"Fucking children," Hal Jeong sneered as he saw the three Korean men wheeled into the infirmary, broken into uselessness. The alarm had sounded, everyone had dropped to the floor as instructed. A major fight. And of course, it was his men that were being carried away. They must have gone up against the Russians. They might as well have gone and tried to punch the cement walls down.

"Bush league amateur hour bullshit. I'm tired of these no-account children thinking this macho street bullshit solves anything." He shook his head. "Wars inside turn into wars outside. We've had Cosa Nostra and the Dominicans, we don't need to add the Russians into the mix." 

"Are you going somewhere with this?" the other man demanded. White, heavily-built, a tiny but detailed skull tattooed right in the middle of his forehead with a small 1%. Heroin and a rough lifestyle had taken a toll on the man, but he was still vigorous, powerful. And most importantly, he could be controlled. Billy Grey would claim otherwise, naturally, but he was relatively easy to manipulate. All it took was a little flattery. 

"This where you come in, Mr. Grey," Jeong said, slipping a Redwood into the man's palm. All it cost for an audience inside was a cig or maybe a can of Sprunk. "I need you. You're respected, people listen to you in here," he lied shamelessly. It was mainly that the man was white. He could get up close to Borodin without being jumped immediately. If he failed as a go-between, Grey's beating or shanking was no skin off his nose. "I want you to go to Borodin whenever he's released from solitary and propose a truce, so we can sit down and talk things out. Like two responsible businessmen."

"What makes you so sure the Russkie is gonna listen?"

"He's not a stupid man. He knows there's no profit in this violence. Now, off you go," Jeong said, smiling as he put another Redwood behind the biker's ear. Grey grunted in annoyance, but sauntered off on his errand anyway. 

Jeong nodded. Now, all he had to do was wait and see.