NationStates Jolt Archive

Link to OOC thread:http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=526415

IC: Welcome to Vegas, the city that tempts visiters with the idea of striking it rich. To some that is even a philoosphy. And to some it's not enough to worry about what color the roulette wheel will land on, and to those people a few bucks isn't enough. These "true" gamblers are about to get together for their greatest gamble yet, one that could lead to eternal imprisonment, death, or perhaps a fortune...
Faraway they each recieve a note that reads: "if you are interested in a fortune involving your line of work, come to the Drake Hotel Chicago, and give this note to a man wearing a baseball cap that has a large "L" printed on it. Your plane ticket is inside this letter..."

OOC: Welcome the "The Job"! All thief characters should now post under what circumstances they recieved their note (IC), and all the others write your introductions. For everyone else, it's not to late to join in! Post your character on the OOC thread!

It's a normal looking office, really. Except that there's a chromed Ithaca 37 on the wall. Otherwise, well...desk, computer, telephone, lots of paperwork.

Nice looking girl sitting in the corner, doing her nails...

And me, sitting behind the desk, watching her do her nails.

"Alright, Janine. Get to the point."

She looks up at me like I just intruded on something sacred. I still don't care -- I don't want anything she's capable of putting out, namely HPV...

"Well, y'know...."

I sigh and shake my head.

"You don't seem to be hearing me, Honey. Somebody cut you, I want to know who."

The girl looks up at me, and I don't blink. That always seems to be enough to break the easy ones, and Janine wants to talk. Well, she wants to talk to me, anyways. It's because she knows that I take care of people who talk to me, and also because I've got a nice face.

If I'd wanted her, yeah, I could've had her. And not had to pay. But I don't -- even if they had an HPV vaccine for men...I've never liked the washed-out crackwhore look.

She sighs, then, and looks me in the eye. "Carlysle."

I nod, "Okay, Honey. You're gonna be fine."

I stand up slowly and walk out of the office, then wave Sergeant Mahoney. Stacy Mahoney, but few enough people warranted being able to use her first name. As far as I knew, I was the only person on the force with enough cachet to call her 'Stace.'

"Stace, babe, can you do me a favor? Janine Rutzweis is in my office, go ahead and take her statement. I'm going to go have a talk with ol' Carlysle. Fucker is going down. Today."

She blinks, then nods. "Be careful, Jack. Carlysle is as vicious as they come."

I pull my jacket off of the chair I'd left it on -- I'd been getting a cup of coffee when Janine ran in -- then slip it on. I also draw my M1911 and make sure that the magazine is full and the safety is on. Then I return it to the shoulder holster and head down the stairs to the motor pool -- which is what I call, always have, and always will.

My car -- non-regulation -- is parked off to the side, and looking very, very sinister. A 1968 Dodge Dart is something of an odd ride in this day of modern supercars...and most people laugh at me. But most people don't know that it's a Hurst Dart, and that underneath the vicious hood-scoop is a 426 Hemi. That makes eight hundred and twenty horsepower.

Yeah, there were only, what, fifty of them made? Something like that. To make a long story short, I -inherited- it. My dad was a racer...now he's a dead racer. But his car remains.

And I'd never, ever, ever failed at a car chase. Ever. Not even when I'd had to deal with a gang of Fast and the Furious copy-cats in souped up rice-burners. The Dart had shown them what Furious really was...

I run my hand along the hood, lovingly, then slip inside and bring the engine to life. Off in the distance, I see one of the dainty little office bunnies returning from a coffee break jump halfway out of her skirt. And laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it's what my dad would have done. He was a righteous bastard, and I loved him.

Anyways, driving.

--

Carlysle's place. I check that my pistol is secure one more time, then grab my gunbelt from the patrol bag. The gun I've got sitting in the holster right now is a Smith and Wesson 329PD in .44 magnum. It's a beast. But so is Carlysle. And he deserves what he's about to get.

I strap on the belt, then kill the engine...and sit.

And sit.

And sit.

Then my cellphone rings. I pick it up.

"'llo."

"Warrant's legit. Give me...five minutes."

It takes her seven to get here. I don't complain. I do take the warrant. Then I'm moving to the door. Stacy is backing me up, sortof...

"SEARCH WARRANT!"

Womp.

I kick the door down -- advantage of being strong, and the door being pansyish. I've got my revolver out, too. Stacy's got her Glock...I've never liked the things. Give me a good chunk of metal, any day. I like to be able to beat somebody over the head with my gun, y'know?

Carlysle is sitting on a couch, he's got a girl on him. I don't give him any time to pull up his pants, or even pull out, y'know? I'm running full speed across the room, stop maybe a foot away, but keep my momentum, as I slam my foot into Carlysle's head. The gun he'd been pulling spins away -- it's one of those damned Czech subguns. Friccin' annoying, those things.

"Tut-tut, Carlysle. You don't want to be doing that, my friend...you -really- don't want to be doing that."

He doesn't answer. No surprise -- he's out like a rock. I take a step back, and Stacy moves in to secure the bastard. Meantime, I let the uniforms that Stacy brought with her in. They get to work. I take a step outside and light up a cigarette, then look at it and frown.

I toss the lit cigarette onto the ground in front of me and grind it into dust with my shoe heel. Then I toss my pack into a trash can.

I haven't smoked a cigarette in eight years. I just keep them around...I don't know why. Maybe it's a link to the past. Maybe not. What it isn't, is it isn't giving me effing lung cancer. Or, at least, not nearly as much. Maybe I just like watching the damn things burn...

Whatever.

