The sirens wailed in the distance. The dark grey sky hung above them like a shroud on this late January morning. A low winter sun peered out on the horizon as the warm crimson mass evacuated the small, opaque hole in the side of the criminals head. He ran from the scene, blindly firing his gun behind him as the other men gave chase, his boots stained with blood and leaving a trail for them to follow. Brutal would kill him for screwing this up, he was sure of it. Even worse, the thought that his boss might send Bugsy to do the deed made the terror welling up in his heart insurmountable. This part of town was new to him, he had no idea where he was. The line between Justice’s rich and Justice’s poor was an evident one, it was called Kenway Road. On this day, Stevie Kowalczyk found himself on the wrong side of it.

With the clip in his gun running low, Stevie dove into a car park and took a moment to catch his breath behind a 2004 Pontiac Aztek. He had maybe four bullets left and already had a knife wound in his thigh after the struggle during the deal. Stevie needed to play it smart. Then again, playing it smart wasn’t his style. This deal was of his own merit, behind Brutal’s back. Now that it’s gone wrong, the heat would fall on his employers and surely knowing their reputation, Stevie wouldn’t be long for this world much longer. The way he saw it, he had three options. Let the Jagielski’s punish him, let his pursuers have him or he could take it into his own hands. Go out on his terms. Glancing forward, Stevie hadn’t realised where he was until just then. The car park, it was for Francis J McKenna high school. The McKenna’s. Things were so much smoother when they were running the show. It had been five years since they were last in power, nobody knew exactly what happened to them all. The family that founded this dirty city, no longer dwelled within its walls.

Rushing onwards, Stevie ran through the maze of parked cars and into the school. If he was going down, he wasn’t going alone. The hallway was empty, bar a single teacher and student. The student being chastised for a lack of drive and ambition. It brought Stevie back to his own childhood which in hindsight wasn’t that long ago. How far he had fallen. The rage resurfaced and he cracked off two shots in the direction of the two stragglers. There was no going back now. He watched as the teacher fell back against the wall, a trail of blood appearing behind him as he slid to the ground. The boy stood tall for a moment, he was strong looking, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. Stevie knew his face but he could not put a name to it. The boy tried to stumble towards the classroom but he went down onto his knees, the pain in his chest too much. Walking up to the kneeling boy, Stevie pressed the barrel to the back of his head and executed him. A mercy killing, in his twisted view.

One bullet left but he felt like the most powerful man in the world. This hallway was his kingdom and as the sounds of sirens grew closer, the screams of the children in the other rooms evident. Stevie, in that moment, felt like the king of the mountain…

“God fucking damnit…” Jack growled, standing over one of the three dead bodies strewn about his cozy little apartment. There were bullet holes all over, nine-millimeter slugs buried in the walls and the couch he had ducked behind. There wasn’t much time to do what needed to be done, he had just killed three men in the fight, and sooner or later the cops were going to show up. But he couldn’t run just yet, his fingerprints were all over the apartment after all, and he had been in the United States Military. If they ran his prints it wouldn’t be long before they put together who he was, and that would be some serious bad news. With no time to lose, The Ferryman tore up the floorboards for his go-bag, containing thousands of dollars cash in six different currencies. In addition, there was a change of clothes, and a brand new 45 caliber
Throwing the vaccum-sealed bag into a black leather briefcase along with a box of bullets from his drawer, Jack set off for the closet. Tearing off his bloodstained clothes, The Ferryman donned a tacky black suit before running out into the hall to pull the fire alarm.

He could already hear police sirens approaching, pushing him to work faster. Inside a hidden panel in back of his closet were two jerry cans of gasoline, which he promptly poured over the entire apartment. Pulling out a cheap zippo from the suit pocket, he flicked the flint and tossed it in a pool of gas, fire spread quickly through the room and quickly engulfed the entire apartment. By that time, Jack had already grabbed his briefcase and fled down the stairs. As he rushed outside with the rest of the panicked tenants, turning back to the building he found the police waiting outside. They stared up at the flames escaping from his window, which had begun to spread to neighboring apartments. The men were too afraid to enter the building before the fire department showed up, so they just urged everyone to step away from the building. “Hey you, sir. Did you hear any gunfire before the fire started?“ One of the officers asked, directing his question at Jack.

“Oh, of course officer, it was terribly frightening! I was just getting ready to go to work this morning when I heard a big fight upstairs, I hope no one was hurt, but I fear the worst! It all started with what sounded like an automatic weapon, I think they must have hosed the place down! But then there was silence for a moment, followed by… Umm… I think it must have been four more shots? It’s just so terrible, I was much too afraid to check it out further, I’m sorry officer.” The Ferryman replied.

“Don’t be, that was extremely helpful, sir. Can I have your name and a number where we might be able to reach you for further questioning?”

“Of course, of course. It’s Daniel Merriwether, and you can reach me at my office, the number is 318-452-9067, my secretary will put you through. Please officer, don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do, I very much would like to see the men responsible put behind bars!” Afterwards the officer thanked Jack and moved on to the next witness while The Ferryman slipped away quietly around the corner.

It was just before 8:30 am as Agent Kevin McBride sat and waited outside the office of Mayor Andrea Valens. McBride was the special agent deployed to Justice on behalf of the FBI as part of a newly formed pilot project called the Multi-Jurisdictional Task Force on Organized Crime. That was the technical term on the books and not for everyone to know about otherwise the off the record name was "Rent-A-Fed." Her secretary had referred to Kevin by his undercover name and Kevin had said it so many times that when he heard it that it was second nature to him and he would respond immediately. He gave his boots one last check over to make sure they were decent looking. Maybe not exactly formal but nothing to be ashamed of either. Kevin was dressed in black denim jacket, a white oxford cloth shirt, and a nice pair of jeans. He couldn't wear a suit for his cover story but it was important to look at least presentable.

The door opened and Mayor Valens said, "Mr. Reid..." she extended her hand and said, "Nice to meet you welcome to Justice please come in."

"Reid" stood up,extended his hand and the two shook hands as he followed the Mayor into her office and said, "Thank you your honor."

As they entered the office Valens said to her secretary, "Brenda no calls until my meeting with Mr. Reid is over with."

She closed the door and said, "Please have a seat Mr. Reid, or should I say Special Agent McBride."

McBride replied sitting down, "Reid please hearing the name helps reinforce my cover for me."

Valens sat at her desk and said, "Very well." She tapped a folder and said, "Jason Reid reporter from the A-P doing a story on the rise of organized crime here in Justice." She nodded and said, "Very convincing cover story, and the fact that the FBI has ties with the A-P so they can verify who you are and that some articles float in every so often from you is a great advantage. It allows you to walk both sides of the street between the hoods and law enforcement. The only people who know who you really are myself, the Commissioner, and Captain Tryner. Let's keep it that way"

Reid nodded and said, "I'll do my part your honor. Just wanna help wherever I can."

Valens nodded and said, "Not to mention your service record is very impressive as well. I've known some in law enforcement who've been in your field twice as long as you who would sell their grandmothers to have 1/3 of the career you've had already. I have no doubt you're gonna be a tremendous resource in helping us get things done here."

Reid asked, "Why do I feel like you're getting ready to tell me that I'm about to be throw to the wolves?"

Valens shook her head and said, "Not really, but I do have one concern about you Agent McBride."

Kevin could sense what was coming and he nodded and said, "Stenson."

Valens nodded as well and said, "You made a very powerful enemy in him Agent McBride. I give you credit for taking a stand and having his son prosecuted I know more than a few who would've just walked away."

McBride shrugged his shoulders and said, "What can I say? His son tried to put a bullet in my skull between two guys that's kinda personal."

Valens chuckled and said, "Yeah that would make me a little grumpy too. All that being said Agent McBride if he should come around and start talking to certain people in the State Capital who want to think about cutting funding for us or things of that nature..." Valens took a deep breath and said, "Sorry and no offense but I will ask that you be removed from the Task Force immediately. I realize that would be a death blow to your career, and again I'm sorry but I have an entire city to think about."

McBride nodded and said, "Understood your honor."

Valens replied, "Good now then Mr. Reid you need to report to Assistant Deputy Commissioner Jesse Ryder down on the second floor room 214. He will give you your credentials, and I'll call Captain Tryner let her know you've arrived and to be expecting you at the MCU after you meet with Ryder."

Reid nodded and said, "Thank you your honor for your time." The two shook hands and Reid went to Ryder's office. When Reid arrived at Ryder's office the secretary paged Ryder and the secretary said to Reid, "If you'll just have a seat ADC Ryder will be with you in a moment."

Reid nodded and said, "Thank you."

Just then a door opened and an attractive auburn hair woman stepped out of the office pushing a stroller. She smiled politely at Reid as she walked by and Ryder approached the doorway and looked into the waiting room and said, "Mr. Reid? A-P writer? Come on in."

Jason replied, "Thank you."

Ryder closed the door and said, "Come in have a seat for a moment. Sorry for the delay my wife is getting ready to take our baby Emily in for her six month check up. Kind of a nervous time we're thinking Emily might be lactose intolerant need to wait and see." He pressed a button on his phone and said, "Claudia print out the files I just sent you and proof them and then bring them in."

Reid nodded and asked, "Your wife Penny was the one who had your current job before you?"

