Bab 8: Learning from the Shadows!
Maxim Novikov moved through the crowded streets of the port town with the fluid grace of a predator stalking its prey.
The environment was certainly a massive shift from Russia. The oppressive heat from the sun weighted heavily on his shoulders, a stark contrast to the frigid cold he had left behind in Russia.
However, after his training, Maxim naturally wasn't effected by the climate, his mind was more focused on his target, Ulysses Klaue, and how to reach him.
This town wasn't a normal one, it was a den of violence and corruption. You could find anything here, weapons, drugs and even people, for the right price of course, like any other crime den, this place ran on money.
However, it remained a normal town on the surface, the air thick with the scent of sweat and saltwater, the pungent aroma of fish from the various venders standing around, shouting out their products and prices to prospective customers.
All of this was a sensory assault on Maxim, but he was unbothered. He had trained himself to ignore discomfort, to push through pain and focus on the task at hand. This drive and focus kept Maxim ahead of his opponents.
His hood was pulled low over his face, and a mask blocking others from recognizing him. He slightly hunched, intentionally reducing his height to not draw too much attention to himself.
The town was a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and crumbling buildings, each turn leading deeper into the underbelly of this forgotten corner of the world, and he didn't want to be easily recognizable.
Maxim blended seamlessly into the crowd, his movements purposeful but unhurried. He knew better than to draw attention to himself. In a place like this, the wrong look or a misstep could be fatal.
He had seen the bodies in the alleys, the signs of violent ends met by those who had crossed the wrong people. Those were the idiots who thought they were stronger than they were, or those who drew too much attention to themselves.
Maxim wasn't dumb enough to make the same mistakes. He made his way to one of the town's more notorious establishments, a seedy bar nestled between two crumbling warehouses.
The building was a relic of better times, showing clear signs of age, but the steady stream of patrons slipping in and out told Maxim all he needed to know.
Looking around, he could see the men walking around, keeping to themselves, weapons holstered, a scent of smoke and alcohol emanating from their bodies. With that information, Maxim could easily deduce where this was.
This was where the town's most dangerous bar, the nexus point of crime where the desperate came to drown their sorrows and make deals in the dark.
Pushing open the door, Maxim stepped inside, greeted by the familiar dim lighting and haze of smoke that seemed to permeate every corner of this world. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer, sweat, and the acrid tang of cheap cigarettes.
A few heads turned in his direction as he entered, but most quickly looked away, disinterested or too absorbed in their own business to care about the newcomer.
After all, everyone had better things to do than to focus on random guy looking to do business, especially in a den of crime. No-one wanted to pay too much attention and offend him.
Maxim made his way to a corner of the bar, choosing a spot where he could observe the room without being easily seen. He ordered a drink, something local and strong, but took only a sip.
The bar was filled with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. It was a cacophony of sound, but Maxim had long since learned to pick out the useful threads from the noise.
His enhanced senses, honed through training and the integration of Omen's abilities, allowed him to filter through the chatter, focusing on the conversations that mattered, the knowledge that filtered through would be valuable.
At a table nearby, a group of men were engaged in a hushed discussion, their voices barely audible over the other discussions. Maxim tuned in, his attention sharp as he caught snippets of their conversation.
"…shipment's late… Klaue won't be happy…"
"…another attempted thief killed…"
"…new buyer in town… wants something big…"
The mention of Klaue made Maxim's ears prick up. He leaned back in his seat, feigning disinterest as he continued to listen. The men were clearly nervous as they discussed.
Maxim's eyes scanned the room, searching for anyone else who might be worth eavesdropping on. Initially, he didn't find anyone, and kept to himself.
But after another 30 mins, a man came in, sitting alone and nursing a drink as he kept a watchful eye on the door. He had an older, grizzly appearance and the temperament of a man who spent a lifetime in the criminal underworld.
Maxim's instincts naturally told him this man was worth paying attention to. For now, he kept his focus on the group nearby. The men continued their conversation, unaware of the predator in their midst.
