Peering through the blinds of a window in an office in Lower Manhattan, Bombadil listened to Spencer Freeman's grievances. Spencer was a local shoe maker who had contacted Bombadil the day before asking for help.

"Forgive me, Mr. Bomba. I only went to the police first because I thought it was the right thing to do. I know that you and Peptide are very busy and I didn't want to bring such small matters to Peptide's door," Spencer said hesitantly, "But now its becoming quite the concern for me. The guys that keep shaking down my business are working for some corrupted federal agent. I should have went to Peptide from the beginning, I know that now. I only ask for your guidance and any help that you can lend me."

Bombadil turned around away from the window, signaling to his bodyguard to pour a couple of drinks. MekhiMusso was there. He sat listened while he smoked his marijuana cigarette. As the bodyguard poured 2 glass of 5 year aged Bourbon, Bombadil gave Spencer a reply, "I understand. You went to the police because you thought they would help you." Bombadil grabs the two drinks and passes one to Spencer. "You're in a tough spot," Bombadil said as he sat down at his desk,"and Peptide hates to see his friends in a tough spot. But are you though? Can Peptide truly call you a friend?"  "Mr. Bomba, of course I'm his friend. I have never done anything against the family. I would never," Spencer says as he slowly takes a sip of his whiskey, "Is there anyway I can let Peptide know that he has friend with me? I'll do anything for Peptide. Anything. Just take care of this for me."

Bombadil takes a sip of his whiskey and stares at Spencer for a moment. "Now, listen carefully. You're gonna go downstairs, get in the car, my guy is gonna drive you. You're gonna go down to the Lucky Adhesion HeadQuarters and ask to see the Boss. You're not going down there to have a fucking beer neither. You're gonna let him know that he truly has a friend in you and that he has your respect. Do you understand?"

"Absolutely, without question, Mr. Bomba sir," Spencer said quickly, nodding his head. "Now, once you do this, you can never go back. Saying no to Peptide will be the last word you ever speak." "I understand, Mr Bomba."

"Alright," Bombadil said as he shook Spencer's hand,"Don't worry no more about this Fed agency business. The Boss has many connections. We'll take of it for you. Don't worry." "Thank you very much for this Mr. Bomba," Spencer said excitedly as he continued to shake Bombadil's hand. "It's been my pleasure. Now get going, the Boss will be expecting you."

As Spencer leaves the office, Bombadil turns to one of his bodyguards,"I need you to call some of our connections over in Chicago. There's a man named Alexander_Hamilton, he calls himself The Federalist. He knows how the Fed works better than anybody. Tell him, 'Peptide in Manhattan needs a favor' and to come see me if he's available."

The bodyguard picks up the phone and begins the process while Bombadil looks through his paperwork.

Some days had passed. Bombdail had received word that this corrupted agent who was shaking down Spencer's business was bringing cocaine in from docks outside of Brooklyn. They were operating without giving Peptide and BML their cut. The corrupt agent had a stake in three businesses in the New York area and Bombadil was about to take control of them for the family.

The first business on Bombadil's list was a butcher shop owned by a politician who loved taking bribes from the representatives of Lucky Adhesion.

Bombadil set up a meeting with the city councilman to talk about transferring all rights to the profits over to Bombadil's Boss, Peptide. The politician showed up right on time. He knew that people in the mafia were serious about attending meetings on time. Bombadil arrived early, making sure the environment was, in his opinion, satisfactory. The table that the politician and Bombadil sat at was made of mahogany, carved with expert precision. "So, about this butchershop business. The boss of Manhattan, Peptide, wants to buy you out," Bombadil said as he took a sip from his flask. The politician was hesitant when he spoke,"Listen Mr. Bomba. My hands are tied with this. There other variables at play here." "I know you're dealing with a guy from the fed. I can make him go away and you can become a lot richer," Bombadil explained as he put his flask back into his coat. Bombadil pulled an envelope out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Immedialty after placing the envelope on the table, a man dressed in federal officer uniform walked into the room.

