The Golden Scarlett
The Golden Scarlett moves in silence, she is as gorgeous as she is deadly. Hailing from Nigeria she was the youngest person (male of female) to ever become a crime boss of the Russian Syndicate, Bratva. She is highly skilled in Kung-fu, Ninjutsu and weaponry. Standing at 5'6 and 119 pounds, she carries a 21 inch serrated Katana sword on her back. But in her entire life she has never had to use it, for you see... her arms and legs are weapons all their own.
At the age of eight she had begun her self-defense education, her sensei quickly realized of her innate agility and stealthiness. He trained her under his wing until she was clearly in a rank of her own. By 13 she was contracted by Nigerian mobsters to protect their assets, and by 17 she had become overlord. Under her guidance the mobsters took over every night club in the country and were collecting taxes from every shop owner; she had everything she needed, except love. The Golden Scarlett is incapable of connecting with humans; this is her greatest strength and weakness. Some say her lack of empathy causes her to be a glorious fighter, others say she is dead inside and crying out for love. By 19, she had collected enough money for her family to be set for life; she appointed another person as overlord and left the country.
--- While in Serbia she was reminded of the beautiful countryside of Moscow that she visited as a child. She realized the danger and chauvinism in Russian culture, but it didn't phase her; she was used to people constantly challenging her authority based on her gender, and could use a change of scenery any way.
Once in Russia she went to each night club looking for people who looked like they knew information. "The loud and flashy types are usually the ones that are told nothing," she reminded herself. She found a young lady who had been in the arms of a well known Russian mobster Bogdan Yaroslav and struck up a conversation. "Are you hiring?" she said bluntly. The woman had never heard anyone be so brazen. The lady paused, looked at the 19 year old beauty and said, "Sure, you want to dance or make the sex?" Unfazed by her comment Scarlett said, "No, I'm looking for something that would make more of a... killing" she said with a smile. "Wait here..." The lady went into a backroom, gone for minutes. The longer the lady took, the more the club filled up. It was obvious what was happening, she made a phone call and requested for backup. "Fuck..." Scarlett had thought to herself she made a huge mistake. Just then a man walked up to her and signaled towards the backroom of the club, "Come on sweetie, let's go." She went.
The backroom was huge and bright. It had pool tables, huge television screens and an entirely separate bar. "Selfish fucks," she thought to herself, "They make a shitty nightclub and have an amazing backroom." "Sit here pussycat, the man is coming..." The 7 foot bodyguard with the thick Russian accent told her.
"The Golden Scarlett!" She had never heard her name said out loud. "Bogdan Yaroslav, I feel honored to hear my name come out of your mouth." "Oh no my dear, the honor is all mine." She had heard his name before as well as seeing his picture. This man controlled the Russian Syndicate Bratva throughout Eastern Moscow and into western Lyubertsy. They were known for their drug sales, contract killings, protection, gun sales and luxurious hotels. Working for them would mean an opportunity to gain respect, money, and power instantly; she wondered how he knew her name. "I need a job." she said to Yaroslav, cutting to the chase. "I need a trillion dollars!" He responded while laughing. "Look Yaroslav I don't have time for this shit, can I get a job or not?" His laughing stopped; he sat down and looked at her. He kept staring at her almost to say, 'this job... no this one... no this one.' He must have eventually stopped shuffling through his brain because he stood up and walked away. He returned with an envelope. Inside was a picture and $25,000 dollars. Kill him and you will receive another $25,000 dollars." With that, he was gone.
Back in her apartment preparing herself for the job, she had stared in the mirror holding an AK-47, but she put it down. Remembering what her sensei told her, "If you kill a man with a gun you are announcing yourself and will be killed by his friends in minutes, kill a man with your hands you might as well be the wind." She unloaded the gun, broke it down piece by piece and put it back under her bed. She went into her closet and found her evening gown. A red chiffon dress which showed cleavage, she packed her katana on her back (she could careless if people saw it) and left her apartment into the night. She walked down a dark alley amidst glares and cat calls "Whew, how much baby?!" men kept screaming at her; assuming she was a prostitute. That's when she saw the man she was going to kill entering the Dragon Breathe nightclub. It might as well have been called The Mobster Hangout. She went to the back entrance, but it was guarded, ducking down mere seconds before the guards turned their heads in her direction. She decided to use her second plan. She went around the front and waited for the perfect moment, the changing of the doormen.