"…heard the buyer's looking for Vibranium… willing to pay a fortune…"
"…Klaue's the only one who can get it… but he's spooked…after the last attempted robbery…"
Maxim's heart rate didn't change, but internally, his interest piqued. The buyer these men were discussing might be someone of use to him, or they could be an obstacle.
Either way, knowing more about them would be crucial.
He continued to listen, gleaning what he could from their conversation. The men didn't have much in the way of specifics, but they dropped a few names, places where Klaue conducts business, contacts who could help track him down.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
As the men finished their drinks and prepared to leave, Maxim made a note of their faces, committing them to memory. He would follow up on their leads later, but for now, he had other priorities.
His attention shifted to the man at the end of the bar. The grizzled figure hadn't moved much, but Maxim could see the way his eyes flickered toward the door every time it opened.
The way his fingers drummed absently on the table as if waiting for something, or someone.
Maxim stood, leaving his drink untouched as he made his way across the room. He approached the man casually, slipping into the seat opposite him without asking for permission.
The man glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he took in Maxim's hooded, masked figure.
"You got a death wish, sitting down without asking?" the man growled, his voice rough and gravelly.
"Maybe," Maxim replied, his tone calm, almost disinterested, "But I'm not here to cause trouble. Just looking for some information."
The man eyed him suspiciously, his hand twitching toward something beneath the table, likely a weapon. Maxim didn't flinch, didn't give any indication that he was concerned.
"What kind of information?" the man asked after a moment, his voice still edged with suspicion.
"Word on the street, someone's selling a good metal here, I need it!" Maxim said, watching the man's reaction.
The man's eyes widened slightly, and his grip tightened on whatever he was holding under the table, "Vibranium. That's a dangerous thing to be throwing around," he muttered, leaning in closer, "What makes you think I know anything about that?"
"Because you're still talking to me," Maxim replied, his voice low and even, "Which means you either know something, or you want something."
The man's gaze hardened, but there was a flicker of interest there too, "What's in it for me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Depends on what you've got to offer," Maxim said. "But I'm willing to make it worth your while."
The man studied him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, "I might know where the deals take place," he said cautiously. "But it's not going to be easy. The people who run in those circles don't take kindly to strangers."
"I'm not here for a deal, I just want it," Maxim replied, his voice edged with steel, "I'm someone who gets things done."
The man smirked, a hint of approval in his eyes. "You've got balls, I'll give you that," he said, "Alright, I'll tell you what I know. But this isn't charity. I'm going to need something in return."
Maxim leaned back slightly, considering the man's words. He had expected this, knew that in a place like this, nothing came for free, "Name your price," he said.
The man hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further, "I've got a shipment coming in, something big. But I've got some competition sniffing around, trying to take it from me. You help me deal with them, and I'll point you in the right direction."
Maxim nodded, his expression unreadable. It was a fair trade, and it would give him an excuse to move around the town, gathering more information as he went. "Consider it done," he said, extending his hand.
The man eyed him for a moment, then shook his hand with a firm grip. "Name's Deacon," he said. "You meet me at the docks tonight. We'll handle this together."
"Sova," Maxim replied, using one of his many aliases, which he decided to just be the names of different Valorant agents, "I'll be there."
With that, the deal was sealed. Maxim rose from the table, his mind already working through the details of the night ahead.
He had made his first contact, and with Deacon's help, he would get one step closer to finding Klaue and the Vibranium he needed.
As he made his way back out into the crowded streets, Maxim kept to himself, ducking into the shadows as he thought about his upcoming mission.
This was a basic transaction, he get the work done for the Deacon, and he get the information he needs, nothing more, nothing less.
The pieces were starting to fall into place, and soon,
Maxim would be ready to make his move!
Bab 9: A Simple Transaction!
Maxim stood in the shadow of a crumbling alleyway, the only other inhabitants being vagrants and druggies as he watched the sun sink below the horizon and the moon rise into the sky.
The port town, now draped in the moonlight, took on a more darker edge. The streets, which were once crowded with vendors and fishermen, were now patrolled by the people who really controlled this place, the ones who operated in the dead of night.
