Nikolai checked his watch as he walked into the restaurant he had chosen for dinner, making sure he had plenty of time to eat. The job had run later than he had been expecting it to. He had to be more careful than usual this time when erasing his tracks. The woman cooperated well enough but her children were young and thus were difficult to keep quiet and calm while he smuggled them carefully out of their homes and to an access point where he knew they would be able to get to Sanctuary. Their mutations had not been obvious, thankfully, but the woman had already lost her two oldest sons and her husband to Sergey’s orders. Even without the burden of being obvious her path would not be an easy one. He could only hope that somehow she would find a way on her own. He couldn’t help her any more than he already did.


Thus he was at a restaurant shortly after the sun had set to get something to eat if only to make it look like he had been in this part of town for a reason. Usually he preferred home cooking or Russian dishes but tonight Italian would do. Fortunately this particular restaurant was not owned by one of the Italian Families. He was unarmed, as he always was when smuggling a family out, and wasn’t so sure he’d be able to take down enough of them to get out of this place alive if they were to pick the fight. Not that his death would mean much to Sergey. The man was a cold, even about his own men. Nikolai could only pray he wouldn’t become like him in time. This lifestyle was not for the soft hearted, he knew that, but to become that cold…


Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Nikolai removed his black flat cap and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair to keep it out of his blue eyes as he asked the hostess for a table in carefully pronounced English. If she thought his attempt fumbling she didn’t say anything so he assumed it was at least passable. He was glad he looked nothing like a gangster dressed as he did. Most assumed someone of his size to be a thug and to dress like it. Movies played a large part in that he thought. But he was in a full suit this time, including a dress shirt and tie as if he had just gotten out of a business meeting of some kind. Oh his suit was far from the nicest one in the restaurant but at least it was fitted well enough that he was neither swimming in the material nor was it so tight across his shoulders and chest that it hurt.


He had just settled and ordered a glass of water to look over the menu with when he had the strange feeling of someone watching him. It made him tense up and made his left shoulder twinge. Damn. He held onto to the menu relatively tightly with his left hand, trying to stay the tremor in it while he glanced around the restaurant surreptitiously over the edge of it. If the person was behind him, which seemed likely all things considered, he’d never spot them but it meant that he’d be able to keep the shaking hand out of sight at least, that being the most obvious way of identifying him. He doubted it was a member of the Family. They would not spy on him from a distance, even if they worked for a different pahkan.


So who could it be? A rival mafia? He was clear of any central hubs of enemy territory and this particular restaurant was not owned by any of them as far as he knew. The police? There were no crimes committed recently that could be tied directly to him. The family in general sure but not him. He doubted any of the families he rescued, even if they were able to pick themselves up from where they left off, would be out on their own like this.


So Nikolai waited where he sat, turning his attention back to the menu while he decided on what he wanted for dinner. Probably a seafood dish of some kind. White wine always paired well with them.

Lisa had already replied that the woman and her children were safely tucked away at Sanctuary. They’d be leaving tomorrow morning for a new life. They’d called in the usual contacts to set up new lives for the family. How many families was this now, five, six? Devon had lost count.

One or two might be a personal thing or a ploy. This many was a well-chosen, well-meaning operation. A few eyes on the street watched: a beggar boy, an older woman who sold flowers, David’s dad who delivered groceries for a chain… Some might have had littler birds, but Devon was happy their team had evolved into a whole aviary. It could certainly benefit from a queen to keep the roost…

But they’d told him where to head. Devon had dressed in a young man’s pair of chinos, a nice light blue shirt, and an older black tie he’d had in his closet. It screamed mail room, and that was fine. He’d ordered a cheap glass of wine and a chicken salad. It couldn’t be fancy and it didn’t need to be; was he really that hungry anyway? It was time to meet this benefactor.

The man was early thirties, good looking, but large framed and tall, taller even than Devon. He had powerful shoulders and legs. The man’s suit – nice as it was – betrayed a stronger man behind it. He looked Russian at least as far as Devon was concerned. It’s not like he knew many though he’d met at least one recently. A lot of interesting new people were coming through New York these days or at least Devon was finally meeting them.

