Husky saw Dandelion buy a round for everyone. Naturally, they responded with a loud cheer. He walked up and the bartender slid him a Fort Wayne without him having to ask for one. Taking a small sip he felt the familiar burn in his throat. Smacking his lips, he put his glass on the counter, patted Dandelion on the back and enquired , "The whole world is going to hell, what are you so cheery about?"

Husky entered the joint through one of the tunnels. These had been put in place to allow a quick escape for those inside when someone came for them. When it mattered, they never got the chance. Everyone in Detroit massacred on the same night before they could make a move. Sighing to himself he went down behind the bar counter. The bottles of liquor that he had carefully smuggled in coast guard boats from Canada lay smashed on the floor. The Wall Of Infamy, detailing the individual exploits of the members of The Rebel's Alliance was peppered with bullet holes. 

He picked up his own newspaper clipping, THE FORT WAYNE WHISKEY HEIST and stared at the shattered frame. Tossing it aside he sat down and pulled out his lighter. The words Memento Sumptus , engraved on the silver skin brought him back to the present. Laying a few sticks of dynamite with a delayed charge, he took one last look around wondering if he would ever love another place as much. Sighing to himself he lit the fuse and walked out hoping the place blew to hell.

Yamir pulled the black car to the curb and stopped smoothly.  Giuseppe got out of the passenger side and opened the back door.  

"You sure you wanna do this?"  he asked the woman sitting inside who had yet to get out.

She looked out the window, around the large Italian man and stared a moment before nodding silently.  Lucy emerged and walked to the edge of the hole in the ground, the ruined remains of what was once a speak easy, The Rebel's Retreat. 

"Damn shame what they did to this place, boss."

She nodded again, reaching into her pocket to pull out a small coin to fiddle with.  "Whatever Husky did before going, his place didn't deserve this... the name might have been seen as dangerous, but surly it could have been changed."  

"Yea."  Giuseppe agreed.

"Find out who owns the land."  She instructs, blandly, as if the subject wasn't as dear to her as it really was.  "Whatever the price.  Pay it."

"You don't got a nod to branch into Detroit, Ma'am.  You're takin' a real ris..."

Lucy holds up a hand to silence her bodyguard.  "Never tell me my business again."  Her tone seethes with unsaid rage.

Giuseppe, quick to know his place begins to apologize.  Lucy draws a deep breath and steadies herself.  "Forget I said that."  she interjects.  "You're a good man Giuseppe.  I appreciate your advice and you lookin' out for me."

"Its what you pay me for, boss."

"No."  she insisted.  "You're more than that to me.  You're family.  I ain't gonna shit on you for keeping my nose clean when I temporarily loose my good sense."

"That means a lot to me, Boss."

"Lucy."  she corrects.

"Lucy."  he echos.

"Let's get @LongNeckLarry on the horn.  See if I can't have a small sit down with him.  I want to invest in his rebuild of this dump - in particular this area of the city.  I might not be able to branch out without getting my fingers slapped, but considering that little stunt we pulled with the ladies at the Loaded Tomato, I figure I owe him.  Might be time to make that right."

Giuseppe smiled and opened her car door for her.  Lucy walked closer to the hole and lowered her voice so that only those near to her could hear it.  "I miss you."  With a flick of her thumb she flipped her favorite casino coin into the air, it shimmered in the late afternoon's fading light, and landed somewhere in the rubble. Lucy turned and walked back to her car.

"Let's get some food while we wait to hear from the Giraffe."

"Antonio's Bistro?" Yamir asked.

"Always."  She said, with that the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the setting sun.

Heinrich was quietly sipping coffee with a fellow Professor from atop Antonio's Bistro as he glanced across the street. They had elected to spend their afternoon off by touring some of the local establishments of the city. Though he didn't quite approve of his colleague's choice, this being an Italian establishment after all, he had to admit that the food had been simply delectable. 

