Disclaimer: This claim, it has been dissed.

A/N:There are going to be quite a few terms (mostly gang related) thrown around in this fic, so I've started marking the ones that might not be familiar to some readers with numbers. The definitions can be found at the end of chapter footnotes.
And as always, feedback is welcomed and loved.

Chapter 2

C10H15N.[1] Those were the elements of his life.

Billy peeled out the the parking lot, ignoring the industrial sized bottles of drain cleaner, alcohol, and lye that tipped over in the back of the van. He had one hand on the steering wheel while the other dug in his jacket pockets for his vibrating phone.

He had too much on his mind. Numbers and measurements, chemical balances and ratios. Bones breathing down his neck for crystals that rivaled what the Chinese where bringing in. And now this shit with Fairburn. He finally pulled out the phone, sniffing through his nose that hadn't been the same since he started cooking drugs and inhaling all the fumes.

"What?" He answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID. There was a cacophony of sound coming through the other end and he squinted his eyes as he tried to make out who was speaking.

"Billy, we got a problem!"

"No shit?" He snorted, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could light a cigarette. "Where the fuck are you, Bodie?"

"I was heading back the The Kitchen. But when I pulled up into Pine I saw all these fucking fire trucks. The shit's gone, man. Up in smoke."

"What the fuck you going on about?" He eased off the gas some and turned down the radio so he could hear better.

"The Kitchen. It's gone. Burning." Bodie answered. "Half the fucking street is on fire. I can see it from three blocks away."

Billy ground his teeth together, flattening the filter in his mouth as he made a quick U-turn before pulling into a 7-Eleven, tires squealing on the pavement. A middle aged man pumping gas gave him a disapproving look as he parked the van next to the air pumps and he glared back at him until he turned back to his car.

"Who the hell was on guard tonight?"

"TG." Bodie said. "And I haven't seen or heard from him. Hope the little shit wasn't in that house when it was lit up."

He exhaled, blowing twin streams of smoke out through his nostrils. "Get out of there and round up the boys. Meet me at my place in thirty. And you better not be fucking late."

"Okay dawg." There was a pause, "You know what the hell is going on?"

A drive by and their lab going up in flames all in one night. He had a pretty damn good idea. "Just get to the apartment. I'll fill you in there."

He hung up before he could get a response, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat with a scowl. He turned off the engine and got out, the rubber soles of his engineer boots thumping against the oil slicked ground as he headed for the convenience store. The guy that had been eyeing him a few seconds ago had his back to him as he passed, waiting for a receipt. Billy took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the open sun roof of his Audi.

He nodded at the chick behind the counter when he entered, bypassing the aisles of junk food and and headed straight for the coffee machine. Movements jerky with anger and lack of sleep, he filled up the largest cup he could find. Not bothering with a cream or sugar he grabbed a lid and took a sip, burning his tongue a little as he walked back to the front. The girl eyed him wearily as she rung him up, smacking on a piece of gum in a way that made her look like a cow. He reached in his pocket for his wallet after another sip, pulling out the smallest bill he could find.

She looked at the fifty with a sigh and flicked a blue lock over her shoulder. "I can't make change for that."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're fucking joking, right?"

She shrugged and pointed to a sign tapped to the bullet proof glass separating. 'No Bills Larger Then $20 Before 10 am.'

He shoved the money through the slot. "Keep the change. Maybe do something with that fucking mess you call hair."

She sputtered some insult at him as he headed out the door and walked back to the van. It took four tries for the engine to turn over and he cursed the whole time before it finally caught. It had become a recurring problem the past few days and would only get worse as the weather got colder. He'd have to get under the hood eventually to suss out the problem but that would mean spending time at the body shop. He didn't plan on being within a couple hundred feet of his father for more then a few minutes until it became absolutely necessary. As long as the van started at got him to where he needed to go, it wasn't a pressing matter.

