One Can Never Have Too Much Money [AU-SHRPG 4567] [Pat]

A dull hammer blow, raining down in the abyssal plain, knocking even the winds back down to their Hellish domains from which they came, followed by a thin saber slicing through the ground itself, rending the entire world into two separate halves. Excruciatingly bright rays of some perverse sun shown through the haze onto the treetops, burning them and all the life around them into a small blackened husk of their previous glory. Thunder crashed and rolled in the background, increasing with every second, every movement, every breath.

Alekai Romanov’s eyes clenched tight, in a furious attempt to block out the world around him causing him so much agony. After a few moments more, he sat up, cringing from the tearing of the muscles in his back, that had laid dormant for nearly ten hours straight. A horrendous taste filled his mouth; along with the headache and tumultuous churning of his stomach, he felt the urge to vomit, though that was not something someone of his stature could be seen doing. He still achingly stumbled into the bathroom, however.

Once inside he dropped his head into the crystal sink and turned the faucets on, splashing the water onto his face and into his mouth. This continued for several seconds before he shut the flow off, the water now dripping from the ends of his hair. Alekai half walked, half limped into the shower, barely bothering to disrobe before turning on the water; within seconds steam was rolling up and around the contours of his naked form,  like a long forgotten serpent out of a tome of lost lore.

The shower was a lengthy one, lasting nearly half of an hour; not a legendary feat, and certainly not unheard of, especially when it came to the hungover, but if those environmentalist activists heard of it they would have his head, although a small check would make it all disappear. Those damn tree hugging lobbyists hated him enough, even without knowing about his exotict breeding program. Penguins may be endangered, but they sure as Hell tasted good.

With the shower over, he stepped out onto the floor outside, garbing himself in a thick silk robe, purple with a red and gold fringe. Pravus stretched upon leaving the bathroom, and poured himself a small glass of single malt Scotch from a crystal decanter sitting upon an oaken table. As he downed the drink, and a second, he began to pour himself a third before remembering his companions of the night prior. With a small turn of his head, Alekai saw they were still both laying upon his custom made bed, sprawled out over themselves and the sheets. With a roll of his  eyes, he awoke them and informed them they were to leave, now. Both seemed disgruntled at the brusque manner of treatment, but their payment would suffice to alleviate some of the pain from their damaged pride.

“Good morning America,” Alekai said, as he looked out of the floor to ceiling windows that took up one wall. “It is a new day to play, and I plan to win.” As the word win left his mouth, his phone vibrated on the chest next to his bed, to the tune of a Shave and a Haircut. He picked it up, and read the text given; apparently there was a request for an off the books business deal, with someone he had never worked with before. Responding to the text, he told his assistant to arrange a meeting with the potential partner. One could never have too much money these days.

Sin, The Devils blood, the elixir of inequity and so many other names that was placed upon the black drug. Alexander held a single vial of the illegal black substance, one that people fought for and killed for, and one that he supplied to all of the dealers within the Windy City of Chicago. They paid handsomely, royalties for the manufacturer of course and Sin made sure that there was plenty to go around. Something about the discord caused by the substance alone was enough to please him, but such clandestine victory was far below what a man like Sin would want.

Short cut black hair was dripping wet, a mess almost as Alexander drew a hand through it and straightening it into an almost messy style, brilliant blue eyes peering into the misty mirror. Fingertips would run along the smooth pale skin of his neck, stopping over what appeared to be a small bruise forming upon his neck, hovering over that with a small smirk upon his lips. Fingertips slid from it and towards a pair of thick rimmed spectacles, wiping away some of the moisture clinging to the lenses and placing them upon the bridge of his nose.

The apartment was silent for now, save for the humming of a small fan, circulating cold air through the building as Alexander slipped into a pair of boxers, followed by a simple pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. He appeared unassuming, but anyone that knew anything about Alexander would know that he was perhaps one of the most deadly around. The television was on, but Sin was nowhere to be seen, having already gone off to do whatever it was that he did. Perhaps he was off to play around with his cult, to enjoy the feeling of Godhood it gave him, though he was indeed a god in some respects.