Two black chromed out Mercedes Benz S500's on 20's pulled up in front of the (*Insert Casino name here*) and slowed down stopping in front of the doors, two men in suits approached opening the back door to the front luxuary sedan. Out of the first car i stepped out putting my coat around my shoudlers, Mob Lt. Vittorio Ribaste, im not the kinda guy who plays around and got a repuation to live up to, dressed in a new white suit, matching fedora, a over coat draped over my shoulders, pure style.. another man, one of my bodyguards got out on the other side aswell as another who got out of the passenger side, they moved in beside me to cover my sides....

I gave the first order i usually give when i arrive at the casino..

"Take the cars around back, park em' then meet us upstairs"

"Ok boss"

The man who got out of the passenger side hopped back in the car, they pulled away followed by the second..

"Lets go"

The three mafia men stayed at my side as we walked when i entered the grand casino, it was packed with people all spending their money, a familar sight...

While walking through the main foyer i decided to start a breif conversation with my boys,

"It's a wonderful sight every time..eh boys?"

I grinned scanning the crowd, a sexy girl who worked there walked past and i had to slap that ass, she giggled not stopping, i chuckled to myself as we continued on upstairs to the upper level that was staff only. I walked into one of the rooms where two guards stood outside, there were four girls in there alongwith afew more mobsters watching the machines count the money,

"Everyone!" I greeted while tossing my hat on one of the tables in front of me..

my feet were killing me in these shoes so i dropped in a leather chair taking a cigar out of my suit jacket, i removed a cutter aswell,

"Donnie! buisness good tonight or what?"

"Yeah Vic, everythings good!"

"Wonderful! i like to hear that...is Mr. Cappaletti here?"

"Havn't seen him yet Vic, his people called..he will be here.."

"Good, good, alright..Jack daniels on the rocks..lets go.."

"Right, hey you..sweetheart"

Donnie pointed at one of the girls who was just standing there,

"Jack Daniels on the rocks? what you waiting for?"

She looked as if there was somthing she had to say but then decided it would probably be better not to and left....

"Ahaha, who is that broad?" i asked lighting up the cigar..

"Ohhh some girl that does the money...she been here for awhile now"

"Ok, cool"

with that i decided to lean back in the chair putting my feet up on the desk in front of me...

'I swear the next guy to slap me on the ass would learn what growing up leatherneck means But I hid that thought behind a sunny smile and my apparently eternal giggle. I know full well that this damn outfit contributes to the appeal of my ass, as it barely covers it and lets not mentions my breastworks. but damn it if I''m going to get my ass smacked, why not by real men, not these damn mob assholes who think they're cool in white suites. That so went out with Maimi Vice'

"Thank the Universe, it's time for me to ditch these damn spike heels" I muttered to one of my coworkers as I plopped down on the bench back in the changing room.

"But Punkin, you look so goood in those heels! You ought to talk to Jimmy, you'd make great tips working the floor on a permanant basis. and you could meet more guys too." Sissy protested as she looked lustifully at the custom made Stewart Weisman sling backs I toed off then tossed into my locker.

Custom made to the tune of over three hundred dollars, and I wasn't about to have them disappear so I made sure that the lock was spun after I shut the metal door. I have never trusted Sissy, not with shoes. She was nice enough if more than a little dim about the boundries of personal property....But then again so was I, but I hadn't dealt with anything as paltry as shoes, even three hundred dollar shoes, in years.

"Nope," I answered her with a smile as vacuous as hers. "I like being a dealer better. I'm just doing Clara a favor, with her baby sick and all." I demured, shuddering inside at the thought of being a cocktail waitress here full time, even if, as Sissy said the tips were great. I'd worked many positions here at the Magnum. Bartender, showgirl, dealer, cashier, cocktail waitress...They liked my wortk ethic, and clean background check. I liked the chance to get to know the casino inside and out.

"Well I'm outta here" I popped a chunk of bubble gum into my mouth and began working my jaw as I slipped on my worn, and very comfortable sneakers.

"See ya Punkin!" Sissy called as hauled herself to her feet and out to start her shift on the floor.

The vehicle waiting for me in the employee parking lot was my nearly four year old Jeep Grand Chreokee. Battered but reliable, it started with a purr and I headed home.

Home being, for the last four years, a spacious two bedroom, two bath condominimun in Circle Ritz. Cylinderical, ten storeys tall, with a frothy white lace wedding chapel tucked amid the hardy palms - a black marble eye stopper of a building.

The note on it was stiff, but the ambience of Circle Ritz was not something I could pass up. Neither was my land lady, Electra Lark. Well over sixty, with hair that changed color every couple of days and a habit of riding her Harley without a care in the world, she was such a hoot...She and I had become close friends. And she was one of the few people in this blinded by the neon lights town who saw beneath the sexterior.

But it looked as if Electra was out and about in the cool night's breezes so I had to make up my mind on my own.

Not that I wasn't completely capable of that but this was the last thing I'd ever expected to happen. My forays into the world of less than legal had all been done in the company of the few others I called friend. Howerver The Boys were all currently doing time. I'd told them that the heist would go sour, and I wanted no part of it. Can I call 'em or what?

I was already suspicious, feeling more than a touch uncomfortable. My previous involvements had been carefully kept to a minimum, but some one other than The Boys obviously knew of them. And knew how to get such a missive to me. I looked at the letter and the first class plane ticket to Chicago. The flight left tomorrow morning...

"Oh what the hell, I'm bored." I spoke to the empty air of my comfortably dim apartment. I'd be on that flight tomorrow, and the antsy feeling would keep me on my toes.

The sign at the gate read "Buckland." It was a play on the name, Bucklyn. Two small houses stood near the front, similar, though monogrammed with an "R" on the left one and a "D" on the right. Out in the back, one man was busy setting a plumline to measure the angle and length of the beam that he would need for what would be a grounding support. He was tall, had the look of an athlete that needed strength, speed, and stamina in what he did, and wore a ball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes and his hair from dripping sweat onto his face.

