Crimson Nightmares

Chapter Twenty-four

I drove into the night, feeling the wind on my hair. It feels so good to be out of that hospital. I need to go back to the mafia to talk to Myron. The kid under his care is doing well, so what did he need me for?

As I drove deeper into the city, the darkness enveloped me like a shroud. My mind was racing, trying to piece together what happened in my dream. Elizaveta had been there with me, and I was grateful for her presence, but her words had cut me deep. Was I truly a weak child, as she claimed?

I pulled into the parking lot of the Crimson Mafia headquarters, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I had a mission to complete, and I couldn't afford to be sidetracked by my own self-doubt.

Myron, the head of the mafia, was waiting for me when I entered his office. His eyes were shrewd as he looked me up and down, assessing my condition.

"Gérald, you're looking better," he said, his voice gravelly and unyielding. "But tell me, are you ready to continue to work?"

"Yes?"
"Mm, ok, I have to ask you a favor."

"Alright, what is it?"
"I need you to do a practice fight with Aleksandr."

"Me? Why?"

"I need him to observe different fighting tactics."

"I'm a sniper."

"It will be hand-to-knife combat. Oh, could you call Elizaveta?"

"She hasn't slept in four days. She was sleeping the last time I saw her."

"Ok,"

"I can bring her next time, but will he be overpowered?"
"Yes, definitely, but he needs to know defeat from someone other than me." He hoped for me to forgive him.

We made our way to the training room, where Aleksandr was already waiting. Myron explained the situation to him, and Aleksandr nodded in understanding.

He had messy brown hair that matched his eyes. He had bandages over one eye and more covering his neck and arms. He was wearing a dark red long coat with black clothes. He was taller than when we found him, but only by a couple of inches.

Despite my doubts, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I watched as Aleksandr and Myron exchanged punches and kicks, their movements fluid and precise.

It was clear that Aleksandr was a formidable opponent, but Myron's experience and training gave him the edge. He dodged most of Aleksandr's attacks, and when he did get hit, he would quickly counter with a move that left Aleksandr gasping for air. Myron stopped Aleksandr and walked to me.
"Your turn." He patted me on the shoulder before grabbing a drink. Alek was panting on a chair around the room.

"Hello, Aleksandr, how have you been?"

"Well, sir, how are you?"

"I see your manners have improved."

"I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for my past actions."

"Your apology is accepted; are you ready?"

"Yes sir." He stood in a fighting position. He bolted at me first. It looked a lot slower when I was watching him. He bolted at me first. It looked a lot faster when I was watching him. I blocked his moves with ease and kicked him in the shoulder.

He stumbled back, gasping for air, and I could see the embarrassment in his eyes. I didn't want to gloat or show off, but I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in my own abilities.

Myron watched the exchange with a satisfied grin, nodding slightly in approval. "Good job, Gérald," he said. "I believe Aleksandr has learned his lesson."