"Um, can I help you?" The new doorman said to her. "Oh hi there, yes I'm going to my table" she said innocently. "No, no, that's not how it works, your reservation? Your name? Hello?" The confused doorman said to her. "Honey, I was JUST here, I have been here all night, I just went to get something from my car, didn’t you see me five minutes ago?" "No." The doorman said. "I just started my shift right now and wasn't here five minutes ago. You're sure you were here?" "Scouts honor" she said with a grin. "Okay I will let it slide this ONE time." he said reluctantly.
Once inside the club she headed straight for the men's bathroom, skipping the entire restaurant not to be spotted, this is where she would wait. She pretended to use the payphone, and when it was obvious she wasn't on the phone, she hung up and told any passerby "I'm waiting for a phone call, fuck off." It was a total of three hours before she saw her mark; smiling a huge grin holding his pants walking towards the bathroom. He winked at her. "Hi there" she said with a smile. "Haha, if looks could kill baby!" he says while laughing. "You don't know the half of it..." she says right back to him.” So would you like to talk for a moment?" Scarlett told the man that she was about to murder. "Sorry sweetie, my wife, and girlfriend are here tonight, I want to be as respectful as possible!" He turned and walked away as he laughed. "Oh well, time to get to work" she told herself.
Grabbing the 'out of order' sign from a nearby closet she put it in front of the men's bathroom door and waited 30 seconds before entering. She walked in and turned on the water faucets to drown out the noise of what was about to happen. The man was in the stall. "Hey buddy, this bathroom is one at a time, wait your turn unless you want to see a show!" he said while laughing. She kept quiet. "Are you deaf, pal, get out! When I get out of this stall you better not be here or you're in for it!" She begun to crouch, the heat of battle was emanate. The stall door opened *SLAM* She kicked the door shut wanting to confuse him and get a slight edge. "Now you're in for it buddy!" The man had taken out his Glock 17C and cocked it. "Let's fucking play!" He swung open the door waiving his pistol in the air. "What the..." There was no one there. "I know you're in here mother fucker!" He yelled out. Just then he saw her, or a blur of her at least *BAM* his pistol was kicked out of his hand.
After kicking his stall door she laid flat on the floor and crawled underneath the side of the stall, standing precisely in the stall behind him before running out.
"I'm sorry, but you have a bounty on your head." she said. "By who?" he replied, beginning to sweat and tremble. "Sorry my friend, enough talk." With that she hit him with her signature roundhouse kick to the face. All 275 pounds of him went tumbling down. She pounced on him like a wolf that hadn't eaten in weeks. "Please... I will give you money, the man said while being choked by the vixen; her nails digging into his throat. She remained quiet, figuring the two minutes she had spent in the bathroom was entirely too long. "Please don't do this... please." The man pleaded for his life until... nothing. He was dead, she snapped a picture for verification with her cell phone, and slipped out of the bathroom window. By the time the authorities got there all they saw was wind slowly moving the curtains.
Back in the shitty nightclub that Yaroslav owned she had made her pleasantries with the bouncers and entered. The 7 foot bodyguard from the night before had spotted her, "Back so soon baby, you miss me?" He said smiling. "Uhh no." she said sarcastically. "Let's go bitch." He said, clearly not taking her remark lightly. In the backroom she waited, still in her red Chiffon night gown. "So the fat bastard is dead huh?" Yaroslav said with a huge smile. "It's done, here's the picture." She said with a straight face. "Great job!" Yaroslav was elated "How you managed to maneuver around that fat fuck is beyond me!" He said to her, "Here is the rest of your money, will we have a future in business?" "It would be my pleasure" she said while leaving.