Got Da Money

The way people looked towards the ground without acknowledging each other, hands in their probably weapon-carrying pockets, really reminded Cazimir of any typical illegal trade harbour in any part of the world. It never changed, and the people never changed. So Cazimir was doing the same, keeping his hands in his pocket and on his gun, walking alongside Malakias. They had four henchmen with them, each muscular and looking ready to fight. Cazimir knew that trades like these could very well prove lethal, and since alpha would have his head if anything happened to Malakias Cazimir didn't want to risk it. He had plans. So he had insisted on taking as much reinforcements without looking too conspicuous.

Each of the four men had a backpack, that had a large amount of counterfeit Japanese 10 000 yen bills. Their current customer had "big plans" for the money, or so they had said. Cazimir suspected something along the lines making a big bank crumble or buying illegal weapons. But knowing that wasn't within their job description, making and delivering the money was.
"The dock number 7 is past that crane."
Cazimir said, having been here before. To his knowledge this was the first time Malakias had been on the docks, unless the man had been here on his own. But making this delivery was about Cazimir observing, how Malakias handled the situation. Malakias had talent when it came to business, both legal and illegal. Cazimir was glad, but at the same time bitter about it. He hoped he could destroy the VFI before Malakias became the alpha, so Malakias wouldn't have to suffer. Because he had a bright future ahead of him if Malakias chose it.

Malakias was handling this well, or so Cazimir observed with his practiced, experienced gaze. Cazimir couldn't smell his uncertainty or fear, if the young man even had any. That was good, their clients were onis, they were experts at trickery. And violence.
Cazimir had a strange feeling of pride in his chest, though Malakias' actions weren't his to be proud of.

It was a sign of good judgment from Malakias' part to not look around and ask for confirmation from Cazimir. It showed both that he cared yet trusted his men, including Cazimir, and that he was in a higher position. Cazimir on the other hand could and did look around, making eye contact with their men and sharing small nods with them.
"Yes, everyone is ready and prepared to proceed. The arranged payment is 200 000 dollars via private wire transfer on scene."
Cazimir knew that Malakias was already aware of the sum and method of payment. But it was a way of reminding Malakias, that they were dealing with a relatively large sum of money for counterfeit money, and many things could go wrong from interference to fighting. Cazimir looked at Malakias, so that the young man could see it, and with his eyes he asked
Are you ready?

Cazimir's message got across, and Malakias gave him confirmation. He was ready, or as ready as he could be. Cazimir nodded a bit and the group proceeded to walk past the crane, turn a corner and they ended up on dock 7. Cazimir had all his senses watching the area around them, ready for anything and anyone. If a bullet came flying Cazimir was ready to block it, and if a bomb exploded he was ready to throw Malakias to safety and take the blast. Being a human shield was his duty, Cazimir had one of the most efficient regeneration abilities in the mafia.

Their clients were waiting, two big and muscular men with small horns and red and grey skin, and one shorter yet still muscular man with larger horns and sunglasses. All three had a thin tail swaying behind them.
"Welcome, gentlemen of the Volkov mafia. Pleasant evening we are having tonight."
Cazimir observed the three, trying to find any possible concealed weapons they might've had. They had agreed to leave the talking role to Malakias tonight, but Cazimir offered his own brief greetings with a nod and short "Good evening".

The one onis had been in contact with had been Cazimir, through anonymous emails and untraceable phone calls. Cazimir had reported every single part and detail of the correspondence to Malakias, the man was aware of the situation. And when the onis saw such a young man, apparently leading a group of clearly more experienced older men, they couldn't help but sneer slightly. Onis weren't ones to hide their contempt.
"No problems at all, the ship is here, we have the Benjamins, hope you have the package."
The onis eyed the backpacks on the men surrounding Malakias and Cazimir, and Cazimir could almost smell their greed. It stank.

Cazimir pulled out a small device, a scanner that was connected to a hidden account with a scrambled location, in some bank in some country. But he didn't move over to hand over the package and receive the payment until Malakias gave them the signal. It was much too risky for Malakias to approach the onis, so Cazimir had taken it upon himself to handle the transaction.

Although Cazimir did not move without a direct order from Malakias he was able to make his presence as threatning as a madman with a shotgun. It was something he had learned during his years as a target on the front lines, watching countless friends die from bullets. And Cazimir could see and smell the onis' uncertainty, as he looked upon them not with eyes of contempt, but eyes of pure darkness. Horrid, bottomless and unpredictable.

Malakias was using the right tactics, and in his mind he gave the boy a thumbs up. And finally he gave Cazimir a signal to proceed. Cazimir nodded back and separated from the formation, the other men staying at Malakias' side. An order from Cazimir he had not told Malakias about, and he certainly couldn't start talking back in such a tense situation.
Cazimir had the scanner in his hand, and one of the onis met him halfway with a credit card. Cazimir held out the scanner, and the oni held out the credit card. But right before the two touched close enough for the transfer to happen the oni pointed two of his fingers at Cazimir and the nails on his hand extended and pierced Cazimir's throat. Cazimir grunted from pain and coughed up blood. He could tell the oni wanted to slice his head off. That much could of course kill Cazimir. So as his men proceeded to attack the remaining onis, who had pulled out their guns, Cazimir grabbed the nails that were piercing his throat.
"Hah! Foolish mutt! You think a mere werewolf could-"
Cazimir quickly shifted into his wolfman form, growling down at the oni, and snapped the nails with one squeeze of a hand.
"Yes. I do think so."
Cazimir growled with a barely humanoid voice and proceeded to throw the oni against a shipping container.