SRS: 2
SRZ: 1
Scoring:
SRS: Ksudach 46', Fridtjofs 87'
SRZ: Wesley 5'
SRS Lineup:
Blaha; Kamgang, Van, Norling; Shakhnovich (Drenel 68'), Sevet-Ibilx, Avachinsky (Saigir 78'), Sgro; Ksudach, Sargsa (Fridtjofs 68'), Aaltonen (Khachat 78')
Undertow
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Lykken
Lykken and his crew had raced across town from the docks and made their rendezvous with the Molvanians with minutes to spare. He’d been on edge the whole time, riding shotgun, literally, in a speeding box truck packed full of smuggled firearms. It broke a personal policy of his to never break small laws when he was busy breaking big ones. Too many people had been put away for a long, long time after being caught on a routine traffic stop.
In any case, luck was with them that night, and the Arkintoofle PD didn’t look their way. Luck was mostly with them, anyway. Vitali and his boys had pushed their fishing boat through 5 meter seas, nearly swamping the boat in the driving wind and rain, and their trip hadn’t been entirely without casualties. All the crew had made the crossing, cold and wet but still alive and on board, but several boxes of grenades and other explosives had been above deck, and the waves crashing overtop of the boat had overwhelmed the ropes securing them. The lot was now somewhere on the bottom of the strait, rather than in the back of the truck on the way to their buyer. Lykken had nearly hit Vitali, but there was no point staying mad about it, nothing could be done at this point but to drive to the meeting and find a way to make Rumianek see things his way.
Kaj Zidlicky hadn’t picked up the nickname for any floral beauty or aroma, but because he’d been recruited by the Mutri after a couple przewoźniki had picked him up hitchhiking, standing in a cluster of mayweed growing through the cracked pavement at the side of the road. Rumianek lived up to his name, from what Lykken had heard, by being tough, resourceful and by all accounts very difficult to kill. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to testing that. He simply had to count on the fact that Rumianek and the rest of the Lutenblag Mutri needed this weapon shipment too badly for the move against Lublova that they had planned. Now, with enforcers posting up on either side, eying one another and keeping hands close to their weapons, it was the moment of truth.
“Open it up,” Lykken gestured to Vitali.
A few moments of silence as both boss’s eyes flitted over the stacked pressboard boxes, each stenciled with its contents in bright yellow paint. They catalogued, counted. Rumianek dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it out, turning to Lykken.
“There’s been a change on our end.”
“What do you mean a change?”
“Cash issues, we’ve only got 150.”
“We agreed on 230,000 and you brought less than half?”
“Slow down, we brought you something else instead. I can give you a couple kilos instead of the rest.”
“Fucking coke? You think this is a swap meet, Rumianek?”
“Relax, friend. Street value on that stuff you’ll come out ahead anyway.”
“If it’s so great why didn’t you just sell it yourself and bring my money? My crew doesn’t deal with that shit anyway, so that’s not payment, it’s a fucking hassle.”
“If we’d had the time we would have, but we didn’t, which is why I’m not here haggling grams with you.”
“Haggling grams, you’ve known you were short for weeks, and you don’t tell us until after I open the goddamn truck?”
“About when you were going to tell me you were short on the merchandise, eh?”
“Losing a few boxes in the storm isn’t the same thing and you know it.”
“Your bad weather isn’t my problem, Lykken.”
“And your cash flow issues aren’t mine, Rumnianek.”
The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Around the loading dock where they’d parked the truck, enforcers shifted their weight, flexed gun hands. Finally, Lykken spoke.
“If I take your deal, I’m not walking away from here with one or two kilos, that’s chump change, and I know you brought more. We’ll take ten.”
“Ten’s crazy, you're taking double value of what we agreed on.”
“We agreed on cash. If I have to do your legwork and move coke, then you’re going to pay me for that work too. And you’ll take the deal, because you need the guns, and you can’t afford to have my bosses pissed at yours when everyone knows you’re about to go to war with Lublova.” Lykken kept his face as even as possible as Runianek stared back at him after his ultimatum.
“Ok, my turn, if I take that deal, you replace what you lost and get it to us within a week. And this time you bring it to us.”
“Fine, wait for my call, two days, maybe three to make the arrangements. Vitali, keys.”
Rumianek motioned a couple of his men, who retrieved ten plastic wrapped bundles from the trunk of their car and loaded them up for Lykken’s men. Then they went to the truck, and the rest of the Molvanians piled back into the cars. A few moments and they were gone.
“Pleasure doing business, asshole.”
