NationStates Jolt Archive

<HMP Exmouth, Maximum Security Prison>

Thunder rolled outside, and rain lashed at the windows of the truck as it pulled up to the guard post. The driver leaned out of the side window, holding up official Prison Service papers to the window of the guards hut, and they waved him through to a large secure compound where the vehicle search would be carried out. As the truck pulled off, a black figure dropped from the side and darted into cover behind the door to the guard house.

He tested the handle, and, finding it unlocked, stepped inside. The guard sat watching a football match on the television, completely unaware of anything occuring behind him. The only hint he got that something was wrong was the moment the round entered his head at the base of his spine, blowing off most of the front of his face. With that, the assassin turned and fired another round into the second guard as he came out of the toilet. A third was awoken by the noise, and rushed out only to have his throat cut as he opened the door. With the first part of his mission complete, the black suited man changed into a clean guards uniform, and sat on the desk, as if nothing had happened.


Meanwhile, the truck pulled into the search area, and under the watchful eyes of two armed guards, a search crew began to climb in through the back of the vehicle. In seconds, both members of the crew came back out of the truck, blood spurting from bullet holes in their chests. Before the armed guards could open fire, the driver shot them both dead.

A team of eight armed men left the truck and entered the prison, shooting down any guards they found. They blasted through the guards area, leaving a trail of carnage and mutilated bodies behind them. The reached the maximum security wing, annihilating another guard room. One member of the team lobbed a ten pound high-explosive charge covered in ball-bearings and nails into the middle of the control room, slamming the door shut after him. A loud explosion muffled the shouts of the men inside, and the team burst in, mercilessly killing off any survivors.

One of the only surviving consoles showed the celss and their occupants. The team leader ran a finger down a list of inmates, finding one name, checking the screen, and rushing off to find that cell. The blood-stained finger left a mark on the list next to the name 'Christopher "Butcher" Mullins'.

Currently serving a hundred and fifty consecutive life sentences for murder and organized crime, Mullins was McLeod03s most prolific criminal. The camera covering his cell showed a long-haired man sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, as if meditating. two guards burst into his cell, alerted by the sudden explosion, and determined that Mullins would not be freed. Each carried a baton and a sidearm. As they closed in, batons drawn, Mullins made his move. He drove a spring snapped from his bed through the temple of one guard, using the guards own sidearm to kill his partner. It took only seconds, and two men were dead, two wives widowed, two families put into mourning. And this was only the beginning.

The team arrived, gunning down yet more guards, who were completely unprepared for the assualt. The leader drew a long knife, decapitating one guard who rushed out of a side room, before driving it up to the hilt in the neck of another. Blood soaked the corridor as the commandos rushed to Mullins cell.

Mullins was sat back on his bed again, the two guards bodies illuminated by a flash of lightning. The team leader stepped over both bodies before ripping off the mask and combat helmet that had been protecting the team. Long brown hair was tied back into a pony tail, and the womans face showed her happiness at seeing Mullins again.

"Now thats a sight for sore eyes" said Mullins, rising from his bed "Come on, lets roll." He kissed the woman gently, and then, picking up a guards firearm, began to run down the wing past the other cell, followed by the jailbreakers. Pausing at the end, he opened the other cells, and seven of McLeod03s most dangerous and violent criminals were released into the night, whooping with joy. Back out front, Mullins and his team, plus the killer in the guard house, sped off into the night, heading north towards Yorktown, Mullins old stomping ground.


OOC: Right, so after that introduction, here's a quick explanation. Basically, eight of my countries most dangerous men and women are now free from prison and heading towards Yorktown. If you want to join in, pick one of the seven, make up a character for them, and head for Yorktown.

Basically, I'm hoping to evolve this into a massive crime RP, with eight major gangs battling for control of a city. Any weapons you get will be black market, nothing modern and military unless you really think your government would support a foreign criminal gang. Small numbers, urban warfare, carbombs, bank robberies etc.

Whilst set in an NS country, this will not use your countries stats, so any country who actually wants to RP is welcome to join. Any godmodding or flaming will get you ignored, and I will ask the Mods to remove your posts from this thread. If it takes off, I will create an OOC thread for this as well.

MEMBERS -

Christopher Mullins - McLeod03
Police Force - McLeod03

Aaron Dilloway - Hot Hot Hate
Unknown character - Guffingford
Unknown character - Anarchy 92
Dio - Deathsquad 19
Dakarus - Khwarezmia
Natalie Rowan - The Emperor Fenix
Unknown character - ???????


