Nikolai left the warehouse as the sky dimmed into that grey-blue between evening and night. The streets were busy but fading quiet as the day was coming to an end
He cut through a few side blocks, hands tucked into his jacket, head low but eyes moving the way they always did, looking for trouble without looking like he was.
The bar came into view, a dim glow leaking through its frosted windows. It was early, so the place wasn't alive yet, just a few scattered patrons and low music humming behind the door.
Inside, the smell of stale beer and cleaning chemicals hit him first. The same old cracked leather stools, the same mismatched chairs.
But the counter was tended by a different face, a heavy-set man with a trimmed beard wiping glasses. No Brenda tonight.
'Fine.'
Nikolai slid onto a stool anyway and ordered something simple. He didn't actually care about the drink. He'd started dropping by this place for two reasons: first, to get a read on the kind of people who passed through, drunks talked, workers talked, the occasional hustler talked. Second, it wasn't a bad place to take the edge off.
He wasn't nervous, not really. More charged and very excited. His mind was running fast after the planning session, ideas colliding with doubt and excitement.
The bartender slid him his drink. "You're new," the man said, eyeing him casually.
"Just stopping in," Nikolai replied, giving a noncommittal shrug.
The man grunted and moved off.
Nikolai took a sip, let the burn settle in his chest, and scanned the room the way one does when pretending not to.
A pair of dock workers, boots still caked with dried mud, played cards at a corner table.
Two men in suits, cheap ones, but still a step above most here, muttered low, maybe doing some deal.
And a lone woman on her phone in the back booth, typing fast and biting her nails.
Not much, but he wasn't here for jackpot secrets tonight. It was about showing his face, blending in, and maybe, slowly, making this a place where information came easier.
He checked the time, drank again, and felt his pulse ease a little. The job tomorrow was dangerous.
He knew that. He also knew excitement could feel a lot like fear if you didn't control it. So he sat, listening to the hum of strangers' conversations, letting it steady him.
Tomorrow he'd be with a crew he didn't know, running a job he didn't design, for a man who might kill him if things went sideways.
But Nikolai had a backup plan. Not for the heist itself, that was a gamble he was willing to play straight. This was for if the whole thing collapsed.
If tomorrow went sideways, if the crew scattered or Moreno decided he was no longer useful, Nikolai would make sure he disappeared fast. And in his escape, he'd look for the other side, the people stealing Moreno's shipments.
The enemy of my enemy was a friend… at least long enough to stay alive.
"Another?" a voice broke through his thoughts.
He looked up. The bartenderzbartenderz same heavyset guy, was holding the bottle.
"Sure," Nikolai said.
As the man poured, he glanced sideways at him. "You're that guy that was talking with Brenda the other night, yeah?"
Nikolai's brow lifted slightly but he didn't answer. The guy didn't sound jealous, just curious.
"I thought you said I was new," Nikolai said instead, dry and faintly amused.
The man shrugged. "Take it from this old guy…"
Up close, he looked mid-forties, maybe older. "I've seen what happens when people mess with the wrong crowd around here. Streets feel safe, until they're not."
"I don't understand what you're hinting at," Nikolai replied, though he already knew. He just wanted to hear it said out loud.
The man set the bottle down and leaned on the counter, voice low but steady. "Stay away from Brenda."
Nikolai smirked. Still no jealousy, just warning. "What? You her boy or something?"
The man shook his head. "No." Then he turned, looking Nikolai straight on. His expression had gone hard and serious.
"But I know one man who wouldn't think twice about taking a life if you touch her the wrong way."
A thin smile tugged at his mouth, one without warmth. "Two, if you count the crazy admirer she's got."
The man left, leaving Nikolai alone with his thoughts.
He turned the warning over in his head. He didn't need a reminder about the "crazy admirer." That one was obvious. But the other man, the one who'd kill without hesitation, that was different.
He thought back to what Brenda had said before. Her brother was protective. Maybe that was who the bartender meant.
If so, who was this brother exactly?
Astoria wasn't like the places Nikolai had known before. Crime here was young, only starting to grow claws in the last few years. It wasn't all loose gangs and chaos yet; most of it was still organized, controlled, careful.
Street thugs were just beginning to pop up, but real power moved quieter.
If Brenda's brother was the protective type, what kind of man was he? A soldier from one of the rising outfits? Someone with connections? Or maybe something else entirely.
For a second, Nikolai considered another angle, a pimp keeping watch over one of his girls. But Brenda didn't read like that. He'd seen enough of that life to know the signs.
Still, it left a question echoing in Nikolai's mind:
Who exactly was Brenda's brother?
He didn't stay long after that. The warning had done its job, his mind was already running in a dozen directions.
Nikolai left the bar and made his way home through the cool night streets.
By the time he reached his door, the edge of the alcohol was catching up to him; not enough to make him sloppy, but enough to dull his focus a little.
Didn't matter. He was still wired underneath it all. Excited, even.
He kicked off his shoes, dropped onto the bed, and let himself sink into the mattress.
The last thing that crossed his mind before sleep took him was the map of the job, and the small, sharp smile tugging at his mouth.