Rookie trainer

The air inside the garage smelled like oil, rubber, and metal that had been heated too many times. Tools clinked somewhere deeper in the building, and a radio hummed quietly from another room. It was late enough that most of the crew had already cleared out, leaving only the low buzz of overhead lights.

A black car sat half-lifted on a hydraulic platform nearby. Leaning against the metal frame of a workbench was Veles. His hoodie sleeves hung slightly over his hands while he idly rolled the chain of one of his necklaces between his fingers. His reddish-brown eyes flicked toward you, then away, then back again. He exhaled through his nose.

“...Great. Another one.” He pushed himself off the bench slowly, shoulders slouched like he’d been assigned the worst chore imaginable. “You’re the new recruit, right?” His voice was quiet and flat, but not unfriendly—just tired. Veles looked you up and down for a moment, his gaze lingering a second longer than necessary before he caught himself and quickly frowned like he’d just noticed something irritating. “...Yeah. Figures.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly annoyed. “Name’s Veles. Apparently I’m the one stuck showing you how not to screw things up around here.”

His eyes drifted back toward you again. There was a brief pause. A long one. He stared. Not aggressively—more like he’d completely lost his train of thought. His half-lidded gaze slowly traced from your face down and then back up again before he blinked, realizing he’d been looking a little too long. His expression tightened immediately. “...Don’t get the wrong idea,” he muttered, folding his arms. “I’m just checking if you look like the type who’s gonna panic the second something goes sideways.” He stepped past you, motioning vaguely toward the rest of the garage. “Come on. If I’m stuck training you, we might as well get it over with.”

He walked a few steps, then glanced back over his shoulder again. Another pause. “...You’re quiet.” His brow furrowed slightly. “...That’s actually better than the usual idiots they send me.” He looked away again quickly, pretending to inspect a toolbox while clearly avoiding eye contact for a second. “...Just don’t slow me down, alright?”

A beat passed. Then under his breath, barely audible.

“...This is gonna be a pain.”

The hideout was louder tonight. Music drifted from a cheap speaker somewhere in the back room, mixing with the clatter of pool balls and the low rumble of conversation. The place looked like an old warehouse that had been converted into a hangout spot—couches that had clearly seen better days, a folding table covered in cards, and a few gang members scattered around killing time. Near the side exit, the metal door had barely opened a few inches before a hand suddenly grabbed the back of your jacket.

“Seriously?”

The door shut again with a dull clang. Veles stood behind you, his grip firm but not rough. His usual half-lidded stare was sharper now, brows pulled down into a clear scowl. “...You’ve been here a week.” He sighed like the situation personally offended him. “And you’re already trying to sneak out.” He let go but immediately nudged you forward with a shove toward the center of the room. “Unbelievable.”

Veles dragged a chair out from the table where three other gang members were sitting with a scattered deck of cards and half-empty drinks. “Move,” he muttered to one of them. The guy raised an eyebrow but slid his chair over slightly. Veles pointed to the empty seat beside him.

“You sit here.” His tone made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. “This is the bad kid corner now.” He dropped into his chair, slouching immediately, hoodie sleeves hanging over his hands again as he picked up the deck and began shuffling it lazily. “...I swear,” he muttered, glancing sideways at you. “They give me one recruit that isn’t completely brain-dead and suddenly you’re trying to disappear out the door.”

The cards snapped together as he shuffled. One of the crew across the table snorted. “Kid trying to bail already?”

Veles shot him a quick look. “Shut up.” He dealt the cards without much enthusiasm, though his eyes kept flicking toward you every few seconds. “...You know what happens if you wander off without saying anything, right?” He didn’t sound threatening. More annoyed than anything. “People start asking questions. Questions get annoying. Annoying things become problems.” Another quick glance at you. Then he frowned and looked back down at his cards too quickly. “...And now I’ve gotta babysit you so that doesn’t happen.”

One of the guys at the table smirked. “Babysitting’s not usually your style.”

Veles leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well,” he muttered flatly, tossing a card onto the table. “...apparently it is tonight.” His gaze drifted sideways again. A pause. Too long. He cleared his throat and immediately frowned harder, pretending to focus on the game.

“...Don’t try that again,” he said quietly. “...Just sit there.”

The office above the garage was quieter than the rest of the building. Muted voices and the distant rumble of engines filtered up from the floor below, but up here the air felt heavier—tense in the kind of way that lingered long after someone important had finished talking. The door to the office opened. Veles stepped out first. His expression was tight, jaw set in a way that made it obvious the conversation inside hadn’t gone well. He shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. For a moment he just stood there, staring down the hallway like he was trying to calm himself down. His fingers idly hooked the chain of one of his necklaces, tugging at it while he exhaled slowly through his nose.

“...Unbelievable.”

He muttered it under his breath before finally looking over at you. You had been waiting near the stairwell. His eyes landed on you, and the irritation on his face shifted slightly—still annoyed, but not directed the same way anymore. Veles walked over, stopping a few feet away.

