<div class="floatleft">(http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/Expendables-2_02.jpg)</div><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Luke Cage<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Still Luke Cage[Sometimes Power Man]<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>TBD/Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Luke's - Harlem, NY<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>NPCs, Jessica, Misty, Shang, Open<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Warning:</strong>Surprised by visitor(s)<br/><strong>Music:</strong>No One Believes Me (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fG7yHCbMQ40)<br/><hr/><div align="center">(http://cdn.movieweb.com/img.news.tops/NEtgCZIgzcZgxu_2_b.jpg)</div><hr/>He offered his good friend Misty a friendly smile and a nod of his head when she said she liked the new look of the bar.<strong>"Thaaaanks, Misty. Ya know, all I needed was a new location, furniture that <em>wasn't</em> on fire, unscorched walls, and no random debris everywhere. And good as new,"</strong>he said with a good natured chuckle. If you couldn't laugh at yourself after all, right? Of course he noticed Misty's quick glance at Jess, and he knew exactly what it was for. Good ole' Misty. She was a romantic at heart, and her heart<em>was</em>in the right place. If only he and Jess were fixed as easily as in a movie. And speaking of Ms. Jones, her response was one that caught him as off guard hearing it as it seemed her saying it.<br/><br/><strong>"It is,"</strong>he said before he could think about it. And when he locked eyes with her, for a few moments she'd see the truth. His neutral look was all an act, and it was taking a lot to hold it together. She'd be able to see care and worry underneath the steel hard exterior and his equally steely gaze. Seeing her was hard. Almost as hard as his skin. And not because he was mad. With some time apart, and Killgrave dead, he'd been able to think.<em>Really</em>think. Jones had killed his wife, true. But Killgrave had given the order. And as someone who'd also been under that psycho's control, he knew resistance was basically impossible. And sure she hid it from him. But how did you bring that up? Even if they hadn't ended up sleeping together, which was going to happen regardless.<br/><br/>She couldn't just say, "Hey Luke...you don't know me, but under the control of a psycopathic Brit with the silverest tongue ever, I was forced to punch your wifes torso to powder." Or, "Hey baby, you just rocked me world...so here's a story of why your wife is dead." There was<em>no</em>good way to bring it up, and as proven by when she finally did, there was no way he could take it well when he first heard it. But in their short time together, they'd been through a helluva lot. And the way it ended...no he didn't want to say ended. Paused? The way things got put on hold didn't sit right with him. He didn't like ignoring her existence while she did the same with his. When she parroted Misty, he nodded again.<strong>"Heh, thanks. It was mostly furnished when I bought it. But considering I'm basically a one man construction crew and I can work all day without gettin' tired, got it up to code pretty quick."</strong><br/><br/>He tore his eyes away from Jess when Misty asked her question. And when she said MS-13, he shook his head.<strong>"Shit. You know somebody mixed up with them? Or worse, <em>you're</em> mixed up in this? I know you can take care of yourself, Misty. But just a warning, these guys don't pull punches. They will try and kill you the first chance they get."</strong>With that warning out of the way, he took a deep breath and ducked beneath the bar. He came back up with the chalkboard he used to display specials, and quickly drew out the symbol for the gang to show to the two women.<br/><br/><strong>"Mara Salvatrucha. AKA MS-13. Primarily central Americans, like 90% Salvadorians. Mara pays respect to one of the original gangs that spawned them back in San Salvador. Salvatrucha is what they called Salvadorian farmers who became guerillas during the Salvadorian Civil War. 13 is because M is the thirteenth letter of the Mexican alphabet, and they're showing respect to the Mexican Mob."</strong>He took a swig of his liquor, then put the joint to his lips and sparked it. He'd had a long day and a bit of good gas never hurt anyone. Unless it was propane and you lit a match. After a few puffs, he put it in the ash tray and slid it forward for anyone who wanted to take a hit. After blowing the smoke out, he leaned against the opposite side of the bar.<br/><br/><strong>"They're not really a new gang. Been around since the 90's. But their presence up here is basically fresh. They migrated across the country I found out a lot about them in Riker's. They tried to take me out in the joint once they heard I was top dog. It went badly for them, but that's the case for most people. Still. These guys are...they're monsters. They do it all. Drugs, gun running, trafficking, assassinations, straight up urban war. And everything they do is brutal. They don't do efficient. They do overkill. I'm talkin', you owe them $5 for an hour and to make an example they string your wife and kids up on an overpass, then cut your head off while you're crying about it. <br/><br/>And record the whole thing. Cut your heart out and eat it type shit. That's their...their system. The more fucked up you are, the easier it is to make it to the big time. These guys answer directly to the Sinaloa Cartel, and promotion is based off of your kill count and your brutality."</strong>She asked if he'd seen any new kids around. Runners, slingers on the corner, look outs, that sorta thing.<strong>"Now that you mention it, yeah. A few new faces that keep poppin' up around town. I didn't pay attention at first because ya know, seein' a hispanic kid around here is like seein' a black kid. You just hope for the best."</strong><br/><br/>He took his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed a list of corners and areas he'd seen kids and guys who looked like they could be even loosely affiliated with MS-13, then texted it to Misty and Jessica.<strong>"So, now you two tell me just what you're into and if you need my help. I haven't cracked skulls in what feels like forever and I'm antsy."</strong>Looking over to the door when someone entered, his eyebrow raised when he saw who it was. A good friend, but not really a bar type.<strong>"Shang? Hey Roy, do me a favor and get my man over there some cold milk or water with lemon or whatever he wants."</strong>Shang was a lot like Danny. Clean body, clean mind and all that. He barely even looked at alcohol, but he was always welcome in Luke's bar.<strong>"What brings you this way, man?"</strong>The song on the radio had changed, and it was one Luke had heard a few times, even though he didn't always listen to Kid Cudi like that. It was creepy though, and sent a tingle down his spine for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.