Ryder looked at him for a moment and Reid said, "Sorry I just like to familiarize myself with where I am and what's going on before I get embedded in an area." McBride did his homework on the hierarchy of Justice. It was quite a "coincidence" McBride thought that former ADC Penny Shultz resigned and within 2 days she and Ryder were married at City Hall, and then 9 months to the day Emily Ann was born. Penny three months later was offered and accepted a position on the Mayor's staff. She probably requested the day off for her daughter's appointment McBride thought.

Ryder nodded and said, "Good practice. Must explain how you've managed to survive being in so many hot spots and organized crime wars."

Reid replied, "Like to think a little bit of luck doesn't hurt."

Ryder said, "Trust me in this town you're gonna need all the luck you can get. You're going into the Major Crimes Unit where, as you know I just left there, you'll be working with Captain Tryner. She's young but good and has the potential of being great I know you're not a cop but treat her with the respect she deserves. Stay out of the way as much as you can, don't ask too many questions, don't try to be their friend, and speak when you're spoken too. Oh and keep your head down when the bullets start flying. I am giving you a carry conceal permit. Don't abuse it."

Reid nodded and said, "Thank you sir."

Ryder chuckled and said, "Don't thank me. You're going into a unique situation, but from what I've read of your stuff you'll be just fine there."

Claudia knocked on the door and Ryder said, "Come in." She brought the papers to Ryder and he replied, "Thank you" as Claudia nodded and left.

Ryder and Reid signed the forms. Ryder said, "Okay you're good to go. Report to Captain Tryner at MCU. I'll let her know you're on your way."

Reid stood up and the two men shook hands as Reid said, "Nice to meet you and hope things work out for your daughter ADC Ryder."

Ryder smiled and said, "Oh thank you Mr. Reid. Good luck if you need anything just tell Captain Tryner to call me."

Reid nodded and left to head to MCU.

Collab between Maxxorlord & Sheffield (Santiago & Edwin)

Even though he’d only been in town for a few days, Santiago had already become familiar with the noises that filled the airways in Justice, California. There were gunshots in the distance, as well as the blare of sirens that was steadily getting quieter as the unsuspecting Columbian walked down the sidewalk. Moreno glanced up at the greying sky of that morning, pulling his brown jacket closer against his own body to block out the cold. The man’s dark eyes darted up and down the street as he caught sight of his destination. An old beat up diner, who’s neon sign was only partially working. The man began to move with a bit more purpose about him as he pushed the double doors to the diner open.

The diner wasn’t much more impressive on the inside. There were barely a handful of people in the place, and most of them worked there. Santiago strode up to the cash register, a small grin on his lips as he anticipated the meeting to come. The girl behind the register grabbed a pair of menus and escorted him over to a booth in the corner that was well out of earshot of any of the other customers. Santiago slid into the booth and ordered himself a coffee. After a few minutes of sitting in the booth, he relaxed and slumped his shoulders a bit, peeling the brown jacket off his body and setting it with his ball cap. Perhaps dressing down for this particular meeting was a bad idea.. Santiago thought to himself, even though it was well out of his hands now.

Now all Moreno could do was wait for his client to arrive. In the mean time, he began to speculate. The man who had contacted him and set up this little meeting hadn’t given him much information, but what he had said had gotten Santiago a bit excited, which wasn’t normal. The job he was being offered was one that was going to pay well.

“Driving for hours, and this is the place you choose to meet him? Great..”

Edwin couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the comment from his right-hand, Agent Inning. The rest of the team had already proceeded to the small office-space that had been rented to serve as a HQ of sorts, however Edwin wanted to get this out of the way and set his plans in motion as quickly as possible. The two sat in the SUV, staring blankly at the run-down diner, the faint sound of gunshots and sirens already having been heard in the distance,
“Welcome to Justice.”

The two shared a laugh once more, before exiting the SUV which stood distinctly out amongst the other worn down vehicles, that likely hadn’t seen a garage since their production.There was a distinct grandiose demeanor around the two as they walked into the diner, proudly flaunting their wealth to the clearly impoverished regulars of the diner, through their finely-tailored suits and other designer accessories. They remained standing at the entrance for a short while, as they surveyed the diner for the columbian, before walking with a great pomposity towards him. Taking a seat directly across from Santiago, they ushered the girl with a menu away with a wave of the hand,
“Aha! My young columbian prodigy, I’m glad we could meet in person at such short notice. I must admit, you look exactly as I had guessed.” Edwin rested his arms on the table separating the two, removing his shades and sliding them onto the collar of his shirt,

“Now, let’s get straight to business, hm? I’m an awfully busy man. So. The Jagielskis. Typical scumbags making a living through drugs, crime and most importantly for me, illegal arms. I need you to get involved with these scumbags, and I need you to get deep. You already look the part, so that’s a start. Now I don’t particularly give a shit about if they have drugs, that’s the DEAs deal, and I ain’t DEA. I care about the guns, and the murders committed with guns. I’m going to assume they aren’t using registered guns with serial numbers, nor will they be using legit bullets. Had they done so, if the local police had half a brain they’d have likely traced the gun-crime back to the family. Now, I need you to get me proof of their guns, illicit deals and murder. Along with any other criminal shit you can get, anything extra to get them on will do well in a court.”

Edwin loosened his shoulders, reclining back into the chair as he reached into his pocket, removing a small, black phone that resembled a brick, and proceeded to casually place it on the table, before sliding it across to Santiago.
“This phone is going to be your main tool. It’s got an inbuilt tracker, so we’ll know where you are, doesn’t matter if you’re at a whore-house, or Jagielski HQ. You’ll use this phone to record any conversations that directly relate to acts of crime, or mention past crimes. Get photos of crimes committed by the family, their guns, and most importantly, get me locations. You’ve got two speed dials on the thing. The first speed dial phones us, and you only do that if you’ve got something bloody important to say. The second also phones us, yet that will go to an automated response and will log your current location, so it’s vital that you only use the second speed dial when you’re at any local Jagielski HQ, warehouses or anything of the sorts.You know, spots of importance, use your initiative. We’ll be phoning you every once and a while to check in, and make sure you haven’t changed sides. Believe me, if you stick with us and see this through, we’ll make you rich. You screw us, and I swear you won’t see daylight for the rest of your very, very long life. Or even better, you won't see anything at all, you’ll be ten-feet under. Too late to back out now anyway. We won’t be paying you upfront, so dont even ask. As soon as you get involved with the Jagielskis, we’ll set aside funds monthly for you, and pay you each month until the deal is closed. Five grand a month, in cash. Now believe me, it took a lot to get the agency to fork out the funds for that, so I expect top quality information, or the cash stops. You’re in bed with the ATF now, and you have the chance to reap the rewards that come along with that.”

Edwin reclined back into the chair once more, a smirk crossing his face as he hailed over the girl, ordering a black coffee.

Santiago recognized the two men as his clients the second he spotted them walk into the diner. No wealthy man would ever walk into a place like this, even just to use the bathroom. Monero couldn’t help but think that their pompous attitude and expensive clothing would attract far too much attention. He wouldn’t dare say anything to them, however. They were going to be paying him so much he’d sooner lick their shoes clean before insulting them.

When one of the wealthy men spoke and greeted Santiago, he put on a warm smile.”Hello.” Santiago greeted them, his accent rather evident. He was about to offer a hand to the man, but his client seemed to be a man of business. That was something Santiago could respect. Santiago leaned slightly forward as the man began to brief him on the job at hand, paying close attention to his every word and mannerism. Santiago was sure that the man had insulted his appearance once or twice within his little speech, but that was of no concern to Santiago. At least not yet. The young Colombian furrowed his brow as he considered the depth of the operation he was going to have to get involved in. The Jagielski’s were the biggest syndicate in town at this time, and as such they were the worst kind of people to cross. If he were to be discovered, his life would most assuredly be over.

Moreno’s eyes darted down towards the old look phone as it slid over towards him. He picked the device up and began to examine it as he listened to the agent speak. Santiago glanced up at the AFT agent as he mentioned the amount he’d be paid. Moreno began to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of dragging this operation out. He would get more money, sure, but the longer Santiago stuck around the more time the Jagielski family had to figure out he was working both sides. He finally settled that he would just do his job for as long as it took.

The Colombian placed the phone into his back pocket, looking at the wealthy man across from him.”I’ll do it, but I’ve got a few questions.” Santiago said, losing his smile from earlier.”Will you and your colleagues come to my aid if I am discovered? And how can I be sure that I will not be prosecuted as well when I help you bring the Jagielski family down?” Santiago voiced his concerns to the ATF agents before him.

Edwin gulped down some of the black coffee that had recently arrived at the table, listening to the questions from Moreno, before being handed a blue folder with the ATF badge clearly visible on the front by the agent sat next to him. Smacking the folder down onto the table, he flicked it open, taking a pen out of his pocket and placing it onto the page shown and then pushing the folder across to Moreno,
“This should ease your worry. That document gives you immunity from all crimes so long as you provide evidence to lock the Jagielski Syndicate away. In other words, gives you free reign to do bad shit so that you fit in with the scumbags surrounding you. As for your protection, this document places you in ATF protection as an asset. If you get discovered, then you call the first speed dial, explain the situation, and we can have an ATF team in to retrieve you within an hour or so. Until the armed team reaches you, I’ll have my agents bring you to the local police station. You’ll be safe there.
I’ll need you to sign that document, however. You wont need to appear in court. The document merely recognises this as being a legitimate deal, and that any evidence exchanged can be properly used in a court, amongst granting you immunity and protection.”

