The last thug stood frozen, chest heaving, sweat running down his face. His bandaged hand trembled at his side, though he didn't seem to notice.
Men like him were used to beating people who stayed down.
Most of their targets never fought back because fighting back meant challenging their boss, and everyone knew that was suicide.
Even the old Nikolai had always taken the beatings without resistance.
But now the rules had changed. This time the victim fought back and left them bleeding.
Two of his friends were out cold on the floor, and his own hand had been ruined the day before.
For him, the failure meant more than pain. It meant his boss had already punished him once, a finger cut off to teach a lesson, and there might be worse if he came back defeated again.
His face twisted with anger and fear. Something broke inside him.
He let out a strained sound, almost a growl, and lunged forward at Nikolai in a desperate charge.
The thug rushed forward, swinging wildly with his good hand. Nikolai stepped aside, but the man's shoulder clipped him hard and shoved him against the wall. Pain shot up his ribs; this body wasn't built for taking hits.
Nikolai moved fast before the man could press the advantage. He dropped low, pivoted, and drove his elbow into the thug's stomach. The bigger man doubled over, and Nikolai seized the bandaged hand, twisting it sharply.
There was a sharp crack followed by a scream. The thug fell to one knee, clutching his arm but too late, Nikolai kept control, forced him to the floor, and pressed his knee between the man's shoulder blades to pin him down.
"Stay still," Nikolai said, voice calm but hard.
The man squirmed once, then went limp except for ragged breathing.
Nikolai leaned over, knife in his free hand now, close enough that the man could feel the threat. "We're going to talk," he said quietly. "You're going to tell me everything about your boss. If you lie, we'll see how many fingers you have left."
The man didn't answer, just kept shaking under him.
Nikolai tightened his hold slightly, enough to make the broken hand jolt pain through the man's body. "Start talking."
The thug shut his eyes tight and groaned through clenched teeth. His breathing was ragged, but it wasn't just pain, it was fear. He didn't answer Nikolai's first demand, only stayed still like he'd decided silence was safer than betraying anyone.
Nikolai understood immediately. In this world, snitching could cost a man his life. Loyalty to the boss, or at least fear of the boss, usually kept mouths shut. He expected to have to hurt him more before getting anything.
But then, unexpectedly, the man broke.
Before Nikolai even applied pressure, the thug's voice cracked. "I'll tell you everything… please, please." His words stumbled out, shaky and uneven.
Nikolai raised an eyebrow, surprised at how fast he'd folded. Maybe the man's nerves were already shattered, first by losing a finger, now by losing another fight and watching his crew go down again.
"Good," Nikolai said, voice quiet but firm. "Then talk."
The thug swallowed hard, still trembling under the weight on his back.
"What do you want to know?" the thug asked, voice trembling.
Nikolai stayed quiet for a moment, then spoke evenly. "Who he is. What he does. And who he works for."
He doubted the man running these small-time loan collections was the real head of anything serious. Loan shark work felt too sloppy and unimportant to belong to someone truly powerful.
"I… I don't know his real name," the thug stammered. "We just call him Boss. But I heard rumors… there's another big boss. Comes once a month. We never see him."
Nikolai's eyes narrowed but he said nothing, letting the man keep talking.
"Recently the Boss has been getting shipments," the thug continued. "Don't know what's inside, but he's been bribing officials at the docks to get them through."
Nikolai nodded slowly. That made sense. Astoria, the country he was now in, wasn't landlocked. It was an island nation, and in the past few decades it had gained some level of independence.
Smuggling was common in places like this; control of the docks often meant control of whole sections of the underworld.
He didn't question the thug's ignorance about names. Low-level collectors like these rarely knew who was truly at the top.
It was normal. But the mention of another "big boss" was worth keeping in mind. Someone higher up was moving product through the docks.
It was enough to start building a picture.
Nikolai stayed crouched over the thug, the knife still in his hand. His mind was already working.
He couldn't afford attention right now. Beating these men bloody might feel satisfying, but it wouldn't solve the problem.
They would crawl back to their boss, talk about what happened, and the situation would only escalate. The next group sent after him might not be so weak or sloppy.
Killing them was off the table too. That would bring the police, and he had no way to dispose of bodies safely.
He needed a way to calm the storm, or redirect it.
Bribing them was an option, but he didn't have money worth offering. And even if he did, paying off loan sharks was a short-term patch; it didn't stop them from coming back.
Turning them to his side… that had potential.
If he could flip even one of them, he could build a small foothold, information, muscle, eyes on the street. But it was easier said than done.
He had nothing to tempt them with, no power to offer, and loyalty in their world wasn't about trust, it was about survival and fear.
Still, the man under him was already half broken. No pressure applied and he had spilled details fast. His hand was shattered, his finger gone. Fear had done most of the work.
Nikolai doubted he himself would break under torture, even if someone threatened to cut off his dingling he doubted he would break, but this man clearly wasn't built the same way. Maybe he could be turned.
The thought took shape quickly: these three weren't ideal soldiers, but they were a starting point.
If he wanted to rebuild power in this life, he needed people, even if they were damaged and desperate. But they couldn't just be scared.
Fear alone would push them back to their boss once the pain faded. He had to give them a reason to see him as the better bet.
Now he just needed to figure out what that reason could be.