Ah he was good. He could feel himself being watched, either that or he’d spotted an ex or something. Devon noted the tension in the shoulders and then the oh-so-casual glance around. Devon put on a come-hither grin and bit at his lip slightly. Worst case scenario the man hated getting checked out by another man. Best case scenario: Devon had a cover ploy.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly as one of the waiters walked by.

“Yes sir?”

“Could you get him a drink? On me,” Devon said proudly with a wide grin.

The waiter lifted a brow but grew an amused smile. “Sure,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you know if he seems receptive.”

Off he went, saying something first to Nikolai’s actual waiter. He came back on to the floor and went to the tall Russian’s table. “Hello, sir. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “The gentleman,” he gestured over to Devon’s table behind, “Would like to buy one for you.”

Devon smiled over his salad, wine glass in hand.

At the waiter’s words, Nikolai frowned and sat up a little straighter and turned to the man the waiter referred to. He was surprised. He had expected something more sinister than a handsome young man buying him a drink. Not that it didn’t happen but it was rare enough that he was unsure how to handle it. Should he just smile and gesture his thanks to the man? Or join him at his table as he seemed alone? What was the etiquette for this? This kind of thing just wasn’t done either in Russia or in the little Slavic community in Brighton Beach.

So he smiled a little awkwardly at the man and asked the server for a glass of the wine he had been considering, careful to pronounce the name carefully. A few hadn’t been able to understand what he said through his accent. Before the server left with his order though he asked them, as he was fairly certain they dealt with this kind of thing more often, if it would be rude to invite the man to join him at his table… or he join the man at his as he hadn’t put in his dinner order yet. His confusion must have been evident because the server looked ready to laugh in his face. He hated American customs. But the server held back to smile or laugh and said that they would so Nikolai turned his attention back to his menu. Unthinkingly he set his left hand down, knowing that he wasn’t in danger from this man at least. He hadn’t looked familiar enough to be considered an open threat.

By the time the waiter returned with the wine, he had decided what he wanted and again carefully pronounced the foreign dish to the server. Maybe he needed to spend more time out of the Community if he could. His English would never get better if he did not practice it with actual Americans. And while some found his accent charming he didn’t imagine he could blend in if he had to while speaking like he did. He had a hard enough time as it was. If what he was doing for the mutants in the Russian community got out and he needed to make a run for it he doubted he would get far even if law enforcement were to try to help him while he kept talking like this.

“Yeah, it was kind of cute actually, he wasn’t sure whether to invite you over or come over himself,” the waiter informed Devon with a big dopey grin. The staff was sure a small love affair was in the making, whispering at the bussing station. Oh, they were probably happy to ship these two together but there was business to discuss first.

“Great, thank you, I’ll swing over after he orders,” Devon replied, slipping a few dollars to the waiter. He was certain now this was the man if all the other details hadn’t been told. The telltale tick in the hand gave Nikolai away. The hard party now was meeting him without freaking him out completely.

A few minutes later and Devon was scooping up the last of his salad and wine glass. He sauntered over to the table, put a wide grin on his face, and in his warmest, friendliest tone, “Hi, thought I’d come by. I’m Devon Hadden. May I please join you?”

Nikolai almost startled when someone approached his table but was able to keep his control when he was met with the man who had bought him a drink earlier. The man introduced himself and Nikolai sat up a little straighter. The founder of Haven had come to speak with him? Why? Had he been found out? He hoped not. If someone like Devon could find him then the mafia would too and Sergey would not take even his form of undermining his authority lightly. Nikolai had seen what happened to the last man who made that mistake. He didn’t think he’d last half as long as that poor bastard had under Sergey’s care.

Still there was no reason to be rude and no proof yet as to what Devon wanted from him. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him though he made sure to close his left hand around the wine glass he had been given if only to still the tremor in it. Once the other man was situated he offered his right hand over the table though it felt awkward to do so. “I am Nikolai Zelinsky. Pleasure to meet you Mister Hadden.” At last.

