NationStates Jolt Archive

9 YEARS AGO-SOUTH BRONX:

Giovanni Venegas sat his 12 year old brother on the hood of his BMW M5, it was a warm summer day in South Brooklyn. People were all over the streets, bass pounded from passing cars:

"ey tommy what you think of these new wheels baby"

Said Gino wiping a rag over the windsheild:

"it's nice Gino...you given any money to mom yet?with your job and all"

Gino looked his brother in the eyes and replyed:

"look Tommy..mom wanna spend all her money on shit that don't help the family,i won't give her fuck tommy..i buy food,i pay for cable..she gets the cheak.."

Tommy smiled and looked at his brothers hands,glod rings on every finger with rocks in them:

"Gino..your the best brother..you got a nice car,a job..money"

Gino looked at his brother and sat beside him:

"Tommy..i worked for all i got bro..some day it's all gonna be yours man! but not like i did it, naww man ill kick your ass"

Tommy grinned and looked to his left seeing 4 men get out of a red mercedes, Gino jumped off the hood of the car stuck his hand in the front of his pants pulling out a Chrome 9MM.

The men were wearing sweaters and it was hott as hell with the hood pulled up:

"Gino!! whats happening!!"

Gino turned his head to his little brother with a horrifyed look on his face:

"Tommy run hooome!!" he screamed then leveled the wepon shooting round after round

Tommy sat on the car frozen with fear,one of the men in the hoodies fell on a stack of garbage cans, the others pulled guns out of their pockets shooting at Gino:

"Tommy! Run!! goto Carlos's house man! get his ass out here!!"

Gino continued to yell, Tommy was still frozen watching this go down. the 3 remaining men were getting closer to Gino, he fired 2 more shots then his gun clicked:

"fuuuuckkkkkkk!" he yelled at the top of his lungs then turned to tommy and gave a little smile, his body jerked over and over, the smile drained off his face with his complection as he slumped to the ground. Tommy looked over at the murderers frozen in his spot, there was 2 left..the third man lay on the ground in a puddle of blood. It was all slow motion now as the men ran to their car and sped off down the street.

Tommy finnaly was able to move and walked over to Gino's lifeless corspe and ran his fingers over his only dead brothers face,tears were on Ginos face,were they Tommys or his...

PRESENT DAY:

Multicoloured lights danced across the walls,music pumped in the club. A group of hispanic boys sat at a corner table moving to the music, the one in the center had 2 girls on his lap with their tits hanging out:

"haha it's jumpin tonight boys!"

yelled the one in the middle, the others agreed by lettin out howls or other noises, he was the one obveiously in charge of the group. Another man strolled up to the table and gave the center man props:

"whats up Tommy, my fuckin man!"

It was Tommy Venegas, brother of Giovanni:

"nothin Carlos, sit your ass down man you blockin the veiw"

Carlos looked at the 2 honeys on his lap:

"what you mean cuz?? you already got 2 on yer lap!"

Tommy made them get up and join Carlos:

"forget them man.."


Upon Leaving the club everyone gathered at Tommys Black BMW M5 that had belonged to his brother:

"aight boys..we got some buisness to take care of tonight yeah?"

"yeah" the boys replyed

"ok, we gonna find smokey and jusst smoke him, haha, smoke smokey!"

They piled into the car top down and drove down the street, in the backseat Ray put 2 shot gun shells in a double barrel sawed off:

"yo Papa im ready!"

exclaimed Ray. this fool smokey was beleived to be one of Overdose'd boys who shot up Gino, they dissappeared after the killing and it was heard they were back in town. Gino was a crack dealer,gun dealer you name it. Gino was killed for movin on OD's territory, now Tommy was pickin up where Gino didn't get to finish, when Gino died the Italian boys lost territory by the block, this was gonna be a war well waited,unexpected..



COMMON PEOPLE JOIN IN, IT'S FUN! ANY CHARACTOR YOU WANT! BESIDES TOMMY.

bump! ;)

*TAGGED*

I'll join in...this could be cool! I will probably take on the role of Smokey's boss, who authorized the hit. Give me 24 hours to put something together...

given! BUMP!

Common ppl, FBI, Neibourhood cops...Enemy boys...Tommys boys... common! lol

a good rp:

Nudity
Blood
Guns
Hot cars
Money



hahaha

BUMP!

lets get this off the ground!

BUMP!

Lighting his 3rd cigarette in as many minutes, Wilbur "Smokey" Ditlack considered his scarred, nicotine-stained fingers with disdain, while keeping an eye on his target. As a low-caste member of the Overdose Boyz, a local gang of street-thugs that specialized in petty larceny, gun-running, drug dealing and prostitution, Smokey was always getting assigned the crappiest jobs available. In this case, it was to hotwire and steal the shiny new SUV parked across the street. He chose the vehicle himself, and did so knowing that it was to be used in a hit later on tonight. Sadly, he would not be the trigger man.

When he was younger, he was considered a rising star in the gang, but ever since he botched up an organized hit 10 years ago, he had been given only the crappiest of jobs to do. Years of resentment had been building in him, and he suffered from bleeding ulcers because of it. His mistake on that particular night was that he had left a witness alive. The fact that the witness had been a young kid is all that stood between Smokey and a pair of cement shoes, and though he remained a gang-member despite his fuck-up, he would never have the glory reserved for the trigger-men and other high-ranking gang members. This pissed him off to no end, and he cursed the Gods as he lit yet another Marlboro.

Darius "Hammer" Sloan was also a very unhappy man at this point, but for a different reason. As leader of the OD gang, he was responsible for keeping order in his territory, control over all the illicit activities, and doing the occassional favor for the Big Boys in Vegas. These favors usually involved putting a .44 slug into some unlucky suckers brainpan. Hammer was unhappy because he was being told that once again, he would have to put his gang, and himself, at risk.

Another hit had been ordered, and this time, the mob-leaders wanted Hammer to add his own "personal touch". This was not to be a stealth hit...the Godfather wanted a message to be sent to the intended victims family and followers. Darius had earned the name "Hammer" due to the fact that he was 6'7", 260 pounds of solid muscle, with fists the size of a small melon. His trademark was to beat the target to near-death with his bare hands, and apply the coup de grace with a ball-peen hammer, which he always left imbedded in the victims torso.

As he felt his frustration rise, the gang-leader decided he needed to vent his anger in his usual way. He punched his intercom and growled " Get Lola and Amber into my office NOW!". He poured himself a long shot of Glenfiddich, drank half the glass, lit a fine Cuban Cohiba and settled back to await the tender ministrations of his two favorite whores.

*BUMP*

Anyone else wanna come out and play??

OOC: I got my charactor set in my head...just waiting for the hit to start, then you'll see me jump in. Good idea for an rp man..c'mon ppl, join!

"Don't tell me you were going to start without me."

Tommy and his gang turned to see Nutter. Everyone called him Nutter because that was what he was: participation in organized crime was the only thing keeping him from going into a high school with a 12-Gauge. He wore a gray t-shirt and blue jeans. He wouldn't seem like a thug if it weren't for the fact he was holding a switchblade and a handgun.

"OD's behind on their bills. I couldn't help but overhear you gents. I would like to collect in an alternate form of currency."

Across the city from where the gang was meeting and planning, police sergeant Chris Menson was walking out of the Southern Bronx Police Precinct. As he walked out, his partner, officer Henrik Nader, joined him. In Nader's hand was a box of dunkin donuts...people could joke all they wanted about cops and donuts, but those things were the only food that someone could eat quickly and on the go without making a mess.

As they got into their patrol car, Chris pulled up the map of their patrol route on the dashboard's small computer...and swore. The route took them right through the border between two of the areas major street gangs. Today was not at all going to be un-eventful. Not that that would be unusual for Chris, who had been a police officer, and then a shift sergeant, for nearly twenty years. First in Detroit (just in time for the race riots), then in L.A., and finally in NYC. Of the three, Chris had to say, NYC had been the worst. No matter what, it had been, and still was.

As Chris pulled the police car out of the station parking lot, he pulled his radio from the dashboard. "Dispatch, 13-A-71, begining patrol."

"Copy that 13-A-71. Dispatch out."

When do we start?

OOC: Bump

It took Smokey less than a minute to pop the lock on the big truck, and hot-wire the engine into submission. He lit a smoke from the one already in his mouth, stepped on the gas hard, and made a beeline to his first stop: the beerstore. Smokey liked his suds, and worked better with a few cold ones by his side. He knew he had plenty of time to run his errand, and the only hiccup in his plan was that the closest beerstore was out of the safe confines of OD territory...in fact, it was in the Italian Boys block of the Bronx...and Smokey was scared of those gang-banging wops, with their greasy hair and switch-blade eyes, f*ckin' gino's with their f*ckin' attitudes...but he DID need a 6-pack, wops or no wops, so he slammed the SUV into gear and accelerated towards the store.

The insistant buzzing of the intercom was doing nothing to improve Hammer's spirits, and he roughly detached the two naked woman from his body. With an angry growl, he stomped towards the phone, grabbing a silk robe on the way. After lighting his cigar, he stabbed the intercom button.
"This better be good." Hammer growled menacingly.
"Boss, I've got Snake on line 2, and he says its REAL important that he talks to you...
"It better be, or both of you die."
"...uhm...*swallows*...ok, connecting you to line 2"
"Snake?"
"Heya boss, how ya doin'?"

Hammer was incredulous. "How am I doing?" he said in a near-whisper, "well buddy, let me tell you how I'm doing...I'M F*CKIN' GONNA TEAR YER F*CKIN' HEART OUT!!!" he bellowed into the phone.

"Now listen closely Snake," he said again, once again in a quietly deadly voice," you have 30 seconds to tell me why I had to take your call."
"W-well, b-boss," Snake stammered," uhm...well...see, Benny was sick tonight and I needed to find a new wheel-man fast y'know?...so I asked around but no one was available...y'know?...so I hadda get...well, I didn't wanna but I hadda so..."