Comments and questions welcomed.

OOC: Let me get this straight, each of the 8 criminals has their own gang?

*tag* I'll write a post in a little while.

OOC: At the moment, each of the eight has precisely squat. The idea is, they muscle their way back into the crime scene. All of them once had a gang, maybe not huge, but they had one. They got locked away, and now they've been released. Each character can attempt to create a new gang using old contacts, or can try to take over an existing gang.

There will, of course, be a ninth "gang", the Police, but I will attempt to moderate their responses until things start really hotting up. If, of course, they ever do.

OOC: Got it. The 'form a gang' thing was sort of what I meant. Here we go.

IC: After being sprung from jail, Aaron Dilloway decided to head back to Yorktown. He had quite a few contacts there at the time he was put in jail, but he suspected that most of the less intelligent ones had been jailed themselves. However, he knew a few that wouldn't have allowed that to happen to them. One of those was a man named Morgan Henderson, and he was someone Dilloway had immense trust in.

At around midnight, Henderson was watching television on his couch when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find Dilloway standing out in the rain. His eyes opened wide. "Holy hell, Aaron, get in here!" As he walked in, Dilloway responded, "Nice to see you too, Morgan."

After relating the jailbreak story, he finished, "I have a feeling things are going to get pretty crazy around here, with all of them, and me, of course, getting out of jail." Morgan walked to a closet down the hall, and came back lugging a heavy briefcase. "Well, then it's a good thing I kept these..."

I'd love to get in on this... I'll come back later

The battered truck screeched to a halt outside an abandoned warehouse sat on the dockfront. Huge container ships filled the artificial harbours, and warehouses stretched as far as the eye could see. Mullins leapt out of the truck, follwoed by his commandos, and wrenched open the doors, allowing the truck to enter. This city had almost been his once. It was time to make it his, and this time, nobody was going to stop him.

He pulled a cell phone from his belt and started making phone calls. After nearly an hour of constant phone calls, he hung up the phone and walked into an office in the old building. Lifting up the old carpet, he spotted the trapdoor immediately. Inside, a set of narrow steps led down into a cellar, lit by a few strip lights, none of which worked yet. In the background, he heard a generator turn over, then start, and the lights below him turned on. Clambering down the ladder, he entered his old hide out. Racks of equipment were coated in a fine layer of dust, and his bedroom was in the same state as when he had left it five years earlier.

After a quick shower and a shave, he walked back into the bedroom and changed into some decent clothes. A slightly old Armani suit, black shoes, and a black tie. Looking in the mirror, adjusting his tie, he winked at himself before heading back into the warehouse. In the middle of one side room, his commandos had set up a trestle table. Around the table sat his old gang, twelve men who had wreaked havoc amongst the police force back in the day. But there were now just over twenty of them. More were needed, and fast.

It took Mullins just ten minutes to persuade his old accomplices to help him out once more. From this warehouse they would launch their bid to take over Yorktown, and then he could get his revenge on those who betrayed him before. Each of the members of his new gang would start contacting people who were trustworthy, and attempt to gain some support for Mullins amongst the underworld of crime.

'Soon', he thought, 'Very soon'.

Tag! Count me in.

Dio stepped out of the old car and entered his cousins cafe
"Ryan, Its nice to see you again." He said in a calm voice,

"Well if it aint Dio!" Ryan said, Giving him a hug.

"We need to get the old crew back together, You still in weapons biz?" he said, seriouslly.

"Ya actually I am, And as for the crew.... Johny died Dio, You know that right?"

"Ya, But theres still Tony, Bruno, George, Charly and Danny and they can get guys, Guys we can trust"

"Well, If you say so.... Count me in, Its the least i can do"
Ryan smiled, And Dio did the same

Ryan took Dio to the back room, And unlocked a closet door, It was large and with wooden crates.

"Take a look Dio, Its got some pretty handy things in there..."


Dio opened a crate, It had 10 Micro-Uzi's, And ammunition. Dio smiled as he opened another, It was a mixture of handguns.

"These are pretty nice..." Dio said, Staring at the weapons.

