Heroes The Breakaway Chapter 2 -The Ties That Bind

Agent Clay was holding his RAID credentials against the glass of the security window of the morgue's lower level. The bodies stored in this discreet location were not your average car accident victims or overdose stiffs. The bodies that were being stored here in the secure vault of the county morgue were of special interest to local and federal law enforcement.

Agent Clay cocked his head to the side, the heavy set man in the security window was a slow reader and probably was not good for much more than buzzing in anyone that had the right paperwork. It was late, past midnight and Clay was not in the mood for small talk and explanations. At last the buzzer sounded and the heavy doors clacked open and slid to the left. Agent Clay and two uniformed troopers entered the long dimly lit hall that led to the large refrigerated vault in the bowels of the building. The troopers were in dark jumpsuits, they wore no armor and carried only their tranq pistols and collapsible V batons.

Clay walked ahead of the two men and walked quickly to the long side of the cooler. The wall was lined with small doors, a dozen of them, their shiny doors and long handles gleamed in the fluorescent light. Each door had a small touch screen, a digital readout had a small amount of pertinent information. Agent Clay touched a few of the small screens, they lit up and blinked. Within a few minutes Clay had found the one he was looking for, Clay double checked his paperwork, the numbers matched up. The seasoned agent would of course have to view the actual body to confirm he had the right corpse.

Agent Clay punched in the code and the small computer screen on the door went from blue to red and the heavy lock pin released. Clay turned and motioned to the troopers in the dark jumpsuits.

"Open it." He said and the men hustled to the silver door and popped it open and slid the long chrome drawer out. On the long flat drawer was a tall body inside of a puffy silver metallic bag. There was a small device attached to the silver bag, it had small hoses running from it into the large bag. On the device was a temperature readout, the temperature was below freezing and the small device seemed to be circulating a small amount of gas into the sealed body bag. The bag seemed to inflate and deflate slightly, giving the impression of breathing. The RAID men were undeterred by the strange bag and lifted it from the drawer and onto a gurney. Agent Clay walked behind the men now as they set the bag onto the wheeled cart. The agent opened a flap at the head of the body bag, the gray/blue face of a dead man looked out at him from inside a plexiglass viewing panel in the heavy bag. The dead man's eyes were open, Clay seemed to know that this would be the case. The agent pulled a small black device from his coat, it looked like a cell phone only a bit larger than most. Holding the device up to the plexiglass panel a small laser scanned over the eyes of the dead man inside. Clay held the device up to read it, the scan was successful and now Clay was sure he had the right corpse, the device blinked the identity of the dead man: Nikka Valyeev- Country of origin: Russia. Class Five Meta. Deceased and in cryo 14 months.

Clay smiled as he pocketed the small scanner.
"Put this thing in the van, let's make this delivery boys so we can go home and get some sleep."
The three men wheeled the cart back through the security checkpoint and out into the wide hall. Moments later they were outside of the morgue and opening the rear of a newer all black van. The troopers loaded the body into the van and secured it safely on the gurney. Clay climbed inside and checked the small pump that was circulating the gas in the bag. The temperature was holding and the pump was operating properly. Clay stepped down from the back of the van and went to the passenger side and climbed in. The troopers rode up front, agent Clay sat just behind them and dialed his phone as the van drove.

Just down the street sat an older nondescript car, two young men sat in it, they too were dialing a cellphone. A silver colored cross hung upside down from the rear view mirror, it caught and reflected some of the streetlight as it swung slowly.

"Duke, it was just like you said, they were here and they loaded someone in a van. Yeah, we'll follow 'em."
The car with the two young men pulled away from the side of the dark street and drove in the same direction of the RAID van.

The sign above Fratelli's restaurant was still dark, it was around dawn and it would be several hours before the old place would be serving lunch. The kitchen was full and buzzing with activity. Several prep cooks and chefs were toiling at cutting boards and large mixers. Italian opera drifted through the large kitchen from an old radio on a shelf above the many prep tables.