"Smokey." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"Uhm, ya thats right boss, sir, Smokey...'cuz I know that way back when he wuz a driver and a shooter, and I figgers he gonna work hard to get back in yer good books y'know?..." Snake waited for a reply, but all he heard was the steady, even breathing of his employer.

"You will complete the job as planned. Then you will come to me, and we will discuss your...creative...solution. Do not fail."

Hammer brought his large fist down on the intercom, smashing it to pieces and severing the connection to his inept lieutenant, Snake.

*Bump*

*EL BUMPO*

Someone shoot Smokey!!!

The man appeared out of nowhere, holding a large handgun in his outstretched hand. He was dressed in black, a trench coat with a black silk lining hung from his shoulders. A size-too-small black T-shirt clung to his torso like a second skin, showcasing a six-pack.

A pair of black fatigue pants covered his legs, his feet protected by a pair of Lugz-brand boots, black with white soles. The handgun glittered with platinum plating, as did its twin, still holstered in a hip holster on the mysterious gunman's left hip. A diamond-encrusted 'J' hung from a glimmering platinum chain around his neck.

The large handgun boomed, sending a large-caliber bullet streaking through the windshield of the truck, hitting Smokey center-mass. The gunman lowered his weapon, a thin tendril of white smoke crept up from the barrel. The handgun looked like an oversized AMT M1911A1 Hardballer, a .45 caliber automatic based off of Colt's earlier design. The weapon was an AMT design, it said so on the side of the slide. Near the barrel, the caliber was etched: .48 Magnum.

As suddenly as he had appeared, the hitman left, slipping off into the night...

*Cough* Rip of my old thread *Cough**Cough*

BANG.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHH.
BOOOM.
As the truck spiraled out of control, Sergeant Chris Menson slammed the brake and swirved to the left, just barely missing the thing. Behind him, it crashed into the wall, nearly devestating the vehicle. As Henrik reached for the siren, Chris grabbed the radio.

"North dispatch, this is unit 13-A-71, reporting a vehicle crash and shots fired. Repeat, shots fired, Requesting backup units and an ambulance." The siren came on just as Chris finished calling it in, and releasing the brake, he turned the car around to face the crashed truck.

It was truly a mess. The car had been sent up on three wheels by the brick wall, the windshield was totally smashed, and the hood was coming up and back through the winshield. But this only attracted a small portion of Chris' attention. What attracted more of his intention was the gun lying on the ground next to the drivers door.

Getting out of the car, Chris pulled his gun, and slowly advanced on the vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nader moving to the passenger side door. Both advanced very slowly, and at a half crouch.

Finally reaching the door, Chris kicked the weapon out of the way (it looked like an uzi) and pointed his weapon through the window. "Let me see your hands!" In thet backround, Chris could here the sirens of backup units responding. Usually it would take longer then this for a unit to respond, but with a report of shots fired and a vehicle crash (usually assumed to be a drive by gone wrong), just about anyone who could made for the place.

After all, no one wanted a simple call of "Shots fired" to turn into a call of "Officer down."

OOC: I'll let Gawdly say just how injured smokey is.

Another car screamed around the corner, sirens blaring, and came to a stop feet fromt he SUV. Unlike Chris's squad car, this Crown Vic was plain white, with just the cow cathcer. The gumball light was dash board mounted, and a simple "NYPD" was printed on the side.

The two men that exited the vehicle kept their weapons, Glocks chambered for the .40S&W, pointed at the truck. They weren't dressed like Chris and Nadar in the standard NYPD dress, but were wearing dark blue nylon/twill BDU trousers and shirts. Save a name tag etched over the left breast pocket, and badge pinned below it, the only patch was worn on each officers' right arm. 'NYPD Metro'. The mobile version of a SWAT Team.

The driver, a one Sgt. Ryan Anderson, kept the Glock up, its mounted surefire flash light off, the barrel on the head of the driver, which was limply pressed against the side window. He moved forward slowly, then shouted out to Chris. "Hey, watch out bud!" he siad while picking up the weapon next to the truck. "Someone could grab this."

He pulled the radio hanging over his shoulder to his mouth. "Ten David, we have a possible hostile situation, one crashed SUV, looks like an Escalade, two passengers, heavily injured, one automatic weapon."

Chris watched as the SWAT officers arrived, and couldn't help but feel relieved. Even if the driver was unconscious, finding an automatic weapon next to a vehicle with two people inside it, just after hearing shots, usually wasn't a good think.

"Drivers unconscious, can you guys see anything?" Chris asked.

Henrik, across the car, yelled back. "Looks the same. Unconscious. Should we try pulling them out?"

Chris decided to let the SWAT guys answer the question. Now that they were here, this was mainly their show, he'd let them handle it. Besides, they were the experts at such things, and despite all his experience, or rather, because of all his experience, Chris still respected that.

Anderson tossed the weapon over to Chris. "Yeah, hold on to this." He waved over to his partner, and he approached, keeping his Glock leveled on the window. Ryan peeked into the car, and looked at the two men. Blood was everywhere, and they looked pretty bad.

He pulled the radio up, and got back to talking. "10 David, time on bus?"

The dispatch voice came back clear over the mic. "Five minutes, they hit traffic, shouldn't be to long."

"Rodger, we'll keep it clean." A crowd had started to gather. Ryan took the weapon, a Uzi copy, and placed it in a plastic bag, tossing it in the back of his car. He walked to the trunk, looked around, and opened it. His partner did the same. "Hey, watch the car," he shouted over to Chris.

Moments later when the re-emergied from behind the car, the were wearing their assault vests, with the Glocks now in thigh mounted holsters. Howver, they left the helmets and goggles in the car. The other officer, whose name patch read "Crane" produced a roll of police tape, and started to block off the site.

"Hey, Sgt..." he looked at the name tag, "Menson. You were on site, what ya see?" the sound of the ambulance could be heard in the background. "And we'll let the FDNY boys handle the car. I'm more worried about who the hell did this, and where they got," he reached back into his car, and pulled out the bag with the Uzi copy, "this."

5 MINUTES AGO

Smokey picked nervously at the scab on the long scar running down his cheek, a souvenir from his latest romantic encounter. The skank didn't like it when he got a little rough, so she took a pair of scissors and attacked Smokey. She cut him pretty good before he beat her to death with the clock radio by the bed. Smokey took a long draw on his Marlboro, and snorted a little more Crystal Meth.

NOW

The buzz was just starting to hit Smokey, colors exploding around him, sounds focussing to infinite sharpness, ozone odors wafting through him...he floated outside his body. He watched in fascination as the windshield in front of him suddenly dissolved in slow motion, first a small hole with glowing edges, then a spider-web of cracks, spreading out until the whole windshield collapsed into nothingness. He took another puff of his smoke, and felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

"I gotta quit these things...they'll be the death of me yet", he thought to himself.

It was then he saw the blood. Red blood. HIS blood. Everywhere. Reality spiraled out of control, and as his world faded into darkness, Smokey wished he could have one last smoke.

Chris frowned. "Well, we were on scene, didn't see a thing. We were facing the direction opposite that of the SUV, and didn't even realize anything was up until we heard the gunshot. By the time we turned, the shooter was gone, but from what I could see, a bunch of people were running in all directions away from that corner over there. " As he spoke, a second police car pulled over next to the crash. Two regular officers got out, and began directing traffic through the area. Well, most traffic anyway, they had the first few cars in each direction pull over, just in case the driver had seen anything.

Meanwhile, Officer Nader began gathering those that had been in the area on foot (few as they were), and asking them what they'd seen. In the distance, several more sirens could be heard, announcing the impending arrival of the ambulance and fire trucks.

Tommy and the boys creeped around the corner in the BMW to see cops everywhare:

"shit holmes..some one done got fucked up" said Carlos shoving the 12G under the passenger seat

Tommy continued to drive towards the scene,then he was shocked!:

"that bastard smokey got smoked!! ha ha haaa" Tommy exclaimed, he then paused with a confused look that suddenly came across his face:

"who the fuck shot him..?" he wisped

_____________________________________

2 HOURS LATER<TOMMY'S PLACE
_____________________________________

Tommy,Carlos and Antonio sat around the kitchen table on their cell phones calling everyone they knew who would possibly want smokey dead for the same reason Tommy did,Carlos was Gino's best friend and thought hard about the inncident:

"our boys from back in the day...there was Jermaine San Dulu...Donnie Martenez..they in Jail though.." Said Carlos tapping his fingers on the table

Antonio stood up and put his jacket on:

"well boys im jettin..peace" he gave props and walked out the door.

Tommy and Carlos were really confused and mad they didn't get to him first,it was bullshit. The 2 decided it was time to call over some bitches and make shit good for a little bit, leave thinking for tomorrow.

Antonio walked down the street towards his Denali sittin on 24's then seen some one in the shadows, he quickly pulled a dessert eagle magnum out of his jacket:

"nigga you betta show yaself or imma make change outta your 5 dolla ass!"

BuMp!! Common ppl join in!!

OOC: Awaiting Gawdly's response.

Oh, and BUMP

BUMP!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm soRRAAaaaargh!!"

The small man wailed in pain, a burning cigar charring his nipple to blackened uselessness. Darius "Hammer" Sloan pressed the lit cheroot even harder into the man's chest.

" Next time, don't use yer brain. Next time, don't think. Next time, do what yer told, or I guarantee there WON'T be a next time...capiche?"

Nodding to the two hulking thugs, Hammer relit his cigar, took a long, satisfying drag and pointed at the door.

" Get this little f**k outta my face, clean him up and tell Rex I need to see him NOW." growled Hammer.