Santiago looked down at the document that was slid across the table. He picked up the pen, skimming over the document to check its legitimacy. After he was satisfied, Santiago signed his name on the line at the bottom of the document. The man’s words had calmed Santiago’s fear that they would abandon him if the job went southward.”I’ve got one more question. Do you have any idea how I could contact the Jagielski’s? I’m not exactly involved in Justice’s underground right now, so I’ve no idea how I could get employed over there.” Santiago took a deep breath. This whole situation was extremely dangerous. Perhaps the most dangerous thing he’d done since he joined The Circuit. There way no backing out of this one, though. He was in too deep.

Edwin had been expecting that question, having known Moreno was a new arrival to Justice, much like himself in some respects.
“I’ve got another meeting set up. I may be able to get somebody already on the inside, and if so, they’ll be able to get you in. I’ll be sure to check in with the local PD, find out who they know is ‘in’ with the gang, and then relay that information to you.
Until such a time, I can only advise you use your initiative. With the experience and skillset you have, I’m certain the gang would find a use for you, should you make your presence known. The gang are more prevalent in the docks, actually. I’d suggest starting there, as you’re likely to find small-time members of the gang there. Make yourself known in that area, prove your worth. These guys are the typical animalistic scumbags you’d expect. You prove your strength, and you’ll no doubt be in.”

Edwin reached over the table, picking up the folder and the pen as he rose from the seat with the other agent.
“Use your initiative, hell, we ain’t paying you that much for nothing, ‘eh.”
With that, Edwin reached to his collar as he donned his shades, holding the folder under his armpit and giving the columbian a final nod, making his exit from the diner.

“Aww, Liam. What?” Keela rolled over in bed to find herself looking at her son. Liam was bouncing on his chubby little legs, peeking up at his mother as he held onto the sheets of her bed with a frown on his face – His hair had become darker and he was looking so much like his father. The ten month old had learned how to climb out of his crib on his own, leading his parents to keeping their door open and putting up baby gates so he only had one place to go.

She gave the baby a light smile and pulled him into bed, resting on her back as a warmth overcame her when he held onto her. Oliver had already gotten up and he was most likely outside working on his Harley; he was always tinkering with that thing. Nuzzling his soft skin gently, she inhaled deeply; God, she loved the smell of babies. But who didn't? He gave a soft gurgle afterward, grabbing at her hair. “Mummm.” Oh, she loved how he said that! But she loved everything he did. Except when he filled his diaper.

With him in her arms, she rolled out of bed and proceeded with her usual morning routine, starting with a diaper change and breakfast. She sang as she cooked, Liam banging together his bowl and sippy cup from his highchair. “Oliver! Come inside!”, she called out for her fiance, beginning to set the plates, letting Liam's food cool down. He was just like his father – He ate his pancakes with syrup, strawberries, and Lucky Charms. Keela thought it was peculiar, but she was the one who put chocolate syrup, chicken, and sugar on her toast with mayo.

Oliver came indoors from the garage, having already been on his way inside when Keela called for him. He was almost knocked back by the scent of ham, pancakes, and eggs when he entered the kitchen, smiling as he kissed Keela's cheek. “You're up early. Liam woke you?” He released her to place a kiss on top of his son's head. This was how their life had been for the past six months. They got jobs, a house, and lived a domestic life. They weren't worried about people trying to kill them or pondering over whether or not a deal would end well. There were no deals. It was just them. They were able to spend even more time together now that she was on break until her second semester.

They didn't mind that their talks at the table were about trivial matters, speaking a lot about work and celebrities. She had a dance competition coming up in Anaheim and they were making their travel plans, deciding to take a week off work to get there early so they could go to Disneyland. She had actually been really excited about it and they'd been talking about going, but they never did. Next week was their chance.

“So – Have you sent out the wedding invitations yet?” Oliver looked up from his plate, gauging her expression as she replied. He was surprised when she gave a light grin. “I have – Mum thinks that Spring weddings are the best. I think she's really excited for the chance to go to the Bahamas.” The two exchanged smiles as she examined the ring on her finger, the light fading from her eyes for a moment. “Haven't heard from the boys yet...I think Em's coming. Mat's coming. Haven't heard from Lib, but I don't think I want her coming.”

Oliver could tell that she was upset that she hadn't received a reply from her brothers yet, knowing that their opinion meant a lot to her. He reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don't worry, love. Everything's going to be fine.” It wasn't very reassuring, but she gave him her best smile anyways. “I know, darling. Eat up – Liam's got an appointment this afternoon.”

"BALL THREE"
Bellowed the Umpire behind homeplate, Scott stepped back out of the batters box, the pitch count was now full, three balls two strikes, two outs, tying run at second base, bottom of the ninth inning. "No pressure", Scott kept repeating to himself as he swung the bat back and forth lazily as the opposing teams catcher tossed the ball back to the pitcher, with the count full, and two outs already,Scott knew the pitcher had no choice but to throw the ball in the strike zone. Scott smiled to himself, he'd been on a hitting streak for the past week, if the ball was anywhere close to the strike zone, he was gonna tag it good.

Scott looked up into the stands behind homeplate, the two seats he had reserved for his Brothers were both empty, as they normally were. Three years of playing College ball they'd not shown up for a home game, the Ticket manager for the team had done his best to persuade him to relinguish his tickets a year ago, but Scott had held out hope at least one of them would show up, hell the game was even right here in Justice against the local University and still no Brothers. "Screw both of ya", he muttered under his breath, some kids shouted out his name and he turned to wave, the local paper had written up a story on how a local boy was returning home despite being on the rival team, but he was pretty sure it was because his last name was Jagielski.

He was about to step back in the batters box when he caught a glimpse of kids chaperone, an attractive long haired redhead, her deep green eyes noticed him looking and smiled coyly, Scott gave her a quick grin then at the Umpires urging got back the the batters box and settled into his stance, bringing the bat back to his shoulder. He watched as the pitcher nodded his head at whatever signal the catcher had given him, watched as he wound up, pitching arm comng over at the three quarter position, Scott tensed, the ball left the pitchers hand but went high and wide, Scott grinned and adjusted his stance, in stead of coming in hard and fast, the pitcher was trying to catch the corner of the strike zone with a curveball, but unfortunately the pitcher released the ball to soon and it floated high and instead of breaking down over the corner of the strike zone, the curveball broke downward across the center of the plate. Scott waited a fraction of a second as the ball broke down, adjusted his left foot to open up his stance then swung then for the fences.

The crack of the ball hitting the bat and then launching into the air like a cannonball ,brought the Bruin fans to their feet. Scott took off running for first base as the crowd roared and the radio announcers excitingly discribe the hit,

" HOLY COW sportsfans, number 21 Jagieski just crushed all of the pitch, the pitcher hung a high curve ball and Jagieski's making him pay for it....its going, going... no wait, its dropping, flags around the left field are blowing in, the balls caught in the crosswind and dropping, the winds been sporadic the whole game..... the center fielders running back but running out of room, he's at the warning track, I think the ball's still gonna clear the wall but its gonna be close, fielders at the wall, he's jumping.... AAWW MAN , AAAWW MAN, WHAT A CATCH AN INDEFENSIBLE CATCH, I DONT BELIEVE IT, The fielder just leaped up, hung his mit over the wall and stole the game winning hit from Jagieski and the UCLA Bruins, OUTSTANDING defensive play, and that ends the ball game folks thanks for listening and join as on Monday when Justice University takes on San Franciso A&M".

Scott had rounded second base and going to third when the third base coach waved him off just as the home team started jumping up and down then running out to swarm their pitcher, he looked around confused at first then he looked up to see the replay of the catch on the stadiums large screen video display. "Well son of a bitch" was all he could say as he turned and walked back to the visiting teams dugout.

This fight has had specialists from all over the world talking, Joe. While not really something special in and of itself, it has been talked about by Mixed Martial Arts fans around the world. Many for, and many against, what are your thoughts?

Well, Mike, bringing a fighter out of prison to fight in an official event is never something that is going to go unheard of, and there are many eyes on Garilov now, as he is entered the country, going through customs. He is going to attend a Q&A press conference soon, and we will be able to see how well he does. His history in official fights has been nothing short of amazing. 15-0 is his record, with 13 knockouts, and 2 submissions. He has been under the current rules of the UFC, but that was almost ten years ago now. Fighting in prison is different from fighting in the octagon. But, without a doubt, while there's controversy surrounding this fight, it is also estimated to be one of the most watched events since the beginning of the UFC.

I can't help but agree. He is a very versatile fighter, and very complete on the ground, grappling and on his feet, although his main strength, from what we can see, is from his striking power. His high and low kicks are very powerful and very fast. His punching is a little slow, but it's made up for in accuracy and the pure strength behind the blows. His opponent next Saturday night is former Light-Heavyweight Champion Max Jones, who, if he wins will be going for another shot at the title that he lost last summer to Mike Rhames, from Canada. But, from what we can see, he will have one hell of a fight ahead of him, make no mistake. Jones' strength is obvious. He is a power wrestler, former Boxer and with a black-belt in Muay-Thai and BJJ, Garilov and Jones are very alike in style, but I think Jones has the advantage in technique, Joe.

