The rest of the return trip to Vegas was fairly uneventful. The delays by constantly stopping to get food for Butch were somewhat resolved by simply buying enough jerky that he could continuously eat along the way; and after a quick stop to clean up and empty out the pile of trash the boy had accumulated from seemingly every fast-food place the interstate had to offer, they arrived at their destination for the day a half-hour early; a diner on the edge of vegas, small, fairly quiet, out of the way; currently fairly empty despite it being almost four; he'd figured most places to eat would be at their busiest this time of day.

Marcy's Place, however, seemed to be primarily a breakfast joint; and when Jason headed inside, he saw two men in nice, tailored suits, the classic pinstripe look. One talking to the waitress, the other walking through the place; pretending to be talking on his cell, but clearly scanning the place for something; he recognized the device in his hands as an alternate version of a hand-scanner they'd used to search for IEDs overseas.

When Jason entered, with Butch gently pushing Jimmy along behind him, one of the two men glanced his way... and nodded at the booth on the end. Jason sat down first... and Butch sat down opposite him, squeezing Jimmy into the corner. The waitress dropped off a few menus; for a moment, Jason thought about what Butch's reaction would be if he actually ordered from the 12 and under menu; or more importantly, what the waitress's would be.

The menu had two pages; one of them fairly typical breakfast fare, the other mostly in italian; what he could've sworn was a croissant was labeled as a 'Cornetto', so he figured they just had the same menu as other places, just probably owned by some italian who liked to add a bit of flavor. Probably the one he was here to meet.

After a few minutes, the waitress returned. "Hello there, gentlemen! Our owner is currently on his way, and I'm sure he'll appreciate you being prompt. Whatever you order will be on the house." She smiled; of course, a pretty red-head. Jason avoided checking her out by focusing far too much on studying the menu; this was not the time.

"Ahh, I'll have some bacon, eggs, and... I think I'll try this.. Maritozzo." Jimmy glanced down. Back up... then down again.

"I... I'm not hungry." He settled the menu down. Was the man afraid his brother would poison him? Or just too nervous to eat.

Butch smiled; a grin that looked out of place on the enormous figure. "I'll take however much bacon and eggs you can give me! Like.. five or six pounds if you could to start off?"

The waitress looked at the massive form... and nodded. "Of course, sir! We'll have that right out."

Shortly after she stepped away, they heard the ringing as the door opened; and Nicky Russo walked in, another guard walking behind him. Two of the guards settled into the next booth, and ordered breakfast of their own, as Nicky sat beside Jason... staring across at his brother.

"Jimmy the rat. Back in business, apparently."

"No, its not like that, Nicky! I just have some friends, and we were having a bit of a party. Nothing to do with the business at all! I would never cross the family again, I'm strictly legit now."

Nicky turned to Jason. "Ugh. I hate sitting beside someone and talking to them. But I suppose when you've got some real muscle on the team you have seating restrictions at time." He nodded at Butch. "Still. What was my brother doing when you found him?"

"That quarterback, Lebowski, that had a bounty on crippling him before the game? He was running a little underground fight club where a bunch of homeless people would be dragged in and forced to fight for cash. He and some of his friends would bet on it, pay off the survivors, and they had a mass grave pre-dug out in the desert to deal with the ones who didn't make it. Jimmy was one of the ones betting."

Nicky looked at Jimmy. "Just a little party, then."

Jimmy shook at Nicky's cold gaze settling over him, fists clenched. "I wasn't really involved in it at all, I swear. Just, you know. Watching. Betting."

"Just a bit of illegal gambling in a hidden arena over a bunch of poor folks made to fight to the death, huh? I saw the news. If Eyeball here hadn't pulled you out of there for me, you'd be all over the news right now. The rest of the family would see you. At what was obviously a criminal enterprise. And I'd be forced to make a public spectacle of killing you."

"Nothing to do with the family, Nicky! I wasn't in the business, just, you know. Gambling! Anybody can gamble!"

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"When you ratted out those boys to the feds to save yourself, they wanted to kill you. I got them to settle for breaking your knees and kicking you out of the family. I saved your life, for our mother's sake, god rest her soul. I've regretted it. More than once I've regretted it. But this? I don't know if I can save you from this."

Jimmy looked around Marcy's. By now, the only people in the diner were Nicky's people. Yelling would be useless. His phone was probably in the hands of some random homeless guy in dallas. He was absolutely screwed. "Okay. Look. I've got money. You can have it. All of it. I'll... I'll leave the country! Get plastic surgery, change my name! I'll get the payouts from my government accounts sent to you instead!"

Nicky had been shaking his head. He came to an abrupt stop. Frozen. "Payment... from government... accounts."