A single red rune appeared upon his hand, Alexander running it through as his hair steamed and within an instant it was dry. A familiar face was on the screen, grizzled with a small amount of facial hair and silver eyes peering from his skull, the face of Dominus it felt like. Agent Collin as he was known and the Director of this section of Dominus, though it had been atleast a year since he was really in action. The people ate it up, that holding such a role was a hero and one that did not need any sort of meta gene to fight the metahumans.

He was a symbol almost and one Alex could respect, even if the people practically wanted him everywhere they went. Picking up a remote and clicking a button, the television would turn off and leave him to the near silence of his home. 'Much better.” His English accented voice would lilt, Alexander shaking his head lightly as he turned towards the windows with the sun streaming through it. He was supposed to be meeting with someone today, one of those under the table kind of meetings, but a meeting that he would do. Perhaps someone was interested in selling Sin, and the money behind them was enough to interest Sin, or perhaps it was their intent.

A single mark would form on his knuckle, glowing blue for a moment as a shimmer appeared over the bruise on his neck, hiding it but not healing it. The location was offered to him via text message, something that Alexander would quickly remember and deposit the phone, sighing deeply and shaking his head. It was supposed to be a restaurant, though the text said he would be meeting him in a hidden bar, an interesting concept considering that the place was formerly a bank.

Making sure that everything was ready, Alexander would make hi way out of his apartment, into his vehicle and move from there, until he was before the restaurant. Within a matter of moments he was sitting at a table in the club, pressing his hand under the table and creating one rune, one that would in case of any assault upon him reflect all things attempting to harm him. A saftey measure that he was willing to place, as Alexander did not intend to die this day.

The elevator doors opened immediately after the button was pushed; this specific elevator stayed at either his floor or at the ground, depending on whether or not he was in the room at the time. He stepped inside and pressed the largest button given, and began his descent to the ground floor. There was no elevator music, as it was an outdated concept he believed to be beneath a man of his prominence, and beneath anyone for that matter, save for liberal operated nonprofit organizations with nauseatingly enthusiastic slogans.

The elevator stopped at his destination, and he stepped outside onto the glossy hardwood floor. His phone vibrated again; he removed it from his pocket and read the text on the screen. The “Partner” was waiting at a special table in Chapelle, one of his best restaurants. And in the back, one of the most notorious clubs for the nefarious, rich members of the world. It was one of his finer ideas, using the area in the back to make a clandestine area for debauchery and business of the illicit variety.

Striding out of the hotel as if he owned it (reason behind this most likely being that he did in fact own it, and several others as well, Romanov entered a large black sedan waiting in front. Once inside he told the driver his destination, and took a small red pill from the console next to his seat. It was a near instant hangover cure, working in under thirty seconds. “God Bless the twenty first century,” he thought to himself. The club was only a few blocks away, and as such he could have walked there in less time than it took for the pill to work, but he preferred the car for multiple reasons, the most prominent of which was it gave him time to gather his thoughts. In a deal as large as this, one should always have a strategy before hand, with several back up plans as a failsafe.


The car rolled up next to the club a few minutes later, and Alekai was well prepared for what lied ahead. The doors of the club opened before him with a slight push of his hand. Inside, the Maître d'hôtel informed him that there was a young man waiting at his usual table. Pravus walked into the kitchen, and through there the wine cellar. An unmarked door behind the Pinot Noir led him into the low-lighting of Enfer, the best place to anonymously drink, make business and pleasure one’s self with one of the several women, and men, available for “special services”.

Alekai approached the designated table and eyed the male sitting at it. Either his expectations had been far too high, or this was not the one they called Sin. Nevertheless, there was no guarantee the man himself would have came, and it was not uncommon to send a representative instead. Romanov sat himself in his seat, the one farthest back in the room, with his back to the wall and the secret emergency door to his right. The crime lord extended his hand to the slight male, and said “I assume you know who I am, and I know what you are here for. Now, shall we discuss details?”.