[[All entries are assumed to be written in Russian. For the sake of this Journal the entries are translated into English so the players can follow the story as it progresses.]]

March 20…

Six mouths to feed…

I’m writing this with one hand… again.. From a bed in the hospital. Why? Yeah.. there’s a story behind that.

So the day started out as any other day. Wake up, wash up, go to work. I got there and that Manager that I promoted seemed to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder for whatever reason. Don’t know if it was because Lyon and Kitten were there or what, but he left after I asked them both if they were auditioning to work for me. They said they were just putting on a show. So I told them to take a shower and hit the pool if they were going to do that. He was gone after that. I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m going to be watching him. Another one of the workers showed up after that. Same girl that Amber had made friends with that day. Finally got her working. She was supposed to start tonight, but I didn’t get a chance to see it for myself. Yeah.. what happened? Here it is..

Someone knocked on the door. Yeah.. Who the fuck knocks on the door of a public business during business hours? Chaz went to open it, then BOOM. Shots fired, Chaz goes down.. Shots returned. Who killed Chaz? The Fucking Reindeer-man. Yeah, he must have lost his fucking mind. He started screaming about where I was getting my weed from. Maybe he forgot that I bought it from his boss. I don’t know. He told me that one of ‘his runners’ said I had a whole lot of weed. Yeah, logic must have went right out the door, considering I bought a whole lot of weed from them. Couldn’t tell if this was his bid to prove he was more badass than me or his dick was bigger, or what. Not that it mattered considering I don’t care about things like that..but best believe the gunfire attracted others. One of my runners showed up, another guy that i didn’t recognize.. and that was before we were both staring down the end of each other’s barrels. Kitten and Lyon had been about, but i told Lyon to get into the other room.. Kitten threw a glass at the man. Deja vu. I moved, I fired, but so did he.. Not sure if I got him.. but he definitely got my arm.

I saw him go down, and a few other shots rang out. Not sure what happened to him, whether or not he’s alive or dead.. Kitten and Lyon were already trying to dress my arm at that point. Must have been bad because I was bleeding all over the place. More than I was when Marcus shot me. More people showed up, and I was trying to gt to the hospital. That slug tore my arm up real good.. I couldn’t move it. I heard someone say something about burning the body, but I don’t actually know what happened with that. For all I know, he’s still alive, in a coma or whatever. We were leaving, when seemed that Watchmen and AEGIS both showed up at the same time, demanding to be let in. Had to have been at least an hour after the last shot was fired, and despite Lyon and Kitten’s efforts I was still loosing blood. I could barely stand on my feet. I remembered making it out the door, but somewhere on the way I lost consciousness.

I woke up in this bed, with my arm pinned together, stitched up and in a sling. I swear I didn’t get shot at this much when I was working FSB back in Russia. More a diplomat than anything. Runs usually went as they were supposed to, but when they went south, they fucking went south. In this place, there’s no rhyme or reason to why people want to shoot you. Seems like if you’re bigger than they are, if you’re louder than they are, or if you defend yourself and not take a bullet or back down from their threats, they’re ready to shoot you. Hell, my first day here, three people pulled guns on me just for standing there, all of them women. Maybe its just the nature of the beast.. and this is more of the old wild west movies where justice is dispensed by the gun. Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword, clearly has never been on the battlefield. Whatever.. Maybe I’ll petition the founder for some of his men as security to stop this crap from happening again. Have to replace the door now, and we’ll probably never get the blood stains out of the floor.

That’s minor. What needs to be dealt with, immediately is the Sour Diesel, and the one that owns it. She’s sending her goons up to my parlor to kill my people without even knowing why herself it seems. Yeah.. bad idea. I may not be in the habit of crossing my clients, but I’m also not in the habit of being crossed. Like I told Rudolf: She better have a -really- good explanation, and an even better reason that I should continue to do business with her.. because as of right now, Open season is an understatement. A reckoning approaches, and my vengeance will be bloody.

Just another day in paradise.