Bullets to Bottles chapter 4

A/n: Dominus Ignatius Pope would be portrayed by Kevin Grevioux. SAMCAGO President Albert 'Al' Harris would be portrayed by Danny Huston. Mercy Blanca would be portrayed by Dominik Garcia-Lorido.

Jax walked out onto the yard with a mission. In front of him were two sides of the yard who could carry it out for him without much trouble or many questions. After everything that happened on the outside, Jax was not putting all his chips on one color; he was doubling down on both black and white. It helped that both black and white were on the same side as the club now, save for most of the Aryan Brotherhood. It didn't help his cause that there were also Hispanic and Asian inmates on the yard.

But before he could even think about who to approach or whether brown and yellow were going to jump him, the MC president was approached and then surrounded by several imposing black inmates. Several of them looked capable of running through a concrete wall without breaking a sweat. Three of them had ink that indicated they were once soldiers in the armed forces.

Using everything in him to keep a straight face, Jax allowed himself to be guided over to the black side of the yard. For the most part, a lot of the dark-skinned inmates chose to keep with their own small groups but some of the lifers were huddled around the chess table where smoke billowed from the center of the crowd.

The closer he got, Jax saw the crowd break away to reveal a bald, brawny black man with a goatee playing chess with one of the older inmates. From his imposing physique, he was no stranger to combat and no one on the yard challenged him. Despite him being sat down in a chair, Jax could tell he was well over 6 feet tall. In between his charcoal black lips and pearl white teeth was a thick Cohiba cigar.

"I had no idea you could get those kinds of stogies in here." Jax quipped as if that smart remark would catch his attention. He never turned his head once.

"You can not get these kinds of cigars." Motioning towards the other inmates that littered the yard, Pope continued, "Neither can they."

With a snap of his fingers, the closest inmate to him sparked a Zippo lighter and lit the cigar. "There are numerous guards in this correctional facility who owe their lives to me. This is one of the many ways they have shown their gratitude, Mr. Teller."

"You know who I am?" Jax asked.

"My niece, Veronica, was inadvertently slain by your former Sergeant at Arms. My younger brother, Damon, slaughtered one of Trager's daughters in retaliation. Then the both of you killed him. I know who you are, Jackson Teller." Taking a long pull from his cigar, he said, "In spite of what your club has done to my family, I offer my sincerest condolences to you for the loss of your wife and your mother."

"I appreciate the offer. Thank you." Jax said both sincerely and out of courtesy.

Placing down his Cohiba in an ashtray, the former Green Beret Captain introduced himself. "Dominus Ignatius Pope. For the most part, people have taken to calling me Domino."

Motioning to the board, Domino asked, "Do you know how to play?"

"Not really."

"If you did, you would understand strategy and how every action, from the miniscule to the monumental, affects the world and everyone in it."

"You said that the guards owe you their lives, Domino. I don't see how." Jax asked, curious about the older and unknown brother of Damon Pope.

"They were once boys without direction or purpose. I set them on the path to true north. I gave them a purpose, something to stand for, to fight for. I made men of those boys on the battlefield and they addressed me as Captain when they and I were Green Berets. The things we did, what they survived and endured thanks to my tutelage, is not documented anywhere."

"Black Ops?"

Domino Pope just cast Jax a cold stare as the three soldier inked inmates cornered Jax. The former Green Beret Captain waved the trio back casually. "Are you aware of my capabilities or my reach?"

Jax shook his head. "I had no idea Damon Pope had a Green Beret Captain for a big brother until now."

"Damon was all about letting others get their hands dirty for him. He had his share of scuffles but he never had to endure the fights I endured. In a way, his catering to the wretched addicts of his drugs made us estranged siblings. Because of what he dealt in, it shouldn't be too hard to believe my contempt for junkies and rats who disgrace themselves under my command." It took every part of Jax's self control to keep a straight face. Domino Pope seemed to read his mind.

"Then we have something in common, Captain Pope." Jax said, acknowledging the rank of the former Green Beret. "I have a rat that has slipped the trap one too many times. The latest great escape was with the help of a fellow brother in my club."

"This brother who saved your rat, how do you want him dealt with?"

"Non-factor. He stays alive. The rat is a different story."

Domino smirked and waved over one of his three soldier inmates, who handed him a cell phone with a number written on a scrap piece of paper "You have 5 minutes. Use them wisely."

