They took me to a house, found an ID on me, and then I came to, took someone out but couldn't hold on, and don't remember after that."

Jimmy: "How many of them were there, who fired the gun?"

Mark: "Two people, I took one down but not the other, he fired a shot, probably using my Glock, they took my gun."

Jimmy: "Does your intel know which gang the Black Wolf is from?"

Mark: "No leads. The informant only knows that Black Wolf has been dealing drugs around here for a few years."

Jimmy: "To be stable here, he must have backing. Get some rest. I'll investigate. By the way, the guy you said you took down is alive. The doctor diagnosed it as a coma due to cerebral ischemia, so no pressure."

Mark: "Thanks."

Mark suffered a head injury and needed to stay in the hospital for a while, mainly due to concerns about any problems with his head. Jimmy planned to handle the missing gun alone; if others got involved, it might endanger them too.

Jimmy drove back to the office, and Ruiz had already handed him a copy of some materials. "The place where Mark was injured is owned by the Red Wolves. The boss is Russian, with some influence in Brooklyn, but they don't have many members.

Their main activities are drug dealing and illegal gambling, with some involvement in loan sharking, but that's not their primary business.

The head of the Red Wolves is Elena Kovalevskaya. This name is likely not real, no related information. She's a rather ruthless person, with some cases suspected to be her direct actions, but no evidence.

Elena is rumored to be the woman of a major Russian mob boss, but no confirmation, and it's unclear who her boss is."

Jimmy: "The attacker on Mark was a street dealer nicknamed Black Wolf, which sounds like he's with the gang, but isn't this a Russian mob? Why would there be a Latino with such a nickname?"

Ruiz: "Russian mobs don't limit their members by ethnicity, so it's possible."

Jimmy: "Understood. Ruiz, I'll handle this case quickly. I don't want OPR involved; let's give Mark a chance. It's mainly my fault this time; I shouldn't have let him investigate alone."

Ruiz: "Handle it first, talk later."

Jimmy nodded, glanced at the time. "The sooner the better. I'll handle it today. Is the command center withdrawn?"

Ruiz: "Withdrawn, why?"

Jimmy: "Might need to track phone numbers or such. Those gangsters won't cooperate entirely, gotta find them myself. Also, I need some support personnel ready to move."

Ruiz: "I'll arrange that."

Jimmy nodded, returned to the Homicide Team office, arranged for Julia to leave work on schedule, then called Nia for a case to handle tonight, and headed out.

The data Ruiz provided was clear; one of the main businesses of the Red Wolves is illegal gambling, which must have fixed locations, places where mid-level and lower-ranking members gather.

But Jimmy didn't intend to hit their illegal gambling spots directly; instead, he headed to another location, a night club in Gravesend. It's a legitimate business, well-documented, though not in the best location, but at least it appears clean.

Of course, the night club owner wouldn't be Elena, but control would definitely be in her hands since it's a place she frequents.

This time, Jimmy didn't plan to go directly for Elena, the big boss. Street dealers are low-level group members; bosses might not even know their names or faces. To find someone, he needed to locate mid-level or lower-level leaders.

Jimmy made his way to the vicinity of the night club, found a restaurant for dinner, rested for a while before getting up to go.

It was a bit early, not many seemed inside yet. Jimmy approached the entrance security, flashed his FBI badge: "FBI, I'm looking for Sergeyev."

The guard stared wide-eyed at the sunglasses-wearing Asian man before him, wondering if he had a screw loose. "No such person."

Jimmy placed his left hand on the guard's shoulder and punched him directly in the stomach with his right fist. The guard hadn't expected anyone to throw a punch at him at the night club's entrance; he bent over, clutching his stomach, staggering back a step, landing on the ground.

Jimmy adjusted his clothes: "Now, is there such a person? You have one minute, get him out here."

With that, Jimmy turned and left the night club entrance, heading to the back alley of the club, having noted it earlier.

Soon, four men came running from the alley entrance, judging by their rush, they probably didn't intend to chat peacefully. Fortunately, they were all unarmed, no weapons.

Jimmy didn't draw his gun; instead, he took the time to unbutton his coat. He hadn't faced many one-against-many situations, but against four non-professional thugs, it wasn't too daunting.

Jimmy sprinted forward a couple of steps, using his right hand to brush aside the arm of the guy in front swinging at him, then left-fisted punched his side, quickly evading to avoid the second guy coming up.

Though his upper body dodged, it didn't prevent him from counterattacking; as Jimmy sidestepped, he raised his right leg, kicked the second guy in the body, leveraging the force to jump back a bit, creating distance. The first two thugs were stalled after Jimmy's continuous hits, perfectly blocking the two behind, restoring the balance between Jimmy and them.

Soon, the third and fourth dodged around the front two and charged in. With two side by side, Jimmy couldn't instantly separate them for one-on-one combat, so he blocked one's arm with his hand, swirling around it to pull him ahead of the last one, shielding himself from a straight punch.

The third grabbed by the arm immediately raised his leg to attack Jimmy's leg with his knee, but Jimmy lifted his leg to block the other's thigh, pulling his arm again, causing the third guy to topple sideways to the ground on one leg, and Jimmy did not retract his right leg, instead, kicked straight at the fourth guy, failing to reach him with punches when Jimmy's foot landed in the fourth's abdomen. Since Jimmy's energy was spent on the third, the kick lacked power, merely forcing the fourth back a step, curtailing his attack frequency.

Those first knocked down by Jimmy had already gotten up and raced back in; the advantage of numbers was now fully evident. Knocking one or two down was never enough to stop the tide, as someone was always ready to come at him.

Nevertheless, the situation improved slightly; Jimmy retreated a step, kicked the third on the ground again, making him roll towards the other three, hindering their stride.

This was no time to stand and wait; Jimmy propelled himself forward with a right leg push, his extraordinary reflexes avoiding the fist aimed at his face, punching the first guy on the nose as his right hand followed up with left-fisted impact on the second's side, then spinning with the momentum to right-fist the third one on the side of the head.

As the trio staggered about, Jimmy lifted his leg to kick each of them to the ground, with groans of pain emanating from them, watching their contorted agony, Jimmy straightened his clothes, "Now, tell me, where is Sergeyev?"

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