"I really appreciate your cooperation Mr. Bombadil. Your family and I are going to be great business partners in the future. I expect more visits like this," the corrupted agent said to Bombadil as he took the envelope from the table.

Without saying a word, Bombadil got up and walked out of the meeting.

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Some days later, as Bombadil was making eggs on an early morning, he heard on the radio that a local politician got caught up in the rackets with a corrupted federal agent, and was assassinated. To everyone's surprise that corrupted agent got sentenced to 25 years for smuggling cocaine through the harbor. The corrupted federal agent's body was found in a ditch the next day. Bombadil continued to make his breakfast.

The corrupted agent was a problem for few people in New York. Bombadil made sure that the agent was taken out of the way and that his remaining business interests would be up for grabs while he sat in the jailhouse. Bombadil had already made a move on the Butcher Shop the corrupted agent had a stake in.

The other two businesses still had a fifteen to twenty percent that was waiting for somebody to make a move on.

The Fowler Brothers Contractors was a small office that contracted construction jobs to local teams and people from the union. Every time there was a major construction, The Fowler Brothers had a piece of it. The corrupted agents stake in the business wasnt big but Bombadil knew it would increase his profit margins by taking control of at least the corrupted agent's piece of the action.

Bombadil got in his car and drove to the cement factory, where they make all the concrete for the buildings and side walks, to talk to the general manager about his option for future business with The Fowler Brothers. Bombadil had convinced the general manager to continue to do work for The Fowler Brothers only if Bombadil would broker the deals. The Fowler Brothers Construction Company did not catch wind of it until Bombadil was already at their door.

Or course, Bombadil had to flash his gun a few times but the current owners of the construction company were willing to take on a new partner, paying fifteen percent of the profit to the Lucky Adhesion organization. After the owners signed the paperwork, Bombadil popped open a bottle of campaign to celebrate. The owners of the construction company drank their drinks like their lives depended on it.

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Back at the office, Bombadil received a telegraph from his connection down in Pompono Beach. The telegraph spoke about a group of refugees that were seeking passage into the United States and a way to get from Florida to New York. Bombadil went down to the telegraph office and replied to his connection down in Florida that he wanted to set up a meeting to discuss the details of this group's stay in America. The meeting was set for Baltimore and was going to go down the next day.

Bombadil went to his home to rest and prepare for the business ahead.

The cold and misty Baltimore morning kept Bombadil in a pleasant mood. He had been sitting in the back of his car for the better part of three hours and the whiskey bottle he had killed, while waiting for his associate finish his work, was wearing off. Although he would never be Made, Bombadil's associate, Richard, was eager to prove himself.

Usually Richard was sent on smuggling runs or he did some collections for Peptide, but he recently had a run in with the Durden Gang and thought it would be a good idea to take a job from them to make some extra money. The Durden who tried to flex on Lucky Adhesion's business was a Wise Guy who went by the name of Calvin. Sometimes, the stars just align. Sometimes fortune shows itself as something menacing at first, then reveals itself to be of benefit for one's family. The Wise Guy from the Durden Gang, Calvin, was owner of Ginger Mill Farms. The same Ginger Mill Farms that the corrupted agent, who colluded with the politician just weeks before, had a piece of ownership.

Peptide had caught wind of it and sent Bombadil to Baltimore to take control of the business. After speaking with Richard, Bombadil took him along to Maryland.

Richard was eager to prove himself. Bombadil gave Richard specific instructions to meet with Calvin_Durden, as Richard and Calvin had originally planned. But Richard was going to bring Peptide's hammer down.

Richard came walking out of an alley way that led to a distribution warehouse for Ginger Mill Farms and got into Bombadil's car. Bombadil and his associate were last seen driving away from Downtown Baltimore.

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The radio in Bombadil's office was set to the classical tunes of Mozart and Bach.

After they played Mozart's 25th, an hourly news broadcast began their segment. It was the usual. Stock prices are up and down, boats in the harbor are polluting the water and air, and some jaw-broke crazy talking cockroach found dead in a ditch. The stock market is like the weather, people have businesses to run, and he probably had it coming. What can you do? But hoola hoop through loopholes and diversify your bonds.