While they shook hands Nikolai took the opportunity to look over the man that had saved so many of the lives he had smuggled out from under Sergey’s nose and he had to admit to himself that perhaps the reputation Devon had amongst the women that knew of him in Brighton Beach was not entirely unfounded. He was classically handsome in a way most Americans wished they could be with blue eyes that were simply striking to the point where they almost seemed to glow. By the time Nikolai took his hand back he felt a little embarrassed that he had even considered for just a moment that such a man would buy him a drink for any reason other than to speak with him about something important.

The server returned with Nikolai’s meal and he thanked her without thinking in Russian. They seemed to understand what he said though because they told him to enjoy their meal before they wandered away and allowed them to continue their conversation in private. The dish looked delicious and smelled wonderful. “I wonder, Mister Hadden, what brings you to me tonight? It is not my good looks certainly.” He picked up his fork so he wouldn’t have to look the man in the face while he made his assumption. He was embarrassed enough as it was.

“Thank you.”

Down went his wine glass and his salad into their proper position. Devon then slid a hand over the buttoned front of his shirt as he took his seat. He smiled and took the man’s offered hand. “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” he said with another warm grin. The hand shake lingered and Devon had to wonder if he was getting a warning. A long, strong hand shake was often an attempt at dominance or a polite indication of warning in proximity.

It may have also been a Russian custom; Devon wasn’t sure. Hopefully Svetlana would tell him if he inquired. Nikolai didn’t say anything off-putting though he did stare slightly. Devon smiled broadly in return as the waiter came back to the table with Nikolai’s food. It looked quite good, but Devon was being very careful with his diet. More cardio, more weights… It was a constant journey on top of all other activities including training.

>> “I wonder, Mister Hadden, what brings you to me tonight? It is not my good looks certainly.”

Nikolai let that hang by going right into his meal. That was Devon’s invitation to reply and to also make something of the question. Devon chuckled in reply as he turned his head to the side, a mischievous turn to his lips turning the smile into a grin. “Well not the only reason. I mean, I don’t mean many taller than I,” he nodded as the warm, well-meaning smile returned.

“But also, finding you here, I thought it’d be good to meet you. You seem like a hard working sort and it’s always hard to find quality staff,” he nodded again, though his tone took on the faintest lilt of suggestion. “People say good things about you… So, I thought maybe I could convince you to join Haven’s custodial staff. Considering who we’ve allowed to be put in control of the government it’s certainly easier for people to leave the country to get in so I’d be sure to see your status protected.”

His bright azure eyes kept in focus with the softer blue of Nikolai’s. They held the gaze a moment before adding, “And please, call me Devon.”

Nikolai smiled to himself when Devon mentioned that it was rare he met someone taller than him. There were few people in America could match his height much less be taller without also being super thin. He had seen a few of them and thought they looked sickly. He was grateful that even with his post-Soviet upbringing his family had been able to scrounge enough food that he hadn’t grown to look quite that thin. More so the fact that his words were turned into something about his height let the gangster relax a little bit. So this was about some kind of business. That he could handle.

He took a couple of bites of his meal before he looked up at his dinner companion. There was something about being a hardworking man and having a hard time finding quality staff. He blinked at the idea, trying to fathom what the man could mean. If he was the founder of Haven he was likely referring to his work at helping families escape from Sergey but how that that tie into janitorial work? Unless he was genuinely referring to janitorial staff which Nikolai would find odd. Surely there are more skilled laborers if that was what he needed. People with housekeeping experience at the very least.

But no, even if he wanted to he couldn’t leave Sergey’s employ. He had too much blood on his hands, metaphorical and physical. Sergey would just throw him under the bus the next time someone had to die and where would he be then? At least where he was now he could still help Russian or Slavic mutants who, foolishly, moved to the Beach in hopes of staying in touch with their roots while in this new and very strange country. Fortunately Sergey had calmed considerably since the remaining families and few members in their number had taken the gesture as what it was and remembered their place. Powered in not they were still under his command and had to obey his order like any other.