The hit was falling apart. Smokey had never shown up, and the assigned shooter, Rafe, was still at the hit-site, though the target had long vanished. The hit would now have to happen at a later date. The Bosses in Las Vegas were not gonna be happy...Hammer considered the smoke wafting from his cigar.

" Yer luck is holding out and ya get to live another day, Tommy-Boy...enjoy it."

At that moment, Rex Bundelthorpe scurried into Hammer's office, arms overloaded with files and papers. He was whispering excitedly into a cell phone while stabbing rapidly at the small keypad of his Blackberry. If Hammer was the muscle of this operation, Rex was the brain. He administerd all the functions needed to run this gang like a business, and did a fine job of hiding the ill-gotten gains from the various criminal activities they wee involved in.

Hammer knew better than to interrupt the little, bald man until he was finished. When a call could be worth hundreds of thousands dollars, Hammer learned that patience was a virtue. Finally, Rex disconnected and folded up his mobile phone. He smiled at his boss.

" Thou doth needeth mine exquisite talents, my liege?" Rex was wont to speak in Olde English, and because of his brains, Hammer let him.

" Ya, I doth needeth yer ass...what the F**K happened on the hit?? Why isn't that little punk Tommy dead??" Hammer said this quietly and calmly, afraid of losing his temper even more.

" Aye, 'tis a puzzling connundrum indeed, but I hath divined the reasons that will giveth thee thine answers, m'lord."

Hammer waited. No use in pushing Rex to speak before he was ready. Finally, he could wait no longer.

"Well??????"

" 'Tis truly troubling to report this to thee, fair Hammer, but thine Knight hath been downed by an arrow of justice, and the scoundrels who doth perpetuated this foul crime art unknown to us"

Hammer took a second to digest, and understand this new development.

" You saying that Smokey got nailed? We don't know who the shooter was? DAMNIT."

" Aye m'lord, there's the rub: we doth not knoweth whom to bring our retribution down upon..."

Something snapped inside of Hammer. He had seen too many of these "accidents" recently, and seen too many of his good men gunned down in cold blood. All of this would stop today.

" Kill them all. Make the streets of this city run red with their blood. Burn their homes. Bring me their women. Make an example of them all."

Rex looked at his boss nervously. " When thy sayest "all", what exactly is thy meaning?"

Hammer smiled, and the room went cold.

" I want the gangs dead...Bo-Garts, Hell's Rockers, the SlingBlades...I want them gone. The police chief, Judge Boullion, Mayor Wiseman...bring me their ears. But mostly, find Tommy...and bring him to me ALIVE."

Rex tittered nervously. " All of them, my liege? Is this wise?"

Hammer took a step forward, towering over the bespectacled little paper-pusher.

" It starts NOW: call Boomer and Snake. Tell them their particular "skills" are needed. Make this city BURN."

As Rex scurried out of the room, Hammer poured himself a double bourbon and regarded the city from behind 4 inch bulletproof plexiglass. He imagined he could already smell the smoke, hear the screams and taste the blood of the city that was about to die.

Tommy and Carlos sat at the table in the livingroom playing blackjack, the game was getting quite boring but what else were they to do on this shitty assed, rainy night:

"Ey Tommy im headin over to see mah ladie boi, ill talk to you later she gonna have mah balls.."

Tommy threw his cards on the table while laying back in his chair:

"alright Los, peace bro"


Carlos walked out the front door heading across the street to his apartment when he seen the cop car, unit 922 the ones that usally patroled south bronx that Tommy pays to stay away. Carlos strolled over and leaned in the window:

"What you boys doin round here Mcneil?Johnson?" Los wisped

The Officer Mcneil replyed:

"they got new officers down here Carlos, Johnson got the new patrol schdule for you guys"

Johnson handed the peice of paper over to Los:

"aight, thanks haha now get on out here you men's! haha"

The squad car sped off down the wet streets and Carlos went in the Duplex door to see Gina carrying the baby to it's bed:

"I'll do it baby"



Antonio walked towards the figure gun drawn:

"you deaf er somthin? common out N PLAY YOU crack baby look alike!"

There was still no reply, Antonio stepped in a deep puddle and looked down, then quickly up again to see nothing...:

"im goin crazy..all them brothers in the state Pen, and a brotha goin crazy!can't a man live decent today!!"

Antonio screamed at the top of his lungs. All of a sudden he heared garbage cans topple over in the alley, he charged down the narrow way chasing some one now who ran!. The person was wearing beggy jeans and a sweater:

"hold up you fool imma shoot yah ass off!" yelled Antonio leveling his gun with the running man but the shot would miss because he was un-steady. The person ran towards a fence to jump it then Antonio stopped:

"night,night nigga!" then fired 3 shots from the Dessert Eagle

The Person went limp and toppled to the ground. Antonio strutted over and kicked the person who was still alive:

"what now! you got 3 in the back hommie!"

The person was still alive, they rolled over to reveal a AK-74 with the clip half way in, also this was a amasingly good looking black female:

"rayyy fuucck...what u doin runnin round wit big guns shorty?daamn i juss made a waste out of you! who u aimin fo?"

The girl winced in pain and didn't reply just pulled a 38.spec out of her sweater pocket and fired a single shot:

"ahh hell naww you bitch! i know what u was aimin fooo!! ahh!" yelled Antonio in pain

The bullet entered and exited under his hip bone, he fell on the ground holding his wound already on the cell phone:

"eyy yo tommy sum bitch jus try ta blow my blow my nuts off! in the ally down the street! im hit!"

Secounds later Tommy,Carlos and about 12 other boys were there. Tommy picked up the AK-74 and then looked at the others:

"fuckin overdose! that bitch is still alive, i want her to stay that way! i want her name! where HAMMER at! i want em all fuckin dead! i know damn well why she was here and i know where SMOKEY was going! roll out!"

Antonio was taken to a buddy of tommys who was a Surgion in the Gulf War, he was being taken care of there aswell as the young girl. Overdose wouldn't send no fine ass woman like that to do his dirty work if she wasn't damn capible. Tommy guessed his life was luck tonight, Antonio's aswell. The girl had to have panic'd, Tommy stood over her as she lay there silent, breathing lightly but steady,she wasn't older then 24-25 he figuered but right now there was garbage to clean up.

:) BumP!

A silver '69 Impala rolled down main street. 200-spoke rims 24' wide gave the car an unbalanced appearance. The license plate read 'P1MP1N', accented by green neon running around the plate & under the car. The windows where tinted, but not to an illegal level. To most it looked like an ordinary ghetto-sled.

The driver's features where concealed behind the tinted glass. The car pulled into a nightclub, where the driver, clad in a black trenchcoat, exited the car. He looked unarmed, but to those who knew what to look for, a .40 caliber USP was concealed at the small of his back, outlined faintly in the leather of his coat...

Tommy and the boys headed towards their favoritve club,'Stepz' to chill on some drinks and think about todays fucked up event's. As They pulled in the parking lot to see a crazy looking Impala:

"daamn, who's is that?" exclaimed Carlos druling over the ride

Tommy looked in the rear veiw to see a man in a long dark coat walking away from it:

"i donno, never seen it before..get the plate # and Bin # we will have our contacts down town cheak it out..it's in my territory lookin flashy i need to know!"

Said Tommy with a pissed off tone, everyone shut up untill the car was parked.

Inside the club things were jammin, Smile- by Loyd Banks pumped and people danced all around:

"yo T im hittin up the bar" Said Damarco strolling towards the seat next to the man who got out of the Impala

When he was seated he examined the man up and down noticing afew bulges in his clothing:

"hey, what's up? uhh you from outta town there buddy?"

Meanwhile on the other side of the club Tommy went upstairs to the owners box, he knocked 3 times then entered:

"ey Luigi what's goin on my man!"

The owner looked up and set a stack of bills on the desk:

"Tommy! im just gettin the cash ready to pay them guys from uptown..you know them Italian Mafia boys..Johnny trigger been givin me a hard time latly because they stressin bout somthin...well i don't fuck with them in that mood...well whats goin on?"

Tommy sat on the desk staring Luigi in the eyes:

"Johnny and them boys got your back right..." Tommy shyly asked, it wasn't very often Tommy wasn't a open guy:

"yeah..what's going on Tommy.."

Tommy took a deep breath:

"well i need some hardware..Tek 9's, Uzi's,Glock's,Baretta..afew double 12g's"

Lugi stood up heading towards the door into his main office, from this room you could see the whole club through a mirrord window:

"alright..you got the flow now?"

Tommy shook his head yes then no:

"i got half now, half later, i need 8 of each.."

Lugi opend the door and waved tommy in. Inside was a safe door wich Luigi worked at then it clicked. When it opend Tommys jaw dropped..inside were Mp5's,Barretta's,small sniper rifles,machine guns of all differnt countrys,hand guns,revolvers:

"pick...18...YOU OWE ME!" Lugi snarled, then he simply grinned as Tommy picked the toys out.


Downstaris Damarco still spoke with the guy who continued to ignore him:

"common cuzzin..simple questions yet no simple answears! ..look this terriroty belongs to Gino..i mean Tommy Ladelpha got it? im bein nice man..common.."

He awaited the mans reply..

OOC: BUMP, c'mon people, I can't respond until others do! Ooooh, MP5's...nice...

meee tooooo! common BUMP!!! lol

OOC: Changing characters...and bump...

IC:

At the same club, another vehicle rolled up. However, it was newer, bigger, and in the end, ultimately more expensive than the Impalla. It was black, with a very dark silver reflective tint. The wheels were large, 20 inches in diameter, 9 inches wide at the contact point. The chrome wheels matched the chrome trim and exahust outlets, which let out a deep, throaty rumble.

The car itself started life as a stock 2004 Bavarian Moterverkes, or BMW, 545i. However, after a serries of visits to the Bavarian plant itself, as well as more to the Dinan plant in California, and the Remus plant in Germany, it became the first true 2004 M5, with the ability to put down just over 800hp at the rear wheels, and enough tourque to spin the planet.

