Seven Deadly Sins IC (SDS)

[Heretic209]

Seven Deadly Sins
A Crime RP Set in the L.A. Underworld


[Notice: Not entirely finished with the title post... But its up! So feel free to start! ]

Located in the criminal underworld of Los Angeles, there is a group of men and women. They are powerful, they are influential, and they are relentless. They belong to a criminal organization called "The Seven Deadly Sins", world class criminals who work and exist in the shadows. They are art theifs, hit men, forgers, computer hackers, and so much more. If a person high up in the social chain needs something done outside of the law, these are the first people that come to mind. At the head of this organization is Desmond Burke, an influential and well known Irish born criminal. He has pulled off some of the most intricate con jobs within the US and Europe.
Originally formed in Brooklyn, New York, the group was lesser known and took contracts from the local mobs. They would silence those who needed to be silenced, and get rid of evidence that could put important people behind bars. They got too big, too showy, too open about who they worked for. That resulted in a bloody chain of events that only left Desmond standing. After this, Desmond realized his mistakes. He relocated to LA, and returned to the shadows where they belonged.
Three years later, and the Seven Deadly Sins have grown in power. They don't live in the shadows anymore. They control the shadows, and everyone in it.

The Sins:

Name: Lawrence Uric(Eric) Samuel Twist
Age: 25
Appearance:

Personality: Lawrence is just dripping with sexuality, and he knows it. He is very sarcastic, but charming, smooth, suave, and just about everything else that a woman fantasizes about. He can adapt to situations well, being able to seduce and play his way out of any situation. He is also quite the actor, needing it for his way of living. However, if he gets focused on something, it consumes his thoughts and he cannot function until it his finished. He also has an addiction to cigarettes in which he is trying to break, but it makes him very easily agitated in stressful situations.

Biography: Born in the college town of Colombia, Missouri, Lawrence was raised in a poorly structured home with an alcoholic mother and a workaholic father. At the age of 4 when he began his schooling, Lawrence started to play with his father's lighters and light his toys on fire. When his mother began to beat him for it, the habit was quickly stopped.

When his baby sister Rita was born, Lawrence became her protector. He spent his years from the age of 7 until he went to college raising Rita and being more of her parent than her big brother.

Lawrence committed his first felony at the age of 13, when he discovered that the new girl in his 8th grade class was loaded. Wooing her and making her fall at his feet, practically begging like every other girl who knew his charms, Lawrence set his first crime into motion. He took her to a few nice dinners, bought flowers, and soon the money began to flow like a river from her hands to his pockets. He got bored quickly, and tossed a match into her room as she slept. The family escaped, excluding the dog. The affair only lasted until a few months.

His crime was discovered, and he was convicted. But, because he was an adolescent, he was only sentenced to 3 years in juvenile detention.

When Lawrence graduated from high school, he found no desire to go to college, but an LA college offered him a scholarship, and he accepted. Nothing wrong with free schooling, he thought, and moved out that way. Once he graduated from college with a masters in computer technology, he began his big leagues of criminal work. He discovered the wonders of hacking and arson.

Crime Specialty: Lawrence loves to hack for his personal gain as well as to "watch the world burn" and arson to literally watch the world burn. He also does a bit of black widowing for fun.

Other: Enjoys the use of poisons for jobs he wants done quickly, and his favorite thing to hack are FBI records and the IRS.