“I am currently working with my Family,” he said, hoping that he spoke in the right balance of straightforward talk and something like a code, “and afraid my father would not let me seek other work. He has a wide enough reach that I fear if I did try to take other work he would not allow me to walk away from the family business.” And with Haven being a known mutant friendly faction… he didn’t want to imagine what Sergey would do if he found out that Nikolai worked for them even as a literal janitor.

And of course Devon asked to be called by his first name so Nikolai offered the same courtesy. “Then you may call me Nikolai. Or Nick if you find the name too difficult.” Americans tended to call him Nick anyway. Or Nicholas. Which wasn’t wrong per say if his name was translated into English but he was Russian and preferred to hear the name he was born with if he had a choice.

Devon took note of the extra smile Nikolai bore when height was mentioned. Good, most often did appreciate a physical compliment followed by an interest in speaking with the person. It was true, of course. Devon didn’t really meet taller people and that was certainly interesting…

As the Russian bit into his dinner, Devon offered his idea, a suggestive plan at that one. One way or the other, getting Nikolai at Haven would be beneficial for them both. Nikolai could enjoy some of Haven’s bonuses as a staff member and if he needed to smuggle any more family members out, it’d be easier through Haven than Sanctuary. Haven had greater means.

>> “I am currently working with my Family,”

Devon nodded slowly.

>> “and afraid my father would not let me seek other work. He has a wide enough reach that I fear if I did try to take other work he would not allow me to walk away from the family business.”

Devon’s face was painted with concern but he nodded again as he took a bite of his salad. Well that made things more difficult, didn’t it? Difficult, but not impossible. The right suggestion was the way to win challenges, especially if the person thought it their idea.

>> “Then you may call me Nikolai. Or Nick if you find the name too difficult.”

A new grin spread upon his face as he sipped at his wine. “Nikolai then,” Devon said with a charmed tone, “I’ve been told I have a talented tongue for language. It’s no trouble, and I’d prefer not to disrespect you,” he nodded.

“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble either. Perhaps if your family was to understand Haven was looking for such a contract,” Devon suggested. “Then maybe you’d have fair reason. We could make sure that some things came your way to ensure the arrangement was beneficial. I remain thankful for your hard work, after all."

He was pleased when Devon took the time to pronounce his name (and do so correctly) as so few in this city had despite it not being a difficult name. Yet there was something about the way Devon spoke that said it had little to do with a particular passion for languages and more to do with regularly dealing with immigrants like himself. New York was a cultural hub for many peoples of many different lands. To make the connections one might need to do something like found Haven he’d need to make more than a few friends across the differences.

Though Nikolai couldn’t decide if the idea of him tangling with the Russian Mafia was a good one or not. Sergey was powerful but not as powerful as the Five Families in the mainland. There was no illusion amongst Nikolai’s family that the Italians ran this city. Surely if he wanted mafia connections he would have gone to them? Unless what he wanted was not necessarily mafia connections but someone with enough skill and ruthlessness to walk with the mafia? Nikolai’s left hand twitched around his glass as he thought on it. Surely working for Devon wouldn’t be as cold-hearted as working for Sergey.

“To make a formal contract you would have to go through my father,” Nikolai stated, setting his fork down to pick up his wine glass and take a careful sip of the sweet white he had ordered, “And if you do so he will want to know what I have done to warrant the attention of such an employer. The services I provide now he does not know about. A sudden formal request will draw unwanted attention to them and should he learn of it… well. Father is less kind to family who betrays his trust than he might be to an outsider.”

He was quick to set his wine glass down again to give his left hand something to close around so the shake wouldn’t come back. “If I were to just leave… if I remain in the city my brothers might still find me and demand to know where I went and why. My family is very loyal to my father. They would do anything to ensure he remains protected above all else and those that leave… he prefers to cut them off permanently or send them home to Mother Russia. I could not do what I do without being part of the family… and missing something important.” Like a hand. Or an ear. Or maybe they’d take his eyes.

