At the young age of nineteen, Aleksi was being touted as one of the fastest rising stars in the Sambo fighting community. However his home life was far from successful or worth bragging over. His father, Marko, had never been a man who ever really had a legitimate job. He had tried every get rich scheme known to mankind including a life of sports wagering and card playing. Marko, although baring a reputation as a tough as nails card player, fancied himself with betting on sports. After spending countless hours and nights grinding it away on the felt he would then push large sums of money on anything from soccer and hockey, to tennis and of course, fighting.
It was no surprise as a father that Marko Kravchenko took a great interest in the developing career of his oldest son. He wore his name and colors proudly on his shoulder like a badge of honor. But as a gambling man, a money making man, he didn't always have the best intentions. After being in a car accident that resulted in his son badly injuring his shoulder leading up to a nationally recognized Sambo competition, Marko took it upon himself to risk everything against on his own flesh and blood. He took into consideration that Aleksi's opponent had already beaten his son once before and his son had beaten him, but what he didn't take into consideration was the heart and fighting spirit of his own child.
As Aleksi reached the finals of the Russian Combat Sambo Championships, one of the most prestigious Sambo tournaments in the world, he had set to face off against the previous year's champion Ivan Sidelnikov for the third time in his career. Injured, battered, and bloodied from a weekend of competitive matches, Aleksi fell behind the match early and at the conclusion of the first round was well behind nine to two. On the edge of his seat, his father watched on from the crowd as Aleksi did the unthinkable, landing a rolling armbar out of nowhere, breaking Ivan's arm and winning the match. While the crowd roared in approval Aleksi looked to the crowd to see his father with his head down, tears falling from his eyes. He was a champion, his life was coming together.
But his father's was now falling apart. He had bet against his son.
It would be months before Aleksi learned of his father's bet, but it would years that he would spend paying it off after his father lost his life that same night. Without more than a bag of clothes and a small savings to his name, Aleksi was approached by the Grey Wolf Gaming Club where he would offer his services to clear his father's name. It was these memories that would often play through Kravchenko's mind as he sat in silence outside of buildings, sometimes waiting hours to catch a glimpse of what or whom he was looking for. As he watched Marie step out of her home that afternoon and he turned his car on, he couldn't help but wonder what life may have been like if things had gone differently.
Winning cost Aleksi his freedom.
But soon it would cost Marie so much more.
* * * * *
The Man in the Black Hat sat patiently at the 17th Street Cafe in Santa Monica, CA. Never one to situate himself for then a few minutes at a time, it was rare to see him seated ever so casually in the patio area of this small cafe. Just as she walked up to the table he lifted the cup of coffee held tightly in his left hand. Her arrival was expected and not enough to pull him away from the warm sip from his glass mug. The visits with Kansas Marie were becoming more regular as each week passed. What started as an awkward conversation with the mysterious figure forcing his will on her had turned into something more mutual.
Marie sat down, her soft green eyes set on the Man in the Black Hat. She gently brushed the errant honey strands of hair out of her face as she stared at him. As they sat there in silence, curiosity stirring her brain, he remained calm and stagnant. Finally, she had enough.
'What's this about?' she questioned.
The Man in the Black Hat took another sip, placing the coffee mug down in the exact same spot it was before, the handle facing directly towards him.
'Your performance as of late,' he muttered. For a person who has never really spoken to her but rather made only clear and direct statements it was a bit unnerving to take in.
'What do you mean, my performance?' Her eyes narrowed on him.
'You have no control over any of this anymore. You went from pulling Jason's strings to nothing more than a white lab mouse running in a wheel. It was only a matter of time before you fell on your face.'
Marie nudges her seat towards the table, posturing up.
'A mouse? You have got to be kidding me. You think I'm just a lost little girl, don't you? I don't even know why you brought me into this in the first place.'
'You were headed nowhere fast, Marie. I gave you an opportunity, I gave you a life again. If I had not stumbled back into your life you would be on the other side of this table still taking my order and getting me more sweet n' low. Is that the life you want back, button?'
He hadn't called her that since she was a little girl. For some reason the nickname alone had a controlling affect over her, reducing her to a young child helpless in the arms of her father. Every week they were together The Man in the Black Hat became more and more human, more personal. It was obvious that Marie was noticing, but more than anything, she was enjoying it no matter how painful the situation had become.
'I swear I can do this. I can do better if you --
'It is my fault.' He cuts her off. 'I saw what was happening between the two of you, I saw him falling for you and even though I sensed your emotions getting the better of you I let it continue. I should have cut the chord right then and there. This is all too much too soon.' He leaned towards her, his hand gently patting the top of her own hand.
'No,' she says softly. 'This is in my blood, I know it is. I can separate these two worlds, I know I can. Please, let me finish what I started, let me help... him.'
The word lingers in the silence. The Man in the Black Hat slowly coils back, his elbows returning to his sides with both hands cradling the glass.
'This is not a one person task anymore, Marie. If you want to finish it,' he pauses momentarily. 'Then we have to work together.'
'I'll do whatever it takes,' she says confidently.
'Whatever it takes?' he questions.
She nods.
As does he.
* * * * *
The objective of Aleksi's assignment from Kristoff was to investigate who had been following Jason Cruise. Jason had concern that something wasn't quite right. Back in his teen years when Jason would go on assignment he was never told to stay out of view or to avoid interaction with others. The reason being, he was right out of a 70's High School sports movie with his All-American good looks. Jason had the fortune of being able to walk beside the everyday client and get close to them. Being Russian had it's disadvantages which in this line of work led to some odd predicaments.