Name: Juliet “Jules” Burke
Age: 23
Appearance: Juliet stands just at 5’7, and carries herself with good posture and a demeanor that broadcasts attitude. Her body is slender with curves in the right places, her arms and legs are toned. Her hair is naturally red, streaked with blonde and brunette (though she constantly changes the color/uses a wig to disguise herself on the job). The slightly curled hair hangs at shoulder level, framing her face. Her side-swept bangs go to the left, though is typically pinned back . Her features are soft, but they give a sense of intimidating beauty, scattered here and there with freckles. Her eyes are almond shaped, the color a hazy green with blue and hazel specks (and when she is upset, they turn to a deep green color.) She has two piercings on her right lobe, and three on her left (two in the lobe, one at the outer top curve of the ear), and has a stud in her right nostril. Juliet typically wears minimal makeup unless required; sticking to eyeliner on days she just has to go into the office. She likes to wear form fitting clothes in monotonous colors, and typically keeps a rosary on her person at all times (even though it might not be visible.) On her body, she has three tattoos. On the inside of her left wrist she has the Chinese symbol for endurance, on the bottom of her right heel, she has the outline of a Gaelic cross, and on her left ankle is a small outline of a rose.
Personality: Juliet is a firecracker; she is impulsive, ruthless, and passionate. When she is calm, she thinks through her actions, but when her temper kicks in she goes in the mode of “shoot first, ask questions later.” She is patient, yet sarcastic when she becomes annoyed with someone. She has a wrathful sense of vengeance when someone close to her is hurt; and a kill or be killed instinct. Her apathy during hits helps her sleep at night, though she still remembers every single person she has harmed since the beginning. But through all this, she also has her biggest insecurity. She is afraid to open up to others, and getting hurt by those she lets in. She sees love as being out of the option, and shrouds herself in apathy.
Biography: Juliet was born on Dec 17th, 1988 in Northern Ireland to Arthur and Marianne Burke, two shop keepers who worked day and night to support their children. They gave them a decent life until a bad investment put the family in debt. When things became drastic, Arthur went into business with a man named Thomas, who became like an uncle to Juliet and her brother Desmond.
When Juliet was 5, Arthur fell ill and passed away, leaving Marianne to raise the children alone. Thomas moved the family into his home in the middle of Dublin, and Marianne slipped into a crippling depression that ended with her being admitted into a mental institution. Within a year, Marianne committed suicide. By the time Juliet was eight, she was left an orphan. But she had Thomas to look after her, who became a father figure. She was sent off to a private school while Thomas took Desmond under his wing.
Life was never simple, but it was not riddled with tragedy like the past years had been. Or at least it was until the day that Thomas died. It was ruled a suicide, but Desmond believed differently. Juliet was fourteen at the time, and Desmond was 20. Things became hectic, her brother was rarely home, and when he was his mind was elsewhere. But nothing compared to the day when he arrived home, covered in the blood of another man.
Things changed after that day. Desmond finally spilled the family secret, the business that Juliet had thought innocent was a front. The true family business was that of a crime ring, and after avenging the death of Thomas, Desmond had crossed the wrong people. There was a target on both their backs. If they didn’t run, they were sure to die. So they left. But they didn’t just leave the city; they left the country and the continent. They left everything behind, and took a flight to New York to start a new life that existed outside of Crime.
But, sometimes things don’t turn out the way you intended. Desmond found himself in the criminal underworld of Brooklyn, and he had dragged Juliet into it with him. By the time she was seventeen; Juliet was trained in hand to hand combat, was fluent in four languages, and could shoot a man down at 400 feet with one shot. She had killed fifteen people by the time she turned 18, but she wasn’t proud.
After her eighteenth birthday, Juliet left New York to travel the world. She first went to England, and ended up making a name for herself with the quality of her kills. She ended up making a good sum, and was able to travel the globe on the money she made. It wasn’t a perfect thing, but blood money was still money. She never lost touch with her brother, and would come back for visits and the occasional favor to her brother.
When her brother left New York for Los Angeles, she ended up giving up on her travels and following him a year later. He had already made a decent team of criminals, and they were beginning to make a small name of themselves in dark corners, and back alleys. But within the two years of her being there, they had come of the wood works. They controlled the shadows, and Juliet took her place among them. She still lives day to day with a sense of loneliness, but she has at least made a friend in a man they call Juan.
Crime Specialty: Juliet is known for her skills of the kills, as some people say. She makes her money from the blood she spills.
Other: N/A

Name: Juan Ramiro Medina

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Sin: Gluttony

Appearance: A handsome man by anyone's standards, Juan Ramiro stands at 5'10". He is muscular, though not too bulky, and is swift enough to flee the scene if a job goes south. His dark brown hair is often overgrown past his ears, and curls slightly at the ends. He has pale blue, disarming eyes, and is almost never seen not wearing a suit. Custom tailored, always black, despite the warm Los Angeles weather, and always Italian made. 'Because the Italians do it best'.

Personality: Juan is one of those people who performs best in crowds, but when alone can become severely introverted. Undoubtedly a product of his scarred childhood. He has been known to be sincere, genuine, and genuinely whimsical, although these probably should be taken with a grain of salt, seeing as large part of his job involves tricking people for personal gain. His close friends, however, know him as one who will crack a joke to lighten the mood, but will be serious when the situation demands it. A person who likes to talk but is able to listen, and listen well. This being said, next to nobody can even claim to have been Juan Medina's close friend. He certainly has many acquaintances, but is often very reluctant to open up to people.