He turned the radio back up, flipping through the stations until he found one that didn't have annoying early morning hosts yapping off at the mouth. The classic rock station was playing Aerosmith, which did little to settle his nerves. He took another sip of coffee before stuffing it in a cup holder and pulling out of the gas station.

The old Ford ate up the road as he sporadically clenched his jaw. The air blowing through the window was cool and moist, the kind that smelt like pre-dawn. He figured the sun would be up in another hour or so, and once again he'd be awake to see it. Eyes bloodshot and gritty, hands shaking from too much caffeine, and that familiar pain behind his forehead throbbing with every heartbeat. There had been too many nights, or mornings (or what-the-fuck-ever) like that lately. He couldn't even remember that last time he gotten a decent amount of sleep. Over the summer was a pretty good guess, when he'd drank damn near a fifth of Jack at a cookout. Heco's cousin, Lucinda, had dragged him to a back room and they spent most of the night and early morning hours sweating out the alcohol and making an impressive imprint of the headboard in the wall before he finally passed out and didn't wake up until almost a day later.

He smirked at the memory while running a red light and ignoring the angry honking of a bakery truck driver that had to swerve to avoid a collision. That had been a good weekend, until Bones found him and dragged him out the bed. He didn't go into one of his usual demeaning, abusive tirades. Instead he hauled him to his feet only to knock him off of them with one meaty fist to his nose, ordering him to get back to work. Billy was lucky the hit didn't break anything. But the cut Bones' ring made bled for almost any hour before he took the nail glue Lucinda offered and sealed it shut.

He thumbed the still raw scar the wound left behind as he pulled into a parking space at the apartment complex, turning off the engine just as Hendrix's cover of 'All Along the Watchtower' came through the speakers, assuring him there must be a way out.

"You might be right Jimi, but forgive me if I don't take your advice." He muttered to himself as he grabbed his cell and climbed out the van with the duffle bag in hand. "You choked on your own fucking vomit and died. So your way out of here isn't exactly the exit I'm looking for."

Bodie was waiting for him a little ways down by the Mustang, hands stuffed in the pockets of the dark hoodie he was wearing. He lifted his head up in greeting as he walked over, checking over the car for any new damage.

"She's fine." Bodie huffed. "I even filled the tank up."

"Good." He said. "Everybody inside?"

"Almost. Tommy's old lady fell down the stairs last night and broke a hip or something. He's still at the hospital with her."

"That old broad needs to kick the bucket already." He tossed the bag at his chest and Bodie caught it with a small grunt and a frown. "Come on."

He started for the apartment and after a few seconds he could hear the scuff of Bodie's sneakers as he followed him. The front door was unlocked when they got to the top of the stairs and he frowned as he walked in, seeing the crowd that had amassed in his sorry excuse for a living room. He gave them a cursory glance before rounding the corner of the breakfast bar into the kitchen and pulling a beer out of the fridge.

"Find something to do, Joe." He ordered as he walked towards the only empty chair in the room.

"I am doing something." Joe protested with a slight whine as he held up the game controller.

Billy shot him a glare. He had little patients for teenagers and Joe needed to grow out of his unnecessarily defiant stage quick because brother or not, he'd still kick his ass.

"Find something to do in another room, Joe." He reiterated, voice low and eyes narrowed. Joe scowled and threw the controller on the coffee table before getting up and stalking down the hall. His anger would have been more effective if he wasn't still in his boxers, showing off knobby knees and skinny ankles.

"Boy needs to drink some protein shakes or something." Baggy muttered as he moved from the armrest of the couch to the now empty seat. "Ain't never gonna be able to survive a beat in[2] if he doesn't put on some pounds."

"Fuck it, we got more important things to be worried about." Billy said as fished his lighter out of a pocket and used it to pop the cap off the bottle in his hand. If he had his way Joe wouldn't have any part of the gang. But the kid was fifteen now and Bones was making it quite clear that it was past time for him to really start getting involved in the 'family business.' And Joe was only too eager to agree.

