The man stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it before shaking his match and tossing it aside. A few of the boys behind him continued firing off a few rounds, making sure the police presence was tucking tail. Others had already begun loading the goods onto their boats.

The man puffed on his cigarette a bit before looking up, blue eyes reflecting the lights off the buildings. "Yer close ta Detroit, boyo. Lies just across tha river thar. Don'ae like hearin' thar be operations tryin' ta move so close ta Tha Paragons, an' we nae be a part o' it." He didn't give his name, but The Paragons... People generally knew that name.

"I'll take me share o' t'is product an' push it inta tha streets o' Detroit. I suggest yeh take yers an' get out o' here quick. Maybe if yeh make it back ta Detroit, come an' see someone about a share at Paragon Tower. Downtown." The man turned his back to Mick and headed for the boats. As he stepped off the dock, he turned back to face the somewhat confused men in Canada.

"I like tha way yeh set up t'is operation, lad. Yeh just had a few kinks, an' I figured yeh might need help o' some bigger guns. Yer a smart one. I implore yeh... Come ta Detroit."  He lifted his boot to the dock and shoved off, the boat drifting away from the pier before a few of the bigger guys began paddling silently across the river. He never took his eyes off of Mick until they drifted out of sight, the cigarette's orange glow being the only thing left to see over the dark water before it, too, vanished.