Nikolai continued to eat between sentences, enjoying his pasta dish even as he spoke of the unspoken chains Sergey had him in. “So it is not that I am not interested in your offer. It is that I am concerned that if I try to take it you may not have an employee for long after I did. I tried to work law enforcement before and my brothers very nearly caught me that time.”

Devon smiled warmly at the older, taller Russian gentleman. He appreciated Nikolai was careful not only for himself but for the mutants he’d helped rescue. Some were adults but some, many even were children. They’d been trapped but now they were free. Yet, Nikolai was not. Where was his rescue?

>> “..I tried to work law enforcement before and my brothers very nearly caught me that time.”

The younger man’s blue eyes widened, as did his smile. “That’s wonderful, that you tried anyway,” he nodded. “I know quite a few of the officers, especially in the response division. They are great men and women. They’d be lucky to have someone like you.”

A slow sigh escaped him as he nodded slowly, “But I understand. I wouldn’t want to put you in harm’s way whatsoever. Maybe instead Haven looks into a formal commercial cleaning contract. There’s many windows and it’d be good to have some local contracts with established connections…” He smiled gently, “And if a little information fell into your lap while working, you might find better freedoms that we could help you position.”

He shrugged a shoulder, “An idea, anyway. I think that could work at least, but I’m also hoping you can help me check into something else. I’m hoping you can tell me it’s not something organized by your associates.” A slight frowned tugged at his lips while he took another sip of his wine, “There’ve been a few strikes in Sanctuary’s neighborhood, even an outright attack with a hired mutant who didn’t really know what was going on. My government connections can’t get me anything.”

Devon sincerely hoped the Russians weren’t after Sanctuary, but considering what he had been helping Nikolai do there was always the possibility.

This… this man was serious. Smuggling work while under the cover of legitimate work he’d have to somehow keep out of the purview of Sergei and his Brothers. He had been doing it for a while and there was no reason to think he could not do it now but this game would only get harder if it became too obvious what he was doing or getting his information from. He may be willing to risk his life to do the right thing but he’d rather not do so recklessly or without really needing to. After all it wasn’t just his life he’d be putting at risk if he got caught.

While he was contemplating this though, he listened as Devon described a series of attacks that occurred in Sanctuary, attacks that he thought might have been tied to the Family. In all honesty Nikolai had not heard any such orders but Sergei was far from the highest ranking man in the Family, just the man in charge of Nikolai’s unit. “If you can describe these attacks in detail or send me photos of the results I can let you know if this is the kind of work they do,” he said quietly enough to be heard by only his dinner companion, “But I have heard no such orders. They operate like military units with only the head of the family knowing about all the operations each unit is doing. I can look into it from my side but it will take some time to find exact names if I can find them at all.”

Perhaps that was all the answer he needed then. He was going to work for Devon as much as for the Family and his legitimate business. He’d have to be careful and sleep whenever he could but he could do this. He’d have to. If only to ensure the wellbeing of those who came to America for a better life and trusted Sergei to look out for them in this unfamiliar country and culture. And keep their children from being pressed into “service” like he was as a boy.

So he reached into his suit pocket and removed a card holder that he carried with him and opened it up to look through it for his personal card. It had his name, his personal phone number and a personal e-mail he kept separate from anything his Family had access to. He tended to keep this personal e-mail encrypted and locked behind several means of electronic security. Even then he tended to write in code just to be sure. He handed the card to Devon with his left hand that still shook slightly while he finished his meal with his right. “When I find something I will bring it to you,” he said, “but if you need to contact me otherwise this is my personal information.” He supposed to an outsider he’d look like a man giving his date his number. He might have been embarrassed if it wasn’t a good cover story.

