19XX, Sunset Pier, Los Angeles 

"You're an ass, buddy." James spat as he leaned against the railing; his gaze sought out whatever he could. The pier was hardly the site of mass murders, but it put him on edge. 

He remembered some other piers, filled with bodies, buried beneath them as well. He'd been used in wars, some that were sparked by the likes of some Cat Man. 

"Business. You're acting like we can't do this all the time. Don't you remember Las Vegas? The strippers were all over you." His friend purred from his side as their ebony skin glistened in the sun and James rolled his eyes, immediately recalling the night. 

"Yeah, I know, because we had a kilo of coke." James spat as he fetched inside of his pocket for a few smokes when he noticed a few figures down the pier. 

Suits. 

"Heh. It was still a party before that poster, Erik, came through with his fucking posse. We had a wild night and then, well, it ended how it usually does with you." 

Ouch. That hurt, and Jimmy sent her a look at the way she shrugged as he flicked her finger out over to the sea and seemed to spot a speedboat followed by a few other ships in tow. 

"I don't hear you complaining about my companionship, doll." He sighed, his eyes glaring over at her as she just chuckled and tilted her head. 

"Because we're all intrinsically fucked up, Summers even slept with you before the whole incident." James frowned at that and shrugged; his eyes strangely looked all over the place, and for a second, he felt relaxed. 

No one could ever stop him from living, and how he lived was on him, no one else. 

"So, we're desperately looking for companionship, is that it? I expected a little more, like, I don't know, help." Jimmy chuckled as she tilted her head from side to side. 

She looked all business, in a suit and a trench coat that probably hid all sorts of fucking guns. She hadn't liked hand-to-hand, not like him. That was his bread and butter, but her? She managed well enough on her own, and soon, the two of them continued to keep an eye on the waves. 

The ships grew closer, and soon enough, they'd noticed the other suits walk by them, and James only gave them a wave before their eyes narrowed and went to his partner in crime for this job. 

He was glad Xavier sent her out here for this job; thank whomever. 

Ever since Abel's little trip to whoever his god was, well, thankfully, they'd decided to put some heat on Miguel's crew. They hadn't even noticed that Abel was missing, and it led well enough that James was the one who'd simply be able to put the best heat possible on this crew. 

Xavier had gained some support from other crews, but for now, well, shit, it seemed like Jimmy was out on his own in the west. It'd allow him to pick off what he could, but right now, they were waiting for that first shipment from the east.

Heroin.

"You got me, Jim. Isn't that, I don't know, enough? The others wouldn't be able to support you, and what? What the fuck did you want to do, call for support? Does it look like we have the numbers for that?" 

Of course Xavier didn't have that; they hired a bunch of street thugs and invited them into their main base. Of course, Jimmy didn't like that and thought it'd end up a bit off, difficult. 

He smirked at her and shrugged; he always thought they should have outsourced. Xavier's operation wasn't built for the long term; it was a pipe dream, a complete sense of loss. There wasn't any honour in this game anymore; there was them and others. Sometimes, they needed to ally with others. 

For the time being, there was always a sense of worth, of alliance, of kinship. James hadn't felt that with anyone, not yet. Not even the Irish, but well, there had been one broad. 

That night at the joint in LA, it'd been a bit touch and go, but when she touched his hand, holy fucking shit. It'd nearly caused him to invite her on this job, but from what he knew, well, she was like him. A loner. 

Besides, he and Marika would have a date, well, a meet-up soon enough. He'd known that the Vineyards would be fun enough and supportive enough; he just needed that extra push, some support before he finally put a knife in that fucking scumbag's head. 

Finally, he looked back at Munroe and just really gave her the best look he'd be able to muster in a situation like this. 

"Well, fuck no. We both know the weak points in Xavier's crew; it's why we're in a situation like this. We're caught up in these throes and wars; we can't be having infighting." Munroe stared at him, sadness in her eyes as she spoke the same as usual. 