"I see you have a keen eye Professor Grimm." The man beside him commented when he saw Heinrich continue to stare at a rebuilt Laundromat that had been left abandoned. Despite the impeccable reconstruction work, to eyes that had seen war, the aftereffects of an explosion on the surroundings were clear. A semi-circular arch of barren land, trees that refused to regrow, cracks on nearby buildings were all a dead giveaway.

Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper his colleague elaborated.  "The proprietor, Roberto's father Antonio once told me that before the Laundromat was rebuilt, an explosion had blown the building to pieces. Even more surprising perhaps was the fact that it came during a police investigation into a mass shooting that had taken place in a speakeasy in the basement. Close to a dozen infamous mobsters had been found dead inside."

Heinrich simply nodded, much to the surprise of the man beside him who had expected more of a shock from the academic. Desperate to please him with how abreast he was with local gossip, the man continued. "Roberto claims he had seen the owner of the establishment, Husky Radhe at this very Bistro several times as a child. In fact, he is claimed to have been shot right here where we sit. The charming silver-tongued mafioso walked in with a beautiful woman with eyes so green they would haunt any man's dreams. They ate and conversed for long, but once she departed the assailants came and gunned him down as he drank his favourite drink."

A waiter walked over with two glasses of Double Canadian whiskey, neat, no ice. Enthusiastically the man continued. "The man was a long time patron and the woman later rebuilt this whole neighbourhood. Since then it has been customary to offer a Fort Wayne, his favourite drink to anyone who sits at his table."

Despite feigning indifference, Heinrich could feel the story getting to him. It was a tragic tale of a young man with immense potential, stifled by unforeseen circumstances, something he could relate to. Though he did not usually partake in whiskeys, he picked up the glass in a toast towards the building and said.  "Herr Radhe, I hope you were in heaven a half hour before the devil knew you were dead. Prost."  With that, he gulped down the drink and stood up in preparation to depart.

Tutte entered the joint and found a bottle of old scotch which he opened and sat down and just looked arouned and nods to people around and had some small talk with some well-knowd characters.

Nick Valentine as always, was hungover when he entered the little bistro. Across from the rundown laundromat that seemed like it had seen better days. It was a spot some of his peers in the department had recommended along with some sordid legend about a two-bit thug when he'd asked about quiet cozy cafes.

He'd paid little attention to the story, content with having found a suitable location. Now that he made it here, he wished he had been more attentive. The place looked like it had seen better days. Still, as he moved up to the roof and took his seat on an empty table by the edge he figured it would serve his purposes well. It was doubtful that anyone of influence would stumble into this shithole and risk disturbing his meal.

Sipping on a bitter cup of black coffee, he instructed the young kid waiting on him to wait till his companion arrived. His cigarette hung loosely off his dry lips as he leisurely took a few drags while gazing off across the street waiting for the superstar to arrive, wondering just what the hell he was getting dragged into again.

"Oh joy...he wants to meet here, the fucking ass..."

"You want me go in first, boss?"

Turning to face the heavily accented New Yorker guard of his, he had to wonder how he even ended up with him. Then he remembered, it was due to the whole business with those pesky Russians, Kuloka and his fucking cronies had been trying to muscle in on their territory for a while now. Ever since he had actually started out, now was something he didn't really need to let get closer to starting a full-blown war.

"No Gerry, leave it be. Let's just go in, Nick is a simple guy, and he wouldn't be trying to pull one over me. I help him out, he helps me out, this is a win-win for all the parties involved. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him and in this case, I'm an upstanding citizen of Detroit and this is all it'll ever be."

Gerry snorted, walking in behind his boss as they came to a stop just on the threshold. It was quiet as fuck, sighing to himself, he couldn't believe they had to come here of all places. This Nick guy was sure paranoid for some reasoning, he looked over and noticed the dusty trench coat with that distinct hand his boss had mentioned. 

"He's over there, boss. Let's go."

With nothing else but a little chuckle, Rom sat opposite Nick as he looked over the waiter before motioning for a cup of coffee. The kid soon left as it left the two to discuss business, with regard the amount of time Rom had been away from Chicago in the last few weeks to a month. And how he had set himself as a prominent businessman in Detroit.