(Swtiches to screen to Max Jones) This guy's an internet sensation, and that's all he is. Justice is my town, it's where I fight, and it's where I win. The guy can dance around all he likes, but he is gonna have a hard time getting through me. I get the title in my sights, baby, and ain't no punk ass Russian gonna take that away from me.

(Back to Mike and Joe) Well, there you have it, from the man with a plan and sights on the belt once more. You can look up the logo of the fight on ufc.com. The main event will be the fight between Rhames and Mark Brokovich for the Light-Heavyweight belt, but most eyes will be on the Garilov vs. Jones next Wednesday.



The air here was different. From the moment that he stepped off of the plane, he felt the dense heat that this place was covered in. He enjoyed heat, for the most part, but the climate shock wasn't good. He shook his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Once he had been released from prison, he had been taken to a hotel, where he had been scrubbed down. Then the tests, which in his opinion were stupid. Where the fuck was a guy to get performance enhancing drugs in prison? Crude poisons, yes. Recreational drugs with certainty. But not steroids and the like.

Next he had been taken to a shopping mall. Again, stupid, but the press boys wanted something other than a scraggly Russian to appear on the logos of their event. Barbershop first, to trip his goatee and make his hair more stylish. He growled at the very word. Next a clothing store, where they bought everything for him from training gear to suits, ties and underwear. His look for now, they decided, would a long, leather trench coat, reaching to his ankles, a suit underneath and wearing a felt fedora. They said it made him look... what was it... gangstah? He supposed that they meant intimidating.

He was treated to a fine meal, and a nice night of rest in the most comfortable bed that he had slept in... well, his entire life, he supposed. Then, an early rise, going to the gym to be walked through several training exercises to see what kind of shape he was in. The gorilla of a man that was training him gave him one look and said that he was ready to step into the ring at that moment, but sponsors had to be placated and assured, so they just went through the motions. He was in perfect shape, and he didn't need any fucking doctors to tell him so. He never drank overmuch, never smoked anything past the occasional cigar that he could get his hands on in jail. Recreational drugs were untouchables to him, along with the people that used them. The fact that the men that had worked behind the scenes to get him this far made their bread and butter off of these people disgusted him. While it hadn't been told to him directly, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that the rumors were that his long-estranged brother was currently residing in the US. He also knew that nobody stepped out of prison without a nod from the Mob bosses, and they didn't nod unless they needed something done on the outside. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what was going on. He was being sent to find his brother. Maybe even kill him with his own hands.

Two weeks in Moscow had been spent training, filling out forms, signing papers that meant that his name and face were allowed to be used by the UFC logo to make money for them, more training, more paper signing, more tests, pictures taken with him in his new trunks and his most intimidating look to go on the promotional poster of his fight. The gloves were a bit of a hindrance, but he got used to them quickly. The parts that he hated the most was dealing with the press. Every day there was an hour or so set aside for him to answer their seemingly interminable line of questions. None were dealing with his family, but mostly his past, love life, his experiences in prison. Jackals of the media food chain, these reporters, living off of the scraps that those better than them tossed.

Finally, plane to Justice City, California, USA. He had set foot outside of Russia twice, both for fighting events, and each country felt different. USA was no different. The sun was off, somehow, shining right in his eyes as he stepped out of the executive jet, seeing off in the corner as a handful of photographers captured the moment that he set foot for the first time on US soil. He had seen their sensationalist writing about him. But he had to take it. Just going through the motions. He growled softly and took off his jacket. It was fucking hot here.

Eddie Carson parked his Harley in it's usual spot his garage. He took a look around and saw all five cars were there and he nodded with a smile.

Gotta full house today. All-right should get a lot done, and going out tonight with Cecily has all the makings of a great day.

He got off his bike and entered the already busy garage. Wearing his black leather vest and blue jeans Eddie took off his sunglasses and yelled out, "Good Morning Mean Machine Crew!" The crew yelled back various greetings as Patti his assistant and a fellow mechanic approached him holding a clip board..

Eddie asked, "Hey there beautiful. How's life treating ya? Have a good weekend?"

Patti replied, "Not bad. Tommy and I spent the weekend in Frisco caught a Warriors game on Saturday night."

Eddie took the clip board and said with a smile, "Saw that game. Curry and Durrant had a great battle. Loved it." Just then the cool smile that he had quickly faded as he looked at the clip board. He shook his head and under his breath he said, "That little putz! He did it again."

Patti said, "Sorry I had to show you that already, but I figured you should see it a-s-a-p."

Eddie nodded and replied, "Yeah thanks beautiful."

Patti asked, "You want me to get Donnie-J on the phone. He told me to have you call him when you came in."

Eddie shook his head and said, "Oh no. The last time he brought his car in for this same issue I called his dad. He told me if it happened again to call him." Eddie pulled out his cell phone and left the garage area and went into the back parking area. He spotted the familiar silver and black racing neon of one Donnie Sacrpagio jr. Donnie-J loved going to street race through Mullholland on weekends, and Eddie fixed his car up his car with a Nitro Boost at the request of his dad. However there was flow regulator on it that kept the car from overheating and blowing up. Donnie-J knew about it and twice he tried to "improve" the regulator to the detriment of the car, but Eddie told him not to because he didn't want Donnie-J's death on his conscience.

Eddie popped the hood and one look told him the whole story. Eddie shook his head and said, "Damn it!" Eddie dialed the number of Donnie Sacrpagio Sr. A deep gravely heavily Italian accented voice said, "What."

Eddie said, "Mr. Sacrpagio this is Eddie Carlson calling from the Mean Machine shop."

The voice lightened up as it said, "Hey yo Fast Eddie! What can I do for you my friend?"

Eddie replied, "Just two items of business that I need to tell you about sir. One your limo should be ready by noon tomorrow. The bulletproof armor was throwing your alignment off. We upgraded the suspension and re-mounted the armor you should be fine. That armor will stop a tank shell now"

Donnie said, "Great job Eddie. What's number two?"

Eddie knew this would make Donnie "annoyed" but he had to do it. He said, "Sir Donnie-j did it again. He played with the flow regulator."

Donnie's voice was rising as he said, "That nitro gizmo? Again!?!?!? I'M GONNA KILL THAT KID!" Eddie could hear several words being yelled in Sicilian and he was pretty sure they weren't flattering of Donnie-J. After about 30 seconds of this Donnie got back on the phone and said, "Okay Eddie, can you have it ready to go by 5 pm today?"

Eddie replied, "I can have it done by 11 sir."

Donnie said, "Good I'll have a couple of my associates stop by about 12 to get it. Do not under any circumstance tell my son that you finished it if he calls to check on it. Tell him you need to order parts or something like that. He's not to know that you fixed it. This is now my call. You fix the car, give it to my associates when they come by and that's it. I'll take it from here. Got it?"

Eddie replied, "Not a problem sir."

Donnie, "All-right Eddie thanks for the call. I'll see you tomorrow when I pick up the limo. Ciao young man."

Eddie hung up the phone and went back into the shop area and said, "Everyone in and listen up!" One everyone gathered around Eddie said, "Donnie Sr. is taking care of Donnie-J's car situation. We fix and give it to his associates when they come by around noon today to get it. Not a word to Donnie-J that his dad knows about it. It's gonna be a couple of days is what he is to think. We gotta order parts for the engine that kinda stuff." Eddie shook his head and said, "Better yet so you all don't have to deal with him; if he calls or comes here send him on back to me. I'll take care of it. All-right?"

Everyone nodded and agreed. Eddie said, "Good okay figured you all should be in the loop. Get back to it I'll take care of Donnie-J's car."

Everyone got back to work and Eddie hung up his vest, grabbed a pair of coveralls, and headed out to work on the car.

Thoughts of the weekend bounced around her consciousness as she walked through the station, the forth floor completed remodeled to accommodate her new team. Strong coffee and a slight grimace on her pretty mouth accompanied her to the location of a long day and a few confrontational moments at least. Lauren knew this move would boost her career and felt quite qualified to head up the new Justice MCU division, but convincing the men under her command would be a whole new jungle gym to mount and overcome. She smiled at the very thought of challenge and opposition. Twas what she thrived on and why her climb to the top was getting more and more about agility and politics and less about skill set and natural ability.

The sound of the elevator reaching her floor and announcing itself unnecessarily brought her from her reverie and she took a quick sip of her coffee before walking with intent to her office at the end of the hall. A large floor of open cubicals were available to her men and women when in the office and a decent sized conference room with a coffee pot and small projector sat just to the left of her office, waiting their first meeting which would start in an hour or so.

The phone screamed from the small opening of her office and she picked up the pace a little to try and grab it before it ceased. Her black heels clicked along the cream-colored tile floor, black slacks hugging her frame and a white button up shirt bringing the almond color of her skin into the forefront. Red lips touched with gloss reminded everyone that the dominate captain was still a woman and appreciated a few of the finer things in life like a moment of reprieve and a good glass of wine.

"Tryner, here," she spoke into the phone as if she'd been there for a few minutes and was quite assured of herself, namely because she was.

"Lauren, this is Andrea. How are you?"

