N_A9NA_10

"I'm Maxim Radomir," He muttered. "- and they call me BARBARIC." 


Setting:
In 1990's Russia.
Nizhny Novgorod, Moscow

Maxim, a man in his late 20's, leave Nizhny Novgorod to  search his long lost brother in Moscow, but is he there for this??? Maybe not.



The story contain violence and high stake crime that maynot be comfortable for some readers.

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IN THE END: MAXIM

The cold night air bit into Maxim's skin as he walked along the desolate road, streetlights flickering weakly. His breath mingled with the fog, fading into emptiness.

But he wasn't truly alone. Hallucinations walked beside him.

"Abi... Abi," a child's voice echoed faintly through his mind.

Then Boris's gravelly voice followed: "You do have little brother."

Flashback: The Café Behind the Field

The small café smelled of stale bread and vodka. Boris poured himself another glass, his weathered hands steady despite the drink.

"I don't know his name or what he does," Boris admitted, taking a swig. "But he lives in Moscow."

"Your mother was beautiful, like a flower blossom in the middel of the darkness. Her folks were Turkish. Your father --- absolute Russian. A high nobel man," Boris continued.

"Your age difference with Your brother was 2 or 3."

Boris drinking the vodka."to your mother— you were her lion and he was her jewlery. Then she taught both of you some Turkish. You called each other 'abi.'"

"How do you know that?," Maxim asked.

Maxim's steps faltered. He now stood before the imposing RSS office, its structure casting shadows under dim streetlights.

The president of the RSS leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled.

"Are you sure you want a transfer to Moscow?" he asked, eyes sharp.

The president's expression darkened. "Then you'll be assigned a new mission."

Maxim sat stiffly on a cold metal chair, facing two men in dark suits.

"What's your name?" one of them demanded.

"Maxim... Maxim Radomir," he answered.

One of the men slid two photographs onto the table.

"Your mission is to get close to these men," he said grimly.

The first photograph showed a hardened man with piercing eyes. "This is Igor Smertin—a smuggler, money launderer, and murderer."

The second photograph featured a younger man, cold and unreadable.

"And this is Nikolai Sergeev. Orphaned young. Joined the army at eighteen. After that—no trace."

The second interrogator leaned forward, voice low and deliberate. "You'll infiltrate their world. And if necessary..." He let the words hang in the air. "You will shoot. You will kill."

The room was dimly lit, shadows flickering across the walls from a single lamp. Maria stood still, her chest tight with tension.

Her breath caught as she walked slowly toward the door.

"What do you want, Maxim?" she asked through the wood.

"Won't you open the door?" Maxim's voice was gentle, almost pleading.

She didn't respond. Silence stretched between them.

"I'm leaving," Maxim finally said, his voice cracking. "I'm going to Moscow. I just wanted to see your face one last time."

Maria's eyes welled with tears. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.

"Say something," Maxim begged softly. "Anything."

Defeated, Maxim placed a single flower on the ground. His voice was thick with emotion.

"I guess you really don't want to see me. Just... know that I --- I love you more than anything."

He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark.

Moments later, Maria flung the door open—but it was too late.

The street was empty. Only the flower lay on the cold stone.

She knelt down, picking it up with trembling hands.

"Maxim..." she whispered through her tears.

Chapter 4