Her voice was monotonous, yet stern and serious. 

"Is that why you ran away? Are you finished infighting? People respected you, Jimmy. You left them too soon." He growled at that and just stared at her; she knew why he'd left, and it had nothing to do with what she was insinuating. 

"I didn't want to get caught up in some Jean, Summers, and Howlett bullshit, alright? Sue me, Munroe. What did I have left in New York anyway? Besides, I've made a name for myself here, in LA. You could too." She chuckled but for that first time, it was just bitterness. 

"I'm not going to stop giving a shit because I've had too much, I don't know, drama. You stick it out with people who've been there for you, and it isn't supposed to stop you from being there for them. You ran away, and we both know it." 

Jimmy just turned to her, almost as if the reason they were here had been forgotten as he poked her harshly. 

"Fuck you, Munroe." He glared at her, not a care in the world now as she threw her head back with laughter. 

"You've done that before, Fun, I know, but it's true. You ran away and decided you couldn't hack it anymore, whilst the rest of us have to make it work without you!" She took hold of his leather jacket, and for a moment, there was just that lack of tone, lack of worth that each of them looked at one another with. 

"Then come with me." James whispered as he held onto her hands then. "I'm waiting, and I live a good life here but I didn't leave just because of Jean and Summers; it made it easier, sure, but it's not the only reason."

Munroe just stared at him as the two looked down at the ships that grew closer in the distance. 

"I know. It sucks, but I know. What would I even do out here?" She whispered that, like she didn't have a chance, as for once, James decided to give her a hand. 

"Then you know I'm building something out here. This pier, well, it's just the start. It'll be one of the biggest money-makers, besides the films, that is, that Los Angeles has ever seen. I'm going to be in front of it too, leading the fucking way."

There was a pause there, a moment. 

"That's what you want? To build something, away from Xavier?" The two paused before James adjusted, looking over his wrists with a gleam in his eyes. 

He stopped then; he looked at her with a deep worry in his eyes. 

"No. It's what he told me to do, and I respect the old man." James pulled out a few smokes, offering Munroe one when she shrugged and shook her head. 

A minute later, smoke lit, and the entire payload was right there, upon them. 

"Well. Maybe I'll take you up on that and make sure that we make the old man proud. Is that it for you?" Munroe started to follow after James as the two walked down the pier. 

Times like these made them appreciate one another. It needed to be said, to be done, and to be considered. 

What they did wasn't easy, but it was necessary, completely. 

"It makes the job easier. Xavier's the reason why I got into this life, why I decided that I needed this. I didn't want anything other than what I needed to have, what I needed to do." James smiled at that, because it was simple. 

Nothing in this life was complicated, needless. 

You had a role, you played it, and when that was threatened, you mitigated it. By means beyond or means that needed to be had, there were situations that needed to be given and accepted. 

Yet in the end, when you had people that counted on you, they were all that mattered. Your friends in this life, well, they meant more to you than your own blood. 

"Then what are we waiting for, Jim?" Munroe continued to follow him. 

The shipment finally arrived, and it was then that the two followed after the suits, who barely noticed they were here. They knew who the crew was, and they needed to be fast. 

They didn't need a war with the Buretti Crew on their hands. They were small-time, barely considered a part of the Commission, but they made enough that it seemed like they were about to make a big-ass play for the great seat they were seemingly offered. 

Jimmy had managed to catch a bit of information here and there, but they seemed like they hardly knew what the fuck was going on. 

"We've got the casino up and running, Johnny, but we're here to make sure that the fucker gives us what we deserve. Miguel's been putting too many fingers in a pie sometimes, and this is our kickback. Make sure a few of the guys are stationed around as well; we don't want to do, you know, a little too much. 

Jimmy traded a look, smirking ever so slightly to his friend as she chuckled. 

