[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kp75986.png?1[/img][/center] [b]Baltimore Sixteen Months Ago[/b] Jimmy “The Greek” Kappas’ eyebrows knitted together in concentration the second Tresser walked through the Kandy Kane Club. The little Greek man was probably forty percent eyebrows and body hair, the rest polyester. He still dressed like the days of disco hadn’t ended. His partially opened shirt showed a hairy chest and a golden necklace with the astrological Taurus symbol on the end. Kappas was the only one in the bar this time of the morning. The strip club looked smaller with the flashing lights off and the music not playing. Jimmy sat at a table near the far corner with a plate of cracked crab shells and the sports page of the [i]Baltimore Sun[/i] in front of him. Jimmy always kept up with the Baltimore-D.C. teams religiously. With as much money as he bet on the games, he had to follow them religiously to even have a chance to make his money back. “Have a seat.” Tresser complied. Jimmy smelled like crab, and his stubby fingers were pruney. Tresser caught a strong whiff of garlic butter as Kappas folded his hands together together. “Heard you took a trip downtown, Tommy.” Tresser shrugged. “Two homicide dicks tried to scare me.” “It work?” Tresser arched an eyebrow. “Noticed I said ‘tried’?” Kappas nodded, more so to himself than to Tresser, and leaned back in the booth. After a long moment of silence, Kappas looked around the strip club and smiled before speaking. “You’re a smart guy, Tommy,” Kappas finally said. He rubbed his face with greasy fingers. He left behind a buttery streak on his chin. “Easily the best worker I’ve had since I’ve been in this business. You get shit done. I always wonder how a guy like you just fell into my lap...” Kappas let the words hang there. From under the table, Tresser’s hand gravitated towards the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Got something you want to say, Jimmy?” Kappas’ face broke out into a toothy grin. He spread his hands out and shrugged. “Just thinking out loud, kid.” “If you’re thinking that I’m not a stand-up guy then you’re wrong.” “That’s bullshit,” said Kappas. He quickly corrected himself. “I mean the concept of a ‘stand-up guy.’ These fucking goombas created their little club with their rules and code of silence, yet when they get in trouble they drop it faster than the milkman dropped his pants when he was fucking my ex-wife.” Tresser leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Kappas. “What do I have to do? Take my clothes off so you can see I’m not wearing a wire.” “Do a job for me,” said Kappas. He brought his slimy hand down on the top of Tresser’s. “Quick and easy for a guy like you, and it’ll show me where you stand.” [hr] [b]Hub City Now [/b] Tresser silently watched Broker and his bodyguard from across the room. The silence wasn’t willing on Tresser’s part. A dirty rag stuffed into his mouth served as a gag. He was tied to a chair in what looked like a darkened ballroom. Besides the chair, a wheeled handcart was the only other inanimate object in the room. “I spent a lot of time and money on that cop you killed,” Broker said as he approached Tresser. “Janko wasn’t the smartest or the most fearsome cop on my payroll. What he lacked in talent he made up for in dedication. You’d be surprised how unreliable a bribed man can be. And you took him from me.” Tresser winced as Broker casually slapped him with the back of his hand. He grunted through his gag and tried to shake the cobwebs from his head. Broker snapped his fingers and his bodyguard wheeled the cart towards them. Along with a pistol, a variety of tools were resting on the car. Tresser saw a hacksaw, a rusty pair of pliers, and a power drill with a chipped bit. “This is what I usually like to use on people who upset me. But I think you’re going to be a different case, Tresser.” Tresser scowled and tried to mumble words through the gag. Broker chuckled and pulled out a pair of reading glasses before turning to the cart. Beneath the tools was a manila folder. He picked it up and shook it in Tresser’s direction. “I said that I thoroughly vet everyone I wish to do business. You have a lot of names you go by, but there’s apparently a Thomas Tresser wanted for questioning in relation to a string of Baltimore homicides. Same Thomas Tresser has quite the service record. People like your boss, Vertigo, sees a killer he doesn’t have to train. But I see something else.” Broker plopped the file back down on the cart and picked up the pistol. Tresser started to buck against his restraints in a futile attempt to break free.. “Alan, you can go,” Broker said with a glance back to his bodyguard. “You sure?” Alan asked with a frown. “What if this guy--” “He won’t. And what I’m going to do to him, you don’t want to be around for.” “But--” “I said go,” Broker said coolly. “Get the fuck out of here before I shoot you in the ass.” Alan headed for the exit without another word. Tresser and Broker stared at each other in silence as Alan left the abandoned ballroom. Once he heard the door close, Broker’s face broke out into a smile. “I’m going to ask you a question and you can respond by either nodding or shaking your head. Do you work for anyone else beside Vertigo?” Tresser shook his head. Broker chuckled and fingered the gun. “You’re lying, Tresser. Vertigo is too much of a fucking cokehead to see it, but I know a sheep-dipped operative when I see it. You don’t go from special forces to holding some Greek gangster’s water. SHIELD sent you didn’t they? After all these years, it’s finally time.” Broker looked over his shoulder before reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a round metal object that had an eagle on it and the words “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division” written around the edge. “Time for me to come in from the cold.”