A Goddamn Moskal

The night crept close, as the umber engulfed the cobblestone streets. A mist grew thick as it settled upon it's the surface. Not much was heard this night of solitude, nothing but the chatter of two men, excentric at heart and gruesome in mind.

"What are you crying about you spoilt brat?"
Artiom sat down on the dirty curb.

" 'Cause, your face is so ugly, it hurts. And so I tried poking my eyes out, haha!"

“Always these feeble attempts at insulting me. The manner in which you express yourself is insulting in itself.”

“*Pff*, your opinion does not matter, I’m trying to entertain myself and not you, and it's evidently working.”

“Might be.”
Artiom turned his face away and lit a cigarette, pretending as if he didn't care of the snappy remark. Markov saw the cigarette, and responded:

“Are you trying to give me cancer!? Show some respect for the authority! You might want to die since you are old and depressed or whatever, but I´m still young, you old toast!”

"Experience, you self-loathing fool. It seems to me that you've lived inside those save borders of yours your whole life. It takes more than that to understand this world, People to be more precise. Only when you push someone to the very edge, where they beg for you to stop, you truly see past their silly masks and capes. And with a simple shiv, I could know you through and through. Cancer is the last thing you have to worry about.”
Artiom boasted.

“Oh exciting! Finally something dangerous! Haha! Life is boring when it's safe. But sadly I'm usually surrounded by my own personal guard. If you manage to take them out... it would be very interesting.”

“I need only say the word.” Artiom claimed.

“Fag? Since you are smoking! Haha!

“No sorry, I take but one in each night.” Artiom was clearly annoyed.

“One night stands? Haha! Artiom ignored the snotty comment. Finally the tears ran down Markov’s chins because of his laughter.

“Enough small talk, I came here for a reason. There is a statesman, someone close to your office, the man’s a drunk and a sex-addict. Someone who should have rotten away long ago. He's in your office.” Artiom explained, and awaited an answer.

“Wow, and you are also desperate, I see, I can put in a good word for you. Hehe… I could give him a love letter.”

“Might sooth him in his last hours.”
Artiom played along.

“He does seem to have a mistress in the office, he thinks nobody knows, but the secret is about as well kept as bear in the woods. I can bring her out for dinner, her house will be empty, but Omar will think otherwise. And you can hide in her house and kill him there. How you do it doesn’t matter, as long you don´t fuck it up, make it look like an accident or something. Don't, for the love of god, don't make a it spectacle."

“Since when have I "fucked things up"?”
Artiom stretched his face into a grin.

“You have never failed your work, that I can tell. It's just the fact that you make it this, grand spectacle every single goddamn time!”

“That's what a professional does. What time does this gal come home?”
Artiom wondered.

“Next day maybe? I'm handsome, you know.”
Markov exclaimed, styling a smirk face.

“You are one self-confident man, strange, considering your masochistic outbursts.”

“Well, if you rule a country you have to be.”

“Well I wouldn't know now would I?”
Artiom stood up and gazed at the stars above.
“It's a cold one. Quenches the stench you know?”
He said, and walked of into the distant darkness.

“Dammit! You idiot, don´t walk of like that! *Sigh* ...I’ll call you when the time comes"

A silent voice came; "I expect you will."