However, the car didn't always make the man, but in this case, it accented him. He slid out of the drivers side door, and looked around, standing at a full 6 foot, 4 inches. He stratched his legs, and ignored teh stairs that the car had gatherd. A premium sound system that had cost nearly as much as teh car did filled the air with sounds of rap music. More specifically, Jay-Zs 99 Problems, or at least a version of it that featured, to the suprise of many, Linkin Park. And finally, they realised, teh driver was not a ghetto gang banger, but a youg white guy, maybe 27.

He removed the key from inside the car, and closed the door, listening to the chirp as teh alarm armed itself. He was not carrying a weapon on him, but he had enough in the car. He entered the club, and moved towards teh bar.

Carlos moved up beside this guy after seeing the car roll in from the small window at the far side of the club:

"ey..what's up ese? you an't from around here yeah?"

He waited for a reply from the white male who was just about his size, for once Carlos thought about starting shit with people...

"No," the man turned, and spoke with a light New York accent. He wore a nice suit, with a silk crimson shirt, black pants, and black jacket. The color was worn loose, witha black tie. His shoes were also black, and slightly glossy from the shine. He signaled the bartender, and ordered a dry martini. He then looked back at Carlos. "You gotta a problem with it?"

Carlos's jaw dropped and his additude changed:

"aight buddy..this an't where you come from..talkin like that will get you slapped..or even worse..in concrete shoes....you Mafia? if you are i can understand tha gear you rockin..."

Carlos signaled Santana and Jose over to the bar:

"sup Los?"

Carlos nodded toawrds the guy:

"look buddy, i didn't come lookin for a problem..but if you did it's right here..all around you..ever heard the name overdose? cuz i thats why you here kill yourself before we get the chance.."

Carlos shifted his head down, there was a Chrome Glock 21 in his left hand under the bar, the other two lifter their shirts up to reveal hand guns aswell, one had a extended clip..it was fully auto..

The man looked at them, then at his drink. He took it down in one swig, and looked towards teh door. "Do I sound like Im a fucking Itallian? You wanna start some shit, then lets take this outside." He stood, and began to walk towards the door.

OOC: Im using Collin Ferrel in phone booth for my character, at least what he looks like, and sounds like.

Bartender Mickie Vaces watched as the man stood and walked towards the door, and took a sigh of relief. Hopefully, Carlos and his friends would let it be taken outside. The last thing Mickie needed tonight was a fight, gun or fist, in his bar. But, just in case, as the situation unraveled, Mickie kept his hands on the 12 guage hidden under the counter.

Carlos, signaled 3 more guys over:

"yo datrel get Tommy and tell him some white boy startin"

Datrel ran towards the stairs then dissappeared. The boys followed the man out side:

"aight, we do this like real men, you packin a heater white boy? you got smart with all of us therefore we all beat the fuck outta you..won't be white no mo! haha black and blue..then we strip your car!"

Yelled Carlos throwing his glock to his boy Dalmez, he wasted no time and socked the man full force in the jaw, 4 other boys ran at him swinging

The man rolled forward with the punch, but came up swinging. His foot found one man's groin, and his fist another's gut. He then came around, and a switchblade met skin and muscle somewhere else. He left the knife in whoever it was stuck in.

He broke from the group, and hit a button on his key chain, and the trunk on the M5 opened. He reached into it, and came out with something more menacing than the most chromed out Glock made: A black, USMC Issued M249 Squad Automatice Weapon, the 200 round belt already loaded, weapon cocked, and safty off. He lifted it up to his shoulders, and let the attached laser sight spit out a red beam of light, and it settled on one man's chest. "You wanna keep this up bitch?"

Tommy came outside holding a Chrome MP5 with another man holding a sawed off 12 guage:

"hold it! what the fuck is going on here? Carlos? boys? why you harassin this man?"

Tommy looked into the mans eyes and grinned:

"what you intend to do that that mista?hold fast..why don't you tell me whats going on..."

Carlos stood up and pulled the switch blade out of the palm of his hand dropping it on the ground:

"bastard,stabbin my shit!"

"Carlos fuck off! left the man talk!"

They waited for the mans reply....

"Blow that fcker away if he dont start watching himself," he said, letting the laser beam bounce on Carlos's chest. "I'm just here looking for a good time, and your boys here started acting up. Being the good Irish man I am, cant let none of you try to stand me up is all."

He lowered the light machine gun to a ready position, and looked at Tommy. "Your probably the leader of this band of merry men. Name's O'Graddy, Robert O'Graddy. New York born, New York raised, Irish blood."

Tommy tottaly lowered the MP5 and waved his boys back in the bar. Once they were all gone he strolled over and out reached his hand:

"Tommy LaDelpha..Italian blood, born and raised South Bronx.., what brings you around here Rob? is it O.K if i call you that..you look like some of my boys up town in the Mafia...i apoligize for them..respect is shown little these days.."

Tommy was interested in this new charactor..seemed like the kind of man even he would want on his good side..

Robert placed the M249 in the back of the BMW, along with several other military grade weapons, including assault riffles, sub machine guns, side arms, and even a LAW66 or two. "Looking for a change of scenary. Brooklyn gets old fast. And, well, I kinda am. Irish Mob."

He looked at the trunk, then closed it. "Better equiped than the Itallians," he said in a joking tone. "Ya see, it helps to have a terrorist group on your side." He was refering to the PIRA, the Irish Freedom Fighter group over in the home land.

He shook Tommy's hand after wiping some blood off his own.

Tommy nodded slowly, a little amased by the contents of the Irishman's trunk:

"i will treat you to a drink personally...if you would accept..also i have the best brod's in the club needin a little company haha"

Tommy concealed the MP5 and walked back into the club towards the stairs to the box, he signaled Rob to follow. Carlos sat at the bar shaking his head..he felt a little embarassed as he needed stitches and afew more drinks, 12 shots of Jack Daniels wasn't enough...


Upstaris Tommy explained the Over Dose situation to Rob while enjoying the company of 2 Latina fine ass girls, he finished with:

"so basicly we are at war...but it's not all out yet.. this dude Hammer..fuckin bitch works like the Mob but they dispise him..call him a wanna be Don..he's more organised then us but hell..who runs more shit then me round here..."

"Makes sense," he said, picking a Spanish girl with red dyed hair. It was darker than Irish red, but red was red. "Well, I'm not a super high up or anything, Im just a work horse. But I'm sure I can get some of my buddies in on your side, if you need them. After all, you saw the hardware I got. Imagine that times ten."

OOC: I am. And I'm getting the idea that the cops are going to be having a lot harder of a time very soon.

Tommy listened to Rob with great intrest:

"i understand Robert, i myself can't sit back and let my boys do it haha, gotta get involved! i accept your offer...as a matter of a fact i came here tonight on buisness as well and relaxation..i just stocked up on some hardware..meet me at my place at the end of 42nd and prince tomorrow night, 8:00 sharp if you will..bring some heaters if you not sure but you can trust me Robert..it's hard to find good help these days"

Tommy gripped his glass and shot it back.


:) BuMP!

Tommy stood in front of his mirror in the bathroomputting gell in his hair, he slicked it back then put on his Armadi sun glasses:

"lookin good Baby T" he said to himself

Tonight he had a date with some Sarah girl who's brother was in the Italian Mafia up town, he met her at Luigi's club afew weeks ago and tonight they were hittin up the town. Tommy went down to the underground paking garage and walked up a line of cars, at the very end there was one under a grey tarp, he lifted it off.

There in the paking lot sat a 1967 Chevelle baby blue with 22 inch spinners, jet black windows with chrome componets:

"aight..im good to roll"

said Tommy admiring himself in the windows. He wore a black leather jacket with a white silk shirt and leather baggy pants. He drove down the street going 70 heading to the bridge into New York. Upon arrival at the little cafe where the Don ran his operations, Tommy went in the cafe and sat at the counter:

"is uhh Sarah here?" he asked the bar tender

The man pointed towards the door behind the conter:

"she be out in a minute mister uhh?"

Tommy looked him in the eyes and replyed:

"don't matter"

Sarah came out and smiled:

"hey ya Tommy! let's roll"

The went outside and got in the car, in the window stood a man in a silk suit staring at them, Tommy nodded to him then drove off.

Several cars pulled up at the designated meeting spot. All were black with tinted windows, and all modified BMWs. The Irish mob was starting to move up in the world, from beeter cars and simple 'kick your ass for money' jobs to large scale laundering, weapons trade, and the like.

This particular family, the O'Graddy's, were the first to move up. They had single handedly taken out the Corvini family using contacts that most people wouldn't ever have. They had also taken the money from the family, and used it to better themselves.

They had been moving in on new territory ever since, and had quite a bit of upstate already held. And now Robert, who was the head of the so called operations portion of the O'Graddies, and was now looking at some new muscle.

6 cars rolled up sterio's lightly pounding. It was a dark,cold evening in the Bronx by the brooklyn strait, Tommy got out of the chevelle and walked over to Robert:

"hello Rob, nice of you to join us..here's the situation"

Tommy took out a small peice of paper with small drawings on it:

"aight, we gotta 'collect' tonight..well more like borrow..for good from afew of OD's boys at the wharehouse on Santana Terr. cool? pick 4 of yah best guys, i take 3 including myself also pick a vehicle.."

Tommy's boys drove Lincon's, Denali's,Lexus...he awaited Roberts reply..

Robert nodded, and picked out three other Irish men. "Seamus, Sean, Ryan, grab your shit, we'll take your car," he said, popping the trunk on the M5. He pulled out the M249, checked it, and placed it a duffle bag. The other three came around from the back of an X5, holding various assault riffles, including M4s with M203s and AK47s.