He took a swallow of beer while looking at the five other men in the room. The RB was only a small fraction of his fathers empire, but he liked to keep mum about it. Didn't want just anyone on the street to know how deep his roots on the crime tree went. He allowed Billy to have complete control of the crew as along as he had complete control of the money they brought in. Which was fine for both of them when the selling was good and nobody caused any trouble.

They had trouble now, though. And if his gut feeling was right (which it almost always was) it went a lot deeper then it looked. He and Fairburn's leader, Mack, had a history. It was shaky at best but they came from the same streets and messed up backgrounds and survived, which automatically bred mutual respect. If it was corners they wanted, Mack would have enough sense to negotiate for them instead of spilling blood. But if a RB member had caused a problem...

"So which one of you assholes pissed off Mack enough for him to torch the lab and shoot up one of our corners?" He asked finally, leaning forward in his seat so that his elbows rested on his knees, the neck of the bottle clenched between two knuckles.

He wasn't expecting an answer right away. There were a lot of people involved in their operation and he knew them all, but didn't always interact with them. There was a good chance that someone lower in the order of things was responsible for the whole mess and hadn't owned up to it. That was easy to deal with. But if it was one of the OGs[3] in the room, a veteran like himself, then no good was going to come of a solution. He trusted these men. Had grown up with them, bleed with them, killed with them. He didn't like it when he had to make an example out of one of them. If the loss of the lab and Perry's death was one of their fault, the punishment would have to be harsh. As in 'body never being found' harsh. Bones wouldn't be satisfied any other way.

They exchanged looks with each other, no one speaking either out of innocence or fear of being guilty. Billy took another sip of his beer after watching for something other then confusion and weariness on their faces. He knew his boys and could tell when they were lying or hiding something.

"So," he said finally, "I take it that none of you are responsible for what happened."

It wasn't a question but they responded anyway with shaking heads and a few muttered negatives. His eyes flicked to Bodie who was leaning against the wall by the television with one foot propped up behind him.

"There was a drive-by on our corner at West and Ninth. That's how Perry got popped. Your sister thinks Chuey probably got pulled in by the cops after he bounced."

Bodie started. "Shit, Lady was there? Where's she at, Billy? She alright?" He pushed away from the wall.

"She's sleeping in the back. Just banged up her wrist and scratched her face a little."

Bodie made as if to go down the hall and Billy shook his head. "Hey, let her rest. I need you in here so we can take care of this clusterfuck. And she doesn't need to be involved."

Bodie scowled, opened his mouth as if to protest then closed it just as quickly. Taking a deep breath he nodded and settled back against the wall.

"How does Fairburn come into this?" Heco asked, running a hand across his recently shaved head. "I get that somebody's trying to send a message, but it could be any of the those fucks that don't like how we do business. B-Street's been itching for retaliation ever since we put Big Tony in a wheelchair."

Billy leaned back in his chair. "Ladybug said it was Mack's Crown Vic."

"We did relieve him of some prime real estate when we took those corners." Baggy added. "If I were him, the first thing on my list would be making sure there's nothing to sell on the spots I want back. Burning the lab makes that as good as done."

"And the drive-by?" Spink asked as he lit a cigarette. "That's not really Mack's style. He'd rather stick us where it hurts. Putting holes in a few pushers ain't enough. Guys like Perry are at the bottom of the food chain. Expendable and easy to replace."

"He's right." Bodie nodded. "Mack wouldn't take the risk of getting caught unless he was taking out someone important. One of us, maybe."

"Where the fuck does that leave us, boys?" Billy sniffed. "Shit's got Fairburn written all over it."

"Don't feel right." Dog spoke up for the first time. "All we know for sure is someone's gunning for us. We shouldn't do nothing drastic 'till we know what the hell is going on."

"So we do nothing?" Baggy asked, clearly agitated. "Just sit here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for the next move?"

Billy sat his beer down on the table. "No. We get people to start talking. What's that bird's name that works down at the precinct? The secretary?" He looked in Spink's direction

"Angela," He supplied for him.