"I've let them know, but we've got to be careful; there's the whole Vineyard, that guy, Gall—"

Jimmy froze as he leaned closer and seemed to slightly step up without anyone noticing. Munroe matched him as the two carefully brought their respective pieces for this job. 

It was a colt for Munroe and Jimmy's knives for himself, but this is what they needed. 

"He's promised us a few weapons, and well, the Irish won't pay us any mind." 

James sighed and shook his head before he gave Munroe the all clear. 

It'd kicked off then as two gunshots echoed in the air and birds had scattered for warmer climates than Los Angeles would have been then. 

Bullets fired but James and Munroe stayed where they were as they watched the bodies of mafiosi and cartel sicarios hit the ground. They were the only ones standing bar a couple of enemies but they'd done it as James decided to fish through some of the pockets. 

They were dead men sure but his eyes had picked something up...

@NicoDiFaro. 

"Seems like our friends have someone on the line for distribution. Want me to handle that or should you?" Munroe muttered, her gaze heavy as Jimmy felt a bit peeved and annoyed. 

Los Angeles was his. 

The Irish made sure that he'd gotten every single piece of the pie but maybe he needed to do business correctly and whoever she was, well, maybe he needed to employ some different skills. 

"I got this." He muttered as he stuffed the card into his pocket and continued to walk down the pier, where he'd not heard a single bit of sirens still. 

Maybe his officials in the police managed to keep this one radio silent. It helped that he managed enough to have eight on his payroll but fucking hell, sometimes they drained his wallet. 

"Alright. Let's go collect our heroin." 

Munroe slipped down the stairs and watched as the remaining soldier, a Buretti soldier, seemed to enjoy the last of his thoughts as she snuck up behind him, but James held up his hand as the man turned around, fear in his eyes. 

"Kill him; he's the runt, Wolf." Munroe tried to appeal to that side of him but it wouldn't work, not when this guy was made and the others were, well, goons, associates. 

"There are rules, Storm." He glared at where she stood as the two looked at him like he had some sort of bad luck. 

"We can split this, man. Look, my bosses—" James tutted. 

"They don't mean dick in Los Angeles. I work with the real bosses, the real killers. You? You're nothing but you have something—you survived, and I like that." James stepped forward and disarmed the scared-shitless guy as he smoothed over his suit. 

"What's your name, guy? A relationship, pleasure, or business, if you'd like, should be about names and respect." He watched as the guy scowled at one of those; perhaps it was the business, James hoped so at least. 

"Federico Potasenca. My friends call me Pots or Derek, whichever you prefer." He clearly preferred Derek before James lit up another smoke and offered it to Derek. 

"Well, Derek. Today's your lucky day, for all of us. You see. I have some big orders to fill, some shoes too. How many units is this?" James stood at Derek's side as Storm took up guard, as if bodies hadn't littered the entire walkway and these two needed to have a normal conversation. 

"1,000. It's meant to range somewhere between 10 and 15 mil; it's a big deal. My bosses wanted me to make sure that I'd deliver it to a pair out here in LA, something about business arrangements. We only knew one of them, however, a girl." Derek hummed before James noticed twenty bags. 

"We got the truck?" Storm nodded her agreement and James nodded as he grunted and picked up a bag. 

"Take this. This is enough, it should be. I want you to deliver this to this chick. Tell her James Howlett sent you, and if she wants work, big work, I suggest she works with me and not against me." James sent Derek on his way but not before Storm finally came over to his side. 

The two stared at the product, everything that'd be needed. "For the old man, huh?" Storm chuckled as she started to load up the truck without a care in the world. 

"Yeah." James' gravelly voice had started then; he chuckled and stepped up. Little by little he knew he'd be needed in whatever capacity Storm wanted. "For the old man, the fucking cunt never paid well anyway." He muttered as he and Storm shared a soft smile. 

If only he knew that he'd be inviting new players into his plans, and maybe if it all worked out, they'd reap the fucking benefits of his hard work...