[IC] Sudden Payback (Session 2)

Betty again tries to say something, but Jimmy cuts her off. "No, Betty. I already caused you enough grief. Think it's time this all got settled... One way or another." He lopes over to the bar and sits near where his buddy was beaten down at the start of this whole fracas. "Gimme a Miller?" he says to the woman, who begins filling a glass. The man turns to you four. "So you're not here to finish me off then? What is it you wanna know?"

"If we really the bad guys we would have burned the building down and killed people as they came out..." Max mutters at the table to himself running a fingertip in circles through the water ring where a beer glass use to be.

"Can I get a burger with fries, a Hydrade and a glass of milk... Also where's the broom and dust pan this broken glass is annoying me." Max finally states to Betty after his pouting is over, "So do you know about the other kidnappings? We only know they take men and women, unsure about the elderly or kids as collateral and we can piece together what the plan is besides having expendable people you don't mind getting killed during the job or afterwards so nothing really 'good'." Max admits to Jimmy.

"Also if anyone needs actual medical assistance let me take a look at you and I don't have Medical Weed..." he adds looking around then to Betty.

Betty hands Max the Hydrade from a small fridge under the bar. "Kitchen's closed, copper. That'll be $4.50." Meanwhile, the riffraff start to stir and tend to one another.

Jimmy takes a long draft and turns toward Max. "Look, I don't know anything about no plan. Alls I know's that I was let out of prison early so long's I did a favor for the guard later. That favor was to start nabbing folks and bringing 'em to a warehouse. We did that." He puts the glass down. "Then he said we needed to take out some enemies. The Pantone chick. The gym owner guy. That's when things turned south."

Hank wraps his chain around his waist and leans against the bar. "That warehouse is empty now. Any idea what happened the people after they were taken there? Or who was in charge?"

Jimmy snorts. "Figures it's empty. After you guys got all heroic in the gym, the folks behind the kidnappings got scared. I figure they musta found a new hideout." His jaw clenched, he continues, "Guard's name was Victor Petrovich. Alls I know 'bout his operation is that his cronies all have the same sorta accent as him. They kept us in the dark. Petrovich said we'd f'ed up royally after the gym, so we've been cut off from the operation since then."

Marv stalks around the room at a fast walk as Max and Hank start trading words, huffing and puffing like a bull stuck in its holding pen. His breathing slows down gradually like a train losing steam as it comes into the station. When he finishes, he crosses the room, sweat dripping off of his drenched hair. "Make that two hydrades, please! You got Mountain Berry?" He slaps a fiver on the counter, "Keep the change." He winks, knowing the extra 50 cents is hardly payment to cover the damage they'd caused. He turns around and leans his back against the bar,

"How was Petrovich getting ahold of you, and just how much pull you got with the Hounds that they'd go to these lengths? You guys a bunch of 'one for all and all for one' types? Doesn't really jive with the trailer trash I've had the displeasure of running across." Marv's blood is still boiling under the surface, and he comes off a bit more abrasive than he usually would when he's gathering information. "I mean... not to be throwin' labels around or nothin', but... if the van fits, namsayin'?"

"Another beer for me. Internal this time," Guy says as he rubs the side of his face where a beer mug smashed into it a few minutes earlier. He looks over at Jimmy and asks "What kind of accent? Petrovich sounds Russian or perhaps Polish. Was it that kind of accent?"

Betty serves up the requested drinks as Jimmy drains the rest of his beer. "One more for me, too." He turns to Marv and Guy with a sneer. "You assholes sure know how to rub salt in a wound, you know that? Look, it's pretty simple, really. I got pulled into Wholesome about a year back on some shit charge of drug possession. Usually the cops look the other way." He looks at Max in his armor and continues, "Drummond PD cops gotta eat like the rest of us, right? Money buys a lot of freedom in this city." He returns to the beer and belches. "Anyway, the Havoc Hounds are my crew. Petrovich was a guard in the prison. Said he might 'accidentally' look the other way during a work detail if I got my crew to help him later. I said sure. So, I'm out, right? The Hounds are excited. I'm respected here. I earned my place at the top. We think we'll get the meth biz up again, but then Petrovich sends some Commie dude here to the bar and tells me they need us to start nabbing folks and bringing 'em to the warehouse. I don't know what the accent is. Sounds like Boris and Natasha shit. But OK, sure. We can still sell our stash, right?" Jimmy slumps down a bit. "Things go well for a while. We're bringing in tweakers, bums, hobos, you know? But then another one of these KGB types comes in and says they need us to take in two bigger targets: the chick with the hair dye and your boy at the gym. Seems Petrovich released them, too, with the same deal, but they refused to play ball. So Havoc Hounds to the rescue." His voice is low, a bit vulnerable. "Then you guys ruined the party."

Hank points to Guy's beer and nods to Betty before sliding across a five. "Aw, you're breaking my heart. Don't worry, Jimmy. A cockroach like you, I'm sure you'll be back to screwing over tweakers and bums before you can say 'broken justice system.' So maybe Russians, huh? Does Petrovich have an accent too?" He glances between Max and Jimmy, not sure who the question is for.

"Even if you did grab him and kidnap him at the gym. You'd be doing it in front of the Mayor and all the reporters that were streaming. Masks or not you would have been found out or silenced if things got to hot eventually, fortunately they just cut you off. Russian organized crime doesn't play which you probably know, you either play ball or they break you and you become the ball they kick around. Also stop with the meth, it's easy to bust, easy to get killed in production, and you're poisoning your community and your killing your clients. I'll state the same thing I told the Pantone gang, stay low before the Russians flag you for the cops to pick up. No one wants to go to prison or end up in a suicide by swat team situation here I figure." Max states while sweeping mostly focusing on the areas under the tables and booths.

"Y'know... I met a couple of Boris and Natasha types running cases, I'm trying to remember where they said they like to hang..."

Max and the others start throwing up Russian alias and nicknames while they work or recuperate.

That's just the thing... As much as you all wrack your brains, you can't recall Drummond Island having any sort of Russian mob presence at all. Nothing similar, either -- Ukrainian, Romanian, Moldovan... If this is some new outfit, it's very new. That said, Max and Marv know that Russian organized crime has a foothold in other parts of Michigan (Detroit, Lansing, etc.), and across the Great Lakes in Canada.

"I can't tell you much about Petrovich," Jimmy says, slamming the glass down. "Another, Betty!" His speech is slurred now. "Petrovich'd been at the jail for a few months when he made his offer. Yeah, he hadda weird accent, too. The gym hit... No idea why he wanted that so public. Guess he was sending someone a message." He regards Max in his police armor. "So... you're not here to arrest me?" Jimmy says, looking at Max in his police armor.

"If you're taken in technically Marshals would come to take you into custody as a fugitive... that said considering who you were working with I dont think you'd make it in jail till they arrived... Also I'm off duty. Also Petrivich is out now as well isn't he?"

Jimmy snorts and takes another long drink from the new beer. "Petrovich out? Hell if I know. Last I saw him, he was still working for the correctionible... correctionamal... jail."