A mobile phone rings and Potter says, "Ah! Mayor McCheese approaches. Does it bother anyone in this town that their mayor is also their biggest developer? No one smells that stench?" Roosevelt dryly comments that this scene may make Hale the Lesser's head explode. Then we get some exposition: A pile of Russian corpses may well bring down property values, and if that happens, Hale could have trouble financing. If that happens, the eminent domain on the land expires and the Charming city council would have to vote to renew it. As the mayor comes over, Potter dryly comments, "There goes the neighborhood." Hale says, "Good morning," and Potter tosses off, "Not if you're Russian" as he turns and walks away. (Ha! Potter is growing on me. We're going to discover he's got a raging ether habit soon, because there's no way this show is going to tolerate someone being that organically odd. They've already got Tig for that.) Anyway: Hale does his best imitation of a big-boy politician throwing his weight around so as to make Roosevelt hop to, and Roosevelt does his best to maintain a poker face while he pokes at Hale's hissyfit, first by pointing out that the Russians' enemies list is a long one, and then by asking Hale if his interest in getting this crime solved is a civic one or a financial one. Hale stomps off, totally irritated that no matter how he schemes, he'll never have Charming's law enforcement under his heel.
Jax and Clay have taken a tow truck to a scrapyard, where they're meeting with Alvarez and two of his most muscle-y companions. The purpose of the meeting is for Alvarez to broker an introduction with Romeo Parada (as played by Danny Trejo). Parada introduces his little friends Santos y Luis, then says happily, "I hear Victor Puta-lova never made it home from SAMCRO's wedding." Ha! I admire someone who can make a filthy pun in two languages. Clay says, "Yeah, ah, we had to put him down. Whole North Cali crew." "Must have been a wild party," Parada says. Jax admits he's nervous about a reciprocal soiree. Parada assures him, "The word has been put out: no one is to interfere with our new friendship." That friendship, however, is contingent on SAMCRO impressing Parada with their many big and shiny kill sticks: AR-15s, Sig 551s, AKs, KG-9s, Glocks, etc. All told, they're about to sell Parada over 150 firearms, for 80% of their street value. The Parada folks want a shipment every three weeks, with three dozen of each model save for the Glocks, which are a bit gift basket-y for this crowd. Parada says, "There's more. I need bigger: RPGs, 50 caliber machine guns, long-range sniper rifles." Clay says cautiously that he'll have to make a call. Since Parada's about to hand over more than half a million dollars in cash for Clay's current stock, plus ammo, plus a delivery fee, Clay is all about letting his fingers do the walking. He says he's got a run scheduled for the weekend. "I'll have the coke ready for the run back," says Parada, and the camera shifts to Jax cutting his eyes sideways at Clay. Clay has other places to look at the moment. The business concluded, Jax and Clay get back in the tow truck.