Jax dialed the number, gave the information and hung up the phone. "Do you gamble much, Teller?"

"Normally, no." Jax said, handing the phone number back to the inmate who gave it to him.

"From the moment you walked out on the yard, I could tell you were wondering which color to put your money on."

"Well, Captain Pope, I find myself able to put my money on both black and white."

"If your rat slips through, I imagine you would reach out to those of your own complexion." Domino took his cigar from the ashtray. "This brother, the one who saved your rat, where is he taking him?"

"New York."

"Go chat with your own. Though I would advise that you stay clear of the Aryans. I hear tell that they are not too fond of your club as of late."

"How much do you know about my club?" Jax asked.

"Enough." Dominus Pope said as he rejoined the chess game, concluding his conversation with Jax.

Coyote woke up to the sounds of retching coming from several rooms away from his. Getting his clothes on, Coyote walked down the hall to Juice's room to find Mercy Blanca and several sweet butts tending to his brother in arms as he was suffering a bout of withdrawal. It had been a very long while since he last used Oxycontin and his body was revolting against him.

"Mornin', ma Yankee brotha! Looks like ya beat me to the Windy City. Not many can say that." Coyote looked to his right in time to have Swamp Man embrace the New Yorker. "Good to see ya too, Hank. Did you get to hash things through with Harris and Lino?"

"Not yet. Hadn't seen da ol' man in a while though. Thought we'd all sit down together so none of us are outta the loop." Nodding towards Juice's room, Swamp Man asked, "What's going on in there? He tie one too many on last night?"

"I've been keeping him clean of that junk he was popping back in Cali. The withdrawal just started to settle in."

"Well, the girls are tending to him. For now, let's grab some chow 'fore we go chat it up with Harris and Lino."

An hour later, Coyote and Swamp Man were called into chapel to talk with Lino and the President of the Chicago Crew, Albert 'Al' Harris.

Smoking a Monte Cristo cigar with the nonchalant attitude of a Roman emperor, the German-Irish Chicago native grinned as he saw Swamp Man and Coyote enter the chapel. "Big Al, good to see you again."

"Right back at you, Hank. How are things down in the Big Easy?"

"Nice and steady for the most part. Can't say the same for the folks out west."

"Yeah. We heard about the troubles SAMCRO is in. A shame that those kids got to grow up without their mother."

Turning to Coyote, Al embraced the New Yorker. "Coyote, it's been too long, kid. How are your girls in New York?"

"Angie's doing very well back home in New York. Angelica is quickly becoming a fight fan while Angelina has been learning to cook while Angie prepares meals in the kitchen."

"Have the two of you tried to see if you would have a son?" Harris asked, wondering if Coyote had hoped to have a son to rear up into a man so as to not worry so much about his daughters.

"That has come to mind. If it happens, it happens. I'm happy with my Old Lady and our girls. For now, let's get to business. There's a lot to talk about."

"Sure. There is." Once the room was scanned and declared clean, they sat down and got right into it.

"Hank, I tried some of that rocket fuel you call moonshine and it does pack a whallop. I want to know how much you can send up, how often and for how much." Al said.

Swamp Man smiled. "I can send up one crate every week. One crate ought to float your speaks for about a month. 'Cause of how potent it is, most of your Chicagoan natives could only handle about a 1 finger shot of my shine. Anything higher would be a big risk. Anyway, one of the conditions to my selling up to Chicago is that no one and I mean no one cuts, mixes or waters down my shine with anything."

"Understood." Lino replied.

"I usually fetch $700 per crate, which would bring you about 25 quart jars of high quality moonshine from deep in the heart of the Bayou. You can expect 'bout one crate on the first o' ev'ry month."

Al took a pull from his cigar before releasing a pillar of smoke as he contemplated the proposition laid out before him. "Any percentage I need to be concerned with?"

"10 percent of whatever comes from my shine that is sold in your speaks, which I'll take on the arrival of the crate I bring up to town the next month."

With the cigar firmly between his teeth, Al stood up, approached Swamp Man and shook hands with the Nomad Son. "It's a deal."

"If it's not too much, I'd like to see the speaks you're selling my shine in."

"No sweat, Hank. Lino will take you and Coyote to our speaks out in Cicero."

Lino then brought up another issue since it related to his dealings with Snake Doctor. "I'm planning to reach out to the Philly Crew soon, Al. Snake Doctor's also looking to expand his customer base from Laurel County in Kentucky to Philly."