Biography: Juan Ramiro Medina was born in Mexico City, and lived in the town of Teoloyucan, Mexico until he was 20. His father, Manuel, was a firefighter, and his mother Teresa a waitress. his little sister, Gabriela, was born two years later, and the family lived in a small, near-destitute ranch style home on the outskirts of the town. Despite his family's situation, Juan immediately stuck out in public school. He was nearly always the brightest child in each of his classes, and excelled specifically in mathematics. His other major talent was in fact that he was a fantastic speaker, often being the one to mediate any situation (and occasionally, the one that was able to talk his way out of a detention or two). All the signs pointed to Juan having a bright, legitimate and successful future. Until the night when his parents were both killed in an explosion that leveled their house.
Seventeen year old Juan and fifteen year old Gabriela were both at school. When they learned of their parents death, they were told it was an accident - that the likely cause was ignition of the gas in the stove. Juan was skeptical, but kept this feelings to himself, not wanting to worry his sister. He moved into an apartment and began to raise his sister by himself. Quickly, however, he realized he could not manage to live on a part time job's salary, and dropped out of school his senior year. The potential employers, however, were not looking for high school dropouts, so Juan was forced to go into crime. For awhile, he traversed the streets of Mexico City running short-cons and pickpocketing. But by the time he was twenty, his skills grew to include rudimentary safecracking, and knowledge of how to pick any sort of standard lock.
After his sister graduated third in her class, twenty year old Juan decided he would pursue larger targets. Though he now lived comfortably in Teoloyucan, he could not imagine the wealth he would obtain in the United States. His destination, after much deliberation, ended up being the City of Angels - Los Angeles.
Once in L.A., Juan found himself making more money than he knew what to do with. At first, much of it he sent back to Gabriela, but he still could afford many luxuries. luxuries he Had never before had in Mexico. A new car, a wardrobe full of suits - store bought, at first, but they were eventually replaced with custom tailored one - and, eventually, a large manor in the city. He worked solo for a few years, doing jobs for employers that needed something stolen. He was always careful to make sure there was no trail to lead back to him or his clients. "Anonymity," he once said, "Is just about as important to me as my appearance." Seeking to make even more money to finance his luxurious lifestyle, and honestly believing that there is strength in numbers, he soon joined the Sins, which he now considers his family, and where he has stayed since.

Specialty: High End Robbery, Cons

Other:

Weapon of Choice - Beretta 92G Elite 1A, though he prefers to get out without shedding any blood

Accommodation - Juan lives in a two story house in one of the high end areas of L.A. The house has a gate with a key card, as well as a large pool on the left side and a full bar in the interior first floor

Vehicle - Red 1966 Chevrolet Malibu

Name:Jared Alexander/ Robert Jones
Age: 27
Appearance:
Sin: Envy (will find a picture someday)
Personality: To make it easir to read I will split paragraphs between Jared and Robert
Both:Scitzophranic, MPD (Multiple personality disorder)
Jared: Jared is a avatar of lies,cold calculated planning and above all sorroow induced madness bundled up in a tight fleshy package, Demented and sadistic yet plays a calm collected role when in reality wants nothing more than to be just like those he takes orders from he doesn't want to be a puppet he wants to be a real man with no strings to hold him down yet may never reach this goal as he is a slave to his own mind
Robert: Extreme self loathing, tries to mimic those around him so he doesent have to face the fact of who he is, yet attempts to redeem himself their for is compassionate, blinded by greif yet fueled by a need to help Robert has been known to kidnapp criminals or those who cause greif for others (whether big or small) assume their identity and "Clean up their act" for them *A example he once spent time for a crime no one even heard about except for the victim the one responsible and of course Robert*
Biography:
Both: born on February 14th Valentines day 1978
Jared: Born into a wealthy family were everything was provided for him, he was still unhappy for he was denied his independence and was cloistered away from the hardships of the real world. He would often ask the servants what it was like to be punished and how money affected their lives(not every one can be rich. ) For most of his childhood he would attempt to experiences and learn of all the horrors that came with being underprivileged. Then as he began to learn he also began to practice, his practices was nothing short of Sadistic and morbid these would range from torture and dissection of animals (he told his parents his pets ran away) from masochism he would foten use his power to force the many maids and servants of the house hold to inflict harm on him in a variety of ways I will not mention. Only to turn around and learn how he could manipulate others such as by telling stories of how his servants did what they did so that he could watch how others reacted (most got dragged to prison or simply "went" missing)
This boy was depraved yes but he still loved his parents and would always obbey their whims (No matter how much he hