mtlumby2d Chapter 366: New Orders.
Chapter 366: New Orders.
The night didn’t pass quietly for everyone. While Kyle dealt with Aiysha’s breakdown in his apartment, across the city Marcello stood in his study watching the taillights of departing vehicles disappear down his estate’s long driveway.
He’d given the order. The family heads were to return to their various countries, their territories, their operations. The gathering had served its purpose and drawn too much attention. Law enforcement would be asking questions soon if they hadn’t started already. Better to disperse now, let things cool down, maintain the appearance that nothing significant had transpired.
They hadn’t liked it. Lucius especially had protested, his Italian pride wounded by being dismissed like a servant. O’Rourke had grumbled about unfinished business. The Kurobane head had simply stared with those unreadable eyes before bowing and taking his leave. Even Isabeau, despite her relief at escaping further scrutiny, had hesitated before departing.
But Marcello’s word was law. They left because he commanded it.
All except one.
Viktor Sokolov remained.
The massive Russian stood near the window of Marcello’s study, his bald head catching the lamplight, metal teeth visible as he grinned at something only he found amusing. This was the deranged version, the Butcher, the personality that laughed at violence and found beauty in suffering.
"You vant me to stay, Boss?" Viktor asked, his voice thick with Russian accent, each word pronounced with deliberate slowness. "Others go running like scared rabbits back to holes, but Viktor stays. Special job for special boy, da?"
"Yes," Marcello said simply. "I need you to watch someone for me."
Viktor’s grin widened, metal glinting like blades in his mouth. He ran his tongue over those metal teeth, making a scraping sound that set nerves on edge. "Ah, the American puppy. Kyle. I already see him tonight. Watch him come home like good dog. See pretty woman visit, all tears and tits." He laughed, a wet, throaty sound. "See her leave later, all cleaned up and walking funny. He very busy man, this one. Productive."
Marcello turned to face Viktor fully. "I want eyes on him. Constant surveillance. Where he goes, who he meets, what he does. Everything."
"You trust but not trust." Viktor tapped his temple with one massive finger, the nail thick and yellowed. "Is good. Is smart. Viktor understand this thinking. You keep friends where you see them, keep maybe-enemies even closer, yes? So close you smell their fear when they sweat."
"Something like that."
It was a calculated decision, one Marcello had been weighing since Kyle walked out of that conference room as his supposed equal. The boy knew too much, had appeared out of nowhere with information he shouldn’t possess, claimed Angelica was alive without providing proof. Trust was earned in this business, and Kyle hadn’t earned it yet. Not fully.
But Marcello couldn’t use the intelligent version of Viktor for this task. That version was too methodical, too analytical. He’d compile reports and data, present everything in neat folders with charts and recommendations. Useful for strategy, less useful for the kind of instinctual observation Marcello needed.
The Butcher, though? The deranged sociopath who lived in Viktor’s skin? He understood people the way wolves understood prey. Read body language and fear like others read books. He’d notice the little things, the cracks in the facade, the moments when masks slipped.
"I want details," Marcello said. "Not just facts. I want to know what kind of man he really is."
Viktor’s eyes lit up with something hungry. "Oh, Viktor very good at this. Very, very good. I see inside people, Boss. See what they hide. See what makes them scream." He made a twisting motion with his hands. "But Viktor not watch all time himself. I am family head, da? Important man. I have others do the boring parts. The sitting, the waiting, the following. Viktor only come when things get... interesting."
"Use whoever you need. But Viktor," Marcello’s voice hardened, "he doesn’t know he’s being watched. If he spots surveillance, if he gets spooked and runs, that tells me something I need to know. Understand?"
"Da, Boss. Quiet like winter snow. Invisible like death in dark." Viktor’s grin turned predatory. "He never know Viktor watching. Never feel eyes on back of neck until Viktor want him to feel. Until Viktor decide is time to let puppy know he is being hunted."
Marcello nodded. It was strange, this arrangement he had with Viktor. The switch between personalities wasn’t something Viktor controlled himself. Only Marcello could trigger it with that single word: "Switch." Not even Viktor’s two selves could manage the transition independently.
It was because both versions recognized Marcello as their master. Their Don. The authority they’d sworn absolute loyalty to years ago when Marcello had saved Viktor’s life in circumstances neither man spoke about anymore. That oath bound both personalities, meant they wouldn’t even listen to each other if it conflicted with Marcello’s commands.
