Jester sat in a car with blacked out windows, next to one of the Russians. In the front seat two other Russians get out of the car and make their way into a pub on the corner. Less than an hour ago they had beat the hell out of an Irish mobster for information on where to find the O'Neary brothers. True, Jester already knew where the baby was. Ace would snag her and meet them at the airport. But he knew he couldn't leave the O'Neary brothers alive. They would hunt them down to the ends of the earth and wage war on he and J. So he really had no option but to kill them.
"Mr. Jester," He can hear a thick Russian accent in his ear. "Theese Delta."
"Yeah?" Jester asks.
"You verr right aboat the bat. He let go of Irish rat foock. Heez in elevator of business downtown," the Russian mobster informs him.
"I knew he would chicken out," Jester sighs.
"You vaunt I kill the bat?" The voice dryly asks in his ear.
"No," he pauses with a sigh and tries to think of what his brother would want him to do. He knows that his twin wouldn't want Bruce hurt. "Just keep an eye on him. I want to know what he's up to," Jester says. If it wasn't for J, he would just assume kill Bruce.
"Watt aboat Irish rat foock?" The Russian then asks.
There is no hesitation with Jester's answer. "Kill him."
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"Yes sir. I send man for to kill him, and I stay weeth bat," the Russians tone never once changes.
"I want to know who he talks to or interacts with. I want to know if he comes out with a package. If he so much as clears his throat I want to know. I can't afford having his hero complex kicking in before the deeds are done," Jester's eyes narrow at the thought of what Bruce might be up to.
"Yes sir. I go in building now. Delta out," the Russian mobster says and makes his way up the stairs to the building.
Jester can suddenly hear the voice of one of the Russians that went into the pub on the corner. "Alpha team. Need description for looks."
The guy sitting next to Jester quickly pulls up an image of the mark from his archived file of the O'Neary's. "I send you peetcher now," he says and sends the picture of Schylus O'Neary to his men inside the pub.
"Be careful. He's most likely not alone," Jester says, "We can't afford any mistakes. One mistake could make this all come crashing down around us."
"No problem," the thick accent drug out, suggesting that he didn't need to hear Jester's words.
Gunfire rings out in all of their ear pieces. Jester's finger presses it into his ear to hear what was going on more clearly. All he can hear is the sound of semi-automatic gun fire and screams of women and children. Normally, the sound of women and children being slaughtered would trouble him. But for reasons he doesn't fully understand, the sound brought him a strange sense of...accomplishment.
