The bar was full of men, drinking away the reality of the times. Unemployment was soaring in Detroit. Auto sales were down for another straight year and the union men did not see an end in sight. The alcohol made them forget the bills, the mortgages they could not pay and the babies at home crying for food.

The radio was turned up loud. Between idle chatter and the occasional drag of their cigarettes, the men listened to their home town team. Hoping the Red Wings could bring home the cup this year and shed some light on the dark town.

There was one section of the bar where the men looked more cheery. These were the men who ran Detroit. As much as the mayor wanted to say he ran the city, everyone knew it was the mob who said what happened.

These men would sit here all night drinking, smoking and also listening to the hockey over the radio. There was a difference though. They would also laugh. They had no worries in the world and enjoyed their nightly drinks.

The bartender stood behind the long bar and the waitresses wandered the floor. They were thankful for the protection from the mobsters at the far end of the room. But the money just was not flowing to them like it should be.

Everyone was waiting and hoping for things to change, the money to flow through this city like in the old days. For now all there was, was the alcohol and radio.

Tyrion got out of a car, remembering he was still wearing his gloves he took them off and threw them on the seat. The smell of cordite never went over well in new business meetings. These guys had been milking what they could out of the disorganised chaos that Detroit. They'd done well with almost nothing to feed on but Tyrion needed to get a read on them. If there were other plans in the pipeline for the city, he'd need to know what kind of rackets were being enforced and who was running it. Mistakes had happened in the past with Don's being given cities, only to show up and encounter resistance from local hoods that didn't know who they were dealing with. Such inconveniences would be better avoided in the future.

Walking inside the working class joint he scanned the room noting the various characters. He was concious of his appearance too. Not too many in here wearing fine tailored long-coats and hundred dollar shoes. Still, Mari would be here soon and the young Right Hand of Phelix team would prove a valuable companion for such negotiations. He sat down at the bar. The bar keep looked at him as if calculating the net worth of his clothes with a view to resale.

"You ain't from around here huh. No matter sir, what can I get you?"

I'll have a whiskey.

The bar keep turned to get the drink and Tyrion sat wondering how long Mari would be.

Mari was running late again. She didn't know how she constantly lost track of time. The watch she was given for her birthday from a great family friend was still shiny. It ticked along nicely and one would think she was able to read it. Maybe it was that she had gone so long without a watch, her last one ticking its last tock months before this shiny new one was given to her wrapped in silver paper. Mari thought how she would have to get used to wearing one again because she no longer had an excuse for leaving people waiting for her. Tyrion needed her tonight and she had better get to their meeting spot quick.

She pressed on the gas pedal and picked up speed. Finally she arrived in front of the bar and parked behind Tyrion's car. She knew he'd be on time, he always was. Mari quickly looked at herself in the mirror and pushed her hair back into position before climbing out and entering the bar.

She could hear the radio on and wondered what the score of the game was. Mari always got distracted too easily and needed to ignore the radio tonight. She walked past table after table of silent men, who just sat there drinking their beer and not saying a word to each other.

Finally she saw Tyrion sitting at the bar. She sat on a stool next to him and started to apologize for her tardiness.

I will get my act together and stop being five minute behind time all the time. Either that or people will just start giving me times fifteen minutes early. Mari giggled and hoped Tyrion wasn't too upset. Just then the bartender came over to ask what she wanted. I'll have a congac please.

He stood and kissed her cheek smiling. Then sat down again and waved at the bar keep who took Mari's order and left.

Good evening my dear. Not to worry about time, I only just got here myself.

The barkeep returned with Mari's drink. Tyrion leaned forward with a c-note and a question for him.

The hoods who are milking this place, where are they? Point them out?

the bar keep looked hesitant but nodded in the direction of the two suits at the far end of the room. They had been watching Tyrion and Mari but that was no surprise. Tyrion picked up his drink and turned to Mari.

Ok here's the deal. We go over there, I'll sit down at their table. You do the talking on behalf of us and we leave. Don't get flustered, it'll be easy. Just say only the basic points, don't open it for discussion and wish them a good evening when you are done. I'll stand again and we leave together. ok?

Mari nodded and sank the rest of her drink before standing. Tyrion winked at her.

Don't worry, it'll be fine.

What Mari really wanted at this point at time was another drink. Luckily for her and Tyrion she knew better than to have a second one before this work was done. She just hoped her friend would be willing to get her another when it was all over with. She waited for Tyrion to get his drink from the bar and the followed him over to the table the bartender had pointed out. He sat down across from the two men in the suits but Mari did not. She stayed standing right behind Tyrion and allowed them to see the expression on her partner's face before beginning to speak.

