Chapter 2: Journey to Redemption.
The only other person I knew that was still alive was Greggory, the old Baja trainer that had taught Ilya and I. In a world gone mad, with Ilya dead and me just out of prison, not to mention this thing inside me that I still refused to believe, he was the only person I could turn to. His last letter, still in my jeans pocket, had given an inner city gym as his address.
I sighed as I looked at the huge grey building in front of me. The moon was hidden by the dark storm clouds that were racing across the sky, and the only light came by the streetlights lining the road. It was about ten, but Greggory had always trained his kids later, so there was a chance he'd still be in there.
I sighed as the memories of Ilya and I floated across my mind. Greggory had always warned me that Ilya would drag me into whatever hell he had opened. It didn't matter that he was right, and when I thought about it, it didn't matter that he knew I wasn't the same laughing little Russian he had taken under his wing.
All that mattered was that he was still my friend. I spotted his massive frame leaning against the ropes intently watching the fight going on in front of him. Two Americans were fighting one another, and from my cynical eye, still had a long way to go. Greggory's voice was hoarse with whiskey and old age as he scolded them. I suppressed a smile.
"You Americans won the west? With your guns, and your horses, not your brains! Stop thinking of gun fights with sticks, and start thinking like Bajani! With grace and skill, not force! If my little bears were here, they'd..." My laughter echoed through the gym, and he turned at the sound of my voice.
"Beat the shit out of you and teach you to duck or be belted!" Greggory's eyes filled with tears, and I looked away as he blinked nearsightedly. I felt my chest constrict as the full realization of my old teacher's true state crashed home. Time had not been kind.
"Piotr, my bear, how are you? When did you get out?"
I smiled as he threw his arms around me, and thumped him on the back. My smile broadened as I noted that there was still a great deal of strength left in those thick arms of his. "Greggory, good. It has been too long." Greggory gave a bark of laughter.
"Ha! Six years, too long. Come, come, have you a place to stay?" I shook my head, and failed to duck the hand that cuffed me. "Idiot! Of course you do! Ilya's old room remains up top." My eyebrows shot up. Greggory's smile fell and his expression grew sad. "Ah, well, when the big bear got into trouble, he came to me, as you both should. I gave him a room, and kept it for him. After he died..."
His voice fell. I cleared my throat. "Ilya was never one to think of such things as life or death. In this, if only in this, we should follow him." Greggory nodded and jerked his chin towards the stairway behind the small office at the front of the gym.
"Ah, of course my little bear. A wiser head on your shoulders now, eh? Very well. Have you a job?" I nodded as I shouldered my pack.
"I go tomorrow. A bodyguard." Greggory eyed me, but didn't say anything. He led the way up the top to Ilya's old room.
My brother kept a sparse place, but it had a huge comfortable looking bed, and a bookshelf. Under the single window was also a small box, filled with assorted trinkets. I moved to the bed and dropped my pack. Greggory watched me as I made my way around the room, and I smiled as I saw Ilya's favourite book, and strangely, a bible.
I glanced up at Greggory, who shrugged. "I will let you get settled." I nodded my thanks, and the old man clomped down the creaking stairs. On top of the bible was a set of car keys, and another key chain with a single key on it.
The chain had the word "gym" engraved onto a small metal band. I nodded to myself, and opened the bible, more out of idle curiosity than anything else. Ilya had never been religious. Inside was written, "To battle inner daemons, one must first know their nature. Your friend, Greggory."
I leafed through the thin pages listlessly, and started when I turned a page to see pages cut out. Inside the hollow lay three packets of money. My shock turned to amazement as I realized they were fifty dollar notes. About three grand all up.
I tucked the money into my wallet and looked around. Ilya's ghost was thick here, and for some reason, I needed to leave for a while. It just didn't seem right at the moment. I went downstairs, where Greggory was back at the ring, watching his two young fighters. "I'm headed out, doveritch." He nodded as I shook the keys at him.
"Is there some sort of bar around that I could get a drink at?" Greggory shook his head.
"I'm too old for such places, little bear. I don't know." One of the fighters stepped back from his crouch.
"There's a nightclub about fifteen minutes walk down the road, man. Girls are a bit on the intense side, but the music's good and the booze is cheap." I nodded my thanks and turned to go. Greggory reached out and grabbed my shoulder.
"Hey, little bear. Pick up a girl while you're out. Six years is a long time." A smile came and went on my face.
"You're telling me."
The Hunter's Moon was already full and jumping by the time I got there. There was a little trouble at the door as the huge bouncer was feeling belligerent. Honestly, I couldn't tell you whether it was my cold smile or the other bouncer's cautioning murmur that forestalled the fight. I didn't really care which.
I made my way to the bar and called for a beer. Just because I'm Russian doesn't mean I have to only drink vodka. The girl behind the bar eyed me carefully as I downed it in one go and waved the empty bottle at her for another.
She leaned in so I could hear her over the music. "If you wanna drown your sorrows, that's fine honey. Just don't join in on anything, and don't cause anything." I smiled at her and inclined my head.
"My sorrows aren't drowning. They're just in the back seat while I celebrate freedom." She nodded in understanding and pulled out another beer. I felt a touch at my arm and turned into a pair of crossed arms. The bouncer from before.
"You crack onto Kaitlin again, and it'll be your ass, boy." I shook my head.
"Just because I just got out of prison doesn't mean I like that. Boy." His eyes narrowed and he looked away, obviously feigning nonchalance. His fist came forwards, aimed somewhere near my jaw, and slammed into my open hand. I set the beer on the bar as he looked at me in disbelief, then reared back to kick the stool out from under me.