"Mayor. I'm good, thank you for asking. What can I do for you today?" She moved her bag off her shoulder and quietly positioned herself to sit on the desk, leaning back against one arm while she used her shoulder to hold the phone in place.

"Special Agent Kevin McBride was just in my office and I was able to inform him of our plans for his transfer. Now I know you're looking forward to having him as part of your new team, but I'm sure he's going to need a bit of time to become acclimated to your style and to these new directives. You will benefit greatly from his abilities and expertise, but pulling him from the Multi-Jurisdictional Task Force is going to be a bit hard."

"I understand and appreciate the support and manpower. I will work with him as I'm sure you're already aware. If he's half the man you say then he will fit right in and not worry about his career as much as cleaning up the city we all call home at present." Lauren moved to walk toward the window of her office, the view one that most wanted and yet it only showed the effects of what once were in the little town of Justice.

"True. Just be careful and understand where he's coming from, Tryner."

"Of course, Mayor. When will McBride be here?"

"He's visiting Reid as we speak and then he should be headed down to the station. I'll have his files sent over. Make sure we talk later today about your plans and keep my office in the loop should you need something or uncover something important."

"Will do." Lauren hung the phone up and shook her head. "No fucking way I'm running to city counsel every time something comes up. Half of them are sleeping with the enemy and the other half are wishing they were. My game... my rules."

Nikolay S. Gavrilov

It was morning and Nikolay was in his apartment, getting himself ready to go and talk with Lauren. Dressed only with boxers, Nikolay was in the bedroom, listening to Metallica and doing push-up's. The song The Memory Remains was playing in the speakers of Nikolay's radio cd player. He stops after reaching 27 push-up's, gets up and sits on the bed, which was still unmade. Nikolay takes a deep breath and grabs the Justice Times newspaper from the nightstand. The newspaper is dated yesterday. He bought it because the title caught his attention. The newspaper's front page had the following title. "The Most Complete Fighter In The World". The article started like this. "Mystery russian prison fighter and Internet sensation Yuri Alexander Gavrilov arrives tomorow in Justice for his first UFC match against former light-heavyweight champion Max Jones..." The article continued but Nikolay didn't had the patience to read it all. He already done that twice anyway.

"Goddammit brother!" Said Nikolay as he threw away the newspaper angry. "Why are you really here for anyway? Why do I get the feeling Kravinov is involved." He continued, mentioning his former boss. Nikolay shook off the toughts about his brother and concentrate on how he will manage this situation. He will talk to Lauren about his brother. She needs to know. Nikolay gets up and dresses in his usual clothing. blue jeans, black boots, black t-shirt and a black leather coat. He turns off the music and opens a draw from his nightstand and picks up his favorite gun and the one he carries the most. A .9mm Beretta 92FS. He also takes a leather holster and attaches it to the right side of his jeans. After placing the gun inside, Nikolay also takes two extra magazines, putting them in an inside pocket of his leather coat.

After grabbing his car keys and closing the apartment, Nikolay gets out of the building and heads to the parking lot at the other side of the street. It is there that his car was parked. A car that was very special for Nikolay and one that he loved very much. An all black Ford F-150 SuperCab 4x4 truck from 2003. The truck's bed was covered, thus making it look like a large SUV rather then a 4x4 truck. The interior is grey and the engine is a huge 5.4L Triton V8, generating 260 horsepower and 350 lb-ft of torque. Nikolay gets inside, starts the truck and leaves the parking lot, heading towards the place where he knew Lauren lives.

Two shots echoed around the hallway in the distance, and Rose's heart stopped. The school was suddenly thrown into chaos, chairs scraping accross the tiled floors as students flung themselves under the tables, screaming and wailing. Rose had never had to deal with anything like this at her previous school, although it was now national training for all teachers to have the skills in these kind of situations.

She tried to shush her class, soothing them softly, counting them quickly, then again, and then a third time. Her stomach dropped as she glanced over at her desk, noticing her bathroom pass missing. Jenna. She'd allowed a student just a few minutes ago to go to the bathroom, and her eyes darted around the room, hoping to find her missing student, but with no luck. She quickly gathered her class in one corner, and explained herself. "I need to go and get Jenna from the bathroom, I need you to all stay here, and as quiet as you can possibly be. I'm going to turn the lights off, and lock the door behind me. Jake, you're in charge." She patted her eldest student on the shoulder and headed out into the hallway with a deep breath.

The girl's bathroom was just around the corner, and she found her student Jenna, and two other younger girls cowered in one of the stalls, she put her finger on her lips and guided them back to the classroom, just as she saw a figure coming around the corner. She pushed the girls in and locked it again, sliding the key under the gap in the door. She began down the corridor away from the classroom, leading the figure away from the doorway.

Stevie turned the corner and caught wind of a fine ass trying to walk away. She certainly wasn't jailbait, oh no. That was 100% all American woman. Ass like a peach, legs like a racehorse. He followed her as she made her way down the corridor. "Where you going little dove?! Don't you want to play with the big bad wolf?!" Stevie squeezed a shot off in her direction, he didn't know if it had hit or not but she was still standing. He took off running now, like a bat out of hell he charged towards her. He came up behind her and tackled her to the floor, his gun flying off to the side with one bullet left in the chamber. "Come on darling, every dying man is allowed one last request and you're mine" Stevie hissed his heavy hot breath baring down onto her neck. "You smell like strawberries" He sniffed her like a rabid dog. "I love strawberries"

A burning sensation ripped through Rose's side as she made her way down the corridor. Looking down to her side, the white blouse she'd been wearing was ripped, scarlett red beginning to seep through her side. The bullet had only grazed her, but the bloodloss made her pale, and slow down. A groan of pain ripped from her lips when she was forced down onto the floor, her hand clutching her side. She appeased him for a few seconds, whimpering softly and squirming beneath him, it was all just an act, to squirm closer to his gun. She was repulsed by the feel of him, his breath against her neck, and her fingers curled around the handle of the gun. She took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the pain. Bucking her hips up, she managed to throw her weight over so he was lay on his back, her back to his chest. There was a power struggle for a few seconds, before she managed to slide away. "You thought it was going to be that easy, you'd get your glory shooting innocent kids and then kill yourself? I've been here long enough to know, that's not how it happens in Justice, darling." She mocked his use of darling with her last word, and held the gun up, she could hear orders and footsteps down the corridor, and without hesitation, she pulled the trigger, hitting him straight between the thighs. "You don't get to die today, I'd rather you rotted."

The adreneline in her body rushed to her head, and in seconds, her breath left her, dropping the gun and slumping sideways against the wall, her hand clutching her side, just as the special forces squad turned the corner.

SRU rushed around the corridor and watched as the gun squealed and howled in pain on the floor. He grabbed at the gun on the floor but one of the spec ops officers quickly pulled the trigger in on his own gun and put a bullet right behind Stevie's left ear. There was no talking in this SRU unit, if you had a gun you were getting put down. The cops and emergency services soon swarmed the school, finding three bodies, a teacher, a student and the gunman. An EMT wandered past the corpse of Stevie with a cold glare of blue eyes. He kneeled down to the wounded young teacher Rose and looked at her half closed eyes. "You're gonna be ok. My name's Ben, I'm gonna get you out of here. Just trust me ok" Unbuttoning her bloodstained blouse, Ben looked at her wound. It wasn't too bad but the blood loss could be killer. Treating the wound as best he could, he picked Rose up into his arms and carried her out of the school to his waiting ambulance.

“Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy!”

There was a chorus of various whoops and hollers, though one voice was easily heard above the others. “What, bitches?! What now?! Decir algo! Decir algo! Usted no puede manejar esta mierda! Estoy demasiado! Estoy demasiado cojo mucho por ti!” A young woman with a willowy, athletic figure lowered herself from the doorway in the gym, sweat glistening from her taut muscles as she flashed a grin and flexed her biceps while others mock-bowed to her epincess. Sergeant Talamantez hadn't been in Justice for any longer than two weeks and she had already had a decent group of friends. They were mostly people she had met at the gym and some of them would be working with her down at the station with her. She hadn't been invited to their houses or anything like that, but she'd been invited to hang with them at the bar more than a few times.

“I'll see you bitches later – Gotta work.” The young police officer made her way away from her companions and headed to the showers so she didn't go into work smelling like sweat and Big Rick's man musk. Big Rick was small, but he was surprisingly tough and she found that out through being placed in a headlock, having the back of her neck rubbing against his hairy and sweaty pits earlier when she called him Munchkin. But she didn't hold it against him and had gotten him back with a nut tag. She had to take a moment after getting dressed to get her mind straight, not wanting to show up to work with a goofy smile on her face. In her past experience, that had lead her Captains to having a bad first impression of her. Her face was one of serenity with a serious gleam as she made her way out, bidding everyone a farewell.

The drive to the police station wasn't a long one – The gym was only a good five blocks away from the police station. She greeted everyone as she made her way indoors and to the elevator, exiting at the fourth floor. She was headed to the meeting room but made a detour to the bathroom, admiring the new furnishings. She hadn't seen it before it had been remodeled, but it was a nice station altogether for a relatively small town. It wasn't exactly a village, but it certainly wasn't Dallas or Los Angeles. Still, she was happy with the movement out of LA, ready to challenge herself. As she put on a small amount of mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss, she thought about the town's reputation. She had experience with larger gangs but she always thought that gangs were more dangerous with small towns. It was a lot easier for them to take control and pretty much rule the place. While she enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with some action, she could never wish someone innocent to come to harm.

