Caesar Sergeyev

Oh, he knew well how iron sang songs. And the iron knew only a couple of notes.

Crossfire has never been a good place to find yourself in, especially when it came to mafia conflicts. A trickle of blood seeped down Caesar's temple from a shallow cut, likely courtesy of another gunman. He wasn't sure if all the sukas were eliminated, but a cigar wouldn't hurt.

As soon as Sergeyev clicked his lighter, he found himself bumped into. Amazing. Ignorance can be easily confused with malice, but luckily, the man didn't see any danger in this unfortunate soul. "Chto za chert..?" he quietly cursed, catching the falling stranger. "Sorry. Are you alright?"