{Edited} The Tiger's Bourbon - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

EDITED - August 7th 2026

Chapter 1: The Restaurant.

Axel exhaled through his nose. The building in front of him had not aged well.

“So, this is it, huh?”

Tucked into a narrow graffiti-covered alleyway in Lower Manhattan, a small building sat wedged between its neighbors. With warehouses on each side, it stood like a different-colored block in a Jenga tower, wedged so tight the surroundings seemed to have grown around it.

A quaint little blue door with peeling paint, dust-covered opaque glass windows, and a barely legible plaque with the address nailed into the wall was all that stood out from its surroundings to show a building was there in the first place.

Ocean blue eyes stared down at a cracked, faded sign barely hanging from the door.

{The Titan’s Bourbon}

He could almost hear the innocent laughter of his younger self a decade before, excitedly running to the door to rush inside and see his favorite person in the world.

Yet now, the faded sign alone was a better tell of where he was than the actual address plaque on the wall.

A sigh left his lips as he thumbed an old key in his pocket, debating going inside, yet not wanting to tarnish the memory of what once was.

The restaurant was inherited from his late uncle. A man with a perpetual smile who instilled in Axel a dream of being a chef. A dream that led him to work part-time jobs throughout high school, and to take out atrocious student loans on top of that, all so he could go to culinary college.

Axel just wanted to cook. His parents never supported him, and he only ever had himself to rely on.

‘Besides Uncle Jeff.’ A quirk of his lips was all he let himself show at that thought.

The man had a way of bringing a feeling of magic to the kitchen that left a seed of longing and desire in Axel's young mind that a decade of hardship never washed out.

Axel rolled his shoulders with a sigh and inserted the key into the door, pushing it open on a creaky hinge. Small chimes jingled dully above him, the sound piercing through his dull mood with fond memories of his childhood.

Sunlight streamed in through the open door, illuminating the simple rectangular space inside. Even covered in dust and cobwebs, Axel could only smile at the sight. ‘Hasn’t changed a bit.’

Light hardwood floors, walls, and crossbeams all the way to the far end, where a wooden bar counter with a few fallen-over stools lay, an open kitchen on the other side.

‘Same old place. Just…older, I guess.’ A chuckle escaped him as he flicked the light switch, only for his humor to die in the next second as it did nothing. ‘…Lightbulbs need to be changed. Wonderful.’

It had been a decade since Uncle Jeff passed, when Axel was barely fourteen years old. The man’s will had offered the restaurant to Axel in name, but his parents tried to sell it for the money. Money they didn't need since his uncle had passed along his savings as well. Savings that were supposed to help Axel's college fund yet were taken to satisfy his parents’ vices.

Thankfully, the restaurant always became too much of a hassle to sell. Some kind of issue cropped up every time they tried, making the cost of getting it on the market far too much to deal with. And in the end, Axel got his wish and was given the deed when he turned eighteen.

So, when he quit his last job, he packed up and went to the last option he had. The one card his emotions refused to let himself take for years out of youthful pride.

The small, run-down, out-of-the-way restaurant filled with the best memories of his life.

Flicking on his phone’s flashlight, Axel stepped inside, waving away the spiderwebs as he stepped through a dusty curtain over the empty doorway to the side of the bar. ‘Seems like the start to a horror movie in here. That or a rat infestation. God, I hope it’s the horror movie scenario.’

Thankfully for his sanity, nothing of the sort appeared on the other side. Only a few feet separated the bar top from the wall. A glass cabinet stood there, sliding door shut, the liquor it once held long gone.

An older model cash register screwed into the wood was placed behind the bar, along with a cabinet beneath it holding dusty placemats and cutlery sets for guests.

The kitchen itself extended from the inside of the bar, where the guests couldn't see, in a long, narrow rectangular lane with the fridge, sink, stove, kitchenware, and such on both sides leading to an open doorway with a staircase at the far wall.