"Go ahead, Open 'em all ! Its what family is for"

He opened another one, Inside there were 5 AK-47's

Dio looked at Ryan and said, "How much for them all?"
Ryan looked Dio in the eyes, and said "Well... You take them all, It comes out to 4,000 bucks" he laughed, "Nah, Im only kiddin', Since its for you its free!"

Ryan handed Dio a cordless phone, And the numbers to his old crew. He talked to each and everyone of them, Like befor they were all down to do anything.

OOC: This looks sweet. Mind if I join?

IC:
In a cellar somewhere near Yorktown, two men and woman sat around a table, smoke hovered in the halo of light from a single lightbulb. One of them coughed, and cursed under his breath.

"Your hand Fingers." said the biggest man.

Suddenly the door to the room slammed. The three figures had their pistols pointing at the stairs in a split second.

"Too slow, way to slow." said someone from behind them. The owner of the voice moved into the light. He had several days worth of stubble on his cheeks, and his hair was matted. He wore muddy prison overalls, with stains of unkown origin across them.

"Dakarus? You have returned." growled the biggest of the men.

"Indeed, Zak. Looks like you've been waiting, done much while I've been away?"

The woman piped up. "No, our last job was nearly a year and a half ago. Since then we've been sitting on our arses down here."

"Right, well, it's time we began again."

"Like old times?" asked the other man.

"No, Fingers, better than old times." replied Dakarus, "Time for us to make real name for ourselves. We can start now. Zak, you can quit smoking, ****ing filthy habit. Have we still got the pee-shooters?"

The three nodded.

"They'll do until we get some money for some real guns."

Bump

OOC: No one else interested?

<Mullins' Warehouse, Yorktown Docks>

Mullins stood in the middle of the warhouse. In front of him were a ragtag bunch of vehicles, and his 'gang'. Fourty of the biggest, baddest low-lifes he had ever seen. Not one of them had any form of useful talents, for those, he'd have to rely on his own experts.

"Alright boys. It's time. If we wanna rule this town, we're gonna need some serious dough" he said, facing the group "So whilst some of you run interference, we're gonna hit the National on McLeodia Road. You all know the plan, so lets get out there and pull this one off."

With that, armed thugs began climbing into vehicles and leaving the warehouse. Eventually, Mullins and a hand-picked few remained. He led them through the office, down the staircase, and into an armoury. "Now then, there ain't much here, but take what you can carry, and grab some of those armour vests too. We'll need 'em" Each man grabbed a primary weapon, a sidearm, and a bullet-proof vest, recently liberated from the Exmouth prison guards.

As the headed back to their van, Mullins surveyed the group. All youngsters, they had a look in their eye. These people would kill you just as soon as kiss you, he decided. Perhaps one or two of them would learn, but the rest wouldn't get far. Not if he could help it, anyway. He checked his gun, then stepped into the van seconds before it drove off, heading for downtown Yorktown.


<Outside City Hall>

Commisioner James Halberd stepped off the last step of the marble building. The sun shone, but even that couldn't lift his mood. 'Idiots' he thought, angry that his latest attempt to increase his organised crimes budget had been turned down. They'd learn soon enough though, that crime wasn't as non-existant as they thought. His eyes scanned the street, as they had done all those years ago when he had been a beat policeman. A bunch of schoolchildren were standing outside the City Hall, their teacher trying to tell them about the history of this building, and the part it played in the Morrisons revolt.

He smiled, recognising his next door neighbours kid, Tommy. It was then that he saw the dark saloon, with blacked out windows. As it approached, it seemed to be slowing down. Halberd didn't think much of it. He turned and began to walk towards his car and its driver. it was this act that kileld him. The two gunmen in the saloon opened fire, two lines of sub-machinegun fire racing up the pavement, cutting through the 62-year old, spraying the group of schoolchildren with shards of stone and a spray of blood. The saloon sped off before anyone could respond, and was lost in the rush hour traffic.

I WILL JOIN IN!!

Venchenzo Mafia Family:

Leader:Don Luigi VenChenzo
Right Hand Man: Tommy Venchenzo, the Don's son

The Venchenzo Family Mafia is involved in much of the crime in the city. High ranking Goverment officials are on their payroll, Police investigators and detectives don't see anything accept when a payment is missed. Many clubs and buisnesses as well as stocks and bonds are owned by the Don, Gangs in other parts of the city are starting to get greedy. The Venchenzo Family don't like anyone having more than them...when it comes to anything.