The intelligent Viktor couldn’t override the Butcher’s actions. The Butcher couldn’t access the analyst’s knowledge. They were separate, divided, each whole unto themselves but incomplete without the other.
It was useful. Also deeply unsettling if Marcello thought about it too long.
Viktor had already watched Kyle arrive home tonight, positioning himself on a rooftop across the street with night vision equipment, watching the whole interaction with the neighbor woman unfold like a private theater show through the curtains but of course not the whole thing. Marcello didn’t need those details, wasn’t particularly interested in Kyle’s personal life beyond how it might create vulnerabilities or leverage points.
What Marcello needed to know was whether Kyle could be trusted. Whether the information about Angelica was real or an elaborate manipulation. Whether this young man who’d somehow maneuvered himself into a position of power was an ally or a threat waiting to strike.
Viktor would find out. One way or another.
"You like this boy," Marcello observed, watching Viktor’s expression. "I can tell."
Viktor’s grin didn’t fade, but something shifted behind his eyes. Something almost human flickered in that predator’s gaze. "Da. He remind me of someone. Long time ago. Someone Viktor lose."
"Who?"
"My brother." Viktor’s voice went quieter, but no less unsettling. The manic edge remained, but underneath was something rawer. "Little Alexei. Smart boy. So smart. Had potential like... like spring flower before frost kills it. Could be doctor maybe. Or engineer. Something clean. Something not covered in blood and screaming."
Marcello waited. Viktor rarely spoke about his past, about the years before he became the Butcher.
"He vas good boy," Viktor continued, staring out the window at nothing. "Try to protect Viktor from father’s belt. From father’s fists. From father’s cigarettes on skin. Always saying ’Vitya, ve get out of this place. Ve go to America, start new life. You and me, brother. Ve be free.’"
Viktor’s hands opened and closed, those massive fingers flexing like he was squeezing something only he could see. "But little Alexei never get to see America. Never get to be doctor. Never get to have that potential bloom into something beautiful."
"What happened to him?" Marcello noticed his accent was deeper and the way he spoke was different from the last time they switched.
Viktor turned to face Marcello, and for a moment his expression was completely blank. Empty. Then the grin returned, wider than before, more teeth showing. "I kill him. Vith these hands." He held up his palms, turning them as if examining them for the first time. "Father say ’You vant to be soldier? You vant to be man? Then prove it. Kill veak thing. Kill soft thing. Kill thing that makes you soft.’"
He laughed, but it sounded wrong. Broken. "So Viktor go to little brother’s room. Alexei sleeping so peaceful, dreaming probably of America, of being free. And I put hands around his neck." Viktor mimed the action, his massive hands closing around an invisible throat. "He vake up. Look at me vith big eyes. Not scared at first. Think maybe is game, maybe is joke. Then he see my face. Then he know."
The silence in the study was absolute.
"I vas fourteen," Viktor said, his accent thickening. "He vas twelve. Small for his age. So small. And when I finish, when his eyes go empty like dolls, when his body stop fighting and go still..." He tapped his head. "Something break inside Viktor. Break in two pieces. One piece die vith Alexei. Other piece become this." He gestured to himself. "Become the Butcher. Become thing that father vanted."
Marcello understood then. The split personality wasn’t just psychological trauma from abuse or the violence of their world. It was Viktor’s mind shattering under the weight of fratricide, fracturing into two separate selves because one consciousness couldn’t hold both the boy who loved his brother and the monster who strangled him to death.
"Kyle has same eyes," Viktor said, his grin fading to something more contemplative. "Same look Alexei had. Like world is too big and too dangerous, but he going to survive anyway. Going to be clever, going to adapt, going to find way through. Smart puppy in world of wolves."
"Your brother didn’t survive."
"Nyet. He didn’t." Viktor’s metal teeth caught the light. "But maybe this one does. Maybe Viktor makes sure he does, eh? Watch him close, keep him safe while I watch. See if he really is good boy pretending, or pretending to be good boy. Either way..." He shrugged. "Viktor finds out truth. Viktor always finds truth when he looks deep enough."
Marcello nodded slowly. "Just watch him, Viktor. Don’t interfere unless I give the order."
"Da, Boss. Viktor watches. Viktor waits. Viktor learns." The Russian moved toward the door, his massive frame somehow making almost no sound despite weighing probably three hundred pounds of muscle.