"Nicholas, a pleasure to see you again. I see nothing's change, good to know that you called the meeting here. A bit discreet and something that I'm glad for, no one would ever expect me in this...den"

Leaning back, his leather jacket framing him quite well as he ruffled around inside his pocket for a smoke and soon, he lit it up and took a puff. Exhaling slowly as he looked at his guard, motioning for him to sit a few tables away, keeping an eye on the door for trouble. 

"You know why I'm here, it's to discuss a threat to society in Detroit... Dimitri Kuloka. I hear, well, I heard many things. He's a trafficker and distributes to nearly all six cities and surprisingly he's planning to make a move into Delaware. He's a menace and a federal task force has been trying to hunt him down for the last few months, they haven't come close...do you think you can?"

Taking a puff, he asked point-blank. Did Nick think he could handle the weight that came with going over the head of a massive criminal organization such as the Russian Mob Boss, Dimitri Kuloka?

Nick saw the gorilla guarding the douche before the man himself, casing out the place. Briefly, he flinched, wondering just how could someone else have gotten wind of things so early. When Romulus himself entered, Nick relaxed a little. Watching the gorilla subservient to the weasel elicited a chuckle out of him.

"The pleasure's all yours boyo. You're lucky I don't smack you right now for leaving Chicago in a mess without a warning. The shit I had to deal with to clean it up and tie off loose ends, you couldn't fathom." Nick protested half-heartedly almost on principle rather than merit as Romulus slid into the seat opposite him.

"I don't know, a quiet little spot like this, I cold get used to it. I see you found yourself a boyfriend."He nodded towards the brute sitting a few tables off. "Maybe you should ask him to tell you about a bit of local history now that you're pretending to be respectable." Sipping on his coffee he bantered back and forth briefly, curiosity beginning to eat at his nonchalance bit by bit.

"Woah! Slow down there Hoss! You gonna do me like that? No foreplay nothing?" Raising his hands up, he acted far more shocked than he was. "I feel sorry for your new boyfriend. Poor lad deserves better than that."

With the last joke, his demeanour changed and he began to quietly contemplate. Taking a couple slow drags, he sat silently, mulling the thought over in his head as he blew a plume of smoke to the the skies above. "I've heard about the task force. Bunch of dumbfuck feds who've never ran a beat with all the best toys from Uncle Sam trying to make a splash where others failed."

Staring off into the middle distance he spoke softly. "I worked a case a little while back. Homicide, down in the Loop. This young woman bled out on the street, a chunk of her right thigh missing. Coroner ruled it an animal attack. Made the papers and everything, maybe you heard about it." Pausing to toss his cigarette down to the street below, Nick continued sombrely. "Only it wasn't so. We'd made the coroner say it because we didn't want to investigate the case. You see, the woman's husband was a local dealer who'd stolen a pound of coke from a Russian businessman visiting the city. When his business partner in Detroit found out about what the thug had done, they decided to take a literal pound of flesh in compensation from his wife."

Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed and turned to face Romulus. "Dimitri Kuloka doesn't fuck around. You need to understand two things." Holding up one metallic finger he continued. "This isn't gonna be like some pencil pusher trying to shake you down for a story. This man will come for everything you have cared for, anyone you are tied with, anyone who has ever done you any kindness at all. So you're gonna need powerful allies to keep him in check. But more importantly.."

Raising a second finger, Nick felt the hint of a smile creep back onto his face as he confessed his agreement in a conspiratorial whisper. "My price will be extravagant."

Listening to Nicholas' story was something else, he raised his brow as his lips twitched up into his classic smirk but it was all a little game to the detective, the man held himself like a goddamn closed book at times, and then he was something of a fucking witty bastard that came back with everything and the kitchen sink plus with a salt shaker for added effect.

The waiter had come with his coffee, raising his hand, he was stopped by Rom who ordered himself some potatoes and a nice bit of steak. Ever since he had been denied that pleasure in Chicago by Ron, he wished to make sure that he could have it whenever he wished.

