Thread: In Your Darkest Hour (Seven x Pocket)

New York City. If you can make it here, you can make it anywherePerhaps. In the most remote villages of Russia, if you livedthen it was a miracle in itself. If you could survive the filthy home birth or even filthier hospitals, acquire enough food not to starve to death growing up and find a job that would not require signing your soul or a member of your family to the higher upsthen perhaps you could make it. Maybe. Crime would be unavoidable...No one is guilty of crime, if everyone participates in it It would not be regarded so much as crime as it would be day to day living..If your neighbor has more potatoes than he can consume, and you have starving children to feedtake it. You could offer something in return, but desperations breeds greed more often than generosity. Your neighbor would want something outlandish Better to nourish his fields with his blood, than filling his pockets with your own.. New Yorkers knew nothing of desperation. Their city was nothing in comparison to the corrupt cesspool that formed an entire country..Even in Moscow, where even the slightest glimmer of hope could be seen through the polluted fogs lingering overhead, even there the greatest dream you could have was escapeSome disease or enraged cutpurse would claim you if the secret police did not..But Moscow was where Russians went, girls in particular, if they wanted to find means of escape. Plucking up young maidens from villages often went unreported for those seeking to sell brides or generate a few more bodies for the human trafficking business, but just because it happened in a major city didnt mean the crime would be looked into with any more care, than if it were out in the middle of nowhere. Besides..for the people in such a business, it was far more alluring to tempt a desperate girl with a career in modeling or acting than to simply snatch them up. It was all part of the twisted game..The more those eager doe-eyed girls believed that they would soon be on the covers of international magazines, the more sadistic gratification their sellers received from the deal No one played the hero in Russia..You wouldn't last a day as one.. The country was populated by villains, and victims...And at times, it was difficult to tell them apart. Magdalena Ivanov had packed what little belongings she had brought with her to Moscow, into a worn and tattered duffel bag, and boarded one of those planes with an American man named Harrison. She had thought their meeting to be a God sendOnly a few days in Moscow and an American man had stopped her as she came out of Mass to comment on how beautiful she was! How her deep gray-blue eyes were like the sky before a summer stormHow her dark hair flowed like silk curtains around a lithe body carved from the most perfect and fair stone! A sign for sure! The cathedral bells chiming in the background to serenade this moment! Oh and how this man had laid it onThickly too, with his charming American accent. Musing of angels and heaven and how God must have made her beautiful for the world to see. To outsiders, the mans pinstripe suit and greasy black hair would have sent up red flags immediately..So would the way he had snatched back his business card and shuffled through a portfolio of clients that he just happened to have with him at that moment. Russian models he claimed to help, fashion designers who were eager for the face of a liberated Soviet girl..Oh he would have been an obvious rat to anyone, except to a young girl starving for fame as much as food. To her, he was offering a chance she would be a fool to pass on After the plane would land in John F Kennedy Airport on October the 19th, 1979, she would know how much of a fool she was to think that God would send her anything but punishment for her vanity...For her pride...For her sins. A sleek black limo with tinted windows was waiting outside on that brisk autumn evening. Magdalenas bag was tossed somewhat carelessly into the trunk by a driver who would not look directly at her. Harrison told her to wait inside, and no sooner had she settled into a set close by the window, two tiny Asian girls wearing matching clothing came inside, whispering and giggling to each other. Were they models too? Magdalena had wondered this for a momentThen another girl with a beautiful olive complexion and thick black hair braided down to her thighs hesitantly entered the limo. She was clutching her slightly rounded stomach, as if it were paining her..But from the shape of the colorful sweater she was wearing, Magdalena could not tell if it was simply weight or.. The car door opened again. Along with Harrison, two other men dressed in similar garb with equally greasy hair came inside with grins as devious as foxes. They sat beside their respected ladies, and attempted small talk in base English about the landmarks they were passing by. The Asian girls stared with their hands covering their mouths in disbelief, and admittedly Magdalena had lost herself in the glittering sparkle of the New York night lights...but as she glanced at the dark skinned girl clutching her stomach with such stress upon her face, the charm and wonders of this new place seemed to fade Very soon, it would come crashing down entirely. Shhhmmm ! A small couch pillow came whizzing through the air, crashing down upon a neatly placed group of white tea cups that clattered against the glass coffee table they had been set upon. The sudden noise caused nine skinny timid girls who