((Discalimer -- This is the fateful night that changed Saj's life, ultimately bringing him to Hathian. I used accents in the story, though of course, if they were in Serbia, they would be speaking their own language. The accents give the same feel to the story as they would if you were watching a movie taking place in a foriegn country. More to come if you all enjoy this. Thanks!))

Pronounciation:
Milorad Petrović (Mee-loh-rad Pet-roh-vich)
Sažiko Branković (Sa-zhi-koh Bran-koh-vich)
Radomir (Rad-oh-meer)
Rade (Rah-deh)
Dobro veče (Doh-broh Veh-cheh) - "Good Evening"
Gospodin (Goh-spoh-din) - Mister/Sir

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October 4, 2001
Just outside of Belgrade, Serbia
11:14 PM

He had reported to the headquarters alone that night, hair still wet from his shower only a short while before, bundled in his favorite trench coat, AK47 slung over his left shoulder. A plain tan corduroy cap covered his head, the bill pulled down just enough to hide his eyes, but not enough to be conspicuous. The air was cool, but not cold, and smelled of smoke and peat moss as he approached the door to Milorad Petrović’s mansion. Glancing around casually, he rings the bell, hearing the slight shuffle inside as the door is pulled open. A head peers out; the white bearded face of Petrović ’s faithful manservant, Petar, relaxing as he recognizes the youth on the other side of the tall, solid door.

“Dobro veče, Gospodin,” he says, pulling the door open all the way, allowing Sažiko to step into the long hallway, pulling his cap off as he does, nodding to Petar in greeting.

“Iz my brodher here?” he asks, furrowing his brows curiously; he had not seen his brother Radomir all day, and, as head of the security, had hoped he would accompany him to the warehouse for the shipment.

Petar shakes his head, clear look of surprise on his face. “Neh..” he says, “he didn’t com vidt hyu?” he asks, raising his brows.

Sažiko shakes his head, then shrugs, urging Petar to take him to Petrović . He must be meeting us there, he thinks to himself as he is lead through the long hall and up the sweeping front stairs. Their footsteps echo off the walls as they walk down the corridor, the faint smell of the old stones supporting the house invading his nostrils, along with the scent of fine cigar smoke, which seemed to grow stronger as the approached the door to Petrović’s office.

Petar motions for Sažiko to wait, knocking on the door to the office, then opening it, announcing to the old fool behind the desk that Sažiko Branković had arrived. The squeaking of the desk chair can be heard from outside the room as the large man rises from it, exclaiming to Petar to “let his favorite son inside!” Stepping back into the hall, Petar motions for Sažiko to enter the office with a slight bow, then takes his leave to walk back down the stairs.

Sažiko smirks as he enters, the large, dark man approaching him to take his arms, moving in to plant three alternating kisses on both his cheeks, left, right, left, (as was customary) before pulling back, patting him firmly on the right shoulder, and dropping his hands.

“Big nyte, Sazhiko,” he says, stepping back to his desk, motioning for his young guest to take a seat.

“Da,” Sažiko replies, eyeing the old fool and sliding his semi automatic weapon off his shoulder to place it gently on the floor before taking a seat in the chair opposite the desk, placing his cap in his lap. It would be a big night; the largest shipment they had had since before Sažiko joined the operation. Petrović leans his arms on his desk, face now stoic as he peers at the youth across from him with large, dark eyes sitting under thick, furrowed brows.

“I vant hyu to tek Vlad end Sasha vidt hyu,” he says in a serious tone. “Iz large shipment end I vas expectingk hyur brodher to be dher, but he hezn’t reported todey.”

Sažiko just nods, perking his brows. That was odd for Radomir to not report. Rade must have just gotten caught up with something, he thinks to himself. “Da,” he says in an assured tone, “but I em zure he vill meet me et de verhaus.”

Why wouldn’t he?

October 5, 2001
Petrović, Inc Warehouse
12:47 AM

Glancing at his watch, Sažiko taps his foot impatiently; the shipment was over fifteen minutes late and he was getting a little nervous. It had never been this late and Radomir still wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Letting his gaze wander to the twenty some armed men standing around the entrance of the warehouse, he shifts his weight and heaves a frustrated sigh, the air having cooled enough to cause condensation as he breathes.