Seems you boys have a nice little racket going on around here. Too bad the money that was once in Detroit is not here now. Times could be changing very quickly and you will be best advised not to get too conformable with your current sources of income. A new direction will be coming to the city soon and you will need to be able to negotiate with these gentlemen and work out a deal. I am quite confident that an agreement that is beneficial to all parties can be found.

With that Mari waited for Tyrion to stand. She hoped she hadn't sounded as nervous as she was feeling. As she had been talking, she felt as calm as day. Now she just wanted to leave and possibly even have Tyrion carry her out. She turned away and took a deep breath, getting her composure before she had to walk away.

Tyrion stood and nodded to the two rather bemused looking hood and followed Mari back to the bar. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and waved at the bar keep for another round of drinks. He also asked for the two men Mari had spoken with, to have their glasses refilled on him. The drinks got made and handed out. While the barkeep was carrying the tray to the two men on the far side of the bar, Tyrion turned to Mari.

Don't look so worried, you did fine. We'll stay here for this drink and you make sure you relax with it. Lots of smiles and stay relaxed. After what you said they'd expect us to leave. We need to stay for another drink to emphasise their insignificance to us.

The bar keep returned and Tyrion turned. The men were both holding their drinks as if they didn't know what he expected them to do with them. Tyrion fought back a smirk and raised his glass. Like sheep they responded in kind. He turned back to Mari and smiled.

Now they know they look stupid. They know they can't do anything about it as they have accepted a token gesture. They have lost before they began. They know it and more importantly, they know we know it.

He casually rolled a cigarette and fired it up. taking a deep drag he looked at Mari in the mirror behind the bar. A roar went up around the bar as the game was swung on a dramatic home run late in the 9th innings. He exhaled the smoke slowly and sank the rest of his whiskey before looking back at the delightful Mari.

No my dear, I don't think new ownership will meet any resistance here when the time comes.

Mari smiled at Tyrion. Just being in the presence of this Don, her friend, always made her feel calm and relaxed. He had something about him that could keep her nerves under wraps. She sipped her drink and searched in her purse for a cigarette. Tyrion blocked her gaze into her purse with a cigarette of his own. She smiled again, just like him to know what she was looking for. She look the cigarette and he offered her a light.

I actually wasn't nervous when I said what I had to there. It was afterwards, when my lips stopped moving and the silence set in that I wondered what would happen next. But you were right like always. They understand where they stand and there should be no problems for friends of ours in the future.

Mari finished off her drink and put out her cigarette. She took one more look in the mirror at the men who had gone back to talking to each other and enjoying their free drinks. Things had gone better than she expected tonight, but then again she was a constant worrier and should have known her and Tyrion could do this. She turned to him.

Well we did what we were sent here to do. The hour is getting late. Should we head out and get back home before the sun starts to rise once again? Will you walk me out to my car?

Yes my dear. Lets do that.

He got up and left a generous sum on the bar, tipping a wink to the barkeep he escorted Mari outside and into the car. It had been a long day but he knew they could head back with cause to feel content.

Trudging down the street after a long day of checking eyeglass prescriptions and testing for possible glaucoma, Kilroy tries to think of what he needs to help him unwind. He checks out a hot dog cart thinking if that will do it. After a moment of though Kilroy decided to move on as a hot dog just isn't going to do it for him. He continues to think...

Suddenly it hits him. BEER! Beer makes everything better and Kilroy finally remembers that his good friend Mari just opened a bar around the corner. He picks up his step and breezes around the corner to the bar. He opens the door and is met with the thick smell of cigarette smoke. The mood in the bar couldn't be more different from person to person. Some were having a grand time while others where obviously trying to escape a very harsh reality. Kilroy finds an open spot at the bar and sits down.

Hey barkeep, give me beer and a shot of whiskey. Have you seen Mari lately? Any idea of when she might come through?

Mari finally makes it back to Detroit. She did quite like that little pub her and Tyrion had visited on her last trip. She hopes she is welcome there after the last visit. Oh well, she thinks to herself, now is as good a time as any to find out. She enters the Union Bar and sees Kilroy sitting, downing a shot of whiskey. Perfect! I have a friend here. As she walks to the bar, the bartender smiles to her and pours a glass of cognac.