As he worked, another man came to the back, holding a letter. Already opened, it had a signed note from a friend, along with an envelope, previously opened, and the internal contents of that envelope. "Dave, we've got an offer," he called as he neared the other man. The one with the letter stood a little shorter than the other man, was much skinnier, wore a pair of sunglasses, and kept his hair extremely short.

"Who sent it?" asked Dave.

The smaller man replied, reading from the letter. " 'Richard and Dave, this came to me from a person that has need of your talents. I checked the money and the background. Everything is legit. If you don't want the job, send word back, and I'll notify the 'Smith.' Otherwise, the instructions are in the enclosed envelope, along with two plane tickets out to Chicago. Happy hunting.' It's signed from Greg. What do you think?"

"Well Richard, I see it this way. If a man I trust tells me that it smells like a job, sounds like a job, and looks like a job, then it's a damn job. I'm nearly done with this thing, so we can leave tomorrow afternoon, or the day after, at the earliest."

'Alright bro, it's done." Richard turned back to the houses, and began packing. It was always fun to return to the Windy City, but this was business.

OOC: Uhh, is this still going or what?....

Peter read through the small note once more, one of the many curiosities that had arrived in his mailbox recently. He wadded it up and was about to toss it in the trash when he heard the all too familiar sound of heavy boot steps in the hall outside his apartment. Please be for the crack house next door... he thought to himself. Today, he wouldn't be so lucky.

"Peter Jonas, this is the FBI! Open your door, or we will be forced to break it down."

Stuffing the note into his pocket, Peter eyed the reinforced bolts that supported the door, but they wouldn't keep them out forever. Hastily, he dug a small flash drive from his pocket and inserted it into a USB port. Opening it, he executed the only file on it. Slowly, his hard drive began to erase all the data on it and rewrite itself with hour upon hour of looping hardcore pornography. The process would take roughly 45 seconds to complete, but Peter didn't wait around to watch, he was busy throwing CDs into his microwave. Turning it on, the CDs began to crackle and annihilate all the data on them. Confident that he'd covered everything, he grabbed his laptop and went out the window onto the fire escape in the alley behind the building.

He covered the steps to the bottom four bounds, and then jumped from the ladder right as a police car rolled around the corner into the alley. Hitting the ground hard, he rolled, clutching the laptop close to himself. Standing, he ran to the end of the alley and cut left losing the police in the morning crush of people leaving the Metro. Heading into the station, he boarded a train to Union Station, where he bought one ticket to Chicago.

A man walked out of his Vegas hotel, and shuffled-down the lobby. He passed the slot-machines, the pictures reflecting in his sunglasses. He was a heavy fellow, about 300 pounds. He passed a fellow standing-up, dilligently waiting. The man followed him inconspiciously. He was all-right with it, as it was one of his men making-sure no-one else was following him. "Sir"'s body was the shape of a popcorn bag, and his voice was so unique in it's deepness, it might be mistaken for a brass insturment were he humming. His face was just as unique. It housed a nose, which by it's proportion due to excess drink, appeared like it was unwelcomed resident. His large jaw made it so that when he opened his mouth, it looked like the doors to a Vegas casino were opening for the first time. Everyone listened when he talked, like he something important to say (which he generally did, but it was unusual he put it into words). He more-often-then not simply greeted his fellow humans like they were obscene-looking aliens, merely extending his hand in a most unfriedly manner, giving the greeter with the feel they had just commited a terrible crime. He talked so little, that if one met him, one could brag to have been gifted with the rare event of his voice.
As he strolled, "Sir"'s bodyguard flanked him, his other still following a bit behind. He walked out, having accessed his mark. Comming out the door he beheld his Limosine. Quietly getting-in, he shut the familiar door like he was it was his arm. He lit a cigerette. No words were necessary, the driver drove. "Sir" uttered a sigh that, coming from him, came-out like a yell of triumph. His team was assembled, his Mark was surveyed, the money was as good as his...or was trying to ease his tensions? No, tensions and him had nothing in common...had they?

As the planes pull-in to Chicago, many people bustle to-and-fro, but a handfull of them, have one location in mind: The Drake Hotel. As the individuals move their seprate ways, they each call a taxi. After a short drive they come to the hotel. Finding their "L" man, they each give him a note in turn, none of them getting so-much as greeting for their troubles...yet they are each shown to the lobby
http://www.primr.org/images/hotels/Chicago_Drake_int.jpg
and given keys to their rooms. "Tomorow at 0800 come back to the lobby. If you need breakfast, get-up early. My employer will look foward to meeting you...goodnight" says their contact, quickly departing.

Calling her scheduler at the Magnum that night and getting the next few days off had been a breeze. She'd called off, not too often, but enough to establish a background that she had spectacularly bad menses about twice a year. Se hadn't called off in nearly seven months, and she'd covered lots of extra shifts here and there so management had no hesitation in wishing her a sincere "get to feeling better soon" and down't worry about your shift. It had helped that over the next three days she'd only been scheduled for one shift.

She hadn't left the Circle Ritz looking like herself. Punkin hadn't flown into Chicago on the ticket that had accompanied the missive. A much different looking woman than had left the Ritz had flown first class on a different airline, and arrived at a different time. Nor had she taken a cab to the hotel. She'd rented from Avis, they tried harder and she liked the car they had available.

A black Audi station wagon. However, what set this apart from other family grocery getters was a simple badge on the rear, above the tail light. RS6. The twin turbo V8 AWD Audi was nonchalant, quiet looking, the perfect vehicle for such an occassion, as some one else had once said.