WEPONS IN ARSSONAL:

M16'
Glock
H&K
Colt
Smith & Weston
Berretta

I hope i can join in! :) upon aproval..i will post....

OOC:

Try again when you have some RP experience. And try reading the post. You have nothing, the idea is that you build up from nothing. Not a family who are convieniently placed and blah-de-blah. So for now, no.

OOC: sorry to bust your bubble but i do have Rp experiance...i used to have nations such as Baccardi,New Germania. I just got back from Oregon and had to start a new nation...i have been Rp'ing for some years now...i have a friend that will vouch for me...Imitora..we have been Rp'ing for a long time togeather...all you had to do is inform me of the situation....please let me try again??

Regards

OOC: BTW, Khwarezmia, the fact that you have a link to a picture of a pasty is just hilarious.

IC: As Morgan opened the briefcase, Aaron Dilloway smiled to see three Glock 32C .357 pistols, his personal favorite for just about any purpose. His face darkened, and he remarked, "Thanks for keeping 'em around, but we're going to need more than this. Any idea if Brian's still up for this?"

Morgan thought for a second, then answered with, "Haven't been in contact with him in a while. Last I heard, he was talking about getting out of these kinds of things. You know, starting up a business, that sort of thing. Brian would never move, so he probably still lives at the same place. Let's go."

Brian Gibson lived in a small, one story house. It had an attic, but he hadn't been up there in over a year. Too many things he wanted to ignore right now. He was having a cup of coffee when his doorbell rang. He answered it, and when he saw the two men standing there, his heartbeat quickened. "Aaron, Morgan, what are you doing here?" he gasped. "Can we come in, old friend?", asked Aaron. He showed them in, and nervously offered them some coffee.

After hearing Dilloway's story, and Morgan telling him they were getting back into crime, he said, "I don't know guys, my restaurant is going well right now, and I'm not sure I want to get right back into this stuff." "What did I tell you?" Morgan remarked. "Listen," Aaron said. "I know it would be hard for you to get back to what we used to do, so I won't ask you for much. How about you stay with the whole restaurant bit, and just give us a bit of cash here and there. That would help us out a lot." "Sure, yeah, I could do that." Gibson said. "Thanks. you still got the old stuff up in that attic of yours?" asked Henderson.

OOC: Pasty, eh eh, :D
IC:
The Manager of on of the many Yorktown banks was just closing up for the night, he was the last there, the rest of the staff had left for the night. He was about to punch in the eight digit code to activate the alarm system when a woman ran up to the large bullet proof glass doors and hammered on the window.

The Manager shook his head and told her that the bank was closed. She didn't seem to hear and countinued hammering on the doors. He sighed and went over to the door, unlocked it and opened it slightly.

"Listen Lady we're clos-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, the woman had pulled a knife out and embedded it in his chest. She pushed him away and opened the door, holding it for three other men who had waited out of sight.

They quickly shifted the body out of site and locked the doors. The group's leader quickly barked out orders.

"Fingers, get the surveillance tapes, Zak, make sure there's no late workers upstairs, Jazz come with me."

The woman followed the leader into the back room.

Zak returned from upstairs. Of course there hadn't been anyone upstairs, but it was worth being careful. Fingers stood on a desk and chair he had shifted, and was using a hammer and chisel to break off the bullet-proof dome protecting the camera. There was evidence of the man's work in the room already, he was a fast worker.

"Okay Fingers?" Zak was edgy, adrenaline pumping through him, but he was happy to be back on a job.

"Roger Zak, Dakarus may need a hand, I think." replied the man, as one final tap ripped the dome off the wall and sent it skittering off the floor, scattering plaster and concrete over him. He worked quickly, examining the camera and pulling the tape out. Old model, he thought, still got tapes in.

The safe door was similarly old, the bank had grown complacent. The decoder, one of Jazz and Finger's finest pieces of handiwork, had the 6 digit code unlocked in five minutes. There was perhaps a little bit of luck involved too.

The door swung open, slowly, and quite majestically, until Zak impatiently pushed it. Inside there were bags of cash. The trio set to work quickly, getting bin bags out and filling them up.

"Fingers? You done?" shouted Dakarus.

"Ham and Jam, Dakarus."

"Right, pack up and get ready to go."

"Roger that."

"Why does he talk like that?" Dakarus asked the two in the safe.

"He's been watching too many old war films." replied Jazz.