The general manager had just entered the kitchen when a loud buzzer sounded. Dominic Fratelli walked quickly to the back door and unlocked it. Two large men in dark suits were at the door, behind them were many more.

Dominic recognized them all, he quickly stood aside and motioned for them to enter with a small bow.
"Please Mr. Mustafa, come in sir."

The two men pushed past Dominic and walked through the busy kitchen. Mustafa walked slowly behind them and two or three more goons brought up the rear. Outside in the alley a limousine sat, two more men stood near it.

Mustafa greeted the cooks and other workers in the kitchen, they were friendly to him and he to them. Dominic had a table ready for his early morning customer, he led them men to the beautifully set table. Mustafa sat down, his men lingered nearby.

"Let me know when your ready sir and I'll have some food made." Dominic said with a smile.

"Just coffee for now, Dom." Mustafa said as the manager in the smart looking tuxedo nodded and walked away.

Dominic came back quickly with the coffee, the short man looked nervously at the larger men that lurked around Mr. Mustafa. The one called Furio made him very nervous, Furio's skin was ashen and pale, his hair was white but he did not appear to be more than 30 years old. Furio always wore gloves and Dominic could see that the tall man had only four fingers on each hand. Dominic was staring at the white haired man's gloves, custom made to cover his four chunky fingers.

"Pour the coffee Fratelli." Furio barked and Dominic stopped staring and poured the rich smelling coffee.

"Biscotti." Mustafa said and Dominic left the coffee and walked quickly back to kitchen for a selection of the tasty biscuits.

Furio was staring now, watching as the short man with the slicked back hair walked across the dining room. Dominic looked back briefly as he entered the kitchen, the pale almost colorless eyes of Furio were set on him.

"Fratelli's alright Furio, relax."

Furio turned away from the kitchen and nodded to Mustafa, the big albino was sneering as he nodded, many unusual canine like teeth could be seen in the mouth of the tall, pale skinned man.

"Sit with me Furio, have some coffee and relax."
The tall man sat next to Mustafa as the older man poured him a cup.

"Where are the others?" Furio grunted.

"They'll be here soon, you worry to much."

"Maybe you don't worry enough Vincent."
Furio said as he sipped the coffee and watched the kitchen doors.

The bright red classic Camaro sped into the alley behind Fratelli's, the car came within a few yards of the parked limousine before screeching to a halt. Mustafa's men moved towards the car, they had small automatic weapons which they pointed at the red car. Loud rock music was pounding from inside the car, the door opened and Denya Popov stepped out.

"I am not late am I?" The young man said in a thick Russian accent.
Denya was wearing a red/brown leather jacket and a thick gold chain around his neck. Denya had short black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He had gold earrings in each ear and beneath his jacket he was wearing a bright white silk shirt. A black Lincoln Town car pulled in behind the Camaro, an older man stepped out of followed by a younger man dressed more casually and 2 security men.

"Papa, we are not late are we?."
Denya said to the older man.

Mustafa's men let their guns slip back beneath their long coats and went back to standing near the limo.

"Turn that noise off and show some respect Denya." The older man barked.
Denya shut his car off and walked to greet his father.

Roman Popov was in his seventies but looked to be much younger. Roman's hair was black, he wore a black suit. The older Russian's hands were covered in religious tattoos as was his son's. Roman wore many gold rings, some of them had rare jewels and gems set into the gold. Roman carried a cane but did not use it like a man who needed one.

The two men greeted each other with a hug and kisses on the cheek.
"Have you eaten breakfast my boy?" Roman said quietly as he hugged Denya."[/i]

"No father but I am not hungry, however I would have a drink if you would allow it. Perhaps theses dark savages have some real vodka or cognac." Denya said with a grin.

"I would like to think so." Roman said as they walked to the back door.

"Greetings Mikhail." Denya said to his father's friend.