"Yeah. Pay her a visit. Tell her to keep an ear open about The Kitchen. I need to know how much was lost and who they're looking to pin it on. If she even thinks the cops are looking our way I want a call. You got that?"

"Sure Billy." He nodded.

"Heco and Baggy, I want you to start spreading the word to the rest of the gang. If they're working a corner I want them carrying heat." He paused and rubbed the back of his thumb against his forehead in an attempt to ease the ache that was building. "We've got one guy dead and another missing. I don't give a fuck who's behind this. They're not taking anyone else out without a fight."

Bodie cleared his throat. "I'll round up some boys and do inventory. Check up on the reserve stashes to see how long we can keep selling before we need to start up another lab."

"You do that. And take Dog with you." He grabbed his beer to finish it off just as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Seeing the name that popped up on the screen he clenched his teeth.

"TG," He growled after answering, "You remember that conversation you and I had about what would happen if you fucked up guard duty?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before a voice that was clearly not TG's spoke. Gravely was the best way he could describe it. Rough from smoke and hard liquor with a slight brogue buried underneath.

"There's a package for your father outside your door. Make sure he gets it."

The line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and tossed it down on the coffee table before standing and reaching for the .38 special he kept hidden behind the television console.

Bodie immediately eased off the wall and reached for his own piece. "What's going on?"

"Don't know." Billy replied, thumbing back the hammer on the revolver. "Somebody's playing games."

He moved towards the door and took a quick look through the peephole, seeing nothing but the graffiti covered brick wall of the apartment across from his.

"Don't see nobody." He said as Bodie moved up beside him.

"You sure?"

He answered with a wry face before yanking the door open, aiming his gun left then to the right of the walkway. It was empty except for a figure laying supine on the concrete floor in front of them.

"Shit," Bodie exclaimed as he moved through the doorway. "It's TG."

Billy slid his gun into the back of his jeans before stepping out into the hall. If it wasn't for the Star of David tattooed on one wrist he wouldn't have been able to tell who he was. Lips split, both eyes swollen to slits, and the usual tan skin a patchwork of red and black bruises, the poor bastard might as well have been wearing a Halloween mask. Whoever worked him over made sure it was thorough job.

"He alive?" He asked as Bodie prodded him in the side with his foot. TG let out a pained groan, turning his head as it ended in a labored cough.

Bodie looked back at him. "Guess so. We should move him inside."

He rubbed at his forehead again. "Go wake your sister. She's into playing doctor."

Bodie moved back into the apartment, brushing past Heco and Dog as they moved through the doorway.

"The fuck happened to him?" Dog asked, the yellow overhead light of the walkway reflecting off his sunglasses.

"Grab his arms. Heco, get his legs." He ordered without answering the question. He watched as they bent down and lifted TG off the floor. He made a sound of protest and reached up blindly with one hand as if to fight them off. Struggling, they shuffled inside and put him on the couch where he settled down with a drawn out moan. Taking one more look outside Billy followed them and shut the door.

"Looks like he put up a fight." Heco remarked and pointed to the scrapped up knuckles of his left hand. "Good boy."

Billy grunted, paying more attention to the bulky ring on his thumb. "That ain't his."

He walked over and pulled it off, holding the silver band up and frowning at the elaborate Celtic cross formed out of the metal that looked so familiar.

Heco reached over to grab for it but Billy moved out of the way, slidding it into his jean pocket.

"What is it?"

"A message. For Bones."

Seeming to get the hint, Heco backed of and turned his attention to Bodie and Lady who had just stepped into the living room. She looked at them wearily with eyes puffy from sleep.

"It's a little early for a troop meeting." She managed to get out around a yawn.

"I need you to do a patch up." Billy pointed to the couch while moving into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit out of a cabinet. He sat it on the armrest just as she knelt beside TG, yanking at the collar of the too large shirt she was wearing.

"What happened to him?" She asked while running fingers lightly over a swollen cheek. "His face looks like mincemeat."

"Does is matter? Just fix 'im." He growled, digging in his pocket for his smokes. She looked up at his with narrowed brows.