'Hm, seems smaller.' He was under five feet tall the last time he'd been there, and the place seemed massive to his young self. Yet now, at over six feet with broad shoulders, the space seemed much more average. 'Oh yeah, I used to call Uncle Jeff, Mr. Incredible, with the size comparison between him and the kitchen.' A fond snort left his lips. 'He would just laugh and take it in stride. Saying he wouldn't have it any other way and that his kitchen was his home.'

Axel pointed his flashlight at a section of the wall, seeing the faint lines where his uncle would playfully measure his height in between his yearly visits, now covered in layers of dust and mildew. ‘I miss you, Mr. Incredible.’

He rubbed a thumb over the faint line and shook his head. ‘He’d cuff me over the head for getting sentimental. ‘A chef’s tears are only for cutting onions’.’ A soft laugh dispelled his mood at one of his uncle's favorite lines.

He turned the light back toward the kitchen and stepped through the doorway, shoes tacky against the unwashed tile.

To the right, a set of sturdy stairs led up to the apartment area on the second floor. To the left, a locked door without a knob remained just as it was years before. ‘He never did let me in there. Always said it was where the ‘magic’ happened.’

The door had a keyhole, but Axel only received one key for the building, which was for the front door. He tried fiddling with the keyhole now, but nothing came out of it, and he suddenly felt like it wasn't worth the effort. 'I'll try to change the locks later.'

He turned away with an almost unnatural degree of disinterest before climbing the stairs to check out the apartment.

The lights were still out, but he easily toured the area with some natural light coming in through the large windows. A single open area with two sliding doors, one for the closet and another for the bathroom. All covered in dust, dead insects, and in various states of disarray. Yet even without the flashlight, it would still be lit by the large, slanted, opaque skylight letting in sunlight. As much as could get through the filthy glass anyway.

Sheets covered the king-sized bed frame lacking a mattress and an old couch, but almost every smaller piece of furniture was gone. 'Vultures really sold off whatever they could fit through the door.' The thought irked Axel. His uncle's place was well taken care of and filled with cool stuff when he was a kid.

‘A lesson in reality.’ Axel remembered his mother’s slurred words as she tipped back a wine glass. ‘Yeah, you guys were my first warning signs of the challenges ahead.’

He should have been angry, but frankly, Axel was beyond caring. His parents crossed the line when they had the balls to ask him for money for their extravagant vacations after years of pretending he didn’t exist once he was out the door. ‘Good riddance.’

He wouldn't call his parents cruel; they were just a delusional couple who never planned nor wanted a kid. 'What did they even expect by not using a condom, a plasma TV?'

Tossing that topic aside into the mental trash bin, Axel flipped off the flashlight and exhaled, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. He plopped down on the edge of the covered bed frame, hearing it creak under his weight, and really took in the state of things. "Well, it could be worse."

He was tired. His eyebags were so deep that it became the norm for others to ask if he wore eyeliner. He was done. Done with people. And done taking orders from others.

He had a place to stay. A place to work with only himself in charge. A kitchen to call his own. ‘My stuff is out by the street, but I’m going to need to clean this place up first.’

Axel opened his banking app to check his account. ‘Enough for a couple months, not much leftover with student loans and utility fees, but hey, no rent.’

Axel stopped for a moment to appreciate that simple pleasure before moving on.

'The kitchen has all the necessities, even if old and dirty. The tables and utilities are all still there and seem to be working. All this place really needs is a deep clean and the stuff I have in the truck.'

He inhaled through his nose and reached into his pocket, pulling out an old photograph with his twelve-year-old self standing next to the towering bald-headed man of muscle with a bold blonde handlebar mustache that was his uncle. "I'll fight till the end, uncle. Thanks for one final gift."

Standing up with a deep exhale, Axel dropped the photo on the bed sheet and stretched his arms above his head. “Enough moping. Time to get to work.”

He cracked the windows to let the air in and headed for the stairs, unaware of the gentle breeze blowing the photo into the air, an unnatural force taking hold to move gently to the nightstand, conveniently cleaned of every speck of dust.

