Summary: 
Some background on the goons' boss, Stendhal.

          Stendhal’s only been in the drug game since 1994, but he got big quick. When you’ve got criminal experience like him, your reputation precedes you. Don’t need to worry about making a name for yourself if everyone already knows it.

          He's very good at what he does. The best in the game, I’d say. He’s like a proper manager. Good at shit like delegation – that’s where the boys and Monroe come in – but he makes you like him, too, you know? He’s friendly. Treats his muscle like they’re his kids. Talks to Turner in a different language sometimes ‘cause they’re both part German or Dutch or whatever. Once, Milani was telling Stendhal how much his old lady liked going to the roulette tables with Turner’s girl Tricia. “Might as well live there,” he said. Next thing you know, Stendhal’s bought the casino, and he’s telling the goons that their sweethearts are welcome to stay over anytime. He’s like that. Always making sure you’re indebted to him, in case he needs you to return the favour in the future.

          What he doesn’t see is the Melbourne goons were never in this for the long haul. Scott’s always saying he doesn’t want to feel tied down, which is exactly how Stendhal loves to make you feel. He keeps getting bigger and bigger, and the jobs are getting bigger with him. The goons used to just rough up a couple of mid-level dealers, maybe knock someone out, shoot a guy if they had to. These days they’re taking out rival gang leaders, wanted criminals, et cetera, at least once a week. It takes a toll. Easy for Stendhal to forget the blood on his hands. The metaphorical kind doesn’t leave a smell.

          It was Scott who decided they should take a page out of Stendhal’s book and do a bit of delegating themselves. So they sniffed around a little till they found something. Me. I’ve been in this line of work for a good few years myself. Coming on ten years soon. Me, I never wanted what the Melbourne kids have got, being stuck doing one guy’s bidding. The job security is nice, but I’m not so good at taking orders. So me and my boy Archie went out on our own, doing contract killings. Only long-term working relationship we’ve got is with each other.

          Us and the Melbourne gang, we have an understanding. They buy our services, and for a little extra, our silence. See, we go out on some clandestine fucking operations, you know? Me and Arch, we know a lot of secrets about their man Stendhal that we really shouldn’t. He would be very upset to hear that his goons were getting outsiders involved. But for an extra five grand, we’ve never heard the name Stendhal in our fucking lives. We’re happy, they’re happy, and their boss is happy. Ignorance is bliss.