Roman's men pushed the buzzer and soon Dominic came and let them in.

The five Russians slipped through the kitchen and into the dining area. Mustafa and his men were enjoying coffee and fresh baked biscotti at the table. Mustafa and Furio stood as the Russians came to the table, Mustafa's men nodded at Roman's.

"I waited to order Roman, they'll cook something if you are hungry."

Roman shook his head and waved no leaning on his black cane. Denya turned to Dominic who was standing back from the group.

"Coffee and cognac, for me and my father." Denya hissed at the matridi.

Dom scurried to the bar for the drinks. Roman and Mikhail sat at the table across from Mustafa, Denya remained standing behind his father. Denya lit a cigarette and began smoking aggressively. There was no smoking inside of Fratelli's but Dom said nothing as he brought the drinks for the Russians.

"This is Mikhail, a friend of mine from back home. He is a good man to have on your side and he knows good people, people who can help us make our ideas become reality." Roman said.

"I have heard of you sir, I am pleased to finally meet you." Mustafa said as glasses of top shelf cognac were set in front of all of them.

Mikhail nodded to Mustafa but did not offer his hand, his face was expressionless as he spoke to Mustafa.

"How much material was in the canister?" Mikhail said flatly.

"First we will drink and talk a little bit my Russian friend, and maybe have a little food." Mustafa said with a grin as he raised a glass of cognac.

Jasper's pale eyes swiveled just below the brim of his hat from Ned to John, then trailed off, focusing on the exit of the Gemini. A dead District Attorney, fake money, the mob, and some toxin which for all he knew was designed to make his insides shit out his arse; it was all a little too risky for the Irishman. All that hadn't been mentioned was the dreaded 'R-word', but Joy Buzzer had a feeling it was only a matter of time, which was why he was beginning to feel that this party was coming to a sure and final end. He was hoping, that John would just wish Ned well and they'd be on their way, but there was a hero lurking in the big guy and his interest became apparent when he probed for more information about the restaurant, Ned had mentioned.

Joy Buzzer really wished that he shared, Mack's sense of justice, but the fact was he didn't give a rat's ass about bio-toxin's and dead DA's. Good riddance to the pox was all, the Irishman had to say and he sure as hell wasn't about to go up against the mob. Even he had heard of Mustafa, and Jasper wasn't about to mess with him.

"Well now boys, I'll not be carin' to hear anymore o' the $%#@ing restaurant, filled with the $%#&ing mob." Interjected Jasper as he smoothly moved from his leaning position against the pool table to stand before John, "Are ye daft man? Mustafa's a #$%&ing killer. I've dealt with his kind before and its not worth it, believe me. Jus' when ye think you've killed all the bloody bastards, a guy like Mustafa just hits the reset button and more a the maggots just spring right outta the ##$%ing wood-work."

Jasper paused for a moment to see if any of this was sinking into, John's skull. A dead silence ensued, and Joy Buzzer instinctively backed away from the two men. "I'm no hero. I'm just on a run o' luck right now and 'tis long over due to run out." He kept backing up to the bar as he spoke, eventually turning around and ordering one more drink before he hit the road.

The electrical mutant could cause a bit of damage when he had to, but he wasn't bullet proof. When you went up against the mob, it wasn't the hundred guns in front of you, but rather the one at your back that got ya, and the Irishman wasn't about to live each day in fear. It was bad enough he had RAID, and the police now to deal with, he definitely didn't need, Mustafa chopping at his balls as well.

John wasn't gonna hold JB's strong opinions about not wanting to go toe to toe with the mob against him. Going to war with the mob was a serious thing, John had done it before back home in New Jersey, violence only begat violence and the violence only escalated. If you choose to step into the arena with men like Mustafa you better be sure you go the whole ten rounds. John new how men like these operated, they killed without a thought and had a never ending list of people on their payroll. Gangsters like this had eyes and ears everywhere. John did not like the idea of bringing mob heat down on Jasper, Fyedka and himself, God knows it was hot enough with RAID looking for him, but John had brawling in his blood.

