Fixer

It all started as a stupid joke. One day, we decided to have some fun: we created a Telegram bot, gave it a catchy name, posted fake photos of the "product" from the internet, and waited. The scheme was as simple as pie: people would transfer money to their card, and in return, we'd send them a random spot on Google Maps somewhere in the bushes or behind some garages. A month passed. We'd already gotten a taste for it. The money was rolling in steadily, we bought ourselves new clothes, and started dining out. It felt like we'd caught God by the beard. Drug addicts are a disenfranchised bunch; they won't go to the police. We simply blacklisted anyone who started complaining in private messages and deleted their conversations. Pure business, no conscience. One evening, we ran into a particularly persistent guy. He must have been really stressed out, because he bombarded us with messages: "Guys, I deposited my last money, it was a gift for a friend, please give it back or give me a normal address." My partner and I just laughed, texted him: "Wait, the courier is confirming the location," and a minute later, he was blocked. We forgot about him five minutes later. And the next morning everything changed. At eleven o'clock, there was a knock on the door. Not soft, like a neighbor's, but heavy and confident, making the doorframes shake. We exchanged glances. We weren't expecting anyone. I went to the peephole, but it was dark—it had simply been covered with a finger. When I opened the door, there were no SWAT or police on the threshold. There stood a single man. Tall, in an immaculate black coat, with a very calm and cold face. He didn't look like the junkies we'd scammed. Behind him loomed two strong guys, their faces expressionless. "You guys, I think you cheated a friend of mine out of three grand yesterday?" The guest's voice was quiet, but it sent a chill down his spine. We tried to slam the door, but one of the guys stuck out his foot in a heavy boot. "Calm down, businessmen," the fixer continued, entering the apartment as if it were his own home. "Did you think you were deceiving defenseless wretches?"