𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

𝐭 𝐰 𝐞 𝐥 𝐯 𝐞

I barely got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in bed, thinking of close to a hundred ways of how it would go down.

Who was the person who sent me that message? Should we even trust them? What if that person works for Felon and we are walking right into a trap? Should I ask Breton for help? What happens if our cover is blown?What would Zari do if she was here?

The next morning, I had to gulp down three whole cups of coffee to keep myself awake. And I never drank coffee, too bitter. I glanced over at Viktor who looked nervous as well while chewing on his pancake.

After breakfast, we took a taxi to the docks and the taxi driver looked at us with fear in his eyes, telling us gang riots were happening there every month. Viktor and I glanced at each other without saying anything but I knew exactly what he's thinking; it's the right place.

Looks like the person was not lying.

It took us a good forty minutes to get there and I had dozed off for a few minutes during the ride. Once the taxi driver left, I looked around. There was not a single person to be seen. I could also smell the strong stench of alcohol, beer cans lying around. I checked my phone for the time—11:16 am. I guess that was still considered early for drug dealers and gang members.

"We'll have to walk at least twenty minutes to get any form of transport from here. It would make sense that no civilians would want to live nearby," Viktor said, looking at his phone.
"Right. So how do we approach this?"

He looked up and scanned the area. "There's a bar here, which I'm guessing could be a good place to poke around first. We can't exactly barge into their warehouse."

"Okay, then. Lead the way."

Five minutes later, we stood outside the bar Viktor had mentioned. It looked rundown, beer bottles and cigarette butts lying on the side of the road. The lights were on inside, so at least we could talk to someone.

To my surprise, the inside of the bar actually looked... decent. The tables were wiped clean and there was no litter on the ground. A middle-aged man was resting his head on a table. I guessed he had had too much to drink and had passed out.

"Haven't seen you guys around here before," a deep voice startled me. It was a woman, around her forties, rearranging the bottles on a shelf.

"Well, we're new in town. Just staying for a couple of days to get the supplies," Viktor replied. 'Supplies' as in drugs, he was catching on fast.

The woman nodded as she put the last bottle onto the shelf and walked towards us. "Where are you guys from? I don't recognise that accent."

"Russia. Can I get a beer?" Viktor took a seat, and I sat beside him.

"Yeah, sure. Anything for the lady?"

"Lemonade. If you don't have that, water is fine."

"A beer and a lemonade coming right up." And she walked to the shelf to grab two cups.

"I'm just gonna let you do all the talking," I whispered to Viktor.

"Wasn't that the plan anyway?" he whispered back, winking at me.

Idiot.

"There you go. Total will be 250 Baht." The drinks were placed in front of us.

"Keep the change." Viktor gave her a small smile.

I took a sip of the lemonade. It was really good.

"Just out of curiosity, do the gangs here own guns?" he started probing.