A minute later they carried the bags into the main entrance. Fingers quickly ran out opening the van doors then started the engines. The other three quickly followed, carrying two bags each. Dakarus paused before he left, leaving a little folded card on the floor of the bank.

With our regards,
Dakarus, Zak, Fingers and Jazz.

They dumped the van a mile out of town and torched it. In little over ten minutes the four of them had got in and out, with the only clue of their identity, being a folded card with a Mockingbird on it.

<National Bank, Yorktown Branch>

The black van slid gently to a halt outside the National bank. An imposing structure, it dominated downtown Yorktown completely, and its vaults were thought to hold billions in gold bullion. But that would cause too much heat to take yet, and Mullins' gang wasn't ready for RPU involvement just yet.

So the thing was planned as your everyday bank heist. Go in, shoot a few rounds at the ceiling, fill up some bags, and leg it before the cops arrive. Most of the police were too busy responding to other shootings and the death of the Commissioner anyway. Someone had already hit one bank down the street during the night, taking most of the attention away from this bank.

Mullins calmy walked into the bank, followed by two of the new guys. The others walked in another door further down teh bank, effectively covering the other end of the building. The last two members sat outside in the van, waiting for a quick getaway. The men behind him were nervous, he could sense it. But this was easy, he'd done it a hundred times before.

"Alright everybody. I'm you'r enew finincial advisor" he said loudly, so everyone could hear. Silence followed. "And I advise you to put all your money and valuables into the bags my associates here are holding, or I'll take 'em of fyour cold dead bodies." The men behind him stepped out, pulling side-arms and sawn-off shotguns out of their jackets. Mullins himself cradled an old M-4 carbine he'd modified by shortening the barrel, removing the carry handle and scope, and cutting off the butt. Inaccurate, but still deadly. A few women screamed, but a waving of a gun in thier direction soon shut them up.

At the other end of the bank, Jones, one of the new guys, was filling up bags of money from the customers, and two more guys were 'persuading' the tellers to fill yet more bags.

"Twenty seconds!" One member of the team called out, and the bank robbers began closing bags and running towards the doors. Mullins waited until they had all left, drew a butchers knife with a red ribbon tied round the handle, and drove it into a wooden desk, before shooting out the surveillance camera, and running out the door. Just eight minutes, and he was thousands of pounds richer. In the distance, he could hear a faint wail of police cars, but as soon as the van pulled off, they began a series of tight turns and switching vehicles. No trace of the robbery was every found.

[Place possibly reserved pending ideas formation]

BUMP for any last applicants....

"Ok, Since were pretty much low on cash, Heres the plan." He said, Motioning them to come closer.
"Theres a bank on, Boomshakalaka(lol, sorry im brain dead right now" Street, us 5 and 2 more, Get armed, Then we head out to the bank" They nodded,

"Its a time vault" Dio said,"Being late isnt tolerated so, Well leave early get there and check it out..."

The crew got into the van, 7 of them in all, They took the long route, So they wouldnt be seen as much. Once they arrived, Dio said to the driver "In 10 minutes be at this door!" And patted him on the shoulder, They put on black skee-mask's and walked in, Dio pointed the gun at the guard, And said "Put it down.." The guard, Dropped the gun and then hit the floor like everyone else, "Its time! Vaults open!" one of Dio's crew said, The same man put a gun to the tellers bag and yelled in her face, "OPEN THAT DAMN VAULT!"

The teller was in fear and opened it as 3 men went in and began putting the money in bags, While the rest where getting money from the customers and employees, The 3 men came out of the vault, "Lets go!" Dio said,

"Its time." Dio said, Taking a deep breath as he and the rest of the crew ran out of the door, Jumping in the van.

Dilloway and Henderson left Gibson's house with three Kevlar vests and another Glock .357. They thanked him for his help, dropped the stuff off at Morgan's place, then decided to get in touch with Justin Pearson, another man from their past. He was one who'd never have left the scene, and he'd have valuable information.

Aaron and Morgan walked into a two-story building on the outskirts of Yorktown, the first floor of which was an antique store run by Pearson's girlfriend. She looked up from behind the counter, and was halfway through asking if she could help them find something, when she exclaimed, "Aaron! Morgan! Holy shit, it's been a while." Aaron smiled, and Morgan responded, "Sure has, Aubrey. Justin around?" "Sure, go on upstairs," she said.

