This is an unauthorised, unsanctioned, unsolicited and possibly unwanted fan-fic of a fan-fic originally written by @impurestcheese Links to the originals and part one can be found at the link right here: http://comicvine.gamespot.com/forums/fan-fic-8/patron-saint-of-crime-a-fan-fic-of-a-fan-fic-1784959/#9
Ivan Molotovinka ransacked his desk, frantically looking for his cell phone. His belly leaked through the black eldritch stitching as papers and stationary flew about the room. Finally, he got his nine year out of date phone and dialled a number.
“Get the boys,” he whispered. “You know where.”
Ivan dropped the phone and slumped into the chair looking at his patchwork body, somehow held together with slivers of darkness. Siwang, the Patron Saint of Crime, had exploded him then knitted him back together like a doll to fulfil a promise he’d made in her name. A promise made hastily into the air which he’d never thought anyone would actually hear. Ivan reached into the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a machete he hadn’t used in years.
The weapon felt good; almost natural in his grip. Ivan smiled as he remembered the last time he used the heavy blade. Slowly he stood and walked towards the door.
Sergei Sheshtova twirled a toothpick end over end in his mouth as he leant against the sandstone bar of The Falcon and The Shrike watching his six underlings snort lines and guzzle energy drinks. The barmaid Maya had been given fifty to ignore everything as well as forget all that transpired in the front bar area.
“Beer?” Maya asked as she passed him.
“Nyet,” Sergei grunted eyeing her up and down. She was pretty but too old for the forty-year-old psychopath. The pub door opened and Ivan stepped into the doorway, nodded and walked back out.
Sergei spat his toothpick and whistled loudly as he slapped the bar. The six high men jumped up and quickly proceeded outside like burly sheep leaving Maya alone in the bar. She shook her head at the mess on the table.
“What a waste,” Maya sighed grabbing her cloth.
Four bleeding, terrified, gagged and beaten members of the El Aquilla cartel struggled against the cable ties. A fifth struggled but it was brief as Ivan slammed his machete into the base of his skull with a sickening chock. The underlings rolled the body over as Ivan split the convulsing man open and hauled out his heart.
“How many do you need?” Sergei asked as he kept watch.
“Six!” Ivan laughed as he held it aloft watching blood drip down his arm. “I promised six hearts by my hand.”
“There is only five,” Sergei reminded as he counted the bodies to be sure.
Ivan nodded as he motioned for another cartel member. “I have until sunset tomorrow. I get five now. The one we let go tells the others and…”
“You get more,” Sergei agreed. “Do you need…?”
Ivan waved him away. “I have this!”
The man on his knees screamed into the gag for mercy but it fell on deaf ears as Ivan caved his skull in with the machete.
“My, my, my,” said the Patron Saint of Crime as she dripped into form from the shadows on the roof. “You have been busy Ivan Molotovinka.”
“As I promised,” Ivan bowed as he held up a plate of six hearts. He then pointed to another plate of nine hearts. “And more tribute to apologise.”
Siwang solidified, her dark pupil less eyes staring at the offering. In serpent like fashion she swayed around the plate. “So by giving me MORE this will appease me yes?”
Siwang shook her head. “My dear Ivan, let me repeat your exact words.” Her dark face morphed into a facsimile of Ivan’s and spoke. “I swear to Siwang the Patron Saint of Crime that I’d offer up six hearts of the El Aquilla family with my bare hands to get that woman.” The darkness reformed into Siwang. “Was that you?”
Ivan stammered “Y-yes…”
“Do I look like a creature that likes hearts?” Siwang jeered. “I am not Ammit.”
Ivan didn’t know where to look nor what to do as he clung to the platter of hearts.
“But an oath in my name is an oath, binding,” She said as she swooped in behind him and spoke into his ear. “You promised the hearts of El Aquilla family…”
“And I have done so!” Ivan protested. “And then some!”
Siwang slapped the platter to the ground and grabbed Ivan by the throat slamming him into the wall. “Is that so Ivan Molotovinka? Let me correct your paltry offering. With your bare hands? I believe you killed these men with a machete. I also believe you had help. Also out of all these bags of flesh only one, ONE, of these is actually a FAMILY member of the El Aquilla family. The rest are hired goons, mooks, compadres and associates with no connection other than merely working for a cartel. They are NOT as you would say sem’ya, not familia, no relation. You promised me six hearts with your bare hands of the El Aquilla family, and you have failed utterly!”
“No, no, no, no!” Ivan pleaded.
“Oh yes Ivan Molotovinka,” cackled the Patron Saint of Crime washing over him