>> “If you can describe these attacks in detail or send me photos of the results I can let you know if this is the kind of work they do,”

“Of course, I have some details I can send your way,” Devon replied as whisper-quiet as his Russian companion. He had notes of his own, from witnesses, and the police reports. The latest attacks, some notes from Calcifer, plenty of pictures… Hopefully it’d be enough to help.

>> it will take some time to find exact names if I can find them at all.”

Devon nodded his understanding, finishing his salad. They’d take whatever help they could get.

>> “When I find something I will bring it to you,” he said, “but if you need to contact me otherwise this is my personal information.”

“I understand, thank you,” Devon bowed his head, lifting his glass in thankful salute. “I didn’t think it was your associates, but I have to check them off the list. I thank you.” He sipped his wine and then again, an old world suggestion that you knew the drink shared was good and safe. Whatever help Nikolai can provide, the better.

“My contacts are putting together information. If I find anything of interest, I might pass that along to you. Things can go both ways,” he grinned almost playfully. “And we can do dinner together again, I hope.”

While it wasn’t entirely impossible that one of the Family would attack Sanctuary or even Haven in some subtle way because of their inherently pro-mutant leanings he doubted they would do so in such a way that would easily be traced back to them. He’d have to look at the evidence carefully. Maybe someone was trying to make it look like them? Or it was a group of initiates trying too hard to impress their superiors? If it was the latter and he had enough evidence he’d have to find the brats responsible… and see which of them he could talk out of ever doing something so stupid or reckless again. He had no idea who got the idea of being part of the Family as something not only to be proud of but something cool and exciting into these kids’ heads. They spoke English and this was New York City. Surely crime was far from their only option now.

But until he looked into this matter better there was no point in speculating about these details. He finished his meal and his wine, setting the dishes aside carefully out of the way in a neat stack. The server would no doubt be by soon to pick them up. “What information about the attacks I can provide for you, you did not hear from me. Not officially. If I am to continue to do what I do, it must be that I remain without suspicion. If my Father catches even the slightest suggestion that I may not be doing as he wishes.... well. His methods of ensuring loyalty are more traditional than most.” One of many reasons why he chose to keep to himself.

That and his tastes were far from traditional. He doubted his former KGB Brothers would take too kindly to his cover story should they somehow find out about his meetings with Devon but he could take a beating if he had to. Better than the meat lockers they kept for “other” reasons. “I would like to spend another evening with you,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too awkward, “But you are a busy man with more than enough to focus your attentions on. I will understand if it is not possible for you. I can bring what information I have to your place of work? It should take a few weeks at most I think.”

Nikolai clarified the plan.

Of course Devon wouldn’t share where he got the information. Sources and contacts had to be secret, especially where criminal enterprises were concerned. Sanctuary had taught him a thing or two even if they weren’t participating in said activity. Whatever information Nikolai and his family connections could provide, the better.

>> “…His methods of ensuring loyalty are more traditional than most.”

Whatever his father did, Tempest was afraid Nikolai knew too well. There was no need to get any detail now. It did seem maybe one day that would have to be handled.

“Yes, I understand,” Devon nodded once and slowly at that.

>> “I would like to spend another evening with you,”

Devon smiled, “Great.” He tried to ignore the awkward phrasing. English wasn’t Nikolai’s primary language after all; he was speaking it for Devon’s benefit.

>> “…It should take a few weeks at most I think.”

“When you can. Text this number or call if easier,” he said, passing a card with only a number upon it. “I’ll get the message and get one back to you. I’ll make the time. Maybe meeting at Haven would be too obvious, but my business at Plum Island there’d be more privacy. If you find your work taking you to eastern Long Island, call and we’ll make arrangements.”

His napkin went onto the table, a signal for the waiter he was finished with his meal. As the waiter approach Devon quickly pressed a few bills into the waiter’s hand. “Thank you very much,” Devon smiled. “And to you,” he nodded to Nikolai.

The waiter grinned, glancing between the two attractive gentlemen and stepped away.

“I hope you have a good night,” Devon smiled and stood. “Thank you for keeping me company.”