"Whoa, Nicholas, we both know that you like getting to the thick of things but fine...have at your foreplay. Your little dance before getting to the main course, we have time and Gerry ain't going anywhere, so catch me up, mate."

Of course the little comment came flying back at him, Nick could be the biggest prick throughout all the fucking cities and somehow, he always ended up sitting opposite him eating. He didn't understand it, Fate truly was a bitch with his way of life. 

"Pretending? Things have changed since Chicago, I fell on hard times and my debts, well they kept piling, and so I made something of myself. Dressed up, became a little better at doing deals and became a nice little businessman for people across the way a little."

He let that linger for a moment before deciding to add in with a bit of ease his own little rebuttal back at the metal-handed bastard.

"Nick, if you want me to give you my undivided attention, all you have to do is ask, mate. Gerry is a guard of mine, you don't expect me to come meet you alone after what happened with that reporter in Chicago, do you?"

Listening to the story, he didn't lose his appetite, he took this all on as he took a puff from his smoke. His eyes a little hazy but otherwise, he seemed a little bored as he listened. Dimitri was a kid compared to the others he was working with, the man was growing balls, but he needed to know that his way of doing business was done. 

After the pause that Nick took and as he finished loading a good amount of sugar into his coffee, Rom caught his eyes with a little wink. 

"I have no connections besides you and our group of high society friends, Nicholas. Dmitri is a fucking animal, he has no way of doing proper business. He needs to be handled, I'd prefer to let you handle this but this is a little more than what you're used to."

It was the truth, maybe. Nick would be replacing one criminal kingpin for another, Dimitri was smart, and he knew how fear worked for the Russians but it didn't do well for them and the Italians, Rom wished to make his own way and this is the start. Bridging the connection with Chicago and Detroit, it would open him up to a wider market and it all started with Nick. 

"I can give you what you wish Nick_Valentine, but you're doing something for me first. I wonder if you can guess what it is, do you have a feeling?"

Finally, his food arrived, and he tucked in. Snuffing out his smoke as his coffee was next to plate of food as he slowly waited for the words to roam around in Nick's head and finally get something of a response from the man.

"Good! Good!" Nick clapped his hands together in response. "I'm glad to see you stepping up and living to your potential boyo. I bet your mama would finally be proud to see her son growing up and getting ready to play with the big boys." Nick was far from offended. Infact, he relished the thought of finally cutting lose, unrestrained by his superiors down at the department.

"Ha! Don't mistake my cautiousness for fear. This Russian Kid that's got your panties all in a bunch is a tough one, mostly because he's young and stupid, and therefore prone to reckless retaliation. Taking him down would take some hard work, but I'm gonna make sure the payoff will be worth every glass of whisky, I gotta drown to keep the stress away." Smiling unperturbed, he dug into his own meal, pleasantly surprised by the taste. Making a mental note to thank his colleague for the recommendation, Nick carried on.

"No it's the ones sponsoring him that I am worried about. Long as they have no connection to those crazy fuckers from Moscow, the Petrovnas, you're good. An old war buddy of mine that I bled with at the Somme, told me stories that are best not spoken of if it can be helped." For the first time in a while, Nick shuddered in fear as he recalled the memories. The guy they called Vorona burning a romanian village down in search of a painting.

"You best hope we slip under their radar. Make too much noise or piss off the wrong people and a thousand gorillas won't be enough to guard you." Shaking his head in dismay, Nick tried to wash away the prospect from his mind, like a bad dream. A dry chuckle found its way back to his lips as he refocused on the topic at hand. "Nah Mr. Businessman. What could a simple soul like myself know about your grand schemes?! I know only that trouble follows you like a bad habit."

Taking a sip of his coffee, he leaned back and nodded to Romulus. "Go on then. Blow my mind mate. Tell me exactly what you need me to deal with."

"My mother's dead, Nicholas. Of course, we were never really all that close in childhood and I barely mention them. How about we keep this focused on business, eh?"

