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Scene Title Bullpen
Synopsis Brian Winters makes a meeting on his terms, but the result is perhaps not his most ideal. He was, after all, the one to jump into the ring shouting Toro, Toro~.
Date July 25, 2009

Cong Medical Clinic

The evening has passed on, it's getting officially in the territory of night. The clinic is closed. But not closed well enough, apparently. Walking past the doors aligned along the wall, his hand goes up to press gently against the glass of the nurse's station. Bullet-proof. A little smirk flicks on the intruder's lips. It's a night for reminiscing.

As he strolls into memory lane metaphorically he physically starts down the hall of the clinic. The movement of his feet all but inaudible as he slinks through the clinic. Dressed in a crisp black suit, the man is the spitting image of proffesionalism. Except that is, he's creeping around a doctor's office at night.

Silently checking the rooms as he goes by, Brian elicits the process of elimination to find his target. The good Doctor Cong.
Nurse's station, one exam room, then the next- the same one that he and Veronica tricked the doctor into- are all empty. The larger, equipped room is locked, though empty as visible through the window in the metal door. There is a light under the door at the end of the hall, which is unlocked, as is the door parallel- the door to Cong's office. The other doors in that room are locked.

On the other side of both doors, Bao-Wei can be heard without issue, shuffling around in his desk, or the scratching of pen on paper. Once in awhile, the click-click-click of a keyboard under his fingers.

"Doctor Cong." Brian's voice sounds out just miliseconds before the door slides open and the figure slips in. The door is left ajar as the ex-agent waltzes into the room as if he owned it. "I apologize for showing up without an appointment. Again. I know how much that annoys you." Winters murmurs, as he gazes on the man.

A second later his hand is brought from behind his back, revealing the silver pistol there. "I also know that you must be very annoyed with me already. With what happened at our last meeting. This is just a precautionary instrument," He nods down at his gun, "To make sure you don't act too hastily before I can say what I have come here to say." The gun remains pointed downward at the ground rather than at the doctor.

Rage would be an understatement. As soon as Brian makes himself known, Bao-Wei is rigid with anger, his expression livid and his hand already reaching into the open drawer as Brian reveals the pistol in his hand. Of course he came armed- that was a given. Whether Doctor Cong was reaching in that drawer for his own gun or something else entirely- that remains to be seen, as he draws his fist back with a slight growl of his breath.

He does, however, stand up to bore eye-to-eye with Winters across the short span of office. "You learned nothing, did you? Not only that, you dare come in here at all?" Bao-Wei is on the verge of probably roaring this, but somehow he stays within a speaking range; not only did he try the first time this happened to teach Brian a lesson, he is the same man that changed the landscape of his very own well-being by shooting out Chang Ye. "What do you want, gouzaizi?"

"I reccommend you don't raise your arm. Or make any sudden movements. Even though I know you are a reasonable man, I also understand that you are very angry. And anger can make you do foolish things. I will protect myself from said foolish things, appropriately." Winters explains in a conversational tone. "What I want?" Brian repeats, tilting his head as if this is a novel question, one that he's never heard before.

"Probably a lot. And probably things you can't give me. But I'm not here on what I want, Doctor Cong. I'm here on what you want." Stepping forward his pistol taps the desk twice. "Let's sit down and discuss this nicely, shall we?"

Gun or not, nobody orders Doctor Cong around in his own den-his own turf. It is natural that he ignores the order. He does not sit; though then again, he does not move either, excepting to watch Winters as the man moves. Inwardly, he does keep up the debate of trying to simply knock his block off should the young man get too close. The atmosphere is thick, and even if Brian has had training to deal with it, there is a certain degree of intimidation that the doctor gives off without effort; his posture, his voice, the snarling lion made of ink on one forearm where both are bared by rolled sleeves- the mismatched colors of his eyes in the direct light, and the fitting shine on the panes of his reading glasses. The tension is not unlike a bull stamping its foot at an intruder in its pen.

"And what is it, boy, that I want? What can you possibly give?"

"I don't know what it is you want. Exactly. I know you like money, and I'm assuming you like power. If this whole set up and the presence you try to maintain is any indication. You like people being afraid of you. I assume since the demise of your leader, may he rest in peace, that naturally you have moved up on the food chain." His hand trails along the desk lightly. If he is intimidated at all, he does not allow himself to show it.

"Maybe you want to get a more solid grip on the city. Expand your operation. Squash your competition. I don't know. But I have come to offer you with no other gang in this city can boast of having. I've come to offer you an edge."

