Thread: A Slav's American Beauty (Procyonix/Iridel)

Kapustov Yuriy Mikhailovich was watching his close circuit tv in his office. Apparently some redheaded girl was making loud and clumsy inquiries about where to get marijuana. And while that was both good and bad, it was curious to make sure it wasn't a really blatant plant trying to sting a dealer with possession with intent to distribute. It was an annoyance arrest of course, nothing more. But the bail and the court fees cut into his bottom line. So when they found this girl, they sent him a picture. And his heart stopped beating for a moment. Regaining his wits quickly, he did a Google search and found that sure enough, the girl was exactly who he thought she was. The media darling of the Washington Press Sarah Walters. The daughter of the man who had sent him to prison twenty years ago just to get into politics, Senator Thomas F. Walters. Back then, Walters had been a DEA agent, and made a questionable bust. But to hide it, he planted evidence. And the attorneys of the time hadn't been able to get his appeal to go through because by then, he was in local politics. Yuri had moved his operation to Washington DC upon getting out of prison to find a way to plot revenge on the man who was by then a junior senator. This was his second re-election campaign, and the uncertainty of the time and the changing morality of the Nation Yuri called home these days made his re-election not certain. This would be the time to strike he had already decided. But how? And here before him on a golden platter was the answer. His daughter was buying weed from a street dealer. Texting the dealer, he authorized the sale which the camera captured in full high definition. He had his weapon now. He would use the daughter to get his revenge. And as she had grown into a beautiful young woman, well use would have many applications in this particular instance. At just over fifty, the man was son to a Russian father and a Latvian mother, born in Riga to a privileged life. His father Mikhail, had been an officer of the KGB. And then the Baltics rose up and declared independence from the Soviet Union, which eventually was back down to officially just Russia. The then twenty year old had to choose to flee his home or have issues. And so he had found himself falling in with a mafia group that preyed on professional athlete expatriates who had family in Russia. It was good business. And he made a small fortune. When the boss was executed, Yuri had made himself scarce again. Finally, arriving in the US on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, and on the very day he started his business, Walters had arrived and busted him, not to mention planting evidence to secure a conviction. Yuri had done ten years in prison. Ten years where he made inroads with other organized criminals. So when he got out, he had feelers everywhere, and a full distribution line from three different continents for his drugs. Rich enough to move on, but unable to, now Yuri finally would have his chance. Printing out the image on his high definition printer, he made sure only touch anything with latex gloves on. Then he wrote a note. It was simple and to the point I know what you did last night. Lincoln Memorial, sundown. Dress to Impress. Come alone and make excuses to be out late or not home. Or the Post gets this tomorrow in their mail. Attaching the document to the note, he placed it in a nondescript normal manila envelope and left it through a cut out on the windshield of her car while she was running her errands that next morning. All he had to do now, was wait. He had eyes on her everywhere now, so when she did anything, he would know. And he wouldn't be at the rendezvous of course. He had men to handle that. Disposable men who wouldn't bring trouble back to his door if she broke the rules.