mafia | b.b.

[3] petrov

After leaving Mr. Ambrosa's glass house, Bucky found the young boy that led him up the stairs earlier in the kitchen of the house. The boy looked like he should have been in high school, maybe about sixteen. His hair was dark and wavy, it framed his pale face. His facial features were sharp, his gaze was sharp, observant. He was trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him, but it was obvious he was constantly looking around him. The man asked about the 'Ray' Mr. Ambrosa had mentioned.

"Not here," the boy replied while still typing on a sleek laptop.

"Where then?" Bucky asked, starting to get annoyed with the boy's arrogance.

"Try Rosetta, it's downtown, everyone likes to hang out there," the boy said, typing quickly. On his computer screen were boxes with series of numbers and letters. It looked like he was trying to code, or hack a program.

Bucky didn't even know what country he was in, let alone where downtown was. He wanted to know more about the quiet boy that lived with the boss. What made him so special? No other employees of Mr. Ambrosa were sitting around in the house.

"What's your name?" Bucky asked smugly.

"Just call me, Volz."

"Where can I get a car, Volz?"

Volz tossed a pair of keys into the air, where Bucky instinctively caught them before they could hit the granite of the counter. He nodded and walked out of the house, deciding to leave the mystery of the boy behind.

+++

After finding out that he was in Varna, Bulgaria, Bucky drove into town. Despite his efforts, he was unable to find a location on the internet for Rosetta in downtown Varna. He would have to ask the commoners where to find it.

He stopped the car beside an older man walking with a paper bag of what he assumed were groceries, "Hello, where would I find Rosetta?" Bucky asked in Bulgarian.

"The bar?" The man asked, "I don't think you want to go there, son."

"I need to find it, can you direct me or not."  Bucky said.

The man sighed and answered, "keep going straight, turn right down an alley that has a large red rose graffiti on the northern wall. Stay safe," he turned away and continued walking the opposite direction.

+++

The alley was dark, as expected. The rose graffiti was old, and it's colour was starting to fade. There was an ominous door that blended well with the brick walls. Instead of knocking, Bucky shoved the door open.

The bar smelt musky, a mix of dirt and sweat. It was about nine o'clock PM, so the bar was crammed. Tables for four held six, at the bar people sat side by side squished together like sardines. The bar was as wide as the entirety of the room.

Pool tables didn't hold pool balls, there were an array of guns laid out instead. The once clear glass top of the bar was shattered. Too many strong fists had slammed on it, too many guns slapped on to it.

Over the bodies hunched over the bar, Bucky ordered a whiskey. After downing the drink and letting it start a fire in his chest, he walked around the bar asking about someone named Petrov.

All of the people in Rosetta, wore all black. Whether it was all-black casual or formal. Some wore muscle tees, others wore dress shirts. It was all men as well, he knew Mr. Ambrosa was old-fashioned.

"Is there a 'Petrov' here?" Bucky asked a group of men sitting at a table.

One nodded over towards the end of the bar.