“Sasha,” he says low, nudging the man to his right, “Call Petrovich end hend me de fone..”

The man next to him nods, pulling his phone out of his left jacket pocket, using his right hand and knee to steady the AK47 in his possession. Dialing the number, he hands the phone to Sažiko, who puts it to his ear, waiting for the other end to pick up. After three rings, the line picks up, falls silent, and then goes dead.

“Eh?” Sažiko grunts in confusion, pulling the phone from his ear and staring at it. A lump starts to rise in his throat, a sinking feeling spreading through his body; something was wrong. Dialing the number himself this time, he grips his rifle, glancing nervously about the dark area as he puts the phone to his ear once more. This time, the phone doesn’t even ring.

Cursing, Sažiko flips the phone shut and shoves it back to Sasha, who just takes it and stares at him, asking “Vot?” eyes slightly widened.

Sažiko takes a shuddering breath, his uneasiness becoming unbearable, and turns to Sasha, brows furrowed. Things were starting to make sense; his brother wasn’t here, the shipment was late, the fool of a leader wasn’t answering his phone. Rage boils quickly inside him, spreading through his chest at an alarming rate, causing his hands to tremble.

Clenching his jaw in an attempt to steady his breathing, Sažiko turns to the man to his left: “Vlad,” he says in a low whisper. “Hyu go eround diz zide ov de buildingk," he adds, pointing to the left. “Zomtingk iz not right..”

The man nods to his leader without a word, slinging his weapon over his right shoulder and walking calmly around the corner of the building, glancing at the other men silently as he passes. Sažiko watches Vlad do this, turning to Sasha at his right once more.

“Hyu go around de odher zide..” he says in the same tone. Sasha nods and obeys, striding quickly to the right side of the building to turn the corner. Sažiko slings his own weapon onto his shoulder; mentally preparing himself for what he wasn’t sure would come.

After a few more minutes of silent waiting, a dark figure appears in the distance, approaching the warehouse calmly. Sažiko’s eyes widen in surprise mixed with relief as he recognizes the figure almost instantly. It was his brother.

“Rade!” he calls out, jogging lightly to meet his brother half way, motioning for the large group of men to hold their fire. Sažiko lets a small smile appear on his lips as he greets Radomir, kicking himself mentally for thinking his brother would betray him.

Radomir returns the smile, greeting his brother with a single wave, stopping just in front of him, cigarette in his mouth. Taking a drag from the cigarette, he pulls it out of his mouth with his right thumb and index finger, exhaling to the side with a grin.

“Sazh,” he says, eyeing his brother.

Sažiko just laughs slightly. “Vot heppendt? Vher iz de shipment?” he asks, his heart beat returning to normal.

Radomir just stares at his younger brother, his dark eyes cold and steady, smile glued to his face as he takes another long drag from his cigarette. Sažiko glances back, brows furrowing again slightly as the strange sinking feeling appears once more in the pit of his stomach. Opening his mouth to speak, he is cut off suddenly by the sound of Sasha’s voice shouting “To arms!” from behind him. Swinging around to face the commotion, he sees Sasha running from behind the warehouse, AK47 in his hands. Glancing up, Sažiko sees a handful of men, not belonging to his organization on the roof of the structure. Turning back to his brother, Sažiko curses, but is cut short again by a powerful blow to the stomach, making him double over as the wind is knocked out of him.

“Petrovich iz a fool!” Radomir whispers harshly to his younger brother, pulling his fist away from his gut only to raise his knee to connect it to Sažiko’s face, snapping his head back, the force from the blow throwing him onto his back, his gun clattering to the ground. Looking up at his older brother, Sažiko’s eyes widen as he stares down the barrel of a handgun, aimed at his forehead. He rolls to his right, just as the gun is fired, screaming in pain as the bullet rips through his left shoulder. Surprised that he had missed, Radomir just stands there, staring down at his brother as he writhes in pain, a small glint of guilt passing through his mind. While lost in thought, he is tackled to the ground from the side by Sasha, who succeeds in wrestling the gun from his hand as shots ring out in the cold night air.

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To be continued…