New York, Albany - 1:00 am

"They got him brother...they fucking got him."

Jury Whit stood there in the Albany Charter clubhouse, he had just been informed of the hit and he didn't even wanna fucking believe it. The fucking snakes they were, Mendoza wanted to make sure that his brother was put down, this was not fucking cool, it wasn't even in the fucking books and yet here they were, an attack on a National President was grounds for war...in other terms, in terms of the mafia, they were going to the mattresses

"Okay, contact every president, Hayes, the Russians and Cordelia, plus New York. All movement and selling of our medicinal and weaponry hardware are cut off to remain in the warehouses. Tell Hayes and the presidents to ride down to Albany, lockdown every fucking clubhouse. Every single one of them, no more attacks, no more anything, we'ere strictly focused on putting Mendoza and his dogs down."

Roger 'Jury' Whit heard nothing for a while before Antonio said a muttered yes, knowing that now was not a time to question orders. Roger turned on his feet and walked by a few rooms, noticing how people were trying to offer him some apologies, Estaorssa wasn't dead. Not yet and he was glad for that, his brother was stronger than that.

"Brother, I just got off the phone with Kozik and Ortiz, they'll be the first up here and from there, we can expect the other brothers. You want a drink, you can try to say no but I know you want one, so I'll settle you for some conversation instead. Which would this first, Esta would not want you to chop these fuckers up, he would want you to continue on the path of using the angels instead. They're prepared and ready..."

Givern spoke with a pearl of wisdom granted with his age, a former Vice-President of the Heavenly Host Albany Charter and now President, a long-time member of the club who witnessed the rise and fall of many of his brothers. Sticking by the club no matter what befell it, a man who had been glad that Roger made the trip up here. He was never going to forget the man for this, he was loyal to him but he had to make sure he steered in the direction he wished to go in.

"If I got shot by Mendoza and his dogs, he would have every single brother on his way to Canada right now. If...it was him, he would have still waited...he wants to sacrifice for the club but not lead with his own vengeance for the club. This is what needs to happen, and execution, I want Azteca President, Hernandez Colon, he has to suffer for what he has done to this club."

Givern nodded for a moment, looking at Roger in a new light. He was in his head, he could see it. There was a tactical style to this, the old man wasn't blind to this either. He could see that Roger wanted so much more, he wanted to put his former brothers in the ground but they would put on alert after this. 

"Good. You do this and you make sure that you send our guys, you get in contact with Putlova and New York, bring a new head to this table of theirs. Estarossa is down, for now, we make sure that we can do this correctly and we put these fuckers out for good. The Aztecas, they've been a big MC once...they never fell and risen from the ashes like we have so many times...it is because of a single-family"

Roger nodded, it was because of a single-family why they had done so many things, the Pavanno Family, one of the newer generations lines to continue into this golden age and here they were, standing among some of the greatest. They continued spreading, one of the few whose empires always stood, their businesses continued being the talk of the town. Now here they were, one of the few remaining organization started by a Pavanno, it seems some of the other brotherhoods had forgotten who and what made them get this far in the world. 

"Givern, this is going to be one of the more brutal wars that we go through. I already have a plan of attack, I want Winston and Hector to fuck Pack up, bring his charter to kneel at my feet. They're going to burn and first, we are going to make sure that they don't see this coming. We're going to walk...then we're going to burn them to the ground and see how they like that brother."

Givern nodded, giving Roger a side hug before standing up and walking out of the room, deciding that Roger needed to be alone and as soon the door closed, Roger broke down crying. No one was going to put him down for crying, the man that had been his best friend and rock, the man who was leading them all into a new and more prosperous future. 

"Leave him alone for now brother, we're all going to make the calls and leave him be for now. He needs it, we all do. We settle, for now, gather the boys and lock this down, I want everyone here, understood?"

Givern spoke with his own authority to his patches, knowing that they had heard his talk with Whit. The old president walked into the clubhouse chapel, allowing his hands to slide along the table and its design. The angel wings that were now tarnished, the fallen angels were now fighting the host as if fate, the former leader, the founding angel was now going against the one who coveted and led the remaining brotherhood into his perceived threat. 

"This was not the vision you had brother, you wanted to make sure we could be peaceful, be prosperous and remain away from the eyes of the law. The day you supposedly died, it was the day that it changed for this club. I hope to god and all his archangels that you are not dead, for we need you to lead us into battle."

Givern stopped short, falling into his seat as he leaned back, his thoughts on how far this brotherhood had fallen....and he hoped that the odds would forever be in their favour to come out of this whole.