma was about to shout but a loud bang beat him, next followed by a scream.
Fyodor turned around and saw Nikolai’s left side, the Jester's right hand was cut off in his view by the wall, but he knew what had happened and he knew the Jester was holding his fired gun, based on the blood that now stained his face and shirt. Nikolai’s head turned, eyes locked onto Fyodor.
“Damn it!” Sigma shouted, rushing down the flight of stairs, “we were going to question him, Nikolai!” Sigma grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket to compress Karma’s wound Fyodor knew he wouldn't survive from, even though he was still at the top of the stairs and hadn't even seen Karma’s probably dead body, he knew fully what had happened. The only thing he didn’t understand… What triggered his murderous intent towards Karma?
Was it directed towards me and Karma just took the blow? No. My neck was in his hands, if he wanted to kill me he would have done so. Fyodor was atop the deck, he looked around, he saw Mengjing Island. Fyodor knew what this island had instored for him, a perfect place to escape and run away from the Decay of the Angels. Yet… Why won’t my body move?
Was it fear? Am I feeling fear? Fyodor knew what fear felt like, and this…
Fyodor saw Nikolai’s eyes.
Nikolai’s eyes were so lifeless and dim. The expressionless face that still somehow carried so many different emotions. The lightless eyes that stared at him directly, blood splattered on his face making their surroundings feel so suffocating. Nikolai’s eyes were wide, dilated pupils and was not blinking. His face looking ghastly, a wide grin was stretched over his face. Everything around him was pitch black, all he could see was Nikolai’s detached expression and the crimson blood that splattered onto the floor. Blood that was not his but could have easily been.
Yes. Fyodor breaths to himself. He felt the throbbing pain in his wrists and ankles, his heart beat quickly and frantically.
This is fear.
Fyodor’s fear didn’t last long. Nikolai’s expression changed into an elated childish smile. He snapped his fingers, “let's go Fedya!” Sigma jabbed at Nikolai’s shoulder, “clean yourself up.” Sigma said, handing Nikolai the handkerchief. Was the handkerchief for Nikolai to wipe the blood of him? Not to save, then question Karma? Fyodor felt like he was wrong. He needed to change this file. The Decay of the Angels all have no logic.
“Fedya, we are going to get some breakfast!” Nikolai said beside him. Fyodor’s eyes went wide, He's fast. He lowered his heart beat and cooled his composure as he said, “Aren’t we here to restock?” Nikolai nodded, “well, yes. But you and I are going to get something tasty! Island full of drugs but they sure have good pancakes.”
Nikolai looked at the cross Fyodor was wearing, “might want to conceal that, it looks of pure silver.” Fyodor’s hand instinctively wrapped around the crucifix, “I refuse.” Nikolai sighed, “Okay, Fedya. But I’m not saving you if you get beaten up or robbed.” Nikolai turned and walked away and Fyodor followed like a lemming to his guaranteed end.