Bullets To Bottles Chapter 3

A/n: With everything that happened at the end of Season 6, I thought that this story would try to give a ray of light for one of the many characters slated to meet Mr. Mayhem. The character introduced at the beginning of this chapter is of my own creation, not Kurt Sutter's. If that were the case, he would have killed off my character before anything could happen.

It was ten minutes past midnight as Mercedes Elago Blanca, Mercy to the Chicago Crew, wiped down the counter of the bar in the Rec Room of SAMCAGO's clubhouse. Keeping the bar clean and stocked was one of the ways she earned her keep. As she was checking the bar's inventory, Lino arrived with Coyote and a dark-tanned Puerto Rican. Mercy smiled at the Italian Sergeant at Arms and the SAMYORK Secretary. "Lino, Coyote, you guys look beat. What can I get you?"

"Rum for me and Coyote. A beer for our friend, Mercy. It's been a long ride up from New Orleans." Lino said.

Mercy took the three bottles and two rocks glasses from the bar and brought it to the corner booth the three Sons sat down in. "Coyote, es un placer como siempre verte. Por que estas en Chicago?"

"Un reunion con mi amigo aqui desde California." Coyote said, gratefully accepting the Bacardi Gold rum. "Juice, this is Mercy. Mercy, esto es mi hermano en el club. Su nombre es Juice."

"Un placer conocerte, Juice." Mercy said to Juice, unaware that the young man with the mohawk did not speak very good Spanish if any at all. "Tú no hablas ni una palabra de Español, ¿verdad, amigo?"

"I know you called me friend. Does that help?" Mercy looked at him softly before serving Lino his black spiced rum. "Lino, hai chiamato tuo moglie e la figlia ancora?"

"Non ancora." Lino responded.

Juice was more than surprised that Mercy knew how to speak Italian as well. Mercy smiled at him before putting the Budweiser bottle in front of Juice. "I learned a bit of Italian the first month I spent here in Chicago. Just enough to hold up a conversation. As for Spanish, I had a Cuban father and a Puerto Rican mother to teach me. Where are you from?"

"I'm a Puerto Rican from Queens." Juice said with some trepidation. "We just got in from California."

"I'm from Key Largo. Grew up on my uncle's fishing boat. That's where I got my love for the sea,fishing and rum. I know what it's like to be far away from where you started." Drawing her own shot glass from around her neck, Mercy silently asked Coyote for a shot from his Bacardi, which he graciously gave her.

"I was 8 years old when I had my first shot of rum. Since then, whether it was a good day or a bad day, I never went dry."

"Mercy, estoy cansado. Hay una cama vacio en la casa para mi?" Coyote said. "Sure, Coyote. I think there are a few empty bunks I can scratch up for you and Juice. Grab your drinks and follow me."

Mercy led them down the hallway until she opened a door to her right. "Coyote, make yourself at home. I'll call Angie and let her know you got in safe and sound."

"Thanks, Mercy." Coyote said before walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

Opening another door that was three doors away from Coyote's, Mercy motioned for Juice to enter. Upon entering, he noticed that the room smelt strongly of Egyptian Musk.

"Get your rest. Tomorrow, Al will want to talk with you and Coyote. I hear Swamp Man might be in town by then if he's not already in town now." Mercy said. Just as she was about to leave, Mercy saw the look in Juice's eyes and saw more than what he was about to admit to anyone. "Juice, whatever mess you have in your head, make your peace with it before it kills you."

"What makes you think I have..." Juice started before Mercy said, "I know that look on your face. No one wears it without a skeleton or two in their closet." Walking over to a liquor cabinet set up in the room, Mercy took out a bottle of Bacardi Select, poured a two finger shot of rum into a tumbler glass and handed it to him. "Drink it."

The look on her face showed that it was not a request. So rather than to make someone else mad at him, Juice drank the shot of rum quickly. "Good boy." Mercy said as she patted him on the head like he was her pet dog. "Now get some sleep. If you are still breathing in the morning, I might get a sweet butt in here to blow you before breakfast."

Juice looked at her with a bedazzled look at her offering him an 'oral wake up call' as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

A/n: I thought about pushing this further than this point but I found that what follows would have to take place in the next chapter and it was not for a lack of trying. In the next chapter, Juice visits his first speak in Cicero and it is soon discovered that someone does not want Juice to enter New York alive.