She parked and found the man in the bill cap with the L on it. Punkin couldn't help but hum to herself the theme from Mystery Men.

"Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me
I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed
She was looking kinda dumb with her fingers and her thumb
And the shape of an "L" on her forehead

Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming
Back to the rules and I hit the ground running
Didn't make sense not to live for fun
Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
So much to do so much to see
So what's wrong with taking the back streets
You'll never know if you don't go
You'll never shine if you don't glow."

She practicaly danced down the hall and into her room, giggling as she half sang the words under her breath.

The man sitting alone at the dinner was well dressed. Far more so than the others, indeed. Many wore standard "blue collar" clothes, a few even had hard hats sitting at their tables next to their food.

However, the lone man sat and sipped coffee, wearing one of the well tailored suits from a maker who, if you had to ask how to properly pronounce his name, you couldn't afford it. Next to his cup of steaming black liquid was an envalope. It was of the manilla varrity, and stuffed thick with information. Dosiers, mostly. Slips of paper that covered his new employer, possible marks, the thought of mark, and the like.

He finished his coffee, tucked the envalope under his arm, and made his way out to the parking lot to a pristine BMW E90 M5. He slid in gracefully, with little effort expanded on to his suit, and keyed the ignition, the five liter V10 rumbling and turning over. With nary a screech, squeal, or roar, he slid the car out of the parking lot, and on to the Drake.

Arriving was a simple matter, parking the car himself in the garrage. He had seen once Ferris Bueler's Day Off, and it would be a cold day before some Chi Town garage junky got his hands on the M5. He made his way to the lobby, and said nothing at all to the man in the cap.

Tomorow at 0800 come back to the lobby. If you need breakfast, get-up early. My employer will look foward to meeting you. Goodnight.

With even less affair, he made his way up to his room, and prepared for bed.

I was in my office upstairs looking over the books. The current levels of income and profit were significantly higher than the shrinkage and losses to the gamblers. The ultimate goal of course was to lure people inside the Casino and get them to waste their hard earned pay checks on the various gambling devices from the slots to the horse track races. The added entertainment while costly provided much more revenue by attracting the gambling addicted dregs from all across the country.


The office was a neat and organized with paper work in assorted in and out piles. The computer and the phone were within an arms reach of my present location at the writing desk. I looked up and received a buzz from my secretary Janet.

“Mr. Rosenburg, Aldo Cappaletti will be an hour late from his usual arrival time to the Casino. He said it was a business matter and that he apologizes in advance for being late.”


I smiled and immediately got the message, Aldo was going to do some business, and that meant he was out collecting from the dead beats that were in debt to the Casino. I pulled out my cigar and began to take a puff and then my secretary sent me another buzz…

“Mr. Rosenburg, I am sorry to disturb you but Vic Ribaste is here and you personally asked me to inform when he arrived.”

I sighed and realized Vic must be here to protect his Casino while Aldo was out collecting. I began to calculating my options and decided to talk to Vic and inform him that Aldo and some of his boys would be out for a while….

I barked an order at one of the two guards watching the door,

“You, find Vic and get him up here. I need him up here to go over our security detail in the Casino.”

The Casino guard was a man that worked for me a long time and knew the present situation. He walked towards the elevator that lead to the collection room. It was no secret that Vic and his men would be over there counting the money that would be sent to the Boss back in Jersey.

The guard took a deep breath and entered the elevator with his orders to summon Vic up to the Boss’s office for his marching orders……

I sat in the collection room watching all the money be put through the counting machines when all of a sudden the door opened, my first instinct put my right hand under my left shoulder gripping the ivory handle of my Chrome and gold Beretta 93R, but in walked one of Rosenburgs men..

"Heya Vic, Mr.Rosenburg needs to see you upstairs right away..it's urgent"

I gave him a nodd, brought my feet off the desk as i stood up..

"Boys..wait here, i'll be back and my drink better fuckin' be here!"

As i walked past the mirror on the wall i took a quick glace running my fingers though my hair gripping my cigar in my teeth...

I walked out into the hallway and followed the guard still smoking with my gangster stride, the sound of my shoes clicking on the floor was the only sound as we moved towards the elevator and entered it..then the doors shut.

Shortly after....

**DING**

The elevator sounded as we reached our destination deep within the Casino. I walked through the doors, nodded to the goon standing in the corner and looked where the Casino boss sat in a large leather chair in his luxurious office, it smelled of leather from the furniture and cigar smoke...i moved closer with a friendly grin on my face,

"Mr.Rosenburg! new furniture? you need to see me about somthing.. what can i do for you?"

I strolled over and sat down in a chair placed in front of the desk, reached over and flicked my cigar in the ashtray.....

Richard and David had their contact switch their tickets. They had learned the easy way that the best thing to do was to fly separately and meet in the city target. Joe was expedient, and never charged for this type of thing. Richard landed an hour ahead of Dave, took off the wig and fake mustache in one of the bathrooms, got to the hotel, and got the room keys.

Dave traveled with a beard and thick glasses. The facial hair gimmick was important to the brothers, as it could alter the face of a man to make even his own mother not recognize him. At the hotel, he switched his room to a couple of loors up from his brother's. He had long legs, and the remote chance of a fire didn't bother him so much since he could practically fly down stairwells. Once settled in his room, he talked to his borther, before returning to the lobby. He also checked for tickets to the ball game the next night. If possible, he would go, since the Sox were in town, playing the Sox, and he had always enjoyed the sport.

The two had brought the large, thin briefcases that engineers and architects used for carrying around schematics, and while it didn't have any of their day work within it, it did have the sheets that they would need for designing whatever the need might require. They left these in their rooms as they took separate cars out to Billy Goat Tavern, got their double cheezborgers, cheeps, and cokes, and sat for a decent dinner, though at opposite tables. Both had been to Chicago before, both in their tours, and for jobs, and the Tavern never changed the menu.

