Chapter Text
It’s another regular night at the bar, misfits and degenerates from every disgusting corner of Liyue crawl through that door like the horrible sewer rats they were. You say nothing, just take their orders, make the drink, look flashy about it so your boss has no reason to get upset with your performance and put you to use in other ways.
You’re the bartender, you see and hear things, you covet every little scrap of information you can because if something minute is said that could prove useful to your boss, the better chances you had of making it through the night unscathed. Especially tonight, there was some…meeting happening tonight, some other gang was meant to be arriving in their territory to talk business.
You have a feeling they’ve arrived when three newcomers step into the bar. Two men and a woman. The man who stands between them is tall, his features and gaze sharp as his amber eyes swing lazily around the room before stopping on you and you immediately need to remember not to panic, just breathe, in and out, in one two three, out one two three.
Even if you didn’t know him exactly, you could tell that this was another mob boss, somehow…he looked familiar, like a more refined version of your own boss.. Why was that?
Slowly, he approaches the bar, lip curling into the lightest smile as you bow your head at him.
“Hm… I’ve not been to this part of town in some time, why don't you serve me a drink you feel is best?” His voice is as low and smooth and intimidating as the rest of him, but you knew immediately that this was a test. His lackeys, a boy who looked barely much older than yourself, bright golden eyes trained on you as you nod, and an elegant young woman, violet eyes scanning the bar for any potential threats. These were his bodyguards, these were trained killers.
You were just some back-alley brawler.
You take another quick glance at him, his dark hair slightly lightened at the tips, his dark suit and long, detailed coat, and his eyes, predatory, examining your every move. A guy like this? He wasn’t after something fancy or over the top, so you default to the first drink that comes to mind for him.
Ice cubes in a mixer glass, blended Scotch Whiskey, Amaretto, stir, Round ice cube in an old fashioned glass, pour, serve.
You go through the motions as smoothly as you can, there wasn’t many ways you could really make your performance ‘fancy’ with such a simple drink, but you hope that your job is satisfactory none the less. You slide it easily across the bar to him and watches as he lifts the drink to his mouth.
“The Godfather hm? Simple, understated…an excellent choice.”
The moment he approves, you feel like you need to collapse somewhere. You’d just impressed a mob boss…you don't think you’d ever impressed your own.
Speaking of.
“BARTENDER. USUAL.”
You tamp the urge to respond, Azhdaha did not like noisy underlings, you simply nod and reach for what you needed.
Sugar, dash of bitters, muddle, water, stir, add ice, shot of bourbon, add fresh orange peel, serve.
Just as with the newcomer, you slide the drink into the hand of your boss. He downs it in an instant, glaring at the other intimidating presence in the room, the sheer tension enough to drive most of the other drunkards away.
“Morax.” Your boss growls at him.
“Good Evening, Azhdaha.” ‘Morax’ responds calmly.
Morax…morax…where had you heard that name before?
“What are you gawking at!? Go scrub the bathrooms or make yourself useful somewhere else!” Azhdaha half roars, half barks at you. Immediately you bow your head, reaching beneath the bar to grab the paper towels and the cleaning spray before absconding from their meeting.
You don't even bother knocking as you push your way into the mens bathroom, god it always stank in here, no matter how much you fucking scrubbed. Nonetheless, you get to work, spray down the mirrors and counter, wipe those clean, move onto the stalls, all simple motions you’d learned quickly, lest Azdaha find other uses for you.
It’s as you’re scrubbing the damn urinal that you hear the first shot fired. Immediately you freeze, listening, another shot that wasn’t the right sound for one of your gang’s usual guns; Azhdaha liked his lackeys being loud, making a scene… This was silenced…
Immediately you reach for the knife you always had. It was slim enough that the sheath could sit against your thigh without being seen, especially beneath your coat. You didn’t have much experience in firearms, but knives and fists you could do…you just had to hope that some of the other boys could get a good hit on these fuckers.
The bathroom was down a side hall, so it was easy enough for you to sneak out without being seen, skirting down the hall, knife gripped tightly in your fist as you listen. Everything was quiet already…surely those two lackeys hadn’t already taken out everyone? It couldn’t be.
“Really now Azhdaha…did you think you could hide from your fate forever?” Morax’s cool tone is tinged with frustration at something you couldn’t see. You only had to assume it was your boss, judging by the grunt, it sounded like he’d been incapacitated. “All your subordinates ran like cowards… I warned you that this would happen if you went off on your own…you were not ready, you will never be ready to be the leader you aspired to be.”
Of course, of course they fucking did. Leave it to the boys to pissbolt at the first sign of actual trouble… you chance a glance at the reflective door to the back of the bar, you can only barely make out anything in it, but you can see this ‘Morax’ and his two flunkies. The woman seems to be his shooter, while the other boy seems more like you, adept with knives.
Morax stands a few paces ahead of them, looking down at your boss, who’s crumpled on the floor…
You could also run, finally break free of him…but..where the fuck else would you go? Perhaps if you played your cards right, you’d be able to get him out of here? One well aimed throw with your knife and you could lunge for the fire extinguisher, use that to essentially smokescreen the bar and drag Azhdaha’s sorry ass out of here and perhaps finally earn some decent standing with the asshole.