Another grabbed a duffle with three LAW 66 anti tank weapons, and placed it in the back of the X5. Robert slid into the driver's seat, and the others climbed in as well. He gunned the engine, letting the modified V8 ruble for a few seconds, and then pulled forward. "Lead the way," he said over the sound of a Story Of The Year song.

Tommy choose his men, DaTrel, Tremaine and Benito then hopped into a 4 door modifyed Mercedes Bentz:

"alright! follow close!" he yelled


After 15 minutes of driving they pulled into the lot up the street from the wharehouse. After Benito cheaked it out he came back and reported:

"we got anywhare from 8-12 men..some got AK-74's..others got MP5's, Uzi's..i seen a Ak-47 or two...what they got we want Tom?"

Tommy looked at all the men gathered around:

"they get nice imported items here...such as gold..wepons...coke..herowin...lets get ready to move.."

The men dashed into position quietly, they awaited Robs men to fall in.

Robert watched as Tommy's men ran into position. He stayed where he stood, and removed his shirt, a silk, dark purple button up with a black suit coat. He was wearing blue jeans however, to offset the shirt and coat, and a pair of New Ballence Sneakers.

"I dunno Sean, whyda say we do it the old fashioned way," Ryan said, clicking a magazine home in his M4. He also worked a grenade into teh 203. Sean looked up, cocking an M60. He was the big one of the group.

"Yeah. I say we do." He hefted up the heavy machine gun, and held it at a ready position. Seamus didn't say anything, just held a crowbar and hand axe, a Glock was tucked into his jeans. They were dressed roughly, wearing 'wife beaters' and jeans, some with combat boots. Robert was in a black form fitting TShirt, and the Jeans.

They bean to walk across the parking lot, Seamus taking the lead. As they approached the door, the ignored the calls of Tommy's men to stop. A man opened it, and walked right out...into the end od Seamus's crowbar. He brought the wrought iron tool down on the back of the mans head, crushing his skull.

"Mind how ya go boys!" Robert shouted, lifting the M249 to his right shoulder, and fired a few bursts into the building. The other men came in after him, and sounds of gunfire erupted in the building.

Tommy's jaw dropped when he seen 4 figures in black suits wearing sun glasses come out of the warehouse:

"fuck! japanease Mafia boys Rob!!"

Tommy jumped up pulling 2 fully automatic Cz75. czech nine milomeater fully auto handguns:

"fuck em up reaaal bbaadd!" 'Ratatatatat!'

All hell broke loose as the boys ran at OD's boy's who were dealing with the Jap Mafia, this could set shit off in the south Bronx if they found out who started this.

Tremaine sprayed the group of Japs with his FN assult rifle then ducked behind barrels as more fired back:

"there more then we thought! we gotta get outta here fo the cops show!!" he yelled over the cracks of gun fire

All of a sudden a black male came around the corner with a Baretta and fired 4 shots into Tremaines body

Tommy watched Rob and his boys at work..they were pro's. He went in the whare house and started snooping as the last shots were fired...he found 2 boxes of cuban cigars:

"i wonder what we have in here..." he said quietly ripping the top off the crate

Inside were little wooden cigar boxes, he picked one up and opended it to reveal somthing that made his heart stop..it wasn't Coke, Herowin or any drug..they were filled with diamonds:

"hey you mans!! i found diamonds!! pack em up! this is all we need lets move!!!"

He seen his other boys taking miniture MP5's out of small steel suitcases and running to the car:

"rob!! over here!! gimmie a hand with these crates before word gets out we cracked down on these bitches!!last thing we need is Jap mafia showin!!"

He awaited robs reply....

The black man approached Tremaines body, and, reaching down, felt his neck. Unsuprisingly, he was dead. Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out his scanner. "Dispatch, this is Homeland Security Agent Tom Broks, identification number 26216-23A, reporting shots fired and multiple suspects down, along with at least seven suspects still inside the building, all armed with automatic weapons. Repeat, shots fired, backup requested, I'm at 1262 Lawrence." As he waited for the reply, Tom pinned his badge to his chest so that when the local cops arrived, he wouldn't end out being shot, and simultaneously reloaded his beretta.
_____________________________________________________________
As soon as the dispatcher had verified his identification number, she came back. "Copy that Agent, backup is en route. Dispatch to all units in the area of 1262 Lawrence, all units in the area of 1262 Lawrence, shots fired from automatic weapons, multiple suspects down, undercover officer needs assistance. Repeat, shots fired, undercover officer needs assistance, 1262 lawrence."

As she finished tranmissting, the dispatcher reached across the control board in front of her, and pressed a small button. She then went back to her work, dispatching multiple units to respond to the agent's call immediatly. Within ten minutes, from the way things looked, at least sixteen units would be there.

Two floors below her, a SWAT team began preparing to move out. With any hope, they would be able to make it there in a few minutes, because as well trained as normal officers are, taking on men armed with automatic weapons..that's SWAT's job.

The stranger reguarded the man questioning him with a brutal emerald gaze hidden behind a pair of mirrored blue RayBander shades...

"You could say that... but I ain't no stranger to NY."

The USP stirred at the small of his back, virutally invisible under his coat unless he sat down. His usual hardware was in his car, a set of pimped-out .48 magnums...

OOC: Did the cops look for brass at the crime scene? The .48 Superballer is a weapon of my own creation, a semi-automatic with a five-round magazine. It isn't exactly a common sight in most gun stores.

OOC: Yea, a couple detectives are currently looking into it, I was gonna have something come up in a bit about it.

Tommy seen the man as he came out of the wharehouse dropping the crate:

"go on with yourself rent A pig!!" he yelled then fired 4 blasts from a Spas-12

"you best be backin off my hommie there, he's aight you know!" Tommy fired 2 more shots at the crates the man was hiding behind then heard sirins..

There was no more shotgun fire..the man kinda peered over the crate..then all of a sudden Tommy wacked him with a the Spas butt:

"let's roll!! 5-0!!"

Everyone scurried to the cars and floored it out of the dockyards trunks and backseats packed with crates. On the way home 3 SWAT trucks and 8 police cars with one black FBI vehicle past in a hurry. Rob had some how ended up in Tommys car with one of Tommys guys in Robs car:

"that cop called on us..we left half of the loot...o well i got his wallet!"
Exclaimed Tommy tossing it to Rob:

"we'll pay a visit to him at the end of the week"

ooc: is it ok if i play as a gun for hire, the guy that smoked smokey?

Rob didn't pay attention to Tommy, he was busy doing his own thing. A cell phone at his ear, he spoke quikly in a language that would be unidentifiable to anyone in the car not of Irish ancestory.

He then leaned over to the driver, just as four squad cars pulled U turns, and came up behind the car. "Stop, trust me." He did so, and the squad cars pulled up behind the car. An officer approached, gun ready. As he neared, Robert stepped out, and waved.

"Hey, Ross, boyo hows it going?" The officer holstered the pistol, walked up, and hugged Rob.

"Aye, its going good, yerself?"

"Not bad, not bad at all. Listen, some guy just busted up our little game back there, screwd it all to high hell. Some fed, most likely. Wanna handle it for us?"

"No problem Rob, none at all. You know the O'Graddys take care of their own. I'll see ya at Ma's tommorow for dinner. You better be there, or I'll arest ya myself."

Rob chuckled, and got back in the car. None of his boys had left the building, and were actually waiting for the SWAT and Police to show up. He looked at Tommy, and smiled. "Ya know, theres a reason why I like the fact that 90% of the cops around here are Irish."

Meanwhile, at the warehouse, Robs three men came out, guns up, wearing kevlar vests and dark navy 'FBI' jackets. "Jesus Christ!" one of them shouted at the Homeland Security agent. "You trying to get us killed in there? Way to fuck up a perfectly good undercover op. I oughta..." he stopped short of the man, pointing at him. "I swear, you guys dont know shit do you?" He shruggedm and huffed away as the cops arrived.

As Menson looked around, he couldn't help but admire how quickly his fellow officers had arrived. In all, two eight man swat teams, and nearly fourty normal officers were on scene. That, in addition to the three FBI agents and single Homeland Security Agent.

Menson, who had been put incharge of the scene (being the only non-SWAT sergeant to arrive), was conferring with the SWAT sergeant and agent Broks when one of the FBI agents walked over. "Sergeant Menson, I realize that this may seem odd, but do you think you could move your men out? A second group of fugitives is supposed to be coming tonight to the meeting, and we'd like to keep from totally destroying the operation."

"Of course, agent. Do you want any of my men to stick around?" Menson didn't even think twice about the request; obviosly, the FBI agents had already risked enough tonight, and spent enough time in the past few months setting this up...if they didn't want to ruin it, that was their choice.

"No, no way. The guys were meeting with tonight are smart...they see anything out of the ordinary, they'll freak. We can't afford that...their with the columbian cartels, if we can't follow them after the meeting, everyone involved in the op will probably end out dead." The agent kept a straight, sincere face the entire time. Which, of course, totally kept anyone from suspecting anything.

"No problem agent. I assume some of your boys are coming to clean up the scene before the columbians arrive?" Menson was already starting to turn as the agent answered.

"Yep. We don't want to waste any of your time or resources on our operation."

Menson had already started clearing his men out of the area, trying not to contaminate what he thought to be the FBI's crime scene. Agent Broks simply nodded to the agent, and walked outside. As he walked away, however, Menson cought up with him.

"Er..agent....I realize you've taken a lot tonight, but would you mind coming down to the precinct? Your going to need to file a report anyway, not to mention that cut on your head is looking really bad."

Broks glowered at him, but finally nodded in assention. "What luck. I wasn't even here on duty or anything...just coming through the area, and heard gunfire."

"Wait a minute...none of this was planned?" Menson was truly suprised.

"Na. My car is in the shop, I've been walking everywhere for the past couple weeks." Tom and Chris started walking over to the police car, where Henrik was already waiting. Around them, the ambulances and police cars that had arrived were already leaving...none of the gang bangers that had been hit survived the assault.