Punkin changed clothes once she got her pair of suitcases unpacked. She looked far different now that she had earlier. She had noted that Chicago , with the Broadway cast was playing at the historic LaSalle Theater. That tickled her funny bone, and chuckling, she decided to have dinner out and to see it if she could get tickets to the nights performance.

The dress was fun and flirty, but modest by Vegas standards, and her wavey blonde hair flowed silkily over her shoulders, but it wasn't teased or gelled. She'd kept her make up in smokey neutrals and minimal. Tucking a slim envelope style purse under her arms she headed out.

She found herself singing, softly, "All Tha Jazz" as she waited for the elevator, and her toe keeping time...

Come on babe
Why don't we paint the town?
And all that Jazz

I'm gonna rouge my knees
And roll my stockings down
And all that jazz

Start the car
I know a whoopee spot
Where the gin is cold
But the piano's hot

It's just a noisy hall
Where there's a nightly brawl
And all
That
Jazz!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to take our leave" says the "L" man. "Please, get all your belongings, and don't worry about any 'tools', as those will be provided for you when you reach you destination."
As you group leaves the hotel, they are shown to a limosine which is VERY comfortably stocked. Getting in, they are greated by their employer. "Greetings, I am known as "Boss" to most of my underlings, but you may call me "Sir". I have employed you all *he opens a bottle of champagne as the Limo pulls away* for one purpose. The nature of which, I am sure you have already guessed." Pouring a glass of champagne for himself, he continues: "I will dicuss it further once we reach our destination. I never fly commercially, so we shall all use MY personal plane. Our equiptment contractor will join us there..."
Meanwhile back at the Drake: "Dear, they're not thieves, don't be rediculas!" says a husband to his wife. "I'm telling you, 'tools' could mean anything!" "I got a hunch about this" responds the wife "and I'm seeing the Cops!" She walks off to tell the local police about the matter.
"She'll learn her lesson when she's told she's nuts...."

The Bucklyns looked at the Boss, and at each other. It was obvious that this man had never been in the military. Which meant that 'Sir' was not to be used. Richard spoke. "Well, I'm afraid that I have to call you Mr. Smith. Smith, since it's common, and you happen to be the 'master-smith' of this operation, and the 'Mr.' since you are our employer. 'Sir' is for ranking officers. Same goes for the man next to me. Now, why the hell are you trying to get us nabbed by the cops, Mr. Smith?"

Punkin had enjoyed her night out immensely and was up well before seven. A light bgreakfast and she had been in the lobby at th appointed time. However she had been most deispleased when she had been told she was to simply ride off with complete strangers.

"No thank you, I have no intention of being hauled off with no destination known. I'll follow along behind in the vehicle I have. Don't worry, while I may not be a professional driver, a limmo is rather hard to lose, and I can keep up with any speeds the thing can produce."

She didn't wait for a reply but picked up her pair of suitcases and headed for the hotel parking garage. In minutes she was out and following the limmo.

It had taken a near eternity for the train to reach Union Station, Chicago, from Union Station, D.C. Dawn was beginning to break as Peter left the station and found a cafe with WiFi. He sat down, ordered a coffee, and began to exploit the internet's wealth of knowledge for his own benefit. He was determined to head into this situation with his eyes open and seeing what was ahead of him.

What little information he could find, he compiled into what would become a dossier of this exploit. Leaving the cafe, he hailed a cab and went to the Drake Hotel, arriving just in time to be whisked into a Limo by the man with the L on his hat. He looked at the people around him, and wondered what their particular roles would be, but mostly, he focused on his employer, filing away every detail he could into his memory.

"Mr. Smith" scrutinized Richard. "Sir", he said "is often a title of respect...and I might remind you that we are not in the military anymore, but in something just as dangerous. But since you are not and ordinary lackey, but rather someone very important I will tollarate your eccentricities. Another question you should ask yourself is why would I want to get you arrested? I wouldn't have anything on you would I? The area is relitively safe, due to my influence..."
The Limosine pulled-up to the plane. One of the lackies was hasty to open the Limo, and plane door, and Punkin's door. The group moves aboard what appears to be a very nice airliner. "Miss O'Dare, if you'd like money to buy a ticket on your own, I would be happy to offer it to you."
The equipment dealer emerges. "By the way Mr. Bucklyn..." says "Mr. Smith" turing to Richard "not everyone in the military, was in the American military. But if I were, my rank would certainly be superior to your's...."

Peter looked at the comfortable accomodations on the private airliner, before turning back towards his host.

"I don't mean to rush you... Mr. Smith... but would you mind answering a couple questions? The first being, what are we trying to steal, and the second being,, does this plane have a sattelite uplink to the internet?"

"Miss O'Dare, if you'd like money to buy a ticket on your own, I would be happy to offer it to you."

I smile vacantly at him and blow a bubble with the gum I starrted chewing jsut before we got to the private plane "Oh No I'm fine" I keep my eyes wide and innocent "I just needed to get my rental back here to the air port. I'm sure that nice young manwill turning it in for me."

I settle back for the flight, but am far less relaxed than I appear to be.

Wolfgang Wolverstone walks out of the cockpit: "I will supply your gear" he says in a very deep and menacing German accent. "If you will all make up a list of what you will need, I will aquire it for you."
He sat down proceding to sharpen a knife which appered over-sized, even for a bowie knife. He paused a moment, draped his pant leg over his knee-high boot and raked his fingers though his black and blood coloured hair before resuming his attention to his knife.