had been in the cramped lounging room, to flinch defensively. Most all closed their eyes, some covered their faces...but all of them cowered and held their breath, awaiting a sharp blow to come from anywhere. This time, there was nothingJust a smug chortle from a lanky man in a pinstripe suit who stood in the doorway. His hair was far too thin to maintain any amount of grease. A gnarly finger pointed towards Magdalena, who had been sitting on the windowsill, gazing through the iron bars that had been installed for safety measures... Destiny, you got a John tonight, The man sneered, running his tongue against his yellowed teeth, Cabll take you to the place. Be down in five, And with that, he turned and morphed back into the dimly lit hallways..The familiar echo of Move your fuckin worthless ass! brought the girl to her feet, wrapping the red blanket she had curled up in closer to herself. In two months, she had seen plenty of villains..plenty of victims. Were there no heroes left? Had God deemed mankind beyond saving..? She smiled lightly to the girls around her, who had reanimated after the man had left, returning to their nail polish and magazines. She had, remarkabely, kept her faith...Despite everything, for the most part. If one could be religious in Russia, they could be here as well..There had to be hope somewhere in this city of dreams... Destiny, as she was now, walked across the hall into her room. Destiny..A name picked for her by him . He picked all of the names for the girls...Candy, Ruby, Angel...All of them. Something short, sweet..Something the clients will remember. Curled up on a twin sized mattress sitting in the corner of the room, was the olive skinned girl whose tummy had rounded considerably in the last two months..Her breasts were swelling beneath the tiny pink tank top she wore, damp in the spots she made the most money from for the cliental with more..specific tastes . Destiny took the red blanket from her own shoulders , leaned over and draped it over the sleeping girl, kissing her forehead affectionately before standing up once more. Placing two fingers between the broken horizontals over the window, she peered out into the foggy city..Rain, again. Never had she missed snow so muchRain was horrible. She would have to pack extra to touch up her hair and make up before the client arrived. Her duffel bag long since gone, a pretty black tote bag with American Dreams embroidered in red white and blue cursive along the sides was used to pack her things. It sat upon the oak dresser that she and the girl she knew as Baby, shared. It was a long dresser, that would have stretched between the tops of the two mattresses, had Destinys mattress still been there. It was filled to the brim with clothes, costumes, jewelry..Anything and everything they had was either on the floor or in that dresser. The room was barely big enough for the two of them, the size of a walk in closet maybe. These had been storage rooms once..and in a sense, they still were. Into the large bag she packed a royal purple negligee, in case her client had opted for her to spend the night. Removing her jeans and I Love NY t shirt, she slipped on a corset of the same color, with black lace to match her garters. Black elbow length gloves, sheer black knee highs and stiletto heels that pressed her toes together too tightly, but they were the only pair she could fit in since the two girls who shared her shoe size refused to lend her their shoes. Her long black hair had been cut since arriving, styled with layers and blonde highlights..More of an American feel... He wanted her to be exotic, but not so much to put off the clients... A make-up bag was placed inside with shades picked out for her by crotchety Rita who worked alongside of him , as well as a bottle of wild orchid perfume that Destiny had bought from a vendor on her own. She also slipped her rosary off of its nail upon the wall, kissing it softly before tucking it away inside of the bags inner pocket. Making her way towards the stairs, she held the rail tightly as she walked down the narrow, creaky stairs..One flight down and through the a door, the light was almost blinding. Taking a long gray military style trench coat from the closet immediately outside of the door, Destiny placed it on before taking one of the larger bags from the bottom of the closet...A bag with the American Dream logo written a bit more boldly with a phone number printed, as well as her name, filled with items that could be used throughout the night..if paid for. The stairs going downstairs felt more stable, but still she held tightly to the railing..The first floor always had soft classical music playing at all hours. The hallway adorned with statues and paintings of nude women, giant flower arrangements. It looked like a parlor to a private home..but the door to the left of the stairs read OFFICE in large gold letters, and the come-hither looking stare from the half nude, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl upon the poster beneath, stuck out significantly in the otherwise seemingly elegant atmosphere. As she made her way towards the front door, Destiny heard the door open behind her. You She froze, not daring to look back. The voice was deep, hoarse.. You offend again, and I will be taking you out..You understand? Her lips quivered. English ..You understand? Youre on thin ice. Thin fucking ice after your last stunt. I hear anything back like that again and youll be the next fucking Romanov, got it? .. Y-yes.