Swift, ease, and quickly, he cut into the steak and swallowed as he swung his fork around haphazardly. He saw what this was, yet he didn't really care besides the man that could give Nick his career. He would owe him, big time and this was simply that chance, the moment for something with Nick to seep into the man. To owe him a bigger lot than what he was currently being given. 

"He's not a threat, nor is he someone that I take that seriously but I do watch him and I have my guard up. He's not someone whom I wish the best for, but he's interfering with my business and that's where I draw the line, alright? He's tried fucking with it, but the way he swings his dick around says that he's confident that no one comes for him in terms of real...well, war. He's not confident with the police though, that's where you come in Nick."

Hearing the stories from Nick, about a mythical organization, he gave the man a little look. He didn't let it show, but he was worried, yet he would have heard something through the wire, nah, Dimitri was many things, but he was a loose fucking cannon. He worked too outside the realm of secrecy, someone like that was bound to bring an eye onto business that you didn't want. 

"I would have heard something like that, Nick. Calm down, Dimitri is many things but smart and a good person to have on your side, ain't one. He's unstable as fuck, someone that doesn't understand what we can here or how we operate. He comes here, fucking with my business, my people, my income...that's when I put a bullet in him, hypothetically, of course."

Winking ever so slightly, he decided to eat some more of the food, it sure was a delight, and he may have to come here once in a while. Though it was out of the way, and the Blackhawk was a little too decorative and starry for his tastes. This was quiet, subdued, and had his vibe in more than one way...

"I'm going to give the collar of your career, taking down Dimitri Kuloka in a drug bust. A shipment will be heading to the Corktown shipyard in the next few weeks, he'll be there with his No.2 and a few low level dogs of his. He's not expecting a welcoming party, it'd be enough to get him on possession. From there, all you have to do is get one of his boys to flip. Now think about that Nick, a detective, who's a no-name does what the federal agency couldn't do in months, hell, years. Capture the head of the Kuloka crew..."

He laid it all out for Nick, this was his case, one of the biggest he would ever get and all he had to do was reach out and take it. One step, one moment, one ticket away and this would have been all his. What was there to lose?

Perched on a rooftop cafe, Felix's gaze wandered across the bustling street below. The city's heartbeat pulsed through the air, a symphony of voices and car horns that contrasted with the serene vantage point he had found. With a drink in hand, he contemplated the past, the echoes of history mingling with the present.

His thoughts turned to the infamous mobster who had once held sway in this very neighbourhood. The speakeasy across the street, now shuttered, had been a hub of covert activities, a place where power and influence exchanged hands under the guise of camaraderie. Felix knew the stories – of deals struck and alliances formed, of the notorious mobster who had met his end at that very table he now occupied.

With a sense of reverence, Felix raised his glass in a silent toast to the man whose legend lingered in the air. The rooftop's view, a testament to the city's evolving skyline, also held a piece of the past, a fragment of a time when shadows danced across these streets.

As he took a sip, the flavours of the customary drink, A Fort Wayne, seemed to be imbued with the stories of those who had come before him. The mobster's legacy, a mixture of admiration and caution, served as a reminder that history was woven into the fabric of the city.

In the fading light of the day, Felix contemplated the interconnectedness of lives, the threads that linked his own journey to the tales of the past. The rooftop cafe, with its panoramic view and layers of history, became a place of reflection, a spot where he paid tribute to the memory of a naive man who had once wielded power in the shadows, and now left his mark in the whispered stories of those who remembered.

Reading the name of the joint Joker smiled and said boy's I think we can call this run down joint home.  The Rebel's Retreat a place where hoodlums can come and unwind and have a drink before doing what they do best.  Joker opened the door and walked in.  It was empty Joke gave a smirk and said what irony here is the perfect establishment for your everyday criminal and they avoid it like the flu.  

Joker took a seat with Pennywise and sent Krusty to get beer's the good stuff not the green swill they serve the unemployed guys looking for cheap beer to wash their pains away. Krusty returned with three beer and Joker made a toast. 

To the beautyful Red haired lady @LuckyLucy a woman my heart will always remember.  Boy's she was fearless and witty you would have loved her but she went back home and left me because I wouldn't reform.