"You've no idea of where I have ever stood on the 'food chain', as it were." Is the first response, snappish and almost mocking. And it is true. Brian only assumes that he knows the layout of the Flying Dragons' chain of command.

"You presume far too much for your own good." In some ways, Winters is right, but in others, he also seems to think that the Triad needs him and whatever he has to offer. A good tactic during job interviews, but not so much when you're nose to nose with the enemy general. "And what edge do you think that you can offer us?"

"Me." Brian murmurs as he goes to lean against the back wall. Tilting his head at the man a small smirk raises up. "I'm getting tired of playing the pride game with you Doctor Cong. You are vicious and people fear you.." He waves his hand as if it's of no consequence. "I get that. I am not one of those who fear you. Call me foolish for that, whatever you want to do. The point is, I am very good at what I do. You can continue to look down at me as a boy, or you can quit playing this game and recognize me for what I am."

A pause as the gun is tucked inside his coat. "That is: The most valuable asset you could get your hands on in this city. I offer my employment, Doctor Cong. And with that I offer any problem that stands in your way—" He makes a crushing motion with his hand, "Taken care of." Brian looks up from his small demonstration of air crushing to watch Bao-Wei stoically.
"Game? It is not I that is 'playing a game'. You are the one tramping about in my clinic during all hours, waving around your phallic substitute and making yourself into a scene. As far as I am concerned, you are no more than a terrier pandering around our ankles so that we pay you some attention.

"If you want to change how I see you-" And for the second time, Doctor Cong turns to face him eye-to-eye, standing just that short span from him, the corner of the desk really all that stands between them. "-then you will have to earn it, rather than ordering me to do so. As for claiming yourself as an asset, well-" A hint of a smile flickers onto Cong's lips, though the expression is fleeting and quite maddened by some sort of prospect that lurks in the back of his head. "-you shall have to prove that to me."

Though the thought of just killing him rather than proving himself passes through his head, that's not what he came here for. A little nod is given when Bao-Wei explains that he's not playing a game. "Honestly Doctor Cong, I don't give a flying fuck about your incorrect view of me. View me however you want. Just know that I could fuck this city up for you. Or I could take my offer to the competition, and have you pounding your big fists against your table when I ruin things for you."

Nodding. "Yeah. Proving grounds. Of course. How would you like me to do that, Doctor Cong?" Winters asks, looking a little bored at the whole prospect.

"You may or may not be aware that the Frontline Act was passed at the end of last month, and the city is in its first probationary month of being under it. So far, I have seen nothing to say that they are actually acting with much effort…"

Doctor Cong has paused, his eyebrows lowering slightly at Winters. "But any man will say that perhaps that is simply the calm before. I am a naturally suspicious person, and as you very well know, Staten Island as of this year is a place that the large of us were both blessed and cursed with. I want you to find out if the government is planning an offensive. If they are, then I want you to find out the details. Who, what, where, why, when, and how." A very tall order for a man he still does not yet know the name of.

"Government infiltration. You're making that my first job." Even Winters, expecting a tall order at the start was not expecting such a big job at the very get-go. "Very well. The details on Frontline's plans." Winters repeats. "What kind of resources will you provide me with to get this done? Or do I need to get my own supplies, and give you the receipt?" It's said dryly, though the joke is implied. He makes it sound as if he was paitnitng a fence rather than infiltrating and taking government secrets.

"If you are lucky and skilled enough, then you will not need to infiltrate." A big job thcat clearly needs an experienced hand. Perhaps Cong is setting him up to fail- or perhaps he is simply wanting to see how far Winters is willing to go. "I am making it your first job, because for every single one of us-" Us, as in those people on the other side of the law. "-Staten Island is a cow to milk and a farm to plow. I can give you some surplus that our men do not need or cannot acquire by rights, but otherwise- a receipt will do perfectly." Joke or not to Brian, Cong is serious. Brian will get the first rung on the ladder, the first one or so steps up- but then he has to prove his own mettle.

"Luck won't have anything to do with it." Winters mutters, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll get your information." He states solidly, straightening from his post against the wall. Dipping his hand into his side pocket he pulls out a slim card. Stepping over to the table, he slaps the card down. "Should you need me for anything else. That's how you can get a hold of me." Turning on heel, Brian takes a step away and towards the hall.

"A pleasure, Doctor Cong. As always."

Doctor Cong takes the card up off of the desktop with a hint of a derisive noise. "Indeed. I presume you know the way out." And after tonight, he is installing a room-to-room alarm to put right there on his desk. "Contact me with any news on the matter." And that is that. Goodnight, Brian.

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