As the three got in, and drove away, they didn't notice the four police cars which were now driving in the opposite direction as them, followed by a group of civilian vehicles...those were probably all FBI, just now arriving. At least, that's what Menson and all the other officers thought. But no one truly knew, and for a couple of hours, no one would.

Within ten minutes after the police's arriving, they had already left, falling totally into the FBI ploy. The warehouse was unguarded, left open. By the time the police got back to the precinct, figured out the FBI agents weren't real, and then returned to the warehouse, Rob, Tommy, and their groups would probably be able to totally clean out the warehouse, and even get ride of some of the worse evidence against them (of course, the bullets and their shells were not going to be able to all be pried from bodies and picked up, but stuff like fallen clips and blood might be cleaned).

After Tommy and Rob went and dropped the men off at the safe house, he realized..a clean up was in order:

"hey rob..im goin to pay a visit to Toni Forelli..one of my Mafia buddys uptown, i am almost positive the cops got that area LOCKED down..be back in 25 minutes"

Tommy hoped in his BMW and sped off down the street leaving a trail of rubber and black smoke. He arrived at Toni's house a short time later, Tommy's relations with the Mafia were good as he used to do some dirty work for the DON over in Jersey, word traveled fast..they owed him a Favor..or 2..or 3..Tommy had lost count over the years.


Tommy and Forelli sat at a desk in the small cafe called 'FORELLI'S BAR':

"what's it you need Tommy boy?" Asked the Mafiso

Tommy stood up and pointed out behind the Bar where the Mafia boys parked all 'their' cars:

"i needa 5-0 car and a complete uniform with I.D Toni..."

Toni also stood up and laughed deep and horse:

"i an't even gonna ask Tommy haha hahahaaha, alright..tell Petey at the bar u need some I.D haha hahahaha"



15 minutes later Tommy LaDelpha was officaly a New York Police Officer, or so it would say so on the records...a transfer from Chicago. He drove down to the dock yards where the event happend, it was all clear besides the yellow pig tape all around the place:

"well..thats..uhh odd..."

Tommy got out of the car and walked towards the scene, he stood staring at the spot where Tremaine got gunned down..wet blood was everywhare. He had picked up every shell casing and mag on the scene then went for the rest of the Diamonds where he seen they had already been taken:

"fuck!! rotten fuckers! god damn it!" he yelled then took off towards the car

He got in and sped towards home, taking the long way and taking certian stops and go's to be sure he wasn't followed.

He came in through the door like a raving bull still dressed like a cop:

"Rob! they took the rest of the fuckin Diamonds! i collected everythin i could get..i also gotthe fuckers WALLET who shot Tremaine..we gonna pay him a visit tonight..or maybe tomorrow..FUCK!"

He put a hole in the wall with his Nightstick then dropped on the couch:

"i can't beleive he's dead!"

Tommys boys stayed silent, they were all hurt by the loss...One more thing Tommy noticed, when he was leaving the NYPD GALORE were comming back to the scene lights and sirins flashing. Besides..cleaning evidance wasn't nessary..who in the right mind would hit the Jap Mafia besides the Italian Mafia...it would never get pinned to a bunch of Gang Bangers. The worst thing was they didn't know the Japs were there...Tommy hoped they didn't start shit with the Italian Mafia thinking it was them who moved in...

Sergeant Menson stood next to Agent Broks, and looked over the scene. He couldn't believe it. The three FBI boys had just been goons, and their friends had totally cleaned out the warehouse. What was worse was that the gang banger Broks had shot was gone...or at least, his body was. And so was every other body at the place.

Menson left an hour after forensics arrived. With nearly 300 bullets found on the scene, and three times that many shells, their work was cut out for them. But none of this evidence was what was most damning.

In the night, forensics stumbled upon a final body. That of a Japanese gangster, who had crawled into a back office to hide after being shot. When forensics alerted command, there was no doubt that only one group would risk taking on the Japanese like this.

And that group would be the Italian mob. When Agent Brody and Sergeant Menson left the precinct at 3:00 AM, plans were already being made to start raiding the Italians before they could do any harm with the weapons and tools that had been seen in those crates.

Elsewhere in the precint, the cheif forensics officer was still baffled by the bullet and shell used to kill the smokey. Thus far, he had been unable to place it, but a call from Broks to homeland security would most likely produce results by tommorow.

Chris arrived home to meet his wife and kids at 3:10. Broks arrived at his home at 3:30...no one was there to meet him. Not that that was suprising, seeing as he had no family. Both of them immediatly went to bed.

"Tommy, you need to calm down, take a break, mind how ya go." Rob snapped his fingers, and one of his men, the one called Ryan, walked forward, and dropped a duffle bag. He opened it, and the boxes of diamonds were pulled out. "Just cuz the Irish havent been doing this long, dont mean we dont know what were doing. There are five other duffle bags, got everything youd want. My boys pulled everything they could outa the house when the cops left."

Tommy looked at Rob then exploded in laughter:

"hahaha rob you are the greatist! haaaahahaha"

Tommy threw his arms around the Irishman in a friendly way:

"im damn glad to have you here! it's 3:30..i gotta make a house call to that rent a pig Broks..."


Tommy went outside and got in the squad car, he opened the wallet and looked at the picture then sped off down the road. He pulled up to the address on the identification, he got out of the squad car and approached the door BANG,BANG,BANG he knocked:

"special officer Broks?"

The smell of cordite hung heavy in the air, mixed with the bitter smell of cigars, urine and fear. Hammer Sloan lifted the old-fashioned revolver and spun the chamber. He loomed over a small, terrified Oriental man who was writhing on the floor in pain, clutching his shattered right knee. Hammer smiled down at him and resumed his interrogation in near-perfect Japanese.

"One bullet remains, and my patience fades. Tell me what I want to know, and I will let you die with honor. Resist, and your cowardly death will bring shame on you, your family and your clan." Hammer cocked the vintage Colt .45. "Once again...where are the diamonds?"

The Japanese man looked at Hammer, a defiant glare breaking through his tears of pain.

"My honor is my own: you'll get nothing from me, gaijin dog!"

"Wrong answer." Hammer replied and slowly squeezed the trigger. The pin slammed down on an empty chamber with an audible click. Just then, Rex buzzed in on the intercom.

"Mine apologies to you, M'Lord...the Knights thou hath requested have doth verily arrived, and doth seeketh an audience with thee."

Hammer sighed, and walked towards his huge redwood desk. He rounded the corner and settled into a plush leather chair, growling at the two hulking guards who stood by the door.

"Take the Jap and make sure he doesn't bleed to death. We can do this dance again later. Tell Boomer and Snake to get in here."

As the guards dragged the man to the door, Hammer settled back, taking a platinum and diamond studded Zippo from his pocket. He lit the cigar in his mouth as the two hitmen entered his office and approached the desk. Hammer didn't bother to offer them a seat.

Shamus "Snake" O'Toole was a small, wiry man in his early thirties. He moved quickly and fluidly, his eyes always on the prowl, searching for danger in every corner. Proficient in many forms of hand-to-hand combat, small arms and tactics, Snake had proven to be a very efficient tool in the past, and Hammer used him and his partner when special jobs needed doing. Snake was also psychotic, and had a blood-lust for death and carnage. He saw murder as an exquisite art form, and himself as Picasso.

The giant standing beside him shuffled his size 17 feet. A massive wall of a man, Tyrone "Boomer" Watts towered over even Hammer, who was a very big man himself. Slabs of muscle bulged under his custom-made suit, and he had to duck when he entered the office. His huge size was offset by an angelic and innocent face. Boomer smiled down at Sloan, revealing perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth.

"Me happy to see Boss Hammer!" he said, a giggle in his words.

"I'm happy to see you too, big guy. I got a present for you later." Hammer replied with a surprisingly gentle voice. Trapped inside this behemoth body lurked the intellect of a 6 year old child, and Hammer had taken a liking to the gentle giant. Boomer also had a very special gift: an uncanny expertise with bombs and explosives of any kind.

"I've got some work for you, and I need it done fast. I think you'll like this one, Snakey-boy. I want a building torched, and all the f*cks inside it with it. Think you can handle it?"

"Is that all?" Snake seemed to hiss, disdain in his tone.

"Watch the attitude, boy. As a matter of fact, NO that is not all. Boomer, pick a number between 1-5."

Boomer thought hard for a few seconds, a look of intense concentration on his face. Hammer waited patiently.

"Eleventeen?" replied the big man finally.

Hammer chuckled and said "OK, eleventeen it is." He resumed talking to Snake.

"The club I want you to torch is called the "Stepz"...burn that mother to the ground. Make sure it's full when you do. No one gets out alive. Once you've finished that, I want you to hit eleven of the targets on this list...I mean, eleventeen" he finished, smiling at Boomer.

Hammer tossed a file towards Snake, who deftly caught it without taking his eyes of Sloan. He quickly scanned the list of names, noting many prominent names. Hammer threw another file at Snake, seemingly faster this time, and the small man's hand shot out and snapped the file out of the air. He opened the file and stared down at a picture of a stunningly beautiful young woman.

"Her name is Sarah. She is very special to a good *ahem* friend of mine, and I want her brought to me. Be very, very gentle with the merchandise, Snake." Hammer looked menacingly at him, "She is not to be touched or harmed in any way, capiche?"

"Ya, I capiche. When do you want this to go down?" Snake asked, a viscious grin splitting his face.

"Yesterday." replied Hammer, matching Snake's grin with one of his own.

Toni Forelli closed the door to his office when the FBI agent left:

"damn it Tommy, why the coppers come here.." he said to himself sitting back in the leather chair

2 Mafia guys came in dressed in black suits with their hair slicked back:

"ey Toni some one hit the Japaneise Mafia today"

Toni jumped up and started roaring with laughter:

"haaaaaahahahaha rotten bastards! Tommy i knew you had somthin up yah sleeve haaaaaa tell the Don to think nothin of the Fed's, ill handle it.."