I hope you were looking for a bit of the same as last time ma'am. I had a special bottle bought just incase you stopped by again, the bartender said. Mari smiled and thanked him for being so kind. She then turned to Kilroy and began sipping her drink.

Well hello there. Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to Detroit today?

News of the moment, Falcon was hungry. Well, to be honest, thats not news. Falcon's hungry is never ending. Much like KateBecketts need for cocaine or Anselmo's need for young, korean boys. But thats besides the point, the leader of the Griffin's Lair was in Detroit, checking finacials for his Thrift shop and he desired more food.

The sub that came from the Auto Workers Union Bar that he recently had was tasty, so Falcon waddled his way down the street. The short walk left the fat man winded, he really needed to stop eating like he was carrying twins. Stopping outside, he leaned against the building for a moment, to catch is breath, and to stare at a beautiful lady that was walking on the other side of the street. After a moment of gawking, Falcon opened the door and stepped inside.

Taking a booth near the door, he browsed the menu and enjoyed the lively smell of greesy food and disdain in the air.

Kilroy hears a familiar voice and turns around to see a vision of beauty standing before him.

Hello Mari. So good to see you. I just stopped by to take care of some patients over at the Vision Center and I figured after a long day I'd have a drink. Then I remembered hearing you opened a bar and I knew I had to swing by.

Kilroy looks to the man sitting to the right of him and notices his head bobbing up and down as he is on the verge of passing out at the bar. Kilroy looks to the bartender and motions to him to take the man's drink and clean the bar in front of him. He then turns to the man and kicks him off the stool. The man stumbles to his feet slurring obscenities. He makes a move toward Kilroy as Kilroy opens his jacket enough to show the man his gun. The man sees the gun and stops dead in his tracks. He apologizes and stumbles out the door.

Please sit down, Mari. I could use some good company this evening.

After a long day at the diner it was beer 30, Alfonse looked up his ol' friend Screams daughter, for a beer and a chat on how life was treating her.. "A rum and coke please" Looking around, he sat and awaited his drink.

Jezebel smiled.  This place lifted her spirits, and possibly this would be the place where she would be approached by her contact.  God, but she missed Chester's near constant presence.  She had insisted he stay at the hotel.  This was her job and hers alone.  She just wasn't used to being without him.  The men at the bar cheered uproariously as she approached.  She almost felt as though they were cheeringher until she heard the radio program on in the background.  Regardless, she felt less alone and it brightened her otherwise dreary evening.  She choose a stool at the bar in the middle of a pack of burly men.  She worried maybe her skirt wasn't short enough when she eyed another woman downt he way.  She was told short, but the skirt that woman was wearing was simply indecent.  Maybe she didn't know what short was in a city like Detroit. 

"Gimmie a beer, please" Jez asked the bartender, as she very noticably pulled her shirt up to reveal her knee and the top of her thigh. 

Plenty of people approached her as she sat, drank, and listened to the game, but none of them offered her the code phrase.  At a certain point she stopped caring about her assignment, and became engrossed in a drinking game that the woman down the bar had suggested.  Soon she found herself cut off by the bartender.  She was indignant.  All she had done was sing O Canada!  "Honey, no one should continue drinking when they start making cats scream along with their singing." he had said to her. 

Jez stumbeled out of the bar angrily.

A full hit on old bar takin over by Durden. The entire flock of mixed gangsters of various ages and sizes strolled to the front. There was a total of 11 Gambino de vessels oh'dee sea'oh'peas.

That's 11 drums carrying 1,320 in a drum. Bags strapped to a few of the members' backs, they had extra ammunition stacked to the brim. They were ready to knick and knock on the doorway of this Durdy't business.

One of the frontmen placed the handcrafted bomb. Equivalent to a military claymore in force, the explosion heard in the streets shook the ground beneath the crew.

The door blows off the hinges, and a total of 110 shots peppered through the walls. Bodies dropped and flopped.

The return fire started crossing up, and one of the kinohkinnzz got winged, she ended up taking cover and a second to breathe.

The knees of peekers extended, then dropped. Testing the waters of whos reflexes was faster, the awkward exchange of glances in a shootout began.

WicketSunn unleashed 10 from his drum, 2 bodies dropped and 2 shots whizzed into the wood behind the fallen.

Return volley whiffs and hits jackk'oh'shit.

DerT oh dee SwampTing returned to Earth as he found hisself a seat behind a parked car.

Behind the corner of a bar shadows popped up with Thompsons ready to fire, but the lads'n'lasses oh dee wire had already begun their spray.

