Power at a Price

The raindrops splattered against the window pane, creating a kaleidoscope of colors as they collided with the glass. It was cold, miserable, and dark outside, but within the dimly lit room, a lone individual sat at the oak table. The man was in his fifties, tall and skinny, with a long face and a prominent chin. His eyes were sunken in his head; they looked haunted and tired. He clutched a bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in another.

The man inhaled deeply on the cigarette and took a swig from the bottle. His shivering hands dropped the bottle back onto the wooden surface of the table before he cast his gaze towards the painting behind him. There were several paintings hung on the wall, each depicting scenes from Russia's history - all of them with Vladimir Putin in them.

The man continued to drink from the bottle until it was empty. He proceeded to pick up another one from an empty crate that lay beside him on the floor, before noticing footsteps outside his door. He flicked his cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray and hid behind one of the sofa cushions as soon as he heard someone entering his office.

"Sir? Sir... are you there?" came a soft voice from outside the room. "Sir, please answer us." The man heard shuffling feet as whoever it was trying to find him inside. "Sir!" The voice started to get louder now, more urgent. "Please answer us! We need you to help us out here!"

A loud bang echoed through the room as whoever it was turned around and slammed their fists against the door in frustration. The man breathed out slowly and tried to calm himself down by breathing in deeply from his asthma inhaler. He knew what happened next - they'd send in someone else to do their dirty work for them - he had seen it all before when they sent someone else after him last month. And then another after that, two weeks later...

He exhaled slowly as he got up from his hiding place behind the sofa cushion and walked over towards his desk, where he picked up an empty wine bottle along with a gun lying on top of it. He held both items close to his body as he slowly made his way towards the door while listening carefully for any signs of movement on the other side of it.

As soon as he reached just next to it, he removed one item from where it was hidden - there was a faint click which followed shortly after and then an ear-piercing bang before everything went black for what felt like an eternity.

It was colder outside than any winter day he had ever experienced before. His hands quivered uncontrollably as he waited for confirmation that their target would make an appearance today: Mr. Sergey Puchkovskiy. This man had managed to rally enough public support thus far that Vladimir's own governing coalition felt threatened by him winning elections that year. He needed to stay in power, for now at least. If not, none of them would be safe. If not him, then who? Who would keep them all secure? Who would ensure that no one could take away their power, their wealth, or their lives? Nobody could run these lands without someone like Vladimir – without someone ruthless enough to kill anyone who opposed such ideals. He needed to remain in control until 2022 when they could bring new blood into their ranks. Or maybe longer than that if he decided to stay on permanently.

The thought of staying alive until 2022 terrified him beyond belief – his hands shook violently as he clutched his cigarette, hardly able to maintain a grip. He pondered the upcoming events, fearing that any misstep could lead to disastrous consequences.

However, amid the chaos of his thoughts, he found a glimmer of hope. If Puchkovskiy did not show up that day, perhaps his daughter and the others would be spared. With a silent prayer of gratitude, the man clung to this hope, praying for the safety of his loved ones and himself in these dangerous times.