Pearson's "office" was a mess, with newspapers scattered around the place. He sat reading one in an armchair, and looked up as he heard footsteps. He grinned when he saw the two men who were standing there. "Don't tell me a story, let's get back to business, eh?" He walked to his desk and pulled out a 20-gauge shotgun. "Slow down there, turbo." said Aaron. "Bring that thing back to Morgan's place with us, yeah? We'll talk things over, get some planning done."

Street lights cast eerie shadows within an abandoned warehouse. The building was full of empty cargo crates, rusting away as they waited to be shipped out. The silence was broken by the sound of a car, it screeched into to the warehouse, stopping abruptly in front of a crate.

“Fingers your drivign doesn’t get any better.” said Dakarus,

“You wanted in and out.” the driver replied.

Three people got out of the car, one sprinted for the side of the warehouse, looking for a ladder. Her light steps and gait identified her as a woman. The two others, both men, disappeared into the maze of crates.

“Third from the left, five crates in.” said Dakarus under his breath.

They moved slowly, checking for ambush around every corner. They only had pistols at that point, but soon they would be equipped with body armour, ammunition, grenades, two shotguns, a couple of uzis, and three assault rifles, as well as some other equipment. The rest of the money was going to a PC for Jazz, her first job was a hacker.

The switch was a simple one. Dakarus had done deals with this man before. He left the weapons at a preordained point, and Dakarus would leave the money. If Dakarus died, or the guns weren’t there, no money. When he had the guns, he would ring up the dealer and tell him the whereabouts of the money; no funny business, Dakarus knew better than to mess with him.

They came to the crate and Dakarus slowly opened the door, three crates were inside.

“Right, lets go.” he said. They picked one up in a shared the third.

They were half-way to the car when three shots rang out, then the deeper boom of Jazz’s pistol. Even after five years in prison, he still knew the sound of the cop’s pistols. The pair quicken their pace, casting furtive glances around. More shooting followed, there was a sound of other weapons. New cop guns? Then Dakarus remembered, the dealer didn’t want him dead, or he’d get no money.

The pair with the weapon crates broke cover, and practically ran into the car throwing the crates in. Jazz appeared, firing her pistol.

“Let’s go!” shouted Dakarus over the din of the fire-fight, a single round dinked off the car bumper, then stopping as a policeman fell from the gantry.

The car skidded from the warehouse, accelerating away. In the car, Dakarus dialled in a number into his phone.

<Police Headquarters, Yorktown>

"Officer Down, Officer Down. Suspects escaping in a car. Requesting airborne surveillance. Consider suspects armed and extremely dangerous. I also need an ambulance at a warehouse in the Docks... Er, its the old Liberty Shipping Warehouse." the radio blared, prompting an urgent response from anyPolice units in the vicinity. Within minutes, a helicopter was searching for the car, and five patrol cars were sweeping the docks looking for them.


<Mullins' Warehouse, the other side of the Docks>

Mullins watched as the Police helicopter's searchlight swept a pattern across the Docklands, pausing occasionally before carrying on. They were looking for someone, he thought, and that meant someone else was up to no good in this city. Judging from the heavy Police presence, they'd shot a cop, andgotten away with it.

Mullins turned back suddenly as a car screeched to a halt inside his own warehouse. The rear windscreen was crazed and shattered, and bullet holes covered the side of it. The driver was one of the new guys, Jones. He leapt out, pulled open the back door, and started dragging another man out of the back seats. Mullins could see the blood from here. Running over to the car, he pushed Jones aside and looked at the car and the wounded man.

"What the fuck happened here?" he shouted

"We were getting gas, an' started to drive off when an armoured van pulled up. So we run up to the van, pull guns, and tell 'em to open the van up. Next thing I know, some rent-a-cop starts shooting at us, and Joey goes down. I got him in the car, and headed back here" Jones replied, smiling.

"You think this is god-damn funny?" Mullins said, pushing Jones in the chest "You realise you could have been followed. You fuck up, don't fucking bring your problems back here." With that, he drew a black painted .45 SOCOM pistol from his belt, and put a round through Joey's forehead, covering the inside of the car with chunks of brain and bone. Then he grabbed Jones, threw him in on top of Joey's headless corpse, and fired the rest of the magazine into Jones's body. The noise was deafening, and it wasn't until the smoke cleared, and the last shell casing had stopped rolling about on the floor, that Mullins spoke again.