0000

Cleaning was a pain in the ass and Axel was ready to fight anyone who said otherwise.

A few hundred bucks of light bulbs, replacement parts, and cleaning supplies went down the drain as he scrubbed, wiped, vacuumed, mopped, bleached, and damn near power washed every inch of the interior.

Just cleaning the loft took an entire day and night, with him sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag, badly at that after a spider took issue with the eviction.

The following day was spent getting his stuff out of the truck, through the narrow kitchen and stairway without letting anything touch the filth, and moving them up to the apartment so he could organize it and sleep on his mattress.

'Thankfully, Uncle had a bed frame that could support his stupidly large body, and a decade passing didn't put much wear on it. The same with the couch, even if I had to thoroughly clean that thing.’ Axel flatly stared down at the random items on the floor. ‘I don't know why he had ninja stars and kunai stuck between the cushions, and I don't want to know why.'

Axel kicked them in a corner.

Surprisingly, the bathroom was small for a man his uncle's size, and Axel could have sworn he remembered it being twice its current size. The thought flew out of his mind when he practically fought a death match with the mold monster in the shower. 'I swear it howled at me.' 

On the third day, he took care of the stairway and dining area, which were mostly wood that he had to wipe down or mop. A few of the table supports also needed some shining, but luckily no damage was found.

The fourth and fifth days were focused on the kitchen and all the pots, pans, dishes, cooking utensils, cutlery, utilities, and everything in between; even the ceiling vents and behind the fridge.

Axel took a clean kitchen seriously, enough that he often fought with at least one co-worker in every culinary job he'd had. 'I can still hear Uncle's booming voice in my ears. CONSTANT CLEANLINESS.'

It was a lesson that stuck with Axel for life, considering the towering mass of muscle that would flex every time he said it with a look that said he knew exactly how silly he sounded, yet took it dead seriously. ‘A man that size should not take inspiration from Harry Potter books.’

The lesson was further reinforced by his uncle expounding why a clean kitchen was essential, with multiple mentally traumatizing, very rare, examples of what could happen if certain things weren't cleaned properly.

Day five ended with a sparkling kitchen so clean it would get a smile out of Mr. Clean, and a bone-tired Axel dropping face first into bed with a groan.

On day six, Axel waddled into the nearest home goods store with bed hair that looked like it had gone through a hurricane, barely conscious as he sipped ungodly amounts of caffeine.

Cans of paint, wood polish, a ladder, and everything else he needed were stocked up before he got to work on the final touch-ups.

He repainted the door, replaced the shoe-cleaning mat, polished the address plaque, and put up a new sign. 'I'll keep the spirit alive, Uncle, but I'll let your shop name rest with you.'

{The Tiger’s Bourbon}

If Uncle Jeff was a titan in body and mind, Axel was a tiger.

He never had the physique to match his uncle, but years of working in kitchens and his favorite hobby had built the lithe body of an athletic swimmer with broad shoulders.

Not to mention his attitude whenever someone offended his craft was downright murderous. If it weren't for his perpetual flat look, dark eyebags, and messy black hair, he might have even stood out as handsome.

The countless fights and struggles had only enhanced his solitary nature.

At the end of the sixth night since his entrance to the shop, Axel stood alone in his sparkling clean kitchen, put on one of his few sets of proper kitchen attire, and prepared to make himself his first meal in his own restaurant.

The only question was what to make.

Axel looked up at the framed photo of his Uncle on the wall and felt the nostalgia take hold. ‘A meal to remember the old and bring with it the new.’

His clothes rustled as he picked up his knife.

The knives weren't special; Axel never had the money for high-quality tools, but the ones he had were well cared for.

The pots and pans left over weren't special. All that was left were well-used but sturdy tools that an old craftsman would swear by.

The ingredients weren’t special, just something average bought half-off at the nearest corner grocery store with meager funds.

Yet none of that mattered. He wasn't making anything special. It wasn't a five-star meal fit for a king.