Something about a good revolver. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but there is something. Sure, I carry a customized M1911 as my carry weapon -- full-sized pistol, but the single-column magazine makes it easy to carry concealed. But...hmm. Revolvers are solid. I like solid.

But, enough of that. I guess I haven't really introduced myself or anything. Big surprise -- I'm not the kind of guy who usually enjoys talking about himself. Still, I guess you might as well know some of it...

My name's Jack Harrison. I'm a cop. A good one. My rank is 'Lieutenant,' but don't try to transfer that to anything beyond level-of-authority and pay-grade. I don't command a department, or a precinct, or anything. I'm a troubleshooter. I'm the one that gets called in when something serious happens.

Before I was a cop, I was a soldier. A bad one. Good killer, bad soldier. Too many morals, not enough nationalism. Bad combination, for what I did. Don't need to get into exactly what that was, though...

Unsurprisingly, I was in SWAT within a few...days...of my joining the force. I eventually figured it'd be fun to diversify. So I did. That's where I am today. Of course, I keep in form. Always pay to be well-rounded, y'know? Yeah.

Now, I live (sortof) and work in Las Vegas. You'd think it'd be a dream job. City of blah-de-blah-de-blah. Hate it. City of 'How can we separate these poor unfortunate tourists from their money, as quickly as possible.' And every so often, some bunch of idiots thinks that it would be a good idea to start a ruckus in my neck of the woods -- something that I most assuredly do not appreciate.

Things have been calm for a while...but I'm getting a feeling, a hunch, that they won't stay that way. Probably another group of idiots who think that they can ignore the law. Happened before...will happen again. Most of 'em find out the hard way...that in this city, you don't, do not, break the law.

Because, in the words of Judge Dredd, 'I AM THE LAW!'

Punkin blinked her baby greens at Tool Man and blew another bubble til it burst. "Ya know, isn't it kinda dangerous to be playing with that big a knife...or is it a substitute for something less impressive." Her tone said she was distinctly unimpressed with his tone. She'd been menaced by better.

Like her current main squeeze but Punkin didn't bother to say anything about him. She merely fiddled with the small ring on her right hand, the one with the tiny shamrock made of emeralds.

"Ah" says the Leader. "Allow me to introduce Mister Wolfgang Wolverstone. Not a very pleasent man to be sure, but at least opinions do not bother him. Don't expect to get many words out of him either.
"Now to answer questions concering our occupation: my plan is to take Caesar's Palace, but there is specific reason. Another group of thieves is planning the same thing. A man who betrayed me once is now working with the owner of the casino. Tobias Wiki is his name, and he is now betraying his new employer. Here's the deal: we secretly 'help' Wiki, and then take his money at the end. Not only that, but were are ALSO robbing an armored transport, the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum which is briefly showing an exhibition of Italian art, and making a brief stop into a certain Rosenburg's antique collection, which is in his privite bedroom. Toby is going to get the wrap for it.
"I have already constructed a set based-off the Caeser's Palace. We will film ourselves there, and override the security camera's at the casino (I will explain later, in fuller detail once we reach Vegas).
"Before 'The Job', the Sugar of the team will aquire little things...a hair off Mr. Wiki's head, and perhaps a fingernail of one of his men...and certain security items. We will then plant these things at the museum, and the armored car.
"These jobs will all take place at around 0100 hours a week from now. They won't be easy, so *the plane lifts-off* you all must take the utmost caution in performing your given tasks...."

David took out his phone, and dialed a number. It was their Joe, the middle man that handled the ability for Mr. Smith to contact them. "Joe, it's Dave. No, everything is fine. I just needed to call you." He looked at Mr. Smith before moving to the back of the plane, but still spoke audibly. "We'll be in Vegas. I, wait, how did you know about Wolverstone?" Dave listened for a moment, then clicked the phone off after a goodbye.


Returning to where Mr. Smith sat, David spoke to their employer. "Our Joe continutes to amaze me. He seems to have really done his homework on you. But as to my brother's question, it was more along the lines of this: Why did you announce to an entire hotel lobby that a group of people could leave their 'tools' behind, and that all would be provided at their destination? Any cop, or untrusting soul, for that matter, with a grain of follow through might take that to mean we're thieves, and that means we might have just left a scent for the hounds." Neither of the brothers were pleased with the morning's events. Now they would have to spend more time looking over their shoulders. Their instincts told them that eyes would be brought to bare, and that meant a good deal more looking over shoulders than usual.

Wolfgang did not respond to her comment, but thought about it as he sharpened his knife: he was not deliberately trying to be menacing, although he enjoyed it. It was just his nataual voice...most people did not like him right off the start becouse of that, but he never really liked anyone off the start himself.
He, at this moment was trying to calculate a load of ways to kill everyone in the plane. He was always trying to calculate dozens of ways to kill everyone he met and knew; it was his past time.

I looked up from my books at the mobster known as Vic. This guy was not built like Aldo and his crew whom were more muscle than brain. I looked at Vic and started to remove the cigar out of my mouth and placed it on the edge of the ashtray.

I look over at my guards and bark my usual command when dealing with the mobsters, “Boys, I want you out of here. I need to discuss private business with our benefactors.” The armed guards at my door got the message and left the area without making any comment. The last guard to leave closed the door behind him to prevent any idiot from stumbling into the office and seeing me and this mobster in the same room.

It was clear the mob had a lot of influence in this place, the guards treated the mobsters with respect and kept out of their business while still hunting down would be thieves and scam artists that would try and steal money from the dealers..


I look at Vic and say, “Okay, We have to get down to business, I called you up here to let you known that Aldo and his boys are out in the town collecting from the dead beats that have failed to make their standard payments with their various interest rates. “

I give Vic a callous grin to inform him of my meaning. It was obvious that Aldo and his men would be roughing up the debtors and that the collection aspect of the operation was being covered by experienced people.

