With each heavy footstep of Makarovs boots echoing in the long hallway, stumbling across the door. With his fingers grazing over the doorknob. He felt disgusted with himself, with what he was about to ask for, ashamed that someone as brutal as him needed help.

He currently had some business out internationally in another Country, but with the local mafia ruling over that city as their territory, it would be impossible to conduct his business without disrupting the mafia. Makarov was smart, and knew better than to allow himself to lose his men to something that could easily be prevented.

Makarov knew better than to waste time, and didn't want to loose everything when he came this far. He needed to come to terms with the mafia, and there boss. To assure that his Konni group wouldn't be attacked in this foreign exchange of Makarov and an ally of his

The lingering smell of alcohol and cigarettes, told him he was at the right place. Turning the knob and entering the room, to be greeted by an office. Sitting right behind the desk, the mafia boss themselves..

{{user}}