"He needs a hospital, Billy. Not a seventeen year old with basic first aid training."

"Don't you intern at some clinic?"

She scuffed. "Yeah, and all I'm allowed to do is take temps and blood pressure." She pointed in TG's direction. "This is a little beyond my education. He needs x-rays and probably a MRI with all this head trauma. A bandage and a few pills isn't going to fix this."

"Fine." He gave up on the cigarettes and grabbed his keys instead, tossing them down on the table. "Someone go pull up the van and get him inside. Lady, put some shoes on and ask Joey for a shirt that will fit ya. You're coming with me."

She stood. "We going to the hospital?"

"No." He grimaced at the idea. "Now hurry up."

She mumbled a curse under he breath that wasn't in English but headed for Joe's room without any protest. He turned to see Bodie giving him a questioning look as Spink left to get the van.

"Thought you didn't want her involved in this."

He shrugged and picked up his phone to write a text. "Just taking her to the Butcher. Might be able to learn a thing or two."

"Billy-"

"Nothing's gonna happen to her." He pressed send on the phone and snapped it shut just as a horn sounded from outside. Heco and Dog reached for TG again, who seemed to finally be out because he didn't even flinch as they carried him towards the door. He just hung between them like a corpse.

Lady walked out of Joe's room wearing a green sweat shirt and glanced in their direction. "Let me get my shoes and we can go."

Bodie waited until she disappeared into his bedroom before sighing. "My mom's gonna freak when she sees that wrist."

"Yup." He agreed as she reappeared in the hallway.

"You ready?"

She shrugged. "Guess so."

He headed for the breakfast bar, opening up the duffle bag that Bodie had left there and pulled out a roll of money. Looking back at the room he scowled.

"You guys get to work. And keep your phones on. I want to be updated."

Lady said a quick goodbye and followed him outside and down the stairs. The van was sitting at the curb, engine idling, breaking the early morning silence. Dog and Heco had just finished getting TG in the back and were shutting the door.

"Wait." Lady said and jogged over, "I'll ride back there with him." She climbed up into the vehicle, easing around the bottles they'd shifted out of the way and shut the sliding door.

Heco lifted his head a little. "See you at the Roses later?"

He nodded and went to the drivers side as Spink slid out of the seat. He hadn't bothered to roll up the window earlier and it was colder inside then it should have been when he got inside the cab. The heat in the metal box on wheel was shot and he knew Lady hated the cold. Licking his bottom lip and sighing, he shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back to her.

She took the leather material with a raised brow. "Second time in less then twelve hours. You aren't turning into a gentleman on me, are you?"

"Shut up and hand me my smokes." He mumbled as he pulled off.

She did as he asked and he rolled up the window enough to keep the flame of his lighter from going out.

"You got a text." She held out his phone for him. He blew out a breath of smoke and took it from her. The Butcher had responded to his text, letting him know that the back door was open and he was ready for them. Billy closed the phone and set it between his thighs.

"If we aren't going to the ER, where are we going?" She asked after a few minutes of silence.

"To see a friend. He was a surgeon."

He heard her shift around in the back and a second later she was leaning between the two front seats. "Was?"

He shrugged. "Had a bit of a drug problem a few years ago and the medical board finally caught on and took away his license."

She raised a brow. "You were suppling him?"

"Something like that."

Obviously not impressed she settled back next to TG and crossed her arms. "Great, so he's getting patched up by a junkie."

"Actually he cleaned up." He said. "Got his act together and went into the family business."

"Yeah, what's that? Restaurant and bar hospitality?"

"Funeral homes, actually." He couldn't fight the small grin that pulled at his lips when he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the disbelief playing on her face. "He's a mortician."

Footnotes:
[1] C10H15N: Chemical compound for methamphetamine.
[2] Beat In: Having to fight a certain number of gang members for a given period of time and being able to take the beating and fight back. Used for initiations.
[3] OG: Original Gangster. Older members, often involved in the founding/formation of a gang.