Still, Maxim didn't worry. There was no way these normal humans could catch him anyway. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, the mask still in place as he silently moved towards the docks, shifting through the shadows.
Deacon, the man from the bar, had told him to meet there, promising information on Klaue in exchange for assistance with a rival gang trying to muscle in on his shipment.
The job was simple enough: take out the competition, make sure Deacon's goods were secure, and then get the information Maxim needed.
The docks were a hive of activity, even as night fell. It was natural, the docks were always a major force in the crime game of any city or town due to its usability of transporting not so legal cargo.
Cargo ships lined the waterfront, their hulking shapes casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. Men moved about, loading and unloading crates under the watchful eyes of heavily armed guards.
To any ordinary observer, this would look like a busy port. But Maxim knew better. He had already scoped out the place during the day and recognized the subtle signs of a criminal operation running in the background. Unmarked vans, suspiciously discreet shipments, and men who looked more like hired muscle than dockworkers.
Maxim's enhanced senses picked up on the details most people would miss. The faint click of a hidden weapon being loaded in an alley across the street. The smell of gunpowder mixing with the salty air of the sea. The way they constantly checked over their shoulder.
Conversations in the shadows about "moving the goods" and "making sure the boss doesn't know." Deacon's rivals were already here.
Moving like a ghost, Maxim slipped through the maze of shipping containers, sticking to the shadows. He made his way to the designated meeting spot, a small, dilapidated warehouse at the far end of the docks.
The structure had once been used to store fishing equipment, but now it seemed to serve as a staging area for whatever illegal activities Deacon had his hand in.
Deacon was waiting inside, leaning against a rusted metal beam, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His demeanor was tense but focused, the kind of look a man wears when he's used to watching his back.
"You're on time," Deacon said, exhaling a cloud of smoke as Maxim approached, "Good. I wasn't sure you'd show."
Maxim merely nodded, his expression unreadable beneath the hood and mask. He wasn't here for small talk, this was just business, and Deacon seemed to sense that.
"Alright," Deacon said, pushing himself off the beam and flicking the cigarette onto the ground, "Here's the deal. There's a gang that's been trying to muscle in on my operation. They've got a small group waiting at the docks tonight, planning to intercept my shipment. My men can handle the cargo, but I need you to take out the competition before they even get close."
"How many?" Maxim asked, his voice low and calm.
"Five or six. Maybe more, depending on how many reinforcements they bring in," Deacon replied, adjusting his coat as if preparing for the night ahead, "They're holed up near one of the old warehouses, not far from here. We hit them before they can make their move."
Maxim considered the situation briefly. It was a straightforward mission—, take out a small gang and secure the shipment. Simple. Efficient.
Compared to the bonkers attempt to escape a heavily guarded Hydra base, this was easy, straightforward and simple. But Maxim had learned long ago that even the simplest jobs could go sideways. He needed to be ready for anything and everything.
"Lead the way," Maxim said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Deacon gave him a sharp nod and gestured for him to follow. The two of them moved silently through the maze of containers and ships, the sounds of the docks fading as they neared the old warehouse district.
It was quieter here, more isolated, the perfect place for a confrontation away from prying eyes, it seems alot of thought had been put into this.
As they approached the target, Maxim slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings. His training, combined with Omen's abilities, allowed him to see and sense things others couldn't.
He felt the faint tremor of footsteps in the ground, the subtle shift in the air that indicated movement. There were men nearby, hidden among the shadows of the warehouse.
Others may not be able to sense them, but with Omen's abilities, trying to hide in the shadows from him was actually like placing a Glowing Beacon of Light on themselves.
"They're here," Maxim said quietly, his gaze sweeping the area, "Six of them, three positioned near the entrance, two on the roof, one inside."
Deacon raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, "You sure about that?"
Maxim didn't bother responding. He didn't need to explain how he knew, he just did. This was business, and everyone had their own ways.