The Mafiso's left the room and Sarah came in:

"my father says hi Toni"

Toni kissed her hand gently:

"tell the Don i send my regards"

Sarah sat down on a leather chair in the office:

"Sarah..do you know how important it is to be the Don's daughter? his father was a immigrant from Sisilly back in the early 30's..he got us in buisness today, everyone eats now and we look out for each other..you like a daughter to me my dear, Tommy's a good guy he treat you right..if he don't we castrate him"

Toni smiled then light a cigar and then Sarah spoke:

"im worried about him Toni..whats more is i really like him...please don't let him get hurt!"

Toni's face turned to a gentle smile:

"not a scratch kidd now get outta here, Luigi will drive you home"


When Sarah had left Toni picked up the phone and dialed Tommy's house number, an Irish gentleman picked up:

"ey wheres Tommy Ladelpha? out? alright you must be one of his boys, tell em the Don want's to know where his Diamonds are, we give you half the cutt for fuckin up them japs at the dockyard, this lines sucure im out"

Toni hung up the phone then layed back in his chair

Agent Broks awoke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. Rising slowly, he looked at the time. 3:46. He'd been sleeping for fifteen minutes, and already someone was trying to wake him up. Walking to the door, he looked through the window, and, sure enough, it was a cop. Couldn't homeland security ever let him fucking sleep? He was the resident agent in Brooklyn...BROOKLYN! WHAT TYPE OF TERRORIST WOULD ATTACK BROOKLYN? HE'D KILL MORE FELLOW CRIMINALS THEN CIVILIANS!

Ignoring the voice in the back of his head, however, Broks opened the door. "Yea, I'm agent Broks. Can I help ya?"

Tommy grinned and nodded:

"how are you tonight sir? i have a wallet here for you that was found on the crime sece where you killed that criminal in a gun fight?"

Broks nodded then Tommy pulled his glock and shot Broks in the chest twice, he slumped to the floor:

"don't fuck with me you man..got it? live by the gun..die by the gun"

Tommy walked out of the house and got in the car then said in the radio:

"shots fired,shots fired..stand by for location"

He then drove off at a high rate of speed

OOC: Er...Baccardi...check my earlier post...no family...
IC:
"Dispatch to all units in the area of 611 Deadway street, shots reported, repeat, shots reported."

OOC: o that must have been some one else haha..err sorry

OOC: Bacardi, one last thing, about all the rent-a-cop stuff Tommy keeps mentioning...you know homeland security is a federal agency with more power then the FBI, right?

Oh, and should I have Broks live or die? Just need to know for my next post (I'm not exactly a gunshot specialist.)

OOC: ahh let em live :) he seems like a well developing charactor.

OOC: Will do.
IC:
Agent Broks looked around the room, and saw a very bright light. As he looked, a man with a beard walked out, and, reached forward, becking him, saying, in a very loud voice....

"CLEAR!"

"BP 90 over 160, I think he's going into cardiac arrest."

"Shit, he's coming around. 20 cc's of morphine, now!"

The light suddenly disapeared, and was replaced by a diffirent light...that of the operating lamp just above him in the Brooklyn hospital emergency room. As he watched the six figures above him work to save his life, he wondered what had happened. Then, as a shot was injected into his arm, everything went black again.

When he woke up, it was the next morning, he had miraculously survived two shots to the chest (neither had hit any organs, luckily), and he felt like a he had a REALLY bad hangover.

OOC: FPS, Bacardia, everyone else involved, I'm doing another CO-RP based thread, and was wondering if youd wanna get involved. I post the link in a bit, and would like to RP with yall some more.

IC:

Rob placed the phone down on the craddle, and looked at his boys. Tommy's guys had left the room, and he looked at the duffles. "Half a cut my ass. Leave one box for Tommy, put the rest in the car. We're outa here." They loaded up teh daimond boxes in the X5, and drove off.

OOC: count me in buddy! i gotta wait for Tommy to have somthin to do lol but count me in for sure, feel free to post the link.

OOC: Sure, I'd be interested. And what is the diffirence between a CO-RP and a simple RP?
IC:
At 4:56 AM, Eastern Standard Time, the combined supplementary report concerning the warehouse robbery was submitted. The report, which contained all information on all events having to do with the warehouse shoot out (including the attempted killing of Agent Broks), could be condensed in the following summarization.

The attack on the warehouse, the subsequent acts of impersonating a police officer, and the attack on Agent Broks of Homeland Security were, with very little doubt, commited by the Italian Mafia. Very few other groups in the area would have the resources, manpower, and weaponry to pull off such an assault, and, judging by the single body found at the scene, those killed at the warehouse were members of the Japanese Mafia and the Yakuza, and, from blood samples, members of the local Yardie contingent. All three of these groups are enemies of the Italian Mob.

Thereby, it is suggested by this department that raids be made on the Italian mafia in order to attempt to regain control of those crates in the warehouse, which, from what officers first arriving at the scene saw, contained not only large amounts of diamonds and even plain cash, but also large amounts of illegal drugs and military grade automatic weapons. Should these weapons specifically not be regained immediatly, their deployment throughout the city could cost and endanger the lives of many civilians, rival gang members, and law enforcement officials.

Summary report comprised and signed by:
[Signed]
Sergeant Chris Menson, On-Scene Commander at the main crime scene.
[Signed]
Sergeant Ernanda Chavez, On-Scene Commander at the Brok Residence.

Ernanda had simply been the highest ranking on duty officer to reach the Brok residence, and upon the completion of the report, an officer had been sent to wake up Menson and get his summary.

Within twenty minutes of it's being signed and turned into department administration, informants from the Italian, Japanese, Yardie, (Insert Tommy's mafia name here), and Yakuza mafia groups had alerted their bosses to what was going on, and promised to get copies by noon, and ten minutes before those mafia groups had received word from their contacts, Rob and his associates had received a full copy of the report.

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=153000

Snake watched with erotic glee as his latest masterpiece licked the sky with golden flames. His canvas was the "Stepz", a 3-storey dance club and bar that was the main drinking-hole of Tommy and his punks. The job had been perfect so far...the 2 security thugs outside guarding the door were quickly dispatched, one by Snake and his stilletto, the other by the massive Boomer, who simply snapped the guards neck like a twig. As Boomer stashed the bodies, Snake quickly began spot-welding iron bars across the door and rear exit. The 200+ gangsta's, punks, b-girls and bangers were now firmly locked up tight.

The first explosion set off a huge fire, which quickly spread up the stairs. The second explosion turned the third-floor into a funeral pyre, cutting off access to the roof. Snake smiled as the first screams began to waft through the air. Boomer simply stared with wide-eyed wonder like a child watching fireworks.

" No time to waste, big guy...we still have work to do." stated Snake, reluctantly turning from the flames.

In the course of 2 hours, Snake and Boomer set eleven different bombs in various locations throughout the city. They all went off within moments of each other, many hours later as the morning sun began to kiss the sky. Judge Walter Frieling was in the process of shaving when his world dissintegrated. Assistant D.A. Mary Campbell was turned into jello when her Mercedes exploded as she was loading her children in the back seat for the short trip to daycare. Mayor Phillip Weintraub was still sleeping when his house imploded, killing him, his wife and their Shitzu terrier. Guido "Left Eye" Lombardi, a high-ranking lieutenant in Tommy's gang, had about a second to try and understand why his Harley was suddenly able to levitate like a helicopter before the shrapnel from the bomb shredded his lower torso.

More explosions rocked the city as the early morning progressed, and the papers reported the casualties with cold, precise numbers. Over 39 people died that morning, including women and children. Close to 100 people had been injured, and the fires were still being fought throughout the neighborhood. A dark black haze hung over the city, thick and cloying smoke filling the lungs of any passer-bys.

Snake and Boomer relished a good nights work while they sat eating a breakfast at a greasy diner. Snake pulled out his cellphone and dialed Sloan's number by memory. "It's done. The girl is next." hissed Snake, and broke the connection. He smiled in satisfaction as he bit into his bacon.

Somewhere across the city, Hammer Sloan was also smiling for the first time in many days. He could see the smoke and hear the alarms from the handiwork his hired guns had created. The first stage of his vendetta was complete: Tommy's base was now gone, and along with it over half of his followers. Now the fun would begin. By tonight, Tommy's main squeeze Sarah would be in Hammer's clutches, and the game would truly begin.

OOC: Er...alright, I feel I need to bring this up before I can IC post, seeing as I'm sort of playing...the government in general here. Exactly how much chaos do you want erupting from this? I mean, what would realistically happen?

Yes, I know that local authorities would be totally overwhelmed, and a state of emergency would be declared almost immediatly. However, how far should I take this? Should I just have local authorities almost totally tied up with the fires and keeping the population from panic? Should I have riots and looting break out due to the populations thinking it was another terrorist attack. Should Bush declare Martial Law in what he thinks to be a pro-Sadamn rebellion? Come on, give me a hint here...I can't really post until ya do. Pretty much, I'm asking how much chaos you want taking place during the vendetta.

<OOC> I'm all for chaos, the more the merrier. I think that we can safely say the authorities (local and federal) as well as the main gangs (mafia, yakuza) will take a GREAT interest in the destruction of the city.

OOC: Sorry , just found the thead
A black Chevy SUV cruises down a street two men watch the streets. The SUV stops, the two men hop out. They wear jackets that say US Mashals. They head to a man. "Mr. Hendson, you are charged with fleeing from a prison transport bus. The arrested him and send put in the SUV. The men are Agent Roberts amd Agent William of the US Mashal Service. They get call after dropping Mr. Hendson at the Federal Buliding, to investiagate a bombing at the "Stepz" nightclub.