This was one of them.
As he watched the Man in the Black Hat get up from the table Aleksi decided to take it upon himself to make an executive decision. He would let the figure walk back into the shadows without so much as another look. Instead, he decided to redirect his attention to the weaker of the two objectives, Marie. With one eye on the road and the other locked on every click of the heel across the concrete sidewalk, Aleksi Kravchenko began to steer his 1971 Volvo P-1800 down the Pacific Coast Highway. Unlike a typical highway, PCH was complete with an ocean front view and restaurants, stores, and businesses crowded along the city streets. So as Aleksi drove down the road, the furthest thing from his mind was trouble.
That was his first mistake.
Aleksi was one of Kristoff Melnikov's top agents. He was a fearless collector who was sent out primarily to deal with high stakes gamblers. College students betting their grant money or bar tips never made the list of someone Aleksi was asked to handle. No, he dealt with multi-millionaire business and franchise owners and people with large sums of inheritance who thought they could beat the system. More so, he dealt with the smart money. Every now and then professional handicappers would come along and try to beat the numbers using prop betters to move lines so they could drop a large sum at the drop of the hat when the numbers moved in their favor. That was Aleksi's specialty, he put them in their place. But lately his mind was elsewhere. So as his vehicle crept quietly down the street behind Marie it came as a complete shock when he found the front bumper of his beloved Volvo jammed underneath the rear bumper of another car.
A police car.
That was his second mistake.
Stepping out of the squad car was Deputy Collins, not more than two weeks out of the Twin Towers of Los Angeles which included the Los Angeles County Medical Jail Ward. After spending less than a year pacing between the prison gates, Deputy Collins had landed himself the dream job, working the streets of Santa Monica. Standing outside of his car and observing him for a moment it was easy to piece it together. Collins was a brash, young deputy with a loud mouth and a bit of a swagger in his stride. The reason being was that his father was the former Chief of Police in Los Angeles who made his name during the Riots back in 1992. Recently he had retired to the Criminal Investigations Bureau to relieve some stress from his life but his connections had pushed his son quickly through the process.
Collins, wheeling his keys from his index finger, slowly approached the Volvo with his right hand placed on his gun holster. He peered through the cracked window of the Volvo and pulled the Aviator sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.
'License and registration,' he ordered, now leaning on the vehicle.
Aleksi, fully aware of his intentions at the time and his thick Russian accent was apprehensive to speak. Instead he just leaned over to the glove department and pulled out his paper work, handing it over to Deputy Collins. As Collins fingered through his information Kravchenko made an effort to shut some of the open files laying on the front passenger seat. Somehow having several large black and white photos of Marie and a man dressed in all black didn't seem like the best thing to have lying around. Collins, while young and arrogant at times, was still someone who went through the Los Angeles County Sheriff Academy and fully trained so it was no surprise when he noticed that Aleksi was a bit uneasy.
'Watcha got over there mister uh... Crav --
'Kravchenko,' Aleksi stated.
'Yes, Kruvcheenko,' the deputy replied.
'Work never sleeps officer. Just trying to stay ahead.'
'Good man,' he nodded, 'bad driver... but a good man.'
Aleksi straightened up in his seat a bit, trying to relax.
'I'm going to need for you to step out of the car for a moment, sir.'
'Step out of the car?' Aleksi questioned.
'Yes, anytime someone plows into my car I usually run a few tests. I need to find out if you've been drinking, smoking, shootin' up, or if in fact you just are that stupid.'
Collins laughed to himself as he stepped away from the door of the vehicle. Aleksi unfastened his seat belt and reached for the door. As he looked out his window at the officer he noticed a small crowd gathering around the situation. Although embarrassed, it was a bit calming to know others were watching to prevent any foul play for a man of his stature. However, he also noticed one person in particular in the center of the crowd.
A person dressed in all black with a certain top hat pulled down over his brow.
That was his third mistake.
As he stepped out of the vehicle he tried to turn his attention away from the Man in the Black Hat who might have just been there and curious like the rest of crowd. As he glanced away he couldn't help but try to make eye contact with him once more but when he turned his attention back to him, he was gone. It was then that he knew what he feared the most.
His cover was blown.
* * * * *
'It's funny how karma comes back sometimes and kicks your fucking ass.'
Jason Cruise stands in front of the camera, spikes of black hair splitting out from underneath the bronze face plate that covers his burned face from the night the Affliction torched him.
'Lying there, in your own blood, no control over what is going to happen next to you... that's gotta feel like shit, Raul. But you know what the best part was? It was watching your body being dragged off like a god damn corpse because that's all you really are. Week after week, you've stalked me, my girlfriend, and my friends like a zombie out of a bad horror movie. But now you're the dummy and I know it's eating you up from the inside out.'
Cruise paces, just as he always does once his brain starts winding up.
'You've scarred me, and now you've been scarred. Because there's no doubt in my mind that this week you are going to go on a rampage. Who did it? Why did they do it? Where did it all happen. Well let me tell you, Raul.'
He leans closer to the camera.
'Allow me to ruin the suspense and save you the trouble.'
And closer. His masked face has become the entire fixation of the screen.
'Because I would hate to see you running around the arena like a mad man on crack.'
You can almost feel the smile underneath the mask.
'The answer to your question is simple.'
He pauses a beat.
'It was Colonel Mustard... with the Candlestick... in the kitchen.'
The camera pans back out.
'Sleep tight, Raul.'
Black.