Comrade Vladimir was walking through Rockefeller Plaza, in front of the Eastern Air Lines Building, down the street from the US Post Office. He had no destination planned. Not really. He had a few Speaks to stop at. Usually the runners are sent to collect money, but Vlad just loved seeing the look of fear when a Russian Family's Sovietnik walked through the door. 

He had one guy named "Small Joe" run and hide straight away, not knowing why a higher up had shown at his establishment and figuring the worst. It was pure joy for Vlad to consider what must be going through the guy's head. "Am I late on a payment? Is he here to kill me? Did I buy from the wrong supplier? Did I do something to disgrace his motherland?" 

When Joe realized that he had a head adviser to Crime Lord Ivan Romanov at his place of business only to collect payment, he saw a bit of relief fall on the man's face. Not too much though. He was still scared of screwing up. Plus it's hard to keep calm when the front of your pants are soaked with urine.

The funny part was the guy was actually buying from some guinea bitches that moved into town around Valentine's Day. Some new cats up in Brooklyn. 

Vladimir would have never known... except when Joe pissed himself, his serving girl grabbed a towel to clean up the mess, exposing a bottle imported from Sicily. Vlad couldn't recall the name of it exactly... Saldo Vetrameemo or something like that. And not a bottle from our partners in NY, but from the new scumbags trying to take a chunk off for themselves.

Not that any of this mattered... this was all a week ago, and Small Joe is in a freezer right now. (He was actually quite large which made a mess. Had to cut him in chunks to fit him in it.) 

Today was different. Nothing serious. Just a simple day.

Vlad made a right on 49th, and headed into an alley. Walked up to a door with a small doorman, who seemed to shiver as Vlad approached.

Vlad stared at the man and went to open the door, but just before he walked through, he noticed something over the short doorman's shoulder.
About six feet behind him, under a tarp in an attempt to hide them, were a few cases. The cases read " Salvado Vetramino" 

Just a simple day...