Maxim ditched Deacon, swiftly moving into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows as be prepared to take out the gang members.
Maxim's powers allowed him to manipulate darkness, to blend into it, and to travel through it like a specter. With a simple thought, he vanished from sight, his form dissolving into the surrounding gloom.
The first of Deacon's rivals never saw him coming.
Perched on the roof of the warehouse, the lookout was scanning the docks, completely unaware of the danger lurking below. Maxim emerged from the shadows behind him, silent and deadly.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed the man by the neck, crushing his windpipe with a swift, precise squeeze before letting the body collapse soundlessly onto the roof.
One down.
Maxim moved like a wraith, shifting through the darkness to the second man on the roof. This one had a rifle slung over his shoulder, clearly prepared to provide cover for his allies.
But he, too, was unprepared for the predator stalking him. Maxim appeared behind him, a dark figure in the corner of the man's vision. Before he could react, Maxim snapped his neck with a swift, brutal twist, grabbing the gun to stop it from falling onto the floor and making noise.
Two down.
Below, the remaining men were completely unaware that they were being hunted. Maxim descended from the roof, slipping through the shadows until he reached the side of the warehouse.
He could hear the muffled voices of the men inside, discussing the shipment they planned to intercept.
"Boss said it should be here any minute," one of them muttered to the other.
"Good. I don't wanna be out here all night," another replied.
Maxim positioned himself near the entrance, waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity to engage.
A few seconds later, the door to the warehouse creaked open, and one of the men stepped outside, his hand on his pants zipper as he was clearly planning to take a quick leak.
Unfortunately for him, he would never accomplish that. Maxim struck, his hand clamping over the man's mouth as he dragged him into the shadows, silencing him with a single, precise cut to the throat.
Three down.
The remaining two men inside the warehouse were starting to grow restless after a bit. One of them stepped toward the door, calling out for their fallen comrade, "Hey! You good out there?"
Maxim stepped into the warehouse, his presence hidden by the dim lighting. The two men glanced in his direction but saw nothing more than a dark silhouette in the shadows. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late.
Maxim closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his movements swift and lethal. He disarmed the first man with a flick of his wrist, sending the gun clattering to the ground before delivering a bone-crushing blow to his chest.
The second man barely had time to draw his weapon before Maxim's hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground with ease.
"Please…" the man gasped, his eyes wide with fear as he struggled to breathe.
Maxim didn't respond. He squeezed, feeling the man's windpipe collapse under his grip before tossing the lifeless body aside.
Six down.
The warehouse was silent now, the air thick with the stench of blood and death. Maxim stood in the center of the room, his eyes scanning the area for any remaining threats.
When he was satisfied that the job was done, he grabbed all 6 guns, one for each person he killed, and stepped back outside, where Deacon was waiting.
"That was fast," Deacon remarked, clearly impressed.
Maxim didn't respond, just dropping the guns for Deacon to count. Once Deacon was done, he raised his eyebrow, clearly very impressed in Maxim's work.
Still, Deacon knew his place, a man of Maxim's skill couldn't be hired by him, this would probably be their only interaction, so it was best to keep Maxim on his good side and not overcomplicate anything
Maxim had done his part, and now it was time for Deacon to do his.
"The shipment's secure," Deacon said, lighting another cigarette as he glanced at the warehouse, "You held up your end of the deal. Now it's my turn."
Maxim crossed his arms, his eyes locked on Deacon, "Talk."
Deacon exhaled a puff of smoke, his expression serious, "Klaue's been laying low ever since his last shipment got attacked. But I've heard he's planning a big deal soon. Word is he's meeting with some buyer out in the jungle, near an old mining site. That's where you'll find him."
Maxim nodded, already committing the details to memory, "When?"
"Couple of days, 3 or 4 to be exact," Deacon replied. "You'd better move fast if you want to catch him."
Maxim didn't need any further prompting. Without another word, he turned and melted back into the shadows, his mind already focused on the next phase of his mission. He had what he needed.
Now it was time to find Ulysses Klaue and the Vibranium.
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