After tightening the bun sitting low on the backof her head, she was done soon enough and headed to the locker room, strapping on her belt and taking a little time to clean and inspect her gun. It was a beautiful and classic Walther P99 that her father had given her when she was twelve years old. She loved that gun and often would reminisce about the first time her father had taken her to the shooting range with her brothers. He would have taken her when she was eight but her mother wouldn't let him. She was the last of seven children and the only girl – She wanted a girl that she could dress up and put in pageants, not one that would rather scrape her knees climbing trees and come home with a buck. Granted, Armonía still participated in pageants and was a fan of a nice cocktail dress, but she still followed her father's footsteps like her brothers did. It was the Talamantez way.

She was soon out of there and on her way to the meeting room, offering Captain Tryner a nod of acknowledgment on the way. When she got into the meeting room, she checked that nobody was there and that nobody was coming before beginning to move around from chair to chair in an attempt to find the most comfortable. She felt a bit like a kid playing musical chairs and cracked a smile, but still continued her chair inspection.

Brian

“Say that again but slowly” Brian rubbed the thick brown beard on his face as his little brother Bugsy filled him in on the horrid details of the events that had unfolded over the past hour. The news cameras were all over the scene, Brutal could see Ben in the background of the tv, sitting in his ambulance treating a woman. “So what you’re telling me Ben is that Stevie Kowalcyzk, one of our favourite idiots just shot up a fucking school and is now lying in the middle of a hall with a bullet in his head? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Brian’s Jagielski temper was legendary on the streets of Justice, they didn’t call him Brutal for no reason. “Where are we with witnesses?” Once again, the treasurer of the Justice dock workers listened to his baby brother relay the information. One of the major perks of Ben’s job as an EMT was that chances were, he was always first on the scene and it allowed him to manipulate events where necessary. Bugsy spoke of a single witness and said witness was currently sitting in the back of his rig waiting to be examined. “You’re the play caller on this one Bugsy, if you think she’s gonna be a problem you know what to do, if not let her be. No need hounding this girl if unnecessary” For what it was worth, Brian still had a heart, no matter how black it was. “Give little Scott a call, I want him to swing by no pun intended. He can run from it all he wants, he’s still a Jagielski from the fields. It’s about time he started acting like it”

Ben

Across town, Ben nodded and gun up his phone. He would contact Scott once his shift was finished for that day. On the street, people thought of the Jagielski brothers as exactly that, brothers. This was a lie. Sure, they may be blood but none of them particularly liked or cared for the others. Brian was all about cementing his legacy, Isaac was about power, Scott did his best to distance himself from the entire clan and Ben? He just didn’t feel a thing, no affinity for any of them. They preached family above all but that was more for show than anything else. Climbing into the back of his ambulance, Ben tussled his copper brown hair and smiled at the beautiful young woman that lay there. Now came the moment for his decision. Kill her or let her be. “So you’ve had a bit of a day huh? Well don’t worry, I’m gonna get you cleaned up first and you can go. I’ll fiddle your paperwork so you don’t have to come back to the hospital but you will have to speak to the cops I guess. They’ll want a statement” As he spoke, Ben dressed her wound. “So how you feeling?”

Owen

Three months, that’s how long Owen had been out of action. An indefinite leave of absence due to advanced psychological trauma. If it wasn’t for Lauren, he’d still be sitting there at home, stewing in his own rage. Yet there he was, driving down Ramona Street towards JPD Headquarters to start his first day as a detective in the newly reformed major crime squad. The last time an MCU existed in Justice was just under three years ago when Freelancers were causing havoc on the streets, dealing out their own version of justice against the cities criminal element. Although the organisation had long since gone quiet, their message and their public following had not. He stopped at the red light as a young couple, a dark haired man and a blonde haired woman strolled by with a baby. “Seriously Millie, it’s definitely something we should look in to” The man said to his girl. Maybe on day that would be him, Owen thought but not any time soon. Pulling into his car parking space, Owen froze at the sound of the breaking news on the radio.

He arrived on the fourth floor shortly after, it had completely been redone for the new team. The last two MCU’s worked off site at a rundown old community hall. At least things were looking up for the cops for one. As he made his way to the meeting room, he looked around at his new teammates, assessing them like a good soldier was supposed to.
Owen entered the meeting room and walked up to Lauren whom already stood at the head of the gathering. He had history with her and then some but this was about neither. “I don’t know what you were going to tell us Captain Tryner…” Of course had to be official in public. “…I think it might have to wait though” Picking up a remote, the ex-spec ops man flicked on the TV…

BREAKING NEWS:
“At approximately 9:30 this morning, a gunman now identified as Steven Kowalcyzk of Tide Point burst into Francis J McKenna High School with a single pistol. Shots were fired in the immediate vicinity just before the event. Currently we aware of three dead and one wounded. Mr Kowalcyzk appears to have caused the deaths of chemistry teacher Mr Hartwell White and from early reports, student Jesus Valens. Jesus, the only son of Mayor Andrea Valens has not been accounted for as of yet. The gunman also wounded a second teacher before being gunned down himself by police. We’ll have more information when it becomes available”

Scott left the locker room forty-five minutes later, walked out to his car, tossed his duffle bag in the trunk then got in and drove out of the parking lot. One of the perks of being a star player and having your own car was that he wasn't dependent on riding around on the team bus back and forth, plus with the weekend off, he could spend a few days catching up with old friends. Scott flipped the radio on after coming to a stop at a redlight, but didn't have time to change the station as the light turned green, as he accelerated from the light he listened in shock as the music was interrupted by a special news report concerning a shooting at the high school. He was even more stunned as the news continued to report that a student by the name of Jesus Valens was a probable shooting victim, Scott had played ball with Valens during his senior year and had more or else struck up a friendship with him, Valens was an exceptional shortstop with a good chance of going pro and he hoped the news report was wrong about him being shot.

The next thing Scott knew, he was seeing flashing blue lights in his rearview mirror seconds before the the intermittent noise of a siren wailed as a warning for him to pull over to the side of the road. Scott sat and waited for the Officer to come up along side his car then listened as the Officer spoke in an almost automated fashion from having to say the same thing after every stop,

"Good afternoon sir, license, registration and proof of insurance please"

As Scott reached into the glovebox and retrieved the required documents, the Officer continued in his automated tone, "Sir, the reason I pulled you over, you were going 57 miles per hour in a 45 mile an hour zone, were you aware you were going that fast?"

Scott handed the Officer the documents with the thought that the Officer must of heard time after time the same old answer everytime after pulling some one over, so he added some reason behind his answer to the Officers question, " No Sir, not really, I was listening to the news of the shooting at the high school, I think I might of known one of the victims", he said making sure his voice sounded genuinely sorry.

He watched as the Officer flipped through the documents, then was suddenly concerned by the smirk spreading across the Officers face as he looked up from the drivers license in his hand, " Well, well... what have we here, a Jagielski, and the baby Brother who went off to college at that since I've not seen you around town.... here's what we're gonna do kid", The Officers tone wasn't so automated anymore as he handed back the documents, removed his sun glasses, then rested his hands on top of the driverside door then leaned down slightly to speak.

Suddenly growing worried, Scott took back the documents, then looked back at the Officer uncertain as to what was about to happen when he noticed the expression on the Officers face like he was the cat that just caught the canary.

" This speeding tickets gonna cost you some money kid...3000k to be exact, if you want this to go away, otherwise, next time I pull you over, I'll plant enough drugs in your car I'll have to arrest you for possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute... a felony charge, cost you a hell of alot more money then that to get out of a felony charge then to payoff a spending ticket...I'm sure a smart college boy like you can do the math", the Officer said with a shit eating grin on his face.

Scott blinked his eyes rapidly in disbelief and stammered slightly," I-I, dont have that much money, besides that's extortion, or blackmail, you cant do that, its against the law", he wasn't sure if this was actually some type prank or joke or not and he looked around hoping cameramen were gonna pop out of hiding sometime really soon.

" Don't play stupid, kid, or I'll fuck up your world right now", The Officer growled angrily, "Your a Jagielski, get the money from that gangster Brother of yours, and have it by this time tomorrow, or you'll be playing baseball in the prison league, understand me kid".

Scott nodded his head in anger then watched as the Officer sneered back at him before returning to the cop car and getting in. As the Cop car pulled around him, the Officer waved then drove off, Scott fought back the urge to flip him the middle finger and slammed his hand against the steering wheel instead, "FUCK", he yelled out loud, he knew sooner or later, his Brother, the wanna be Crime Boss, was gonna in one way or another gonna come back and bite him on the ass, Scott wished he had just gone on and returned to UCLA instead of staying in Justice, now he had no choice but to see Brian, and worse yet, ask Brian for money. He slammed the palm of his hand down on the steering wheel a few more times before starting the car and jamming it int gear with a frustrated growl as the wheels spun slightly before launching the car forward.

Right jab, left jab, duck, knee, elbow, throw...
Left uppercut, duck, spin, high kick...
Clinch, right knee to the body, left knee to the face, right hook, knockout.