"Nothing like that, Nicky! Not like an informant or anything! Maybe I can't run faster than a cheetah anymore since they had to replace my knees, but I'm still a meta. I had like twelve kids, the government gives me a check for each of em. I used that for all sorts of stuff, got some real estate... guaranteed payment for life, and I can just sign it on over to you."

"Twelve. I only knew about two." Nicky stared at Jimmy for a moment. He reached down and picked up his phone, and pressed a single button.

Jimmy could hear it start to dial out; pick up; and then disconnect immediately. He frowned. "Well, yeah. We didn't exactly talk. I stopped giving em the Russo last name after those first two. Not like I was gonna keep the brats. Why, whats the big deal?"

"The two I knew about, one of em the mother died of a drug overdose and she was gonna be up for adoption. You never did a damn thing. The other had her son living in the worst damn conditions I ever saw. My own flesh and blood, niece and nephew, you left in terrible shape. I damn near hunted you down and killed you on the spot. What about the other ten. What don't I know about, Jimmy?"

A sudden blue flash... and Swiftblade was standing at the end of the table. She looked at the table, nodding at Eyeball and looking Jimmy over for a moment before shaking her head while observing the massive form of Butch. "Hey, daddy. Whats going on?"

Jimmy sat up suddenly. "Oh, hey! I thought you were firing blanks, Nicky, never knew I had a niece. I'm your uncle Jimmy."

She smiled for a moment.. then frowned. "Wait. What? Daddy?"

Nicky stared directly at Jimmy. "This is my brother, James Russo. He's your biological father. He abandoned you twenty-three years ago. I adopted you after he got kicked out of the family. Your brother is in fact your brother, and is also his kid. Also abandoned. He's got ten more kids. Abandoned. Family. Our blood. That I didn't know about til just now."

Swiftblade pulled the mask down. "I... Well. I figured I was adopted a long time ago. The whole story of your wife leaving because you cheated on her never really sat with me. But.. I did get a test done. It said we were related. Close." She turned to Jimmy. "You abandoned me? Why?"

"Well, darling.. Penny I think it was?"

She clenched her fists. "You can call me Swiftblade."

Nicky leaned forward. "At the time, I thought it was because you came out too dark-skinned, and he wasn't willing to bring you home to mama. Turns out thats not it at all. He's been having kids and abandoning them regularly for years now, it seems, and the government pays him for it. Because he used to be fast. Not near as fast as you... but fast enough to matter."

"And why is he here now?"

"He's a rat. Ratted out some folks and got kicked out of the family over twenty years ago. It wasn't our people, it was some two-bit gangers, so I was able to convince them to just break his legs instead of killing him. He was out of the business, or he was dead. Our friend Eyeball here ran into him... in the business. I wanted to talk to you before I killed him."

She always had a bit of a manic look to her; emotions shifting dramatically. This time... her expression seemed to die off. No more anger, no more happiness. Just... death. Cold. Certain. "I understand. May I speak with him first? And... well. There may not be much left of him to kill after."

"Before you do... you've got ten more brothers and sisters neither of us knew about until today. If you could please find out who and where they are so we can help them if they need it, and bring them into the fold if they want."

A tiny flicker of the anger that had been there before. "Yes, daddy." And with that... the two were gone. Swiftblade seemed to have lost a bit of control; napkins and newspapers went flying as they vanished.

Nicky looked down at the table. No more anger. Just... sorrow. "Ten more. God knows what kind of situation they've had to grow up in. My own flesh and blood. That..." He slowly shook his head. "Why the hell did he get to live when none of the rest..."

Jason blinked. "Some sort of accident, Nicky?"

He met Jason's gaze. Eyes flickered for a moment to the patch of poorly-done makeup on his forehead. "...No. The Bloods were moving in on us. They had a few metas. Our father thought exposing some of us to radiation might give the family a few mutants. So... he took all seven of us. Only me and Jimmy were alive the next year."

"...Jimmy the only mutant?"

"No. He had a twin, John. John got the radiation sickness, bad. He died in about two weeks after. But for those two weeks... well. There weren't any more Bloods left by the time he died."

"Damn. Sorry for your loss. Its a shame the only one left that could have kids was such an asshole."

"True. Enough. Thanks for bringing him here. I'd heard you wanted information about some labs you were considering hitting. I put Swiftblade on it. If you want to hit up the penthouse... on me once again, with my thanks... I'll have whatever she found sent to you when she's finished... with what she's working on."

***

Off in the desert, a faint blue blur and the sound of screaming seemed to be circling the city, leaving a faint trail; as someone was dragged across the sand at hundreds of miles per hour, begging uselessly for his life.