"We'll reach out to Gory in Philly and Dizzy in Pittsburgh along with Quinn. We'll try to find out where they plan to meet to set things up."

Lino nodded. It was clear that Al did not want his Sergeant at Arms running all over the country.

"I'll get on the wire when we close up this meeting." Lino replied in full understanding of Al's wishes.

Al looked at Coyote. "Who pitched this moonshine deal?"

"Quinn did. He pitched it while Lino and I were in Vegas, talking things out with SAMCRO." Coyote said calmly.

"Knowing the Nomad Pres like I do, he's probably already in Kentucky talkin' with Aaron." Taking a drag from his cigar, Al said, "Have dinner here tonight before you head out to Philly. You and Juice will need it."

"Sure, Al. Thanks."

While Coyote, Lino and Swamp Man had already hit the road, Juice had just started to get his bearings again after suffering a severe bout of withdrawal. Though he would have been very happy to be surrounded by sexy women, Juice was just happy that the people surrounding him were looking out for him rather than looking at him with judgment in their eyes.

Once the others had left the room, Mercy wiped Juice's brow with a warm, wet towel softly. "Why are you doing this for me?" Juice asked.

"I don't think you're a bad man, Juice. Even if you don't believe it." Mercy replied kindly.

"Doesn't make me feel any less guilty about what I've done."

"Congratulations. You still have a conscience. It's not like I'm without sin." Mercy countered as she twisted the towel dry over an empty bowl before soaking it in fresh water. "Like you, I've done things that I'm not exactly waving around like a flag. It's part of the reason why I left the south. Some of the rednecks in Florida tried putting the squeeze on me when it came to what I caught and then some tried to get me in the sack."

"You killed them?"

"No. I didn't kill them...right away. The alligators took up where I left off." Mercy sighed as she continued tending to Juice. "One of them tried to jump me on my own boat. I turned him into a happy meal for the gators of the Everglades before getting on my boat and fleeing to New Orleans. Spent time there until I heard about rednecks from Florida having tracked my boat down. So I jumped a riverboat and rode up until I got to Illinois. I met Lino and the Chicago Crew in Rockport. Since then, they took care of me and I helped take care of them."

Looking Juice over, Mercy decided to be very direct with him. "Tell me the truth, Juice. When was the last time you got laid? I mean, really laid."

"There were two girls in New Orleans. Swamp Man told me to get out of my funk by trying to live again."

"Did it work, Juice?"

Juice shook his head in shame.

"Well, Juice, I'm not the kind to pass the buck." With that, she disrobed until she was naked and straddling him. "It's been a long time for me as well. Let's see just how out of practice the both of us are."

There was nothing left for him in Charming or anywhere in California. Between Gemma and Unser found murdered at Teller-Morrow Auto Repair and Tire Garage and the sudden passing of his son, Lucius, there was no point of staying in Charming.

Then one day, he sold his prized low rider and got himself his own customized silver pearl Road King with so much chrome it was almost blinding with large pull back ape hangers and rode out of Northern California. Lyla took over Diosa Norte as per the instructions left behind by Padilla, thus making herself partners with SAMCRO and Diosa Del Sur.

Neron 'Nero' Padilla was now a man without a family, a home or a lover. Marcus Alvarez once offered the gangbanger a place in the Mayans MC but Nero did not take up the offer. He was too old to Prospect.

When the news broke that Juice was leaving town at the same time Gemma's murder was discovered, Nero jumped at the obvious conclusion and rode out after Coyote and Juice while keeping himself unseen. He tailed them all the way to New Orleans.

Nero sat in his motel room with a bottle of beer in his hand as he spoke to Claire. "Did you get there in time?"

"Yes. We got here."

"Did you do what I asked?"

"Yes, we did. He didn't suspect anything."

"Good. Tell Marilyn not to worry about me. Whatever happens, it all comes to an end."

Hanging up the phone, Nero looked at his arsenal laid out on the bed. He would have usually gone for discreet but this occasion called for more rampage than restriction. Two sawn-off shotguns, a Colt .357 Magnum revolver, a suppressed Ingram Mac-10 and an AK47 assault rifle.

A/n: I hope this was worth the wait. In the next chapter: Coyote, Lino and Swamp Man are heading to the speaks. Nero is on the horizon and several hoods are closing in. Stay tuned.