D0m3n1c looked over the empty unit in downtown detroit. "This has a lot of potential" he thought. The building was built in the late `1800s so it it was covered in old brick and vines. Windows needed replacing but it had a wide open area in the front & lots of room inside for 2 or 4 person tables plus some room along the wall for booths with a privacy screen for private conversations. There was even room along the back wall for a small bar and stage for some late night entertainment. 

After renovations, and posting some guards as "bouncers" he was ready for business. D0m3n1c's Bar & Coffee Shop was open for business.

Sal got world that D0m3n1c had opened up a bar, so he decided to go check it out.  Sal walked in with Sammy and they sat at the bar and ordered Canadian whiskey and cheered Dom on the opening of his new establishment.  Dom was a little busy in the back office but he Sal knew at some point Dom would come out and speak to his customers.  

Sal heard his name ring out and looked up to see @D0m3nic walking towards him.  Sal raised his glass and stood up to shake his pal's hand.  

I'm doing well, how are you doing Dom?  The place looks good, and you got top-notch whiskey too.  This must have cost you a pretty penny.  I got a few days before heading back to the windy city.  

"Thanks, I will ensure my staff know that you get a glass of our top of the line whisky when you walk in. Any news from the windy city that I should be aware about?" D0m3n1c asks Sal.

KillShot walks in needing to do some business in Detroit, After meeting some associates he and the boys decide to grab a drink. he walks in and smiles to see Salvatore and Dominic "Hey Gentleman nice ot see you. Sal what you got there Canadian Whiskey?" He looks at  Dom0nic "hey Dom just give us the rest of the bottle we boys here can finish it off!"

Killshot and his boys fill their glasses and raise them to Dominic and Salvatore "To the great Windy City Chicago and the best damn family to ever step foot in it"

Everybody who was anybody knew the troubles, trials and tribulations that  D0m3n1c had been through to escape the clutches of the nefarious wife beating basketball Coach, Headcoach. Hobbs had followed the rise and fall of  D0m3n1c with great interest; as an orphan he was kidnapped off the streets and held captive. Mop strapped to one hand, bucket to the other. The poor guy was forced to mop the courts all day long before being fed thin gruel. Thankfully Illumi... Illuminiat... Illuminatiated guy had saved his life and rescued him into Chicago.

It took big balls to come back here after leaving, and clearly D0m3n1c had the biggest balls in town. Hobbs decided to reward him with his customary custom. Few cups of coffee as black as they could be, and then over to the toilets on 12th street to do some damage.

"D0m3n1c" Hobbs called out "I do say... this place really does have some potential. When was it built? I'd say late 1800s for sure..."

Iron Mike fondly remembered the day D0m3n1c had done some work for the temporary disco. His follow up discussions with Dom had stuck in his mind. 'Not having a fucking clue what HeadCoach was going on about' was something Iron Mike & Dom shared. Mikes mind is cast back to Doms parting words before he left for Chicago 'Thought I do work for other crews in the meantime. Bills to pay ya know...'

Mike was elated Dom had managed to pay his bills & set himself up with a business in Downtown Detroit. Mike enters and has a vietnam style flashback to the dreaded nbsp days.

"Dom my good friendth. Can you sort me out a coffee, a black coffee. I am going to make Head Coath some HYPHE MUD."

"Mike, I do say, don't you think this was place was built in the 1800s?"

Hobbs continued talking as if it he was the most fascinating person in the room, which when you compared him to the ear biting maniacal midget Mike Tyson he probably was. Hobbs had first met Mike many years ago and the two had clicked; one was a midget boxer, the other a magnificent wrestler. Naturally they pummelled many an opponent before Mike decided he was too cool for poor Hobbs and moved away.

But here they were again, reunited at last. Almost. If only that nefarious rat bastard Headcoach wasn't in the way.

"Yeah, definitely 1800s. Those windows could do with a replacement though, what do you say to that my friend?"

Hobbs ho-hummed as he waited for a reply.
 

Coach could smell the foul scent of Hobbs still lingering in the air. He'd spent plenty of time breathing in the rancid odor during the two (or perhaps three?) separate incidents in which he had caught the young crewleader slipping his fingers into Coach's pockets and delivered a beatdown unto him that would level city blocks. Coach longed for that feeling again, to mug stupid Hobbs once more, as he set fire to various things in D0m3n1c's coffee shop and broke a couple chairs into several pieces. 

Hobbs watched Coach move around the room slowly. It was remarkable really. It was like a Sea Lion flop around on a rock. His legs heaved with the strain of walking, and I could only imagine the strain on his cankles and knees as he walked. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. I watched as he tried to start a fire and break things. I knew it was hard for Coach watching D0m flourish in such ways. He was a man going places, protected by a real family. It was sad when people turned destructive over a break up. Maybe this was a prelude for how he'd behave once his wife almost certainly divorced him? Headcoach? More like Headcuck.

"Coach, don't do this, please. Look how much effort he's put in. There's room inside for at least 2-4 people, plus booths in the back if you want private conversations. Why would you burn this, why!?"

Hobbs shook his head. Such wanton destruction.

