A deal is on the table for the MC but the price is paid in blood.
Unnamed Vatos Malditos member - Shot in chest by tribal security guard
Unnamed tribal security guard - Shot in head by Vatos Malditos member
Angel: Chibs say why they had to push it up?
Bishop: No, just that they've run out of time. We need to take control of the gun trade now, or we could lose it.
Taza: The meet's set. Flying Serpant Lodge. 8:00 PM. Skint'll do it right.
Creeper: No casino?
Taza: That many patches at a table, I thought we might want a quieter place off the main strip. We're still covered by tribal law.
Gilly: Moving guns. Won't that land on northern Cali? Why are we doing this?
Riz: Yeah, no disrespect. I know you gotta be there. Kings make the call. But, we got enough shit going on down here.
Bishop: SAMCRO asked for our charter at the table.
Coco: This is one of Jax Teller's last requests. We gotta represent.
Tranq: I'll reach out to Charming, tell them it's a go.
Creeper: I'll make the ride-through calls.
Bishop: Good. Problems of abundance. (hits gavel)
(not technically a church or temple meeting)
Chibs: We never thought this transition woud've taken so long. Things up in northern Cali are just starting to settle down. And our other interest, it's finally starting to land in the black.
Bishop : We've had a few sea-changes ourselves.
Chibs: Oh, yeah. How is El Padrino?
Bishop: Settling into the suit.
El Oso: Shit we had going, we haven't made, uh, the hand-off an easy task.
Chibs: Well, the north Cali port authority has made that decision for all of us. They're closing down Mendocino Port, which means the Irish have nowhere to bring their guns.
Bishop: Shit. How long?
Chibs: Two weeks. There's one more shipment on the way. That arrives Tuesday. After that, we got nada.
Canche: That explains the urgency.
Chibs: The Irish are nervous. They're already looking for new dealers. I'm sorry we're dropping all this shit in your laps right now, brother. But it's just the way it is.
Bishop: You want to bring them south. That's why my crew is here.
Tranq: Russians run Long Beach. San Diego's a naval cluster-fuck.
Chibs: Farther south, brother. Mexico. We have contacts in Tijuana. An MC down there runs the port.
Montez: The Vatos Malditos.
Coco: Cabrones, man.
Bishop: We just had a little run-in with the VM. Didn't end well.
Chibs: Well, fuck!
Montez: Look, El Palo's a friend of mine. He didn't mention it when we talked.
Bishop: You talked to them already?
Chibs: Yeah. I had to make sure we could make a deal. They're coming up here.
Tranq: Are you fucking kidding me?
Montez: Hey, look. If Palo didn't say anything about a beef, that means he's willing to sit-down. Nothing's gonna go off the rails with us here. You got my word.
Chibs: This bad blood, it ain't historical. It just happened. You can sort this kinda shit out.
Montez: Come on.
Chibs: There's a lot of money on the table here, gentlemen. I'm sure we can put a deal together, where we all come out whole.
Bishop: (silence) You bring them to the table. They're willing to talk, we're willing to listen.
Chibs: It's a beautiful thing. That's all we wanted.
(not technically a church or temple meeting)
Chibs: Santo Padre, with respect, will schedule with the Irish. VM unloads and stores, transports to east Cali border. We think 30% for the Vatos is a fair cut.
Bishop: We're good with that.
Chibs: And how much will it cost us for the port official?
El Palo: We unload twice a month. Secure storage. (to vice president) What do we have, Munch and two supervisors?
VM vice president: Yeah, probably three for Munch.
VM member: And two for the suits.
El Palo: Uh, 7k U.S. dollars.
Chibs: Sounds about right.
El Palo: What's SAMCRO's take?
Chibs: We were supposed to get a cut for the first two years, but considering it's taken almost three years to hand off...
Bishop: We're okay with that. you getting the 10%.
Canche: That's what Teller wanted.
Chibs: That's more than a fair deal, gentlemen.
Montez: (to Chibs) Hey. (whispers in ear)
Montez: We'll throw half of our 10% to the Vatos. 5% for restitutions.
El Palo: And, uh, what about the Mayans? What about their restitution?
Bishop: You lost men because you came into our fucking backyard. No call, no respect. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen?
El Palo:We didn't know it was still your territory, man. Thought you were too thick with the cartel to care if a few patches came and made a little border scratch.
Taza: You were wrong.
El Palo: Fuck you, traitor! Mayans killed 9 of my men!
Bishop: Because you were fucking wrong!
Chibs: Can we just agree that maybe you're both fucking wrong? Come on, brother. You need to put something on this fucking table. (El Oso whispers into Bishop's ear, Bishop whispers into Yuma president's ear, Yuma whispers back)
Bishop: First year, we'll match your 5%.
El Palo: Fuck that! 20!
Taza: Fuck you! (all Mayans and VM stand up and yell at each other, Happy and Tranq pull pistols out)
Chibs: Fuck, man! Jesus Christ! Fuck! You fucking Mexicans! You make us Scots look sensible! How about this? Let's say the Mayans match our 5% for two years. Come on, gentlemen. Get your fucking dicks off the table. This is a fair deal. (everyone sits back down) There we go. See? Civilized. And now we're all a little bit richer. Cheers. Cheers to you all. (everyone drinks, Chibs pounds table)