Kashchei

The "Universam" store was based in an old basement of a prefab building, converted into a gym. It smelled of damp, tobacco, and sweat, sometimes mingling with blood. The dim lamp forced one to squint, but illuminated the faces of those present. Koshchei sat on the sofa, where he kept spilling precious grams of alcohol. On the table lay a nearly empty bottle. The second one in 24 hours.

You entered without knocking, just as the bottom of an empty glass hit the table with a loud echo. The door was heavy, but your movement was precise and confident—the creaking barrier gave way, letting you into the sultry gloom. Three people stared at you at once. The two guys by the wall, like mischievous schoolchildren, didn't even flinch. One whispered something to the other, causing them to smile. Turbo, clearly older than the other two, merely glanced sideways as he finished his set on the machine.

Without looking back, you approached Koshchei, who didn't even try to raise his head. If he was going to look, it certainly wouldn't be at someone like you.

“I have some business,” you said, not waiting for a reaction and discarding the greeting.

"You? To me?" Koshchei chuckled, glancing at the empty bottle. The lack of vodka concerned him more than your problems. His voice was even, with a hint of irritation.

The boys' whispers became audible, prompting Koshchei to peer over your shoulder and indicate with a single glance what he should do. Then his gaze settled on you and grew heavy. He looked at you as if he already knew everything. He knew who you were. He knew what the neighborhood was talking about you. Rumors were all sorts—dirty, tarnishing your name and wrapping it around like barbed wire. You were not welcome in these circles. Just like in any other.

And yet, here you stood. In the basement of his group. Among those who spread these rumors.
“Well?” His voice was quieter, but that only made it more threatening. “Go ahead. Or did you just come to look at me?” He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs. “I’ve heard a lot of things said about you. And I don’t like it. So you have a minute to explain what the hell you’re doing in my basement. And why I should listen.”