D0m hears Hobbs 's questions and responds "yes 1800s I believe. The windows will be replaced in a couple weeks" He then walks over to MikeTyson to give his customary black coffee. "Here ya go Mike. Anything else I can give you?"

D0m saw HeadCoach walk in and try to start a fire. He beckons his associates and some guards over. "See this fat slob! He is still bitter because I left his weak ass crew to become part of real family in Chicago. Kick him out and ensure that him and none of crew are allowed back on pain of mugging or death. Whatever comes first." 

He watches as his crew walk over to HeadCoach, grab him by his arms and toss him out the front window onto the sidewalk. "Good Riddance now I need to replace the windows." D0m thought as he headed back to the bar.

Hobbs watched in a mixture of disgust and amazement as the brave Sir D0m3n1c and his guards managed to pick Headcoach up and throw him through the window. How embarrassing for him. If I was him, I'd never show my face again. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Four evers. That was a serious number. Hobbs sipped his coffee with his smirk as he heard Headcoach whining in the background. Hopefully he'd broken something. Maybe re-injured the undisclosed upper limb injury he'd complained about that kept him out of the war efforts or battle to cleanse BricktownCL (GRHS) and his lot from the city.

"Great vibes, D0m3n1c. I must say, you have some stones to threaten to murder members of JFMAST openly and publicly in here. A Made Man too! Wow, is that a declaration of war?" Hobbs lowered his voice "Does your boss know?"

Hobbs was shocked. He was a big fan of Omerta, but he would have to leak this to Jaws post haste to get the news out there. This was serious, and big news.

D0m3n1c looked Hobbs. "I was serious about the mugging but not the death. I am tired of HeadCoach coming into my businesses and destroying my property. He has done it here in Detroit and my business in Chicago. No more!" 

Having tentatively looked around several of @D0m3nic's establishments in numerous cities Void could not help but notice that most of the time violence was being committed there by the girthy figure of HeadCoach.

The strength that was put on display by the B-Ball Bigwig was comparable to that of a potassium-deprived gorilla who was told that there was a banana in the back of the shop. Chairs go flying, shit gets smashed, destruction is everywhere. Void did not particularly wish to get involved in this dance of destruction on either side but could not help voicing his thoughts.

Is there somekind of beef between you two fellas or am I missing something here?

Assistant Coach FrizzleFry steps inside D0m3n1c's Coffee Shop, home of the worst coffee in the world according to some.  He disregarded the smell of smoke from the fires started by HeadCoach, assuming D0m3n1c had just burnt the coffee again like he always does.  He almost trips on the busted chair that lay in the wake of HeadCoach's rage induced outburst.

D0m3n1c this place is one safety hazard after another.  Has this establishment been properly inspected?  If not, I will be glad to provide the inspection service, and for a small (large) fee I will even ensure this dump passes the inspection.  I'd ask for a coffee to sip while you think about my offer, but the coffee here is just so bad I think I'd rather drink out of one of the 12th Street Public Toilets instead.

He takes a seat in one of the few remaining chairs left intact and waits for D0m3n1c's answer.

Having heard about the raucous at D0m3n1c's Bar & Coffee Shop, Grin-22 thought he had best tag along. He had always avoided the place, even when visiting the nearby 12th Street Public Toilet. He had heard terrible things about the coffee in this little hellhole and taking one look at the exterior, that wasn't a surprise. He'd heard it described as covered in old brick, probably more likely to have been built out of them, honestly. Solid walls too given the age of it, pointed with a lime-based mortar as was the practice at the time. Spalling of brickwork was common during adverse weather conditions and repairs to spalled bricks and repointing of mortar joints would be necessary parts of any worthwhile ongoing maintenance programme. Those vines would need to go too; climbing plants allowed pest and water ingress where they cause or contribute to weakening of mortar beds. Single glazed timber windows would be loadbearing, couldn't just go around replacing them willy-nilly. How was the weight from above going to be supported? Soldier course brickwork lintels? Prone to slippage. Structural issues could ensue. Why, D0m3n1c's Bar & Coffee Shop could be reduced to a dusty rubble and rubbish-strewn pit within days. Looking around, Grin realised that it kinda already was.

He saw HeadCoach, frothing at the mouth, broken chair leg stuffed in one meaty paw, sweat running down his back like a cloudburst. Condensation. FrizzleFry was there too, probably touting his services for a small fee, $20,0001 usually. Grin would love to give him the old JFK_Jr 1-2 and beat the piss out of him, but his entire crew were never far away and it was hard to find a room big enough to hold all 6 of them at once. 

Hey Coach, what's the Canadian whiskey like here in this coffee shop?

Coach panted heavily from his seat in a booth in the corner. He breathed loudly for about 15 minutes while everyone did their thing. He was pretty tired, so couldn't really concentrate on who or what was happening around him. He swung his finger around a little bit from the arm which rested on the back of the seat but nobody seemed to notice his unspoken request to get the air-conditioning turned on. He'd started to wheeze a little bit. He grabbed the edge of the table to help heave himself back on his feet with a great amount of effort and noise, after which he spent a couple minutes unclipping a curtain from its rings, threw it on the ground and started to step on it vigorously, snorting and wheezing like a feral hog.