I then sigh and add, “I however, have a job for you my friend. I need someone with intelligence to watch over the operation and deal with any internal problems. I have been in contact with the Boss back east and he has heard rumors that people have been skimming from his cut of the profits.”


I smile and continue with my part of the conversation, “It is inevitable that this would happen, I mean with an operation this large and the fact he keeps his cut off the books. We have to compensate for the greedy collectors and accountants that will take a couple thousand here or there. I have often used my own fortune to help keep his part of the skim up as insurance but this policy is not enough for him. He wants someone to personally watch over these profits. I have thus decided to test you to see if you are the man to do this job.”

I look around and finally conclude, “I have decided to make an example of a certain accountant that has been taking a cut from the Boss’s cut of the operation. This guy has green eyes and is taking profit from the wrong guy. I would normally have Aldo or one of his men do something like this but I want to test you to see if you the potential we need. I need someone with both brains to think things through but also willing to shed some blood to enforce the code of conduct within the organization. I also want this guy to disappear if you catch my meaning…”

I lock eyes on Vic to see if he shows any sign of weakness. If Vic even showed any sign of hesitation to my request. I would have Aldo and his boys watch him to make sure he does not talk about his instructions to anyone outside of this room….





********************************************************************************************




“Mr. Cappaletti, I will pay the money! Please stop this…” and then Carl gurgled as a gloved fist struck his face. The poor skinny man was being held with his hands behind his back by two large burly men wearing black leather jackets. These men were uniformed with the same look of black sunglasses and black boots with slicked back hair.


I watched this pathetic worm take his beating for not having the money for a second time. This idiot had gotten one warning and failed to pay up on the second month. He was now suffering the consequences of crossing Roger Rosenburg and the Maggolzetti crew.

I sigh and say, “Carl, you fucked up bad man, You insulted not only the Casino and Roger Rosenburg but also me. You have failed to pay up on your debts and now you have to pay one way or another.” I grin as my fist clenched again and struck Carl in the stomach and the blood from his face splattered on my tuxedo.

I was not happy about this and began to hit him again and again until his legs gave out and he was released on my command by his captors. Carl lay on the ground cringing in pain from his beating. I reach down into his coat pocket and pull out his wallet which had several twenties inside.

I took the entire amount and whisper into his ear, “Listen up, Carl we have a three strike system. You are on number two and if I have to come down here for a third time. I hope you have a good life insurance plan.”


The weakened excessive gambler started shaking with fear and pain from his beating. I grin and add, “We are also tacking on this beating to your interest. It is now up another ten percent from your last update. I suggest you get a real job and stop messing around with these casinos.”

I look away from this piece of shit and order my boys to their cars. We leave the dark alleyway and head out to our muscle cars located on the side of the street. I watch as the struggling figure of Carl starts to get up from the ground. I personally know he will not go to the cops about this. He would incur our wraith and the poor man did not want to become another dead corpse buried out in the hot desert around Las Vegas…

"Let me assure you gentlemen" says the boss "that there is nothing to worry about my blantant 'tools' remark...."

Chicago: "They acted very suspicious" a woman is in the police department "and said they would have their 'tools' ready in a very unusual way...." "Ma'am" said the officer "are you sure they weren't just trying play a joke on you and act tough?" "In the DRAKE?!!?" she asked. "The leader was dressed extremely well...he didn't look like the joking type." "We Ma'am, describe him for us...."
After the description the policemen looked at each other. "Ma'am, don't worry about it, I wouldn't bother reporting this incident again. Probably a high-paid contruction engineer." "But--" she started. "Goodday Ma'am" the cops showed her out.
"I wonder what-the-hell he's planning this time..." "don't even think about it, just do your...job."

The plane pulled-in just out-side of Vegas. As the group left, they noticed a sign that says "tours" on the plane. Another Limosine pulls-up: "you are probably wondering why we met in Chicago rather then in Vegas itself...all in good time.
"Miss O'Dare, I suppose you'll decline to travel in this as-well?"

I looked up from my books at the mobster known as Vic. This guy was not built like Aldo and his crew whom were more muscle than brain. I looked at Vic and started to remove the cigar out of my mouth and placed it on the edge of the ashtray.

I look over at my guards and bark my usual command when dealing with the mobsters, “Boys, I want you out of here. I need to discuss private business with our benefactors.” The armed guards at my door got the message and left the area without making any comment. The last guard to leave closed the door behind him to prevent any idiot from stumbling into the office and seeing me and this mobster in the same room.

It was clear the mob had a lot of influence in this place, the guards treated the mobsters with respect and kept out of their business while still hunting down would be thieves and scam artists that would try and steal money from the dealers..


I look at Vic and say, “Okay, We have to get down to business, I called you up here to let you known that Aldo and his boys are out in the town collecting from the dead beats that have failed to make their standard payments with their various interest rates. “

I give Vic a callous grin to inform him of my meaning. It was obvious that Aldo and his men would be roughing up the debtors and that the collection aspect of the operation was being covered by experienced people.

I then sigh and add, “I however, have a job for you my friend. I need someone with intelligence to watch over the operation and deal with any internal problems. I have been in contact with the Boss back east and he has heard rumors that people have been skimming from his cut of the profits.”


I smile and continue with my part of the conversation, “It is inevitable that this would happen, I mean with an operation this large and the fact he keeps his cut off the books. We have to compensate for the greedy collectors and accountants that will take a couple thousand here or there. I have often used my own fortune to help keep his part of the skim up as insurance but this policy is not enough for him. He wants someone to personally watch over these profits. I have thus decided to test you to see if you are the man to do this job.”

