Easy job his ass.

Meet the contact, get the info, then get out. In the worst part of downtown you could be in at this time of day. With Face wearing fucking Armani like a blaring bull's eyes target. It had smelled bad from the start, which might have been why Hannibal had insisted he come. Big, black, 250+ pounds, he'd agreed if only because he didn't want to have to carry someone's skinny white ass out in pieces. Or worse, not at all.

True to his prediction, as Face finished with the contact and turned to give him a triumphant smile, the fading afternoon light was blocked. "What've we got here?"

He looked up and counted three, knew there had to be at least two more and possibly a car somewhere outside the alley. There weren't tattoos he recognized, but the fact that all three were black and sporting ink was an indicator of what they were dealing with. As were the low pants, sneakers, and obvious gun belts just far enough out for them to see.

At least Face had the sense to not go for his gun. "Nothing to see here, boys. In fact, we were just leaving, weren't we, BA?"

Thanks for dragging him into this, Face. He shot the conman a look, but if his size was intimidating it didn't show.

"Don't like no strangers on our side of the street," the leader stated, calm, cool, all of twenty in his blue knit cap and gold crucifix, if BA had to guess at age, and not showing anything but that street smart front in those hard brown eyes. "Especially ones who skulk around in the shadows."

Ok, so the man had a point. Not exactly a great impression, doing business out of a side entrance to a run down Chinese restaurant in the dilapidated part of town. "Look man, we don't want no trouble..."

A gun appeared in one of the flunkies hands and he put his hands up to show he wasn't going to fight. He glanced over for Face to do the same.

Face frowned at the weapon, hands rising slowly. "Now now, we don't need that. Why don't we just agree that we don't belong and we'll skedaddle out of here, let you guys get back to whatever it is you do."

The leader just smiled. "All right. Hands up, white boy. Let's see what you got."

With another glance at Face, he could have groaned when he realized the con had gone from 'talk your way out of it' to 'wait for an opening'. Not on his watch. No way was a boy from the ghettos getting mugged by some punk ass, barely-not-a-teen.

So even as Face tried one last time with, "Now now, no need to get physical. Why don't we just talk about this..." he caught the eye of the kid approaching him.

"I ain't appreciating this, man," he said slowly, scanning the boys once more up close. Low pants, obnoxious bling of a belt buckled, blue durag around the kid's mess of black hair. Wait, maybe he knew this. "Now why you harassin' a cuz out on the street?"

All eyes were on him, including a pair of very confused blue ones at the thick accent coming from his mouth. He glanced at Face and hoped the man caught on as the leader held out his hand for a halt. "What you talkin' about, boy?"

He snorted. "Don't you boy me, boy. Ain't got an issue with ya and don't want one or you mad doggin' around us, not while I'm courtin' in this buster." With that he reached over to shove Face's shoulder roughly, giving the conman a once over.

It had the effect he wanted, as in his peripherals he saw the boy on Face's side - a thin, reedy kid, about 17 and the only one with jeans that fit - lower his gun slightly. He kept most of his attention on the leader however, brown eyes to brown, locked in a silent assessment game that he hadn't played in years. Part of him wondered if he still knew how; the other part didn't even have to ask. Once you knew, you knew.

"You tellin' me you dogs in the mix?" the leader finally asked, fingers playing over a nine millimeter hilt, not quite believing.

He shrugged, moved to show off a bit of ink. They didn't need to know it was Ranger - hoped they didn't know. "Folk myself, only been out here a bit. Kickin' it with some homies over on nor' side, thought this part was safe, kid here-" He ignored the huff from Face at that. "Said he knew someone with some fine ass bud here, but didn't pan out. Sorry, man, didn't mean no dis."

"You step-trippin'?" And even Face had the sense to back up a step at the three sets of narrowed eyes on them.

But it didn't scare him. He'd been younger than this punk and it was all coming back. Combined with SERE training, Ranger school, being shot at, beaten, and bloodied, well, a banger with a gun wasn't a threat anymore. It was a sad reaction against something else that he would probably never have the power to fix. "Chill out, man. Ain't got no reason too." He gave a long hard stare at that. "Unless you got somethin' you want to start? Ain't been nothin' but fine with youse so far."

There was a long moment where shifting and cars passing were the only sound. Crucial seconds ticked by and he cursed himself up and down, trying to bring back the language that didn't seem to be enough. He could take a bullet no problem; they wouldn't shoot on him. But Face was another story... He caught the conman glancing at him but he ignored it, had to, to concentrate on the alpha dog here.

The leader gave him a long appraising look, thinking hard. "They let his kind in on the north side?" The gun jerked to point at Face.

He grinned. "Do when they the leader's new hen."

That got the reaction he wanted. The leader froze and glanced at Face before laughing, loudly, the sound echoing off the brick. "Your man got shit taste!"

He met that with a shrug. "What can ya do?"

The guns were lowered however and the leader hesitantly held out a fist, bumping knuckles like a pro. "Wouldn't want to kill your man's fun, so we'll let it slide this time, since we ain't got problems with north side. But-" And this came with a look that was more serious than should be on a young man's face. "Don't come around here again to do business without shoutin' at us first. I don't want to have to cap a couple of cuzzes for oversteppin' their turf, man. Wear your flags next time, man."

He nodded. "Will do, brotha. Don't want to be mistaken for no slob."

They exchanged a look and for a moment he felt like he was seeing someone all to familiar. Someone who never made it into the Army and stayed home in the barrio. Pity flowed through him as the leader turned. "Watch your sixes."

"Thanks, brotha."

And the three were gone with a few furtive backward glances. He didn't waste time in grabbing Face's collar and hauling ass to the car stashed a block over. "Eyes forward, Face, don't go lookin' back."

To his relief Face did as he was told and was silent until they were out of the dying sun and in the black sedan, fumbling with the air. "What the hell was all that?"

He shrugged as he shifted into gear. "Exactly what it looked like, man."

Face watched him carefully, noting the already disappeared accent. "Ok, let me put it this way. I thought I was the scam artist."

He gave the Lieutenant a look at that. "Yeah, but face it man. Your white as they come in that get up. And what are you doin' dressin' like that here? Grow some brains where it counts, man." He put the car into drive. "Besides, no way am I bringin' you back shot up."

The conman just smiled. "Knew you cared, Bosco."

Wonderful. A Murdockism. At least the fool hadn't been with them. That would have been harder to explain. "Yeah, yeah."

And as they drove off and out of what he hoped was their turf, Face asked, "By the way, what did you mean by hen?"

He grinned a bit. "Exactly what you think it means."

The squawking all the way back to the rendezvous point was worth it.