3 Durdens roll to the floor, DeLaWhorezz takin' another L today.

BearKnucklePuck swung his custom-made 1921 at the doorway again, un'lead'erd another 10 with one click, and a hole in a door behind the bar was made. A man sitting in the office could be seen, he seemed unphased by what was taking place.

The smoke of a kicker stick wafts from the office, the nicotine staining the air of the old building.

Midwestern Mannered Texan ducked off behind the car as a return volley was unhammered. The TRA members fired back, and the back and forth caused several reloads. MickeyOhGypsyyzz still had 90 in the drum with 4 extras in a bag. A couple of bombs, maybe just for the fun.

One of the TRA henchiest oh crew threw a bomb into the open doorway. The Durdyzz inside collided with areas of space as they all dashed and dived to get outta the way. Ways of chemistry set users seemed to be prevailing as the hail of splinters whiffed through the air inside, pelting skins of DurdyBurdzz. Some limbs were lost in this space and time of day on this crossway in a thoroughfare.

The office had begun to swarm, the shadow that sat behind the desk still appeared to have not moved. Smoke still came out, and now on either side of the door were more shadows. 

Heads of peeks peaked interest as they took shots at the TRA hitsquad formed for this job.

Texans held firm, only one winged from Durden's germ so far. Cancer of the skreetz continued to drum in the skreet. 

ThoroughFairWarFarezz traded shots back and forth as the Durdens holed up firm in the business of this thing of ours. 

The mixed sunnet oh'dee Bluebonnet stayed tucked into the fold of safety, twix't empty space and a jalopyy on the street. He took out a prerolled cigarette he had and lit the kickerr twixt'err time'n'rhyme of the gunfight in the street.

The alleyways clanged with richochet and thuds of Durden duddzz.

The sirens began in the background. 

BourbonSonOfTexasTookASippOhEezNicotineWhiffNoTea

The return volley of Durdens caught one of the black bandana guards, the unmasked men on the inside thought they'd taken a life. But the struggle and trife of life had carved these Texan sons and daughters in the midst of this thoroughfare. The wounded woman had taken a bullet to the starberdsyded arm. She promptly unloaded what was left in her drum onto the first cop to pull up to the scene. 

20 bullets all connected with the frameworks of a pig, not under the snuggest rug of protection.

She smiled with a squint, the pain seemed to fade into the whitenoise of the hum underneath the gunfight. 110 shells hit the ground and bounced as the 11 black bandana'eadz oh Texazz unleashed another round. 

The back office seemed to remain safe and sound.

Two tommys on eitherside poke out from the open doorway, the shadowy figure still sitting behind the desk in view of the street. Still smoking cancer or perhaps a gigglesmoke stick. No clue, but this shadow had big balls. 

The bodies of Durden hench'errz fall as more cops pull up, 10 drums hit the ground after a round of applause.

3 cop cars with 6 dead inside all come to a stop, one rolled into the wall a few buildings down from where the gunfight in town was goin' down.

3 more Durdens spray a return volley, instantly met with the pellets of copperheadzz. 

The BlackBandanas flew proud their bullets of salvatin'n'salvation oh'death. The fascinatin'n part was that civilians from a safe distance just watched. As if this was just another day in Detroit. 

SeemsTerBeeMidwestMannerismsMight'veBeenTufferEenEeyThought

Stiff upper lips were tightly sewn on the faces underneath black bandanas fighting the Durdens, the cops sent another volley of patrol cars. By this time everyone but MickPaddyy1 had a freshened-up drum.

The henchmen'n'women unleashed on the cops while 5 peekin' Durdens peak't'offa the tippzz of the Annihilation 1921. The emptied magazine hits the ground and bounces, and a 6th man behind the office wall falls to the ground after the sound of the first 5 thud'n'flop. Third'oh'eez kind kin'terd he's padcap together and bicker't the anger of his fellow eStatesMan'ityy. SeazOhPeazz rejoiced as the 'gypt'sunn'ettOhdeLadleOhBlueBonnetts reloaded behind the jalopyy he had claimed as cover.

100 rounds go off from the hench't gang'stuhhz bodyguards. 4 more cop cars crashed or parked, it wasn't even dark on the corner of this drive'n'park boulevard'd yard. Thoroughfare of warfare it had become, the black jalopyy hid the one true drum. 

It clicks in place, a weirdly focused grimace on his face as he takes a hit of his kicker stick. The nicotine hits the adrenaline and he pops the stiffsyde oh'eez neck. Portersyded lean into a starberdsyded neck crackk.