Sweat dripping slowly from his lean, powerful body, he performed several variations of the same, ending in the same thunderous right hand that the hammered into the training mitts that the trainer had in his hands. Twice the blow had been so powerful it knocked the man to the ground. Some people speculated that he could cause some serious damage to the trainer's head if one of those blows missed and hit him where it was supposed to hit his opponents. But none of them did. Sure, the trainer would have to put his hand in a bucket of ice once he was replaced by the BJJ instructor, but the strikes would land where they were meant to. He never missed.

He watched the discussion that various MMA experts had partaken of, discussing the various merits of a fighter of his caliber, along with his chances of beating Jones, the former champion of the category. Jones was still the favorite, of course, as he had lost the title over a divided decision that many people still thought was a bought fight, and in the three fights since he had taken some very serious opponents and won thunderous victories. He was, pound for pound, one of the top three MMA fighters in the world, and knew it. The man was confident, not arrogant. Alex had seen his fights. He could deliver some pain, and, from the looks of it, in the fight that he lost the belt, he had something wrong with his wrist, as his right hands were not coming in as hard as they tended to. A worthy opponent.

But he wouldn't forget why he was here. Ever. He wasn't here to fight, not in the ring, anyways. It wasn't why he had been allowed to take in a deep breath of freedom. His money was going to his sister and the aunt that was raising her, and the Bosses in Moscow said that if he tried to run away like his brother, both would be killed in as gruesome a manner as possible. He couldn't let that happen to Oksana. Their brother had left without thought of the consequences of his actions, and he had ended up in jail for the better part of a decade. He would be damned if he would bring the same fate down on what was left of his family.

Jab, uppercut to the body, clinch, knee to the abdomen, right hook to the jaw.

He pulled back, jumping lightly from one foot to the other, loosening his midsection, scratching at his goatee, jabbing a couple times in the air. The specialist was right. His striking was a little slow compared to Jones, but the man was easily irritated, and when he got irritated, he started throwing punches and kicks with little thought towards accuracy, trying to overwhelm his opponents in the flurry. One right clip to his temple or ear would knock that steam right out of him. After that, it would be simple to arrange a knockout, technical or otherwise.

He just needed to get the man irritated.

Not very easy with a professional, but when the blood was hot halfway through the round, quick, meaningless jabs past his guard would do it.

He couldn't concentrate on his brother right now. If he lost this fight, he would fade into obscurity, and still have to fight his contract through. He needed to win this.

"Take a break champ," His head coach said after the half hour of combination training," Get some water, sit down and loose those muscles for fifteen minutes, then we work on your ground technique," He clapped Alex on the shoulder and moved over to talk to the trainer, who was removing the gloves and rubbing his swollen hands gingerly. Alex gave neither a second glace, moving over to the chair in the corner of the room, drinking some water and sitting down, stretching his legs and arms a bit. He had never had trainers of this quality when he was pro, never mind when he was behind bars. The guy called him a champ, even though he was at least two fights away from actually being champion. It must be some American way of encouraging him.

He shrugged.

"Mr. Gavrilov?"

He turned to see a tall man in a grey suit stepping closer to him. He was lean, his cheeks gaunt, indicating that he was fighting off some disease or another. His pale blonde hair was cut and made up in a stylish fashion, in what the man thought made him look more hip, but in Alex's eyes, made him look like a womanizing fop.

"That is my name. Last name, anyways," He had learned English in prison, but his grasp of the language was still basic at best, his accent still heavy.

"I am aware, Mind if I sit?"

"Yes."

The man paused, wondering if Alex meant that he did mind or if he said that yes, he could sit. He decided to remain standing," I am Malanek Tropovski, and I am an attorney-at-law. You know what that means?"

"I know."

"I represent, among others, a certain organization that I am sure you are aware of, as you have done dealings with them in the past, during your incarceration. Need I say more?"

"No."

The obvious hostility in the fighter's eyes and voice along with the short, monosyllabic answers had the lawyer breaking a sweat," I'm going to be your lawyer here in the US, and I will be your representative, as well as your financial advisor. In short, I'm gonna be the guy that makes sure the money gets to your sister safe, sound and tax free, capisce?"

"What?"

"Do you understand? I will also be reporting your movements to the people that can and will make your sister's life very miserable should you step out of line. Have I made myself clear?"

Alex scowled at the man's tone, pushing himself to his feet, all but growling at the man that stood two feet shorter than him," I understand. Or as you say, capisce. But you understand other thing: If anything happens to my sister, if she gets hit by bus, if she gets sick and dies, our deal here is over, and you, little man, will be the first man to die for your master's mistakes," He patted the trembling man on the cheek with his colossal hands," Capisce?" He smiled and moved back to his training ring.

McBride pulled up to the JPD in a very non-discript Ford Escort. He hated the car not really because of it's age, but that if things got tough this car had zero power to it, it was designed to look used and beaten down and it felt like it, and not to mention there was no satellite radio. McBride loved being able to hear his Springsteen channel or the 80's channel. In this town what passed for quality radio made McBride wanna puke. It was the same old crap; political talk, sports talk, a classical station, a country and western station, and of course a top 40 station. McBride shook his head and said, "First thing I'm doing with my first pay-check. An X-M receiver or putting in an order for a better car. This crap ain't gonna work."

As he prepared to get out of his car McBride heard the breaking news about the school shooting. McBride closed his eyes and said a quiet prayer for all involved and felt like a jerk for bitching about his car situation. His kids were on the other side of the country but still if something happened to them McBride would be crushed, and he'd be on the first flight out to DC and moving Heaven and Earth to see to it that justice was done. Stenson could try and sabotage his career all he wanted upon his return, and if he did McBride would see to it; that it was Stenson's last breathing act.

There are probably a few hundred people who would give anything to be in my situation right now. It's all a matter of perspective.

McBride thought about not going at the time, but Ryder had made the phone call to Captain Tryner that he was on his way. McBride figured that he would stop in long enough to establish contact and introduce himself then probably politely excuse himself. Tryner would probably do the polite intro thing as well and then push him off on some poor unsuspecting team. Who in turn would view "Reid" as nothing more than someone who was to be babysat and kept out of trouble. Which meant that McBride would have to do a lot of investigating on his own. McBride had heard of a few bars in the area that might be good sources of information, and as long as he didn't ask too many probing questions he should be fine.

McBride made sure that he had nothing on him id-ing him as a fed, and that all his reporters credentials were in order as well. McBride looked in the rear view mirror and said, "See ya later Kevin McBride and hello Jason Reid." With that Reid got out of the car and made his way to the station while walking over he popped in a piece of gum.

Reid entered the station and saw that it was the usual activity one would expect to see in a Police Station. It was a far cry from the controlled chaos that was the FBI building in DC and that was something Reid would have to get used to.

Reid approached the desk smacking his gum and the Desk Sergeant looked up and asked, "Can I help you?"

Reid replied, "Yeah name's Jason Reid. I'm with the Associated Press here to do a story on the organized crime here in Justice. Riding along with the MCU for series of columns."

He gave the Desk Sergeant the papers and the Sergeant scanned them quickly. After he scanned them he gave them back and said, "Yeah ADC Ryder called about you." As quickly as he looked them over Reid could've given him copies of a cookbook and it wouldn't have gotten a second look. Reid kept it to himself but this didn't do much to restore his faith in local law enforcement, but then again these were cops who were fighting a losing battle against well financed crooks and corrupt politicians. Reid reminded himself about perspective.

The Desk Sergeant pushed a button allowing Reid access into the squad room. He motioned for another uniformed officer and said, "Take Mr. Reid here up to Captain Tryner in MCU."

The officer motioned for Reid to follow him and Reid said, "Thank you Sergeant." The Desk Sergeant nodded without looking at Reid. Reid followed the officer and said, "Looks busy today." Reid's way of finding out if the news of the shooting had gotten to them yet. It told him a lot that the officer said, "No more than usual."

They got on the elevator and made it to the forth floor.They arrived at the Conference Room and the door was open. Reid saw what they were watching and he knew that soon all hell was about to break loose. The officer knocked on the door frame and said, "Excuse me Captain Tryner this is Mr. Reid of the Associated Press. ADC Ryder said you would know about what's going on."

The officer was stunned as he saw what was going on and Reid quickly said, "I'll just wait over here" and went over into a corner of the room just to observe. Although Reid was observing McBride's instincts as an FBI agent were very hard to suppress. He wanted to jump right in and start giving the orders. Deploying teams, getting people moving, and getting people's minds off of what they were seeing. McBride had seen this sort of thing all too frequently in the FBI. He was able to go from emotional to emotional detachment in the blink of an eye, but Reid knew he had to stay out of the way. The price of a double life.

Lauren

The emergency sound beeping from her cell phone pushed her into action as Lauren picked it up and quickly read the text. Shooting at Francis J McKenna High School. The fucking family name was the mother of all curses. She responded quickly as members of her team filed into the conference room just beside hers.

Do you need me or my team to respond?

The only response she got was related to the fact that Justice PD would take care of first response and that a member of her team was requested to be in the briefing meeting at 0945. She walked with purpose to the conference room in time to nod toward Talamantez before Owen moved toward her and flicked on the TV just behind her. She turned to watch the news coverage and turned back to Owen, holding her hand out and taking the remote to turn off the media's rape of the tragedy before them.

