The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Tails

Nikola was being followed.

He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it. He kept looking over his shoulder as he walked back to his basement apartment, where Nadezhda was hiding. At least, he hoped she was: the other option was that she was in prison, and that was an absolutely terrible thought, considering the fact that she could bring the entire network of rebels in St. Petersburg down.

Either way, he had to get back to the apartment: after seeing her during the fight, he knew that she shouldn't be alone, right then. She needed all the support she could get, and she certainly wasn't going to get that support by being in a dark, unfamiliar apartment by herself with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

Of course, that was going to be rather difficult with someone following him back to the apartment.

Well, if someone was actually following him, anyway: as far as he knew, he was just being paranoid.

So, rather than go his normal route, he turned down an alleyway, one that had a sort of farmer's market going filled with people like him trying to get by through selling odd trinkets.

The market was absolutely packed with people. Stalls hugged tightly to the walls, sagging from the weight of the thread-bare blankets that covered the top. All sorts of goods were up for sale: food, clothes, trinkets; anything one could imagine (and even some things that one might have never imagined) was up for grabs, that day. The venders called out different promises, flattering remarks, and even threats to try and get people to come buy whatever they were selling. Some people stopped to see what they were selling, others kept walking. And to top it all off, there was also some gambling happening. Mostly that weird find-the-rock game with the cups. And, of course, the little gambling things were always right next to the people selling home-brewed beer.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he entered the market. The place had so many pickpockets: he was probably lucky that his wallet wasn't already gone.

Well, on the bright side, maybe those pickpockets would slow down his tail enough to allow him to get away.

Once he was about halfway through the market, he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him. Sure enough, that same guy was still right on him.

It looked like it was time for plan B.

The next open alleyway he saw, he stepped into it.

That alleyway was quiet: not a soul was in it, other than him. It wasn't even that cluttered. And so, he did the only thing he could really think of doing.

He began to run down that alleyway, and the second he'd emerged-

Someone smacked him with a baton against the sternum. Hard.

Something cracked.

Nikola yelped as he fell flat on his back. Something was broken; he didn't know what, but something was definitely broken.

And that wasn't exactly the worst part. Three men, wearing the black uniforms of the Okhrana, were standing above him. One of them was smacking a baton against his hand, threatening.

Nikola could hear someone coming towards them. "D-did you get him?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," the one with the baton said. "We'll probably have to have a doctor check 'em out before we get him to Peter and Paul, but the commander didn't say a word about the condition of the perp."

Nikola knew all too well what that meant, and he did not like that. He went to stand up-

Only to have the one with the baton step on his chest, right where he'd broken something.

He cried out, again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," baton soldier said. "Did that hurt?"

Nikola spat at him. "Damn you!"

A butt of a rifle smacked into his face. He had a feeling that that also broke something.

"Oh, now that was just overkill," one of the other officers said. Nikola could taste the blood in his mouth.

"Nikola Maximov, it will be in your best interest to come with us," the head officer said. "We have some questions to ask you."