Truth be told ever since he was 'banished' from Jersey and lost his business he had felt like a tumbleweed drifting without cause. Only after he had reconnected with his old friends did he begin to feel like he had a chance to something good again. A couple of good wins and real tough losses back in New York and New Jersey made him feel like his old self, like he felt back in the day working for the government helping people. Since then he had his ass kicked a few times and been in federal custody. Bug was gone and Gabriel was missing, John hoped that they were still free and just laying low somewhere.

The mechanic was tired of playing defense and was prepared to run some offense. Maybe it was time to take a more aggressive tack, perhaps it was time to crank it up a few notches.

What was the alternative? Keep running and hiding until he could file for social security? No, John was a fighter and he was more than prepared to butt heads with the Chicago mob. There really was no other decision for the mechanic but he wondered what his new friends would have to say. Jasper seemed content with staying of the radar but John could see the fighter and hero inside of the young Irishman, Fyedka had been hiding from the whole world and may not be prepared to make new enemies.

These young men were a new breed, they had not known the world fully as it was prior to the Riggs act and all the other political bullshit that preceded it. The time where this country held metas that wanted to serve and other 'specially talented' citizens in the highest regard had ended almost ten years ago. These young men had grown to adulthood in a world that treated them like criminals and they had learned to keep their mouths shut and their heads down. John could not ask them to expose themselves as he had been forced to in the past and face arrest and imprisonment or worse. Friendship meant a lot to the mechanic, it was just about all he had left and he did consider these two young men friends. Friends helped other friends out did they not? All John could do was ask them if they would go along on the wildest ride they could have ever imagined.

How hard could it be? All they needed to do was to keep one step ahead of Chicago PD, avoid RAID and their extensive intelligence network and their army of highly trained agents and troopers, stay the hell away from Kristina and her desire for revenge, and start a huge fight with a mobster they had never met. And while this was going on maybe they could help Fyedka with his family scenario, find some of John's missing friends and prove to the whole world that they were not dangerous criminals. As John though on all this he wondered what the definition for insanity was because surely it looked a lot like this.

John was studying Jasper as he finished his tirade, all of his points were valid, the Irishman had had always followed his head and it had served him well, allowing him to stay free for so long.

"JB, you know I gotta have a look at Mustafa. If half of what Ned is saying is true, Mustafa can't be allowed to carry on. The cops here are so wrapped up in enforcing Riggs bullshit they won't get to him anytime soon. Hell JB, it's an election year he's probably a big donor and thinks that he is untouchable. I can't leave it alone JB."

John looked over to Fyedka, he was listening but the mechanic could not read the young Russian's face.

"We can more damage if we stick together fellas." John turned back to Jasper.

The mechanic adjusted the cap on his head and managed a toothy grin.

"It just might be fun you know..." The big man said.

Jasper sipped at his drink, his eyes on the bar as John began to speak. The big man made a lot of sense, but the Irishman, still believed he was foolishly sticking his neck out, and for what? Would any Meta care? Would they even know? Not bloody, likely and if the tables were turned they'd up and tuck-tail and run.

When, John mentioned 'sticking together', the Irishman, swiveled around on the bar stool and leaned against the bar, glaring at the large man from beneath the brim of his hat. He thought long and hard for while, considering every angle, and every one seemed off. There was really no incentive for the Irishman to risk his neck, but he decided to at least back the big guy up if checking out this bio-crap was so damn important to him.

"I believe you and I jus' might interpret what's 'fun' a little differently, I imagine thar Mack." Replied Jasper. He tipped up his hat and looked him straight in the eye, "I'll help ya find this blasted canister, jus' so you cin see fer yerself it's not worth gettin' yer nuts shot off, but once we find it, I'm gone. I don't want any part a' dealin' with Mustafa, if'n it can be helped."