John had not been around the HQ very long, or very often.  Not yet a full patch, he knows what is expected of him, but he is eager to earn a place and the respect of his crew.  Walking into the HQ bar, he sees Red sitting at his usual booth, but can tell something is wrong.  Looking at the clock on the wall, and the expression on Red's face, the anger, the concern, John assumes something is wrong with Jack.  He should be here right now.

Walking to the bar he grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.  Stopping to think twice, worried he's overstepping his place, he turns towards Red and walks up to the table.

"Hey Red.  You look like you could use a drink", he places the bottle and glasses on the table, waiting for  some reaction.  After an uncomfortable silence, Red looks up from his seat, grabs the bottle, pulls the cork and takes a long drink.

"John right?" he says while staring a cold dead stare.  "Yes sir.  Been here a few days."  Red motions him to sit down and fills both glasses.

"Look John, not sure if you've seen that young kid who's been doing some work for me?  Well, things have gone sideways and he's in a bad place, have you heard of The Butchers?"  John nods his head, "We've all heard of them, a bunch of disorganized animals, no respect, no loyalty, what kind of trouble is your boy in?  Anything I can help with?

Red leans back in his seat and does another shot, something obviously on his mind.  "The Butchers are holding Jack.  He was there to make a delivery and they seem to think I will give them more than they deserve to save him.  I know what they deserve, but I can't just walk in there, they know me too well, but they don't know you...  You ready to send a message from the Hardcases to  anyone who would even think about trying this bullshit again?

John fills his glass and throws  it back in one shot before looking Red in the eyes "Red, if you want them to know just how bad they fucked up, say the word, and I will make sure they never fuck with you, or any Hardcase again".

Red pulls out a piece of paper, writes quickly and slides it accross the table.  

Picking it up, John sees an address and a simple note "If you want to earn in Vegas, The Hardcases get  their cut, their way, always, or you all die".  John slides the note into his pocket and stands up, but before he can turn away, Red looks up at him and says one last thing. "There aren't many of them at that address, leave that note with the last one.  You choose which one that is"

"Consider  it done boss.  I'll be back.  Keep your phone on."

Walking out of the clubhouse, John is excited.  This will be the first time he gets the opportunity to prove himself.  He has make it something special.

Pulling into an alley a few blocks from the address given to him by Red, John wasn't exactly sure what  he was about to walk into.  Knowing guns may give their crew too much warning, he slides his piece into the back of his pants and grabs a straight razor from his bag.  As he walks down the alley he sees a filthy old coat sitting next to a dumpster, after shaking it off, he throws it accross his shoulders and pulls up the hood and walks to the corner.

The address is a small pawn shop.  There appears to be only one entrance, two cars parked out front and one man standing at the door.  John crosses the street, showing a limp and stumbling into the Cadillac.  As he lays face down on the trunk, he coughs and hacks, slamming his hand on the trunk lid.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing to fucking bum?" A voice rings out as the man at the door comes running towards him.  "Do you know who's car that is asshole?  My boss loves that fucking car".   Holding him against the car, he slams his fists into Johns kidneys, grabs the back of his coat and pulls him back into the alley.  "John falls to his knees, head down, begging for the beating to stop.

"I'm sorry man, I didn't... didn't mean nothin by it.  Please, let me make it up to you.  I'll do anything, please, anything."

The man stands over him, and asks one question "Do you know why they call us the Butchers?"  

"No sir, I don't.... please don't kill me, I can be useful, I know I can"

"Listen here you filth prick, I can put one between your eyes right now and make it quick, or I can ask the boss if he might have a use for you, but if he doesn't, and I doubt he will, he's gonna carve you into little pieces for fucking with his car, then wasting his time"

John hesitates, making the man believe he doesn't know exactly what his answer is, before saying "I can be of use man, I know I can, I don't want to die in this alley.  Let me die doing something for your boss, my life isn't worth shit, but I'll do anything"

"Thats your call pal" the man says grabbing John by the coat again and pulling him to his feet, "But don't say I didn't warn you".  He forcefully pushes John towards a small door on the back side of the building and down a flight of stairs.  As he lifts his head, John can two more men standing next to Jack, tied to a chair, blindfolded.  One is obviously the boss, nice suit, bad hair, rings that make him look like a low level pimp, it's hard for John not to laugh at their "leader".  The other is a thin man with a dead stare.  He shows no emotion and he says nothing.

"What the fuck is this" yells the man in the suit.  "What the fuck is wrong with you? bringing that homeless prick down here?  I pay you to keep those assholes away from me... you are the worst bodyguard  I've ever fucking seen."

The guard quickly replies "Boss, this idiot was making a mess all over your car, I was going to pop him in the alley, but he said he would rather die helping you out than die for no reason.  You know that shit we just started with the Hardcases?  I thought maybe we could use this guy?"

The boss slowly walks across the room and past John, who won't make eye contact, hands in his pockets with the razor gripped firmly.  The boss leans in to his protection and whispers something.  As John looks up and sees the boss with his back turned, blocking the view of his guard, this is the moment.  

Pulling the razor from his pocket, he flips it open in one fast, steady motion, reaches around the bosses neck and pulls it quickly across his throat with his right hand, using his left to hold the man and stepping back towards the wall.  Dropping the razor, John reaches back for his revolver as the guard rushes towards them, gun drawn but hesitating to shoot with his boss in the way.  That hesitation buys John just enough time to get a low shot off, catching the guard in the leg and dropping him to the floor.

The thin man doesn't go after Jack, but snatches a small bag from the corner and heads for the stairs.  John drops the boss and quickly fires another shot into the guards chest as he races to meet him at the stairs.  Grabbing him by the hair, John pulls his head back and pounds the handle of this pistol on the mans forehead, dropping him to the ground.  The bag bounces off the bottom step and busts open, spilling it's contents on the floor.

Dragging him across the floor by the hair, John says to the man in a calm, quiet voice.  "Who are you?"

Without saying a word, the man laughs and looks down to the ground.  "You know who I am."  

With the muzzle of his gun now pressed against the mans forehead, John takes a quick look to the floor and it all makes sense.  Three thick stacks of $100 bills, knives, saws, pliers, zip ties.  "Your his cleaner" John says with smile, tapping his gun against his head. John quickly grabs a zip tie and pulls it tight around his wrists.

Looking over to Jack, still tied to the chair, John gets a big smile on his face "Hey bud, Red told me you would be here, looks like I got here just in time".

After cutting Jack free, John passes him the cash from the floor and leads him to the stairs "Get the fuck out of here, go up 6 steps and open the door, don't take the blindfold off till you get outside.  Find a phone and call Red, he's waiting to hear from you.  Ask him to have someone pick you up, I'll be back at the club house soon."

With the sound of the door closing behind Jack, it's time to send the message Red requested.  John turns back towards the sole survivor and slowly walks across the room, picking up a pair of pliers from the tool kit.

"Look friend, I don't know how to get in touch with the man who runs the Butchers, but you do, so you're going to make sure everyone in their crew knows exactly why this happened.  And you will need a new line of work."  Stuffing a rag in his mouth, John makes sure this cleaner never gets a job again, crushing each finger, one at a time, taking a few seconds between each one to calmly remind the man of the message....

"Working in Vegas, means working for the Hardcases.  Our city.  Our rules.  You pay your tax, or you die"