Chapter:13 Contracts(1)

Downstairs, it was another typical evening in Roanapur. Some men were talking and drinking, while a woman at the bar was serving them all drinks and listening to their problems. 

Howard was standing behind the counter, or maybe he was sitting. Anastasia couldn't really tell since he seemed to have replaced most of the shop's destroyed furniture with especially bulky ones.

"Howard."

Anastasia called across the bar and nudged at a corner table which was somehow the same as last night's. Guess even the damned furniture has its luck.

Howard looked up from the glass he was wiping, a perpetual half-smile on his weathered face that seemed ready to burst into swearing at a moment's notice. The bar was dimly lit, by a large emergency light plugged into a socket at the far corner, apparently the small bulb had been accidentally hit by one of the stray bullets.

"Anastasia,"

he acknowledged. His tone was a mixture of familiarity, respect, and exasperation. He ambled over, the worn wooden floor creaking slightly under his weight.

"I heard a gunshot. What are you up to?"

he asked, his eyes flickering with a not-so-subtle curiosity.

Anastasia slid into the corner seat, her eyes scanning the room. The air in the bar was thick with the murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.

"Business as usual, Howard. Pour me something hard, not the rum, something harder."

She said, her voice steady but carrying the undertones of the day's events.

"Not gonna happen, at least not till your concussion is all healed up."

Oh, yeah, she almost forgot about it.

Reaching up to the bandage tightly wrapped around her head, Anastasia fingered its edges as it circled her forehead.

"You sound like the goddamn medics."

Anastasia sighed, letting her hand drop to the table and resting her chin on her palm.

"Why do you care anyway? Just give me the whiskey."

"C'mon, Howard."

She added in a tone that clearly stated that she was NOT taking a no for an answer.

His brow was creased in a combination of exasperation and worry, but he went back to his spot and poured her a glass of something from beneath the counter. When he returned to hand it to her, his voice was softer than usual.

"Look, I don't mind serving you what you want, but I'm worried about you. At the very least, you had a serious concussion today. Maybe you should lay off the hooch, even for a night or two."

She took a deep breath.

"Why you always gotta be such a mother hen?"

Her tone was light, a teasing smirk on her lips, but deep down, she was relieved to have him looking out for her. She appreciated that even if she wouldn't like to admit it.

Anastasia took another, larger gulp from her shot glass, and the liquor warmed her stomach almost instantly. She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other.

Upon seeing the concerned and at the same time disapproving look on his face, Anastasia couldn't help but scowl, she dismissed the injury with a wave of her hand. 

"I just feel like something stronger to settle my nerves."

She pointed at a bottle of vodka set neatly beneath the counter. 

"Pour me that one."

Howard sighed, realizing that any further argument would be pointless even in the best of times. Still, he couldn't help but worry slightly. He had been around Anastasia for many a day now, and seeing her like this made him nervous. 

However, he realized that trying to lecture a mob boss would be a waste of time. Anastasia would get her drink one way or another, so he decided to give her what she wanted. 

He grabbed the bottle of vodka from beneath the counter, twisting the cap off before pouring the liquid into her glass. Anastasia took it and drank it in one gulp, grimacing at the alcohol, but smiling at Howard's concern.

"Anything I should know about that gunshot?"

Howard inquired, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Just tying up loose ends, Howard. You know how it goes."

She sipped the last bit of liquor remaining in her glass, relishing its burn as it slid down her throat. The taste, familiar and comforting, was a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded earlier.

Howard leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

"Loose ends, huh? This place is full of 'em."

Anastasia chuckled, the sound rich and low.

"That's why Roanapur keeps turning, Howard. Loose ends keep us in business."

"If there's ever a day when there's nothing loose to tie up, I'll know I've failed as a mob boss."

Anastasia quipped, her lips curling in a sardonic smirk.

It was true, though. Roanapur was a loose-end city; there was no escaping loose ends. It was part of the job.