No, his first meal was a tribute to the man and the place that started the journey of his last decade.

Seafood Pot Pie.

The first meal his Uncle made for him. An iconic dish that started it all. A dish with the most positive memories Axel could recall of his childhood, and a dish that brought forth all the feelings of why he wanted to be a chef in the first place.

It's what inspired him to want to be a chef specializing in seafood.

It's what inspired countless hours, days, weeks, months, and years into studying the habitats of ocean life, where to find them, and most importantly, how to cook them.

It’s what inspired a dangerous hobby in the form of Free Diving. An activity that brought Axel closest to the world in which the ingredients he loved to cook lived.

Down in the depths, where the light faded and the silence became suffocating, he felt free. He felt alive. Like time stood still and the world was boundless.

But for as much joy as his hobby brought him, cooking was his true passion. And it began with a simple Seafood Pot Pie.

His knife gleamed in the light as it moved, cutting through vegetables in precise cuts that spoke of years of honed craft.

Heat ignited as Axel melted butter in a large saucepan, tossed in onion, fennel, celery, and carrot, the vegetables dancing through the air as he stirred until they turned gold, their rich scent spreading, slowly awakening a spirit once dormant.

He grabbed a bag of flour without a glance, the white powder falling through a strainer to gently coat the pan’s contents like a second skin.

Wine came next, adding an intoxicating aroma to the mix in a dazzling spray until it evaporated, leaving behind a lovely slurry.

Fish stock and cream followed, thickening the slurry into a creamy sauce that Axel had seen whet the appetites of even those who swore by meat for life.

A bit of seasoning with soft green peas, parsley, and a mix of crab meat, scallops, and shrimp rounded it out for a perfect filling.

Axel moved with barely a thought, actions so natural as emotion and memory guided him, letting the seafood cook through until it was time to move it over to a set of ramekins.

With the oven heating, he focused on the puff pastry, rolling sheets into squares before cutting them into quarters. Each sheet went over a ramekin, decoratively folded atop, and the edges cut in a personal style he preferred.

Egg shells fell away; their contents whisked in a bowl with heavy cream until he used the mixture to coat the pastry sheets.

A delicate touch of his knife scored a trio of small slits in the center of each sheet to allow steam to vent during cooking.

A final topping of fennel and parsley pressed gently into the pastry was the last step before they went into the oven, where they baked for forty minutes.

A wave of heat and the rich scent of glory escaped the oven as he pulled out the finished product of his labor.

Golden crusts glowed in the light. The crispness singing as Axel gently dragged a spoon across its molten surface. The satisfaction of witnessing it crumble like a lava cake as he pierced it, exposing its creamy mouth-watering treasure hidden deep within, was soul-cleansing.

[Image on QQ]

The first bite of that treasure didn’t send him on some euphoric trip, shedding his clothes in a shower of magical scenery, but it was a window through time.

The crust melted on his tongue, the buttery pastry spreading across his taste buds like a wave, bringing with it the bounty of the sea.

The temperature scorched his mouth, hot air leaving his lips, yet it only dragged him deeper into its molten depths.

Scallop blended into crab and shrimp, threaded with the fennel and hints of wine, an orchestra of oceanic flavor.

He ate with eyes closed, the spoon not stopping until it scraped the ramekin clean.

Axel was twelve again, sitting on a bar stool, swinging his legs excitedly, devouring his dish while booming laughter filled his bones with courage.

The courage to hope, believe, and strive.

Uncle Jeff smiled down on him from his place on the wall, a steaming pot pie resting beneath the frame.

A warm meal was worth a thousand comforting words, and that one meal soothed and awoke in equal measure, bringing Axel a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in longer than he cared to admit.

And when he collapsed into bed that night, he slept knowing everything was going to be alright.

Sleeping evenly as a soft rumble traveled through the entire building, his uncle’s smile only brightening as the moonlight shifted to one no longer Axel’s own.

Chapter End.