The Impala left the 'Stepz' club an hour before the fireworks started. Either he hadn't been fooled by the thugs hauling in what looked like cases of booze, or the thugs just sucked at UC work. The thing went off like a Roman candle, balls of fire screaming out of the front doors... the unfortunate patrons... The driver smirked slightly at the image in his mind, a cold & cruel smile that usually came before he pulled the trigger...

The USP sat on the dashboard, within easy reach if he needed it. The Superballers where back in their tactical holsters, concealed in the folds of his trench coat. He cruised the town, wondering where he was supposed to meet the limp-d**ked f**ker who was supposed to pay him for putting forty-eight hundreths of an inch's worth of lead in that sorry bastard in the truck...

OOC: Alright, I'm still gonna wait on that IC post...I want Baccardi's opinion on it. But, if he gives the go, I'm going to have the explosions totally tie up local resource, and have the feds only barely helping. I'm also going to have the local public start panicking ("AHH! OSAMA IS BACK!). From the looks of things, however, the gang war alone will cause enough death and destruction to suit us all.

The headline in the Globe & Mail screamed "A City Burns" and it's competitor, the Daily News, featured a full-color picture of a badly injured firefighter being helped by his colleagues and a headline that read, "Apocolypse NOW." The trashy tabloid "The Sun" decided to add gasoline to the flames of fear by having a bold headline reading " 9-11 Part 2 ???"

The death toll was mounting: 214 dead at the Stepz club, 32 of them under the age of 18. There had been no survivors, and the ruined building yet smouldered. Many key members of the city administration and government were also dead, and the rest were running around trying to stem the flow of panic, while nervously watching behind them lest they become the next target.

The city was in chaos, and Hammer was smiling. He took a long draw from his 4th Cohiba of the day, and regarded the 8x10 glossy photo in his scarred hands. Sarah del Notte was a real piece of work: She was beautiful in a wide-eyed way, he noticed, and had a body on the verge of bursting into full bloom. Tommy was a lucky guy, thought Hammer...but his luck was about to run out.

Hammer punched the intercom: “Rex, we are expecting a visitor today. I want you to prepare the beach-house…make it pretty. Whip up a nice, romantic meal for two, and make sure that Dominics “A” squad is guarding the place.” He broke the connection without waiting for a reply from his assistant. Pouring himself 2 fingers of bourbon, Hammer regarded the small Oriental man across from him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting…now, once again: where are the diamonds?”

As the NYCNN news broadcast switched from the studio to an on scene reporter, the reporter smiled. But anyone could tell that this was no happy matter by the look on her face. "Thank you Tom. I'm here in Brooklyn, where a state of emergency has been declared as overwhelmed local authorities, with the help of some state and federal authorities, are now attempting to clean up the mess and save as many lives as possible in the aftermath of the nearly dozen bombings that occured around six this morning."

The camera kept on the reporter, but now the anchor's voice came into the feed. "Cindy, I've heard that local crime syndicates are up in arms about the incidents, and already some minor fighting has occured."

"That's right Tom. Nearly seven criminals have already been killed in street fights, one of which was actually a gunfight, and another two dozen or so suspected gang members have been arrested while in fights, or found in bad condition after a fight. It seems that the bombings have begun to cause some tensions in the area."

"Earlier in your report you said local authorities were overwhelmed. Could you be more specific?"

"Well, quite simply, they are. With 11 bombings across the Brooklyn area, and large gang fights already occuring, local authorities, even with state and federal aid, simply do not have the manpower to respond to the number of events currently taking place in time. I've been told that the fire department and hospitals are currently concentrating on the bombings, but the police have been unable to truly do so due to the street fights. In fact, it's being said that the entire city is becoming a powder kegnd that it could explode at any second. What's worse is the possibility that these bombings could have been planned by Al Qaida or another terrorist group, although no one has yet claimed that it was their doing."

"Exactly what do you mean by 'This city is becoming a powder keg ready to explode'?"

"Well, with a state of emergency full swing, and with all the chaos taking place in the city, many citizens are becoming scared and discontent. It's been reported that large crowds are forming in front of hospitals, fire stations, police stations, and city hall, as citizens demand explanations and demand the killers be cought."

"What chance is there of a riot occuring?"

"Very small, Tom. Unless the area were to lose power, it's doubtfull rioting will start. But were it to lose power...well, then, we would really be in deep. However, the chances of that are slim and none...I mean, the chance that someone could take over the nuclear power plant controlling this area....impossible." Suddenly, the cameraman said something, and the news reporter frowned. "Yes, I guess it would be possible that power would be lost should the local power conversion center were hit. But such a center would never be a target...no one works there, even during an emergency situation, why bomb something if you won't hurt anyone?"

"Alright, thank you Cindy. We now take you live to..."

Anyone watching also knew that the city was in a total state of chaos, and that the only thing keeping a full scale riot was the fact that people still had air conditioning and heating, and that people were still able to go on with their normal lives if they weren't within a block of one of the bombings.

Yet, even as people thought this, the FBI realized exactly how much of a target the power conversion center could end out being, and dispatched a group of twenty agents to guard it. Those agents would arrive about half an hour after the broadcast.

OOC: Meaning if you were to blow it now, you would beat them there. Also, you can assume the national guard is already watching the nuclear plants in New York due to the possibility it could be a group of terrorist bombings, so don't even try.....

There's your way into total chaos. Take it or leave it people...up to you.

The small television over the bar blared the numbers of dead, and showed scenes of destruction and chaos throughout the city. Snake admired the young female reporter who was recounting the statistics, and thought that she might taste particularly sweet...especially if she was tied to the rack in his basement. His ears perked up when she mentioned the power plant, and Snake had an idea: Hammer wanted chaos, and Snake would deliver.

"Boomer, saddle up. Weez gots one more job before we snatch the snatch. Weez poppin' a freebie for the Hammer...boom, boom, boom - out go da lights!"

10 minutes later, the deadly duo arrived at the central power station. 3 minutes after that, the rent-a-cop who was watching the door was dead, drowned in his own blood. 6 minutes after that, the first bomb went off, taking out the transformers that fed energy to the city.

Snake was pleased to feel the burgeoning stiffness in his pants. This masterful stroke would drag the city down into a beautiful swirl of anarchy and violence, which excited him beyond belief. Too bad he could not release himself on the girl he was about to kidnap...she was a real cutie.

Boomer and Snake hopped in their Impala, and began the short drive to their final assignment.

OOC: Okay, too much leaving my charactors roles. I'm sticking back with my Sergeant Menson and Agent Broks for awhile..someone else can tell about the situation throughout the city...and Baccardi, w/e happened to you?

"PLEASE DISPERSE! RETURN TO YOUR HOMES!" Sergeant Menson watched as the police chopper overflew the crowd in front of city hall, which had turned from a demonstration to a total riot when the power had gone out. He was hearing reports on his radio from all over the area where police officers were encountering large angry mobs. Worst of all, the gang fighting would, with no doubt, become very severe in the coming chaos. And when it did, his job would become much harder. Chris just hoped Broks hadn't been lying when he said he could get support.
_____________________________________________________________Across the city, at police HQ Agent Broks, who had left the hospital at the earliest possible moment even against the doctor's orders, wished he had simply allowed himself the rest. Putting the phone to his ear again, he kept himself from screaming. "Look, Special Agent Donaldson, either you get some people down here, hell, either you get the national guard down here, or this entire damn citys going to go into the ground."

"Agent Broks, why would any criminal group want to destroy the city? They would simply lose their profit base!"

"You don't understand! They probably aren't trying to specifically destroy the city! Their just making enough chaos to destroy their competitors! Once they've done that, they'll have total control, and even if we do bring it back under control at that point, they'll already have too much power for us to take out! Hell, they probably won't even need to touch us...it'll be like the old mob, they'll have half the force bribed, be a step ahead of the other half, and simply collect money everywhere! We need to get these guys NOW, before they can set themselves up like that!"

"Agent Broks, I believe you are over exag..."

"DONALDSON, YOU LOOK HERE, YOU BUEROCRATIC MORON. EITHER YOU GET SOME SERIOUS BACKUP DOWN HERE, AND I MEAN NOW, OR ELSE BROOKLYN IS GOING TO GO TO HELL, AND YOUR CAREER WITH IT. YOU HEAR ME? CALL ME WHEN THE GUARDS COMING." With that, he hung up. Somehow, Broks knew his warnings would be ignored until it was too late.

Hammer was eagerly watching two young redheads, twins actually, perform various erotic acts for him when the lights went out. Within seconds, the first of 4 heavy-duty generators kicked in, and the power flared to life. Hammer looked out his window, and saw that most of the city had been plunged into darkness. Rex chose that moment to buzz him on the intercom.

"My liege, 'tis a dark and stormy night, ere we gaze into the darkness..."

"Yes Rex, I noticed: what happened?"

"This faithfull servant doth not knoweth the cause of yon blackout, but perchance and mayhaps we shouldst take advantage of our position?"

Hammer looked at Rex. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Rex paused, then smiled humbly. "It seems to me that the Law will be very busy in the next few hours, and perhaps we shouldst take this opportunity to empty the coffers of those who hold the gold...?"

"Hmmmm...I like your way of thinking. We hit ALL the banks while the cops run around trying to catch looters. I like it. Make it so."

Rex broke tthe connection, and contacted Billy "Talent" Noresco, a lieutenant in Hammer's gang. Billy then assembled6 teams of 3 men, and assigned them the banks that they were to hit. Within hours, most of the main banks in the city had been attacked and robbed clean. Hammer and his gang netted over 4.8 million dollars, as well as assorted bonds, valuable metals and jewelry from the safe-deposit boxes. A handful of bystanders were also killed, upping the death toll in the city to over 300.

Hammer revelled in it all. It excited him, this power he now held, and he glared lustily at the twins.

**EL BUMPO**