Howard nodded, letting out a grunt, which may or may not have been an acknowledgment of her point. He didn't speak much, and cursed half the time he spoke, probably because of the constant strain and pressure that was part and parcel of being running a bar in Roanapur.

It was not much later that Jules walked into the bar, followed by a Chinese man who could not have been much taller than 5'7 or maybe '8. He was wearing a blue-flowered white shirt, black vest, gray-checked slacks, and white canvas shoes with dark blue laces.

Anastasia raised an eyebrow at him, for someone fleeing from the CIA, he was surprisingly well-dressed. He looked like someone who had spent his life living in Roanapur and not like a Vet who just happened to be looking for a job. 

As Anastasia made her mental note about the Chinese man and his outfit, Jules took a seat next to her at the bar. He was carrying something under his arm, wrapped in a cloth. 

"Hey, Boss."

He said, his tone neutral, 

"Jules."

She acknowledged him with a slight nod, her gaze lingering on the Chinese man.

He nodded back in return, his expression blank. Anastasia could sense that he was sizing her up, trying to determine who she was and what she was like.

"Nice outfit,"

she said in a nonchalant tone.

The man looked at her, his face was angular as if the flesh had been stretched out over the contours of his skull, his eyes narrow and sharp. His lips seemed to be permanently stuck in a thin line, his mouth barely moved at all.

"Thanks."

said the man in a voice as flat as his face.

"I always dress to kill."

He turned his attention back to the other patrons at the bar, and Anastasia saw his eyelids flicker slightly. The man was looking at her.

"So, Ming was it?"

He looked back at her, his dark eyes boring into her ocean-blue ones,

"You already know who I am. The only reason I am still sitting here is because that man,"

He pointed at Jules who was now downing a glass of rum,

"Said that you have also hired Hawk."

"I have. So what?"

She challenged him, her gaze remaining steady. She knew it was a mistake to underestimate him, but his cold demeanor irked her, for a minute she could have sworn she saw his lips curve into a faint smile.

"I have heard of you. You have a reputation."

He nodded towards Jules, who had come close to the bar and was chatting with Howard.

"Go on,"

Ming's eyes never wavered from Anastasia's as he spoke.

"They say you fled France to survive the purge, they say you were quite capable when you first washed up on this shithole."

He said without so much as blinking his eyes,

"And,"

"And that you suddenly dulled down after taking over a patch of land, that you didn't have any ambition. You thought that laying low would make others overlook your family, but the Italians took a keen interest in you and now you are fighting a losing battle."

Ming and the other people in the room watched her in absolute stillness. There was nothing but the faint, steady sounds of a jazz record in the background.

There was the flicker of a small movement as Anastasia shifted her gaze to a point behind Ming, and the faintest hint of a laugh escaped her lips before falling silent again.

Ming turned to follow her gaze and met the cold gaze of Howard, who had stopped washing glasses and was now looking around the room, a slight grin on his face.

"So, not all good I see. What made you come despite having heard all this, 'truth,' about me, eh?"

"The truth is a funny thing,"

Ming finally spoke.

"I've heard many rumors throughout my life. Many of them are based on half-truths or partial information."

She took a small sip of her drink, her eyes shifting back to the Chinese man.

"Jules tells me you're the one to talk to about work in Roanapur. That you've got connections and opportunities. And I wanted to see what kind of person that stuck-up Hawk would work for. "

Anastasia leaned back, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Amina is a bit preoccupied at the moment, but I assure you that she will be down soon. Meanwhile, why don't we talk about what you just said, I've indeed got plenty of opportunities, but whether you're fit for them is a different matter. You haven't told me why I should trust you."

Ming's expression remained stoic, his lips parting slightly to reveal a hint of a smirk.

"Trust is a luxury we can't afford. But we can work together, for mutual benefit."

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Ming's directness.

"Mutual benefit, huh? Elaborate."