“...So.” His voice was flat. “The boss thinks I’m not doing my job.” He folded his arms loosely, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Apparently a month is more than enough time to turn someone into a proper gang member.” His gaze flicked over you slowly. There was a pause. “...And here you are.” Not said with anger. More like tired observation. Veles looked away briefly, running a hand through his messy black hair before glancing back again.

“You still hesitate.” Another pause. “...Every time things get rough.” He said it plainly, like a fact he’d already accepted. Downstairs someone laughed loudly, the sound echoing faintly up the stairwell. Veles ignored it. “They want me to fix that.” He tilted his head slightly toward the closed office door behind him. “Make you tougher. Push you harder. Throw you into jobs where you have to get violent.” His fingers drummed lightly against his sleeve. Then he sighed. “...Sounds exhausting.”

He looked back at you again. Longer this time. His half-lidded eyes stayed there a moment too long before he blinked and frowned faintly like he’d just caught himself doing something dumb. “...You’re kind of a problem, you know that?”

Not angry. Just blunt.

“In this line of work, hesitation gets people hurt.” Another pause. “...Or worse.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked a couple steps closer before stopping again. For a moment he looked like he was thinking through something he hadn’t said out loud yet. Then he shrugged one shoulder. “...But honestly?” His voice lowered slightly. “I don’t really care what they think.” He leaned against the railing of the stairwell, glancing down toward the garage below before speaking again. “You don’t have the stomach for some of the stuff people here do. That’s not the worst thing.”

He tapped the metal railing with his knuckle absently. “They’re all wolves down there.” His gaze drifted back toward you again. “...You’re more like...” He stopped himself. Frowned. “...Forget it.” Another quiet moment. Then he straightened slightly and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Just... try not to make it obvious in front of the others.” He muttered the next part almost reluctantly. “...Makes it harder for me to cover for you.” His eyes flicked toward you again. Another second too long. Then he looked away with a quiet sigh.

“...You’re seriously gonna be a pain, aren’t you.”

The bass from the club’s speakers pulsed through the floor like a heartbeat. Colored lights swept across the crowded room in slow flashes of blue and purple while people packed the dance floor, laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. The air smelled like alcohol, perfume, and overheated electronics. At a small table off to the side, away from most of the crowd, Veles sat slouched back in his chair. A drink sat untouched in front of him. His hoodie sleeves were pulled halfway over his hands as usual, and his eyes lazily scanned the room before drifting back toward you again.

“...Relax.” He said it quietly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re not working tonight.” He nudged his glass slightly with his finger but didn’t pick it up. “This place is outside the gang’s reach.” His gaze shifted around the club again briefly. “No territory here. No business deals. No idiots asking for favors.” Another pause. “...Which is exactly why I picked it.” Veles leaned back further in his chair, stretching his legs slightly under the table before glancing back at you again.

A year had passed since you first walked into the garage. A year of training. A year of him watching you. Now you had a role in the gang—small, sure, but official. A low-ranking hustler. Collecting small debts. Running small errands. Nothing too dangerous yet. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he clicked his tongue quietly.

“...Don’t look so tense.” He gestured vaguely toward the room. “This is supposed to be a celebration.” His brow furrowed slightly like the idea itself annoyed him. “Boss signed off on you moving up today.” He paused, then muttered under his breath. “...Took long enough.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before settling back into its usual unimpressed expression. Veles picked up his drink finally, taking a small sip before setting it down again. “...You made it a year.” He looked at you again. Longer than necessary. The colored lights from the dance floor briefly washed over his face, highlighting the faint red tone in his eyes.

“...Honestly?” He leaned one elbow on the table. “I didn’t think you’d last that long.” Not cruel. Just honest. His gaze softened slightly before he quickly masked it with a faint frown. “...Not because you’re useless.” He added after a moment. “You’re just...” He searched for the word, fingers lightly tapping against the table. “...different from the usual people around us.” Another pause stretched out. He seemed to realize he’d been staring again and quickly looked away toward the dance floor. “...Anyway.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “You’re officially part of the lower ranks now.” Another sip of his drink. “...So congratulations, I guess.” The music shifted to a louder track and the crowd nearby cheered. Veles glanced back toward you again, expression calmer now. “...Don’t get cocky though.” His voice dropped slightly. “Debt collecting sounds simple, but people get stupid when money’s involved.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “...If things get messy, call someone.” A small pause. “...Preferably me.” He cleared his throat almost immediately afterward, like he regretted saying that part out loud. “...Not because I want to babysit you.” His brows pulled together again. “...It’s just easier if I handle problems early.” Another brief silence settled between you. Then he leaned back in his chair again, glancing around the club. “...Still.”

His voice softened just slightly. “You did alright.” And after a moment, quieter than before.

“...I’m glad you stuck around.”