You take a deep, silent breath, aim, and throw the knife with as much force as you can, right at the opposing mob boss. You don't stop to actually see if the hit landed, only barely dodging the bullet that whizzes past as you lunge for the fire extinguisher, pulling the pin and squeezing the handle.
The room erupts with white haze, you keep moving, tip toeing around as fast as you can to avoid being hit by stray bullets before the tank runs dry and you throw it in the general direction of the outsiders, grabbing your boss by his bound wrists and hauling him out the back door. Azdaha was not a small man, often described as a behemoth, all solid muscle and rough skin, easily twice your height and thrice your weight (on him for not feeding you enough), but still you manage to haul his body out into the back alley as you’re both pelted with rain, making it even harder to keep ahold of him.
The fuck were you meant to do now? You’d tossed your knife, you couldn’t cut him free… did you really have the time to manually undo his bindings? You didn’t have much of a choice, pulling him behind the nearby dumpster, hoping the cloak of night and the large trash receptacle would keep you both hidden from view as you attempt to get his ankles free, but between the rain spelting your hands and eyes, and the general darkness, it was slow going.
All for naught however as another silenced bullet whizzes past you and-
Right into the middle of Azhdaha’s forehead. You look up in shock and are met with his wide, lifeless eyes as a trail of blood trickles down his face.
Fuck.
You don't even have time to attempt to flee, as soon as your brain starts working again, a hand roughly grabs a fistful of your hair and you’re thrown against the rough brick beside your dead boss and roughly kicked in the ribs, you’re sure you feel something crack.
Gasping for breath as the hand grabs another fist of hair to yank you up to a kneel, you’re met with the three outsiders; it’s the younger boy holding you at a kneel, knife pressing dangerously against your throat.
That’s when you notice the slim cut on Morax’s cheek, barely visible in the darkness, illuminated only by the dingy alley light, but it’s there, and he’s smiling.
“Well well, the flighty little bartender turned out to be his most loyal and formidable… I’m impressed by you. You even managed to get the jump on us…how intriguing…”
You gulp, keeping your mouth shut, the fuck were you even meant to say in a situation like this? Morax stares you down, between his piercing gaze, the knife at your throat and the gun aimed silently at you; you may as well have been a cornered animal.
But you don’t shut your eyes, or attempt to look away from him, that was weakness, that was something you could. Not. Show.
It seems to have a desirable effect. Morax moves forward and kneels down beside his subordinate, a gloved hand reaches out and grasps your chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting your face to the side as his eyes narrow at the blooming bruise that was slowly revealing as the makeup to conceal it melts away in the rain.
“My dear old friend was never any good at honing loyalty through means other than fear and pain…” Morax mutters, likely more to himself, but you understand the words. The mob boss had always used threats, pain and punishment to garner his following. Join him, do a good job and you’d be protected, do a bad job? Thrown to the wolves. Right now? You’re sure you’re staring at the Alpha.
“Join us, little bartender, if you thought this was the best hand you’d be given in Liyue, I can assure you, there are much finer things in life for people of…our standing.” Wait…what!?
That smile is still there, you can’t tell if it’s meant to be kind and warming…or predatory… what choice did you really have? Deny him and be killed? Or take the offer and just…pray thing’s got better? Who were you kidding, they wouldn’t… but..
“It’s been many years since I’ve been to this part of town… I’ll require a guide, I can assure you the pay is good, accommodation, food, clothing…what do you have to lose?”
Nothing, you really had nothing to lose. Slowly you straighten up, wincing as your cracked ribs shift, The knife at your throat follows as you shift, slowly moving your hand to your…old bosses pocket, fishing the keys from them before finally speaking.
“The passcode to all his safes…in all his hideouts… is 3112…”
Morax blinks before a peal of laughter rolls from him, seems this wasn't a common occurrence as both his guards immediately look at him with concern.
“Forgive me… seems Azhdaha never quite forgot me…though I must say that’s an oddly specific way to remember my birthday.”
You…don’t hear much after that, the pain in your torso was becoming too much to bear and you find yourself slumping against the wall beside your ex-bosses corpse. Wincing when large hands lift you from the ground. Soon enough, you find yourself out of the rain and in the back of a car, spread out across the back seat, head resting elevated, you would realise later that it was Morax’ own lap that you’d been laying on.
The car was warm and comfortable, something is pressed to your lips and you take in the liquid offered. Immediately you recognise the taste of whiskey, it burns your throat but warms the rest of your body, chasing away some of the rain's bite and dulling the throbbing in your torso.
This position is…dangerous…compromising..but you just don’t have the energy to struggle, so instead you allow it. You allow the alcohol into your body despite very rarely drinking, you allow your eyes to slowly fall shut as the whiskey takes hold of your senses.
You allow it, and you pray that it’s not a mistake as you finally allow yourself to fade into the soft, welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.
For the first time in many, many years, you fall asleep warm...