I look around and finally conclude, “I have decided to make an example of a certain accountant that has been taking a cut from the Boss’s cut of the operation. This guy has green eyes and is taking profit from the wrong guy. I would normally have Aldo or one of his men do something like this but I want to test you to see if you the potential we need. I need someone with both brains to think things through but also willing to shed some blood to enforce the code of conduct within the organization. I also want this guy to disappear if you catch my meaning…”

I lock eyes on Vic to see if he shows any sign of weakness. If Vic even showed any sign of hesitation to my request. I would have Aldo and his boys watch him to make sure he does not talk about his instructions to anyone outside of this room….…

I sat there patiently smoking my cigar,calm, cool, once the order had been given for Rosenburg's guards to leave the room he began to speak. As i sat there and listned i nodded my head slowly showing i understood what he was telling me, i knew this was a test for bigger things to come. Rosenburg relyed on Aldo and his crew to usually take care of this kinda stuff, it suprized me that he wanted my assistance when he just could have waited but this was my chance to shine,

I gave him a sinister smile and replyed immeaditly once he had finished...

"Not a problem boss, as for this accountant...you want him off'd? any specific way that comes tp mind?"

I asked this question because in this line of work you could never jump to your own conclusions, people wanted different things done different ways...usually in Jersey it was a bullet through the head then you got dumped in the river..but out here things were different...

I sat there maintaining my grin staring into the eyes of Rosenburg not showing any signs of weakness...this was my job and i was good at it. I thought back to the first few fella's i had roughed up or killed, in this line of work you knew it's what had to be done so you didn't ask questions when it came time to do it, taking care of people who caused problems for my superiors could and would not be tolerated...the people i took care of usually had it commin' to them anyways, most earned it...

One thing i would never do is murder an innocent person, i may be alot of things but i an't no murderer...those who deserve it..who gives a fuck right? not me...i just speed the process up on pieces of shit like that accountant, no respect for the people he's stealing from? what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

I took a haul off my cigar then let the smoke come out of my mouth slowly comming back to reality....

umm bump:headbang:

Everyone notices that Wolfgang wears a Star of David pendent around his neck, all ten fingers have valuble rings with the Star of David on them, and his hands have the Star of David burned, and cut into them by what looked like a hot knife.
On the way to the limo, Wolfgang bumps into Punkin, and steps on her foot.

As Wolfgang sits down he lights a cigerette with this. http://www.zippo-collector.com/Toledos/images/Star%20of%20David.jpg

Miss O'Dare, I suppose you'll decline to travel in this as-well?"

I bat my lashes at my potential employeer "Oh not not at laa. It looks just wonderful."

When Wolfgang stepped on her foot, she looked at him, smirked and announced aloud " No need to act like a kindergarten kiddy on the play ground If you like me just say so."

She slid into the limmo and sat next to Wolfgang, and asked "Don't you get tired of making such a big production of it all? I mean the german accent, the bling so very retro Liberace and Sammy Davis that, and all the Mogen Dovid" Her normallsy soft southern accent suddenly vanished on the last two words, becoming very New York Jewish accent then returned fluidly to what it had been before "either you are ridiculing a people or ..."

Punkin let her voice trail off. She wasn't the least bit afraid of the man she sat next to, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out if they were reminders of his racism. She had been very glad when Michael had dropped out of the AB.

Miss O'Dare, I suppose you'll decline to travel in this as-well?"

I bat my lashes at my potential employeer "Oh not not at all. It looks just wonderful."

When Wolfgang stepped on her foot, she looked at him, smirked and announced aloud " No need to act like a kindergarten kiddy on the play ground. If you like me just say so."

She slid into the limmo and sat next to Wolfgang, and asked "Don't you get tired of making such a big production of it all? I mean the german accent, the bling so very retro Liberace and Sammy Davis that, and all the Mogen Dovid" Her normally soft southern accent suddenly vanished on the last two words, becoming a very 'New York Jewish' accent then returned fluidly to what it had been before "either you are ridiculing a people or ..."

Punkin let her voice trail off. She wasn't the least bit afraid of the man she sat next to, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out if they were reminders of his racism. She had been very glad when Michael had dropped out of the AB.

Wolfgang glares a moment.
"The pitches which eminate from my vocal cords, and escape the apature in my face is not due to me decision. I find it appaling that you are so-quick to pounce upon me verbally, like a hound on a chicken due to these simple bodily fuctions, which like most humans, I harness as a means of communication. Perhaps you should reconsider your method of interperting behaviour, and thus responding so hostle.
"For instance: although I am disturbed by your actions, and I find your features repulsive, your blood would adorn a wall admirably, and I find no-shame in pointing this-out, revealing I don't determine you by your...*he scrutinizes Punkin*...obvious disabilities...."

The car comes to a halt, and men open the door. Boss steps-out and hands a twenty to each of the men.
"This way please, gentlepeople" he says walking inside a house on the edge of town. "We have comfertable accomadations for you all, and I have I computer for our expert in such matters. Anything else that you need, apply to Mister *he pauses uncomfertably* Wolverstone.
"My men will be here briefly with the plans of our operation. In the mean-while, enjoy yourselves...."

*...obvious disabilities...."

Punkin threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Oh be still my pounding heart. A man who knows things for what they are. It might just be true love!" She knew, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what had cued her off, Mr. Wolverstone was no more a native German speaker than she was a native Faro speaker.

"Don't worry darlink, you secret is safe with me" She patted his hand gently, as she slid from the limmo and with stately grace rose to her full six foot three height. "And Mister Wolverstone when I am hostile believe me you will know it."

She turned away and surveyed the McMansion, hands on hips and shook her head. "Just like every other place in this too damn many people town. Give me the wonderful edifice Orson Wells built any day."