He taps his toes as he counts the shots, barely skimming over the sight of bodies. Listening to the moans of pain, the joy of connections, and the clicks and clammers of the TRA hammers.

Hot Rod Hootenanny oh'de'la nanny toots eetz horns as more cop cars fly in. The starberdsyde fingers of the KingAKangarooDooTerd'zz let rip 13 out of the clip. 6 collide 3 in the chest and 3 near the pine'eel glandular region of the skull. Fractures include exit wounds. Brain matter splattered in the backseat of the car.

The USSFB had crouched back into cover, his hencherrzz oh'tingzz unleashed hellfire on the under their own cover in the old worn building. Bullets penetrated wood, the bottles kept breakin' every split-second spill'tuh drink oh'dee ol'loife. Sea of pea itself spoke through a fragrance of gunpowder. Sounded like car horns with dead heads pushin'em in, side of TrenchTenSweepErrzZz rattling off rounds in the background.

The clacks of hammers brought destruction upon a once fine establishment. Where kin'oh'kin used to do folkin'n talkin'n their own tongues. 

Clicks and whistles sound good to us, eh'ol TeaArrAyy kept their heels entrenched into their cover. The jalopyy had been pelted thin with copperhyde pelletzz. The bulletholes caused fractures and dents. Time well spent, the 'ead'oh USSFB peeks and rattles off a 13 round hammerthyme for Divine. 

3 Durdens die, 1 takes the sign oh'sinnz ol'grinn. 

No bullets whiffed.

The shadow in the office has stood now, he appears to be reaching for something. The youngest unit in the TRA hitsquad beams for the door, unleashin' 20 more into the chests of 4 Durdens.

Young'n takes a dive and rolls, the portersyde entrance carved by the gritt oh'yee ol'gunnzz is open. Youngster lets slyde the starberdsyde line drive, it rolls right in front of the doorway. 

Brr'app whiff'zah boom!

The innerd'tomb of the soon to be mummies room was layered with some sort of metal. The exterior shell sat hanging on by threads loosely knit after the homemadekitchennzz bomm goes off.

WitchezzCackleEnGlee

MeeMawzz note stored portersyded rear pocket still frolics in the wind.

DealuhhWimppLoww notezz that a Durden room remains a'midst of smoke and flames. Coppa'carzz pouring in. The sound of gunfire and explosions overtakes the streets. Another two patrol cars beat in the heat of what secret organizations seek to destroy. The unemployed find jobs as fairys of shepards, the rats die going for cheese, and the pirate of vessels collects more jewelry along with bellin'a few Durdenpolezz. 

The drum was promptly emptied into the doorway, cover fire.

The repositioning of the TRA was never very smoothe, an orchestra of techniques long forgotten. The style of ease laid steeze to the beat of the street. Knees found a new tuck as 2 on either side of the thoroughfare guarded the entrance points. The 7 other TexanSunnzz closed in, one empty drum hits the ground and bounces. Landing flat, a kick for a clack of a fresh one. The hencherrzz hen'n sea the DurdenHerd repositionin' for defense. 

The freshesti7 saunters up and throws one last grenade, emptying his drum in the doorway to make sure none survive. The 6 in close bolt off toes and start looting the place.

USSFB just calmly rolls a spliff. Unmarked and untagged jalopyys appear on eitherside of the thoroughfare. Both have 1 familiar face sitting porterdsyde. 

All guns were reloaded, and booty was gain'ned and the Durden werd was restrained. The grain of the goats oats oh'beez'kneezz collected their take. UnPHilter't and dirtiest PadCap on the thoroughfare decided to just sit on the trunk of the jalopyy he used to protect his TickTockerrOhEart. Signal of a spliff rolled into the air and the TexassCycloneTuhGlyOneSon found peace for at least an hour or so. 

Surely a sure'foot man'scout'oh'onorr from the innerd swampz of a humid and dry land would go scoutin' for something to rob a'ginn.

D0m3n1c needed a drink after  a long week. He decided to hit up the Auto Workers Union Bar as he heard good things about the place. He walked into the low light and looked at alcohol flowing from bar to mouth all over the damn place. In one corner was a poker game with some ruff looking dudes, there was a fight in the other corner going on with a ring of drunks around them shouting encouragement.

"This is an amazing place" he thought as he walked up to the bar. The bartender asked him, "What are ya having?". D0m replied, "Rum & coke".

He got his drink and wandered over to a corner booth and sat down. He sipped his drink and watched the chaos reign.