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Post by Nicolai on May 2, 2009 16:25:39 GMT -5
Nicolai hadn't been in America long. Just a few days. He still felt like he was in Russia, working on Russian time. So he was out and about in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep. He was restless, and there were only a few things that could calm him down. So he decided to go out and look for a fight. Not the best idea, especially in Durkheim, but Nicolai just couldn't help himself.
He drove to the South side; if there was any place he could find a fight, it'd be there. He was unarmed; he didn't want a weapon. He wanted to come home the next morning with bleeding knuckles and a smile.
He parked his car alongside the curb and stepped out. He knew he was in front of a restaurant owned by the Nealons. That'd be sure to attract attention, even though the place was closed. Nicolai leaned against his car and lit up a cigarette. He had done his part. Now it was time for trouble to look for him.
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