As they drive away from the Kirov tower, Kirov looks back to see Krisi and Vasko, still crying their eyes out. He focuses on the road as he cuts through traffic, frantically trying to get to the motorway. Right before they get on the motorway, they reach an overpass, where Kirov pulls over.
"We are swapping cars, who knows if we have a tail or not." Krisi and Vasko don't give an oral response, simply getting out of the car and into the other car, which Kirov had parked under the overpass, who knows when. As they got back on the road, they got onto the motorway and saw a sign,
"Greece - 270KM"
Kirov put his foot on the pedal and didn't pull back until he was going almost twice the speed limit. That sign kept flashing in Kirov's head. 270 kilometres until they were safe. Until they were free. He just needed to keep driving.
At some point, Krisi and Vasko fell asleep. True exhaustion doesn't care about grief, about loss. Kirov looked back to see them, Vasko and his head resting on Krisi's shoulder, her eyes still red and dried out. He saw the sign for Greece and took out two tickets from the glove compartment. They were Marto's tickets. One ferry to Alexandria, and then a plane ticket to Night City. He scrunched the tickets and threw them out of the window. It wasn't meant to go like this. Marto was meant to be in the NUSA, Krisi and Vasko were meant to be in Serbia, and Kirov… Kirov didn't know where he was meant to be. He did know, however, where he was going.
Morning came and passed, and the morning light woke up Krisi in the back of the car. She took a look around out the window, and realised that she was in Greece.
"We're a long way from Sofia."
"You could say that." Kirov looked into the rear-view mirror as he answered her. As he looked into her eyes, for a fleeting moment, he forgot why he was on the road, why he was running, and what he was running away from. It wasn't the police or Kang Tao. If he went back to Sofia, he knew that he could come out on top. Take his role as the rightful heir to the Kirov syndicate. Make sure that Krisi and Vasko were safe. But that was it. He had finally taken the step that he had been too afraid to take his whole life.
They made their way to Kalamata and left the car at the port. Kirov turned to the others,
"The plan has changed, we won't be able to take a ferry or a plane. Too much heat at the moment. There is a cargo ship leaving for the NUSA in an hour or so. That's our new way out"
"How will we get on the ship? Isn't there security?" Vasko asks as they get out of the car,
"The ship is carrying some contraband from Sofia. I know the captain, and he will let us through." The three of them were still too tired to have any real conversation, so they made their way towards the port.
They find themselves in front of a cargo ship, with the last bits of cargo being loaded on as they watch. They walk up the stairs and onto the ship, Kirov leading them directly to the bridge.
"Kalimera, captain," Kirov calls out, as everyone in the room turns to him.
"Kalimera Kyriakos! What brings you to my ship? I hope nothing has gone wrong with our arrangement." Kirov notices the bottle of ouzo on his desk,
"Of course not, you old drunk, however, if you ever watched the news instead of drinking all day, you might know that business is going to change for you." The captain looks at Kirov with a confused look on his face,
"Kyriakos… There are only two certainties in this life: that there will always be product to be moved, and that I will turn over a bottle of ouzo every day. Anything else doesn't bother me. I do need to ask, though… If you are not here on business, then why are you here?"
"My friends and I will be stowaways for this journey. We don't eat or drink much, we will try not to be a burden on you."
"Kyriakos… I'm a Greek, and my crew are mostly Greek. Do you think we worry about not having enough food on this ship?" Kirov smiled as he heard this,
"Thank you, Captain, it's always been a pleasure doing business with you." Kirov turned and exited the bridge with Krisi and Vasko. They make their way to the living quarters and immediately collapse onto the beds, falling asleep faster than they could realise.
Time passes as they get accustomed to life on a ship. Late mornings, later nights as they found the company of the captain and his ouzo. It took them a few days to shake off that feeling that they were being chased, that someone would come to get them at any moment. But that feeling passed, or at least it did for Krisi and Vasko. Kirov couldn't get his head straight, feeling like he was living on borrowed time. Like he should have been the one they left behind at the Kirov tower… Not Marto.
Days turned into weeks, and one fortunate morning, they finally saw land. Kirov was standing on an observation deck looking out at the coastline, smoking a cigaruette, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"What do you see, Kirov?" Krisi looked deep into Kirov's eyes, waiting for his response,
"I see a coastline, I think I can make out New York City."
"No Kirov… I mean, behind the coast, behind the buildings. What is in front of you?" Kirov paused for a moment, not sure how he should respond. He knew that Krisi was aiming for something deeper, some bombshell revelation that he frankly did not have.
"I don't know Krisi. I don't know what you want me to say."
"We still haven't talked about what happened at the tower, with your father… and Marto."
"There isn't much to say. I killed my father and let Marto get killed. I failed as a son and a friend."
"You only failed in your father's perception of you as a son, and about Marto… I still have nightmares thinking about what happened that night. But I know one thing for sure. Marto didn't die as an excuse for us to wallow away and waste the opportunity he gave us."
"I know this, do you think I don't-"
"No Kirov! I don't think you know. I don't think you truly know that it wasn't your fault he died." Kirov looked away from her, not being able to meet her gaze in that moment.
"It's just not right… Marto was meant to be on this boat. Not me." Krisi looked at Kirov as he stared off into the distance. She didn't have the words to make it make sense to him. She looked over and saw a figure off on a faraway deck.
"Kirov, look over there," she pointed over to the figure. It was Vasko. He was typing away on a laptop as he took in the sun, "What do you see?" Kirov was getting annoyed at this line of questioning,
"I don't know Krisi, Vasko doing Vasko stuff."
"Exactly, Kirov." She puts her hand onto Kirov's, "Vasko is sitting there, doing who knows what on that laptop, getting ready for his new life. Because of you." Kirov kept looking at Vasko, not sure how to respond, "Don't you think you owe it to Vasko, to Marto, to me? To use this chance at a new life, and truly take what you want, not what someone has told you to want."
Kirov looked down at Krisis, who hadn't had his hand on his, he pulled his hand away, only to pull her into a hug,
"You know something?"
"Yeah, Kirov?" Pulling her into a kiss, he pulled back, looked out at the horizon, and said,
"I hate it when you are right."