"You make a mistake, you pay for it." he said, looking round at the people gathered behind him. Blood stains covered his suit, and he simply lowered the gun, tunred around and started walking off, nodding at two of the old gang members. They wheeled the car out front, and simply pushed it into the docks after making sure the cops over the river were looking the other way.

"Looks like we got company." said Jazz from the back of the car.

"What kind?" asked Dakarus.

"Airborne."

Zak swore, and the road in front of them disappeared into darkness, Fingers headed straight for the nearest high-sided building he could see. They were lucky, a multi-storey car park was close by, supplying the customers of a large shopping centre that took advantage of the proximity of the dock. It was closed and the barrier was down, but Fingers drove straight through it.

They skidded to a halt inside the carpark and jumped out, they grabbed the crates and opened them, quickly donning the armour and slinging the weapons over their shoulder, the rest went into their backpacks.

Before they left, Dakarus selected a grenade and took some wire, he tied one end to the door and lodged it firmly under the seat tying the other end to the pin.

The four of them made for the entrance to the shopping centre, they needed something to conceal their gear until they could find another car. Four headvily armed and armoured people running through the suburbs of Yorktown was going to aroue some suspicion.

The helicopter hovered above the car park, illuminating any exits with its spotlight. Patrol cars roared into the car park, screaming to a halt to block any attempts the car might make to exit. After some calls to come out, two officers approach, covered by their partners with shotguns. One reaches for the door, yanking it open. Seeing it empty, she turned to call out the car was clear when the grenade detonated, shredding her body and the side of her face with fragments of grenade and seat. The other officer was hit by the door as it flew off its hinges, and went down, his neck broken, blood streaming from his eyes, nose, and ears.

The detonation of the fuel tank seconds later put the female officer out of her misery, and the overpressure deafened the two remaining officers. One of them, the partner of the female officer who he had recently been dating, took his own life. The other drifted off into unconciousness, the darkness embracing him and removing the pain.

Meanwhile, store security guards spotted the four criminals with their weapons and body armour, immediately hitting the alarms, and breaking out their own weapons and armour.

The group didn't react to the muffled explosion except hasten onwards. They kept their eyes open for suitcases or the like to put their equipment in. Then the store alarm began bleating.

"Shit." said Dakarus simply. He looked for a fire exit

He saw one and sprinted for it, the others followed. It was a long corridor. Suddenly a door opened and a Security Guard appeared with a shotgun. Dakarus' mind was in over-drive, possible hostage? No, the Police would want blood. It was too late anyway, Zak had fired his shotgun, the main spread of shot had transferred the better part of the Guard's head onto the door. Dakarus reached the door, seeing another guard strapping on his armour, he looked horrified, it stayed with him, as a spray of rounds from Dakarus threw him to the floor, broken.

The phone was ringing.

Dakarus picked it up.

"Hello, Yorktown Mall Security." he spoked calmly.

"This is the Yorktown Police Department, have four heavily armed persons entered the Mall?"

"Yes, they left through the east fire exit."

"Why didn't you ring us?"

"We were just about to."

"Right, bye."

Dakarus put the phone down. They quickly made for the west fire exit, in the opposite direction.

"I want to rob something," Pearson whined. "Well, we don't have too much ammo right now, so we need at least a little bit more cash than Gibson can give us at the moment," Dilloway commented. Henderson cut in, "Well, then what are we waiting for?"

Dilloway and Henderson walked in the front door of jewelry store on 7th Street, both wearing baseball caps pulled down over their eyes. "Hello ma'am, nice day isn't it?" remarked Henderson. The woman behind the counter seemed to relax a little bit. "I'm looking for something for my wife's birthday," Dilloway said as he pulled one of his Glocks. "A bunch of cash, to be specific. Now give us what you've got. Make it quick, and don't even try to call anyone."

As the woman, under the guard of Henderson, filled two bags with cash, Dilloway went to open the back door, which led to an alley where Pearson had been waiting. Wearing a ski mask, he inquired, "Everything smooth?"

Dilloway was about to answer when they heard Henderson yell, "Bitch!" A scream, silenced by a shot from Henderson's Glock, followed. Henderson burst out the back door, holding the money and his gun. "The bitch pulled an alarm. Cops are out front." As the three ran to their car, Pearson squeezed off a shot from his 20-gauge at the police coming through the front door. There was much yelling as the car started up and drove off, heading for a tunnel.