"Thank you, Officer York. Please... everyone be seated." She reached up and laid her hand on the podium to her right, her stance professional but a bit laid back for the situation at hand. "I'm aware of what has occurred and although the chief of police has requested us to simply leave this up to the station to assess and own, we will be heading to McKenna High School after a five minute brief. Just know that JPD is already on the scene and most likely fucking up the evidence that we would have in processing the case."

Lauren turned her attention to the knock at the door, a nod to the officer and let her gaze touch the man's that had entered her arena. She felt a smirk coming up at the very nicely disguised signs that he knew too much and had been too many places. "Welcome, Reid. Stay out of the way and do your job from a distance or I'll kick your ass out while the cars moving at a high speed, good?"

She waited not for an answer but turned back to the group. "Officer York, pull the SUV around and we'll meet downstairs and head to the scene of the crime. When we arrive, York you focus on working with the forensic team on getting the evidence we need and locking down the story of what actually happened. Talamantez see if you can find a lead on where the hell Jesus Valens is and I will deal with the mayor, the officials and the press. Reid - you're with me, by my side at all times." She growled and made the signal for her team to move into action. Time was ticking away and everyone but those that needed to be were onsite and most likely dicking up the evidence. That was about to change and quickly.

Allison "Scout"

The news of the shooting filled the confines of her car and caused her heart to almost stop, her worry not for the kids or the loss of life, but for Brian and whether he was involved indirectly. Stevie Kowalcyzk was a name she knew all too well. Picking up her phone she tried to reach the bossman and found his voice mail coming up too quickly. Changes are he was talking with his brother and trying to figure out what exactly happened. She left him a quick message that she was on her way back to the docks and to give her a call should he need her to do something or clean up part of this mess. She decided not to bother Ben seeing that they weren't really on good terms, both of them not being able to see eye to eye. It would be quite suspicious to head over to the scene, so Scout took a quick U-turn and headed back to the docks to see if she could catch up with Brian.

The cops would be everywhere and the true hope was that nothing from the event earlier that day would like their names to the murderer, but things like that always had a way of surfacing. She'd just have to play it by ear and go out on a limb if needed. No way she'd let B go down without a fight. A quick call to the bar to let them know she'd be late in coming in and she pulled up to the waters edge, intent and purpose fueling her emotions.

The first order of business was going to be solving his newfound identity crisis. The garage where he stored his bike was just up ahead on the right, and thanks to the confusion going on down the street nobody looked twice as he sped off down the block. The briefcase he carried was now inside a black leather bag on his back.


The suit he was wearing had everything he needed for the next phase of his contingency plan: a burner phone and a laundry ticket. Pulling over at a Jewish deli far enough from the apartment, Jack ordered himself a cup of coffee and a lox bagel before pulling out the phone and stepping aside. “Hello, I’ve got a ticket number, 2751. I’m looking to pick it up as soon as possible. I ordered the fresh-start treatment, you know, with the steam and all that. I’ve got a date tonight and I want to feel like a new man… Yes… Okay, I’ll be there in 20 minutes, thank you.” Next stop: Mr. Chang’s Dryclean Emporium.

Jack parked out front and strode purposefully through Mr. Chang’s door, “Ticket number 2751.” He said quickly. The man behind the desk just smiled and slipped into the back room; moments later he returned, bearing a finely tailored, grey double-breasted suit. Finally, The Ferryman could get the cheap piece of garbage he was wearing off his back. Not only that, but the inner pocket of the jacket would contain a brand new drivers license, passport, and a piece of paper with a time and place written on it. This stop had been to gain a new identity; his next would be to destroy the old one. “Wonderful.” Jack smiled, “Now, do you have a bathroom I could use?”

“Of course, sir. Right over there.” The young Asian man replied, indicating an unmarked room to the left. There was no bathroom, just a small empty room with a mirror on the wall. Jack changed as quickly as possible, before pulling the briefcase out of his bag and opened it up. Jack transferred the money and change of clothes into the bag, and put the new gun in his rear waistband. After he was finished with that, Jack checked out his new identity, he was now John Trumpeter, perfect. After swapping his old license for the new one retrieved the slip of paper. “12:15, The Rosewood Café, Houston St.” That was roughly two hours from now, which was good, it would give him time to think about how he was going to execute phase 3 of his contingency plan, survival. That would have to wait until he was out of this closet though, he decided, tossing his old gun, ID, phone, and credit cards into the briefcase.

Within a few minutes, Jack was back on the road again, a nearly 36 year old man wearing an expensive suit, driving an even more expensive motorcycle. Conspicuous? Certainly, but that was exactly what he needed right now. The cops would be looking for a man who just killed 3 tatted up Mexican gang-bangers. The rest of the bangers would be looking for a man on the run for his life. Safe to say, neither party was keeping a close eye on wealthy motorcycle enthusiasts… Nevertheless, Jack was on high alert as he made his way across town to the storage unit he had rented upon his arrival in town. Though it was a bit far from his apartment, he had chosen it not for ease of use, but because he had been allowed to pay in cash, and without presenting an ID.

When he arrived, Jack stopped the bike just in front of the steel roll up door and opened it up before rolling the bike inside. He had taken every precaution in making sure there was no way he could have been followed. Allowing the door to fall shut behind him, The Ferryman proceeded to take out the burner phone and used it’s light to find the oil lantern and matches he left on the table to his left. He then hurried over to the desk pushed up against the right wall and unlocked the bottom drawer. Inside was a firebomb set to go off exactly 5 minutes after the main door is opened, which Jack promptly disarmed. “Burn and run.” The motto had kept him alive and out of prison for nearly 12 years as a criminal, and he had no intention of slipping up in his retirement.

Now that Jack didn’t have to worry about being consumed in flames, he had the chance to look over the supplies in his unit. There was plenty of water, a few weeks worth of MREs, dozens of boxes of various ammunition types, sleeping gear, ect. In the corner of the room was a medium height filing cabinet, which he then proceeded to unlock. The file he was looking for was one of the first, a manila folder titled, “The Arias Cartel” Jack’s prime suspect. Really, it hadn’t been very hard to put together, the tattoos on the hitmen indicated their affiliation with La Familia, a small time local Mexican gang. From there, the options were extremely limited. Most of The Ferryman’s work had been in Europe and Africa, and the work he did do in Latin America was mostly for the cartels, against government officials. However, back when the Arias Cartel were still just beginning to take a foothold in the drug trade, Jack had taken a job from a rival Cartel to kill the Arais second in command, and steal a quarter million in product.

That man happened to be the leader’s brother, which would not have been a problem if the Arias Cartel had lost the drug war with their much more powerful rivals. That was obviously not the case. Now, Jack was facing an enormous problem; his financials were secure in offshore accounts, but he couldn’t touch them without tipping off the Cartel. The only choice he had left was to call in the help of a friend.

Jason had been suspended from school a few days previous, much to his parents anger and dismay. It was bullshit really, he didn't even want to be suspended, it just sort of happened. It wasn't that he didn't beat and rob the kid, he was guilty of that much, but he didn't do it looking to get suspended. Shit, it wasn't even random, the kid had walked into him, probably deliberately trying to test the new kid. He didn't even apologize.

Point being the dude needed jacking and Jason needed a few more dollars and a couple of pens for class, it kind of just fell in his lap. Course that's pretty far from what he was gonna tell any teachers or his mum or step dad if they asked. Nah, that prick came into the toilet looking to beat on the new kid, course he wasn't just gonna take it. That's the story he fed his parents, the teachers didn't get shit and the other kid didn't say anything either. If there was one thing that was the same as in England it was that most everyone knew better than to snitch. With nothing to go on all the school could do was dish out a few days suspension.

With nothing else to do for a few days Jason decided to roam the streets. He didn't have many contacts around and that was a problem. In order to make money or get any kind of reputation he would need a few contacts. Unfortunately not many dudes took an English kid seriously round the parts he found himself in. It was only after a week of making it very clear that anyone who stepped to him would be dropped at school that he even managed to make anything close to a friend. People were weary of making a friend out of a possible bullying target, so making sure people knew he wasn't that was the first priority.

Now that was done he could focus on part two, finding out how all these bitches made money on some of the poorest blocks in the city. It didn't take him long at all to find out, all he had to do was walk around and observe for a little while. Two words; corner kids. It only took five minutes of watching a corner to see a good bit of drug dealing getting done. Jason wasn't planning on that unless he had to though, the kids didn't look like they were all that well paid, and that wasn't a good sign for Jason. He also didn't really want to go back to standing around all fucking day.

The second option was to simply rob the bastards, but it wasn't like England where people only brought their heaters or machines out if there was some killing or robbing to be done. Guns were far more common here, he couldn't be sure whether or not the corner kids had a strap or two ready to be used in order to defend, and he was yet to get his hands on one himself. He could rob them, he didn't doubt that, but it would take a gun he was sure wouldn't jam, a good bit of planning and being willing to be identified.

A ski mask wouldn't do, there was no hiding his accent. A couple words and every fucking kid in the bits would know it was him. He didn't plan on getting his brains blown out on the way to school. Nah, he needed another way to make cash, one that got him paid reasonably well but didn't involve every youth in the street looking to blow his brains out. He decided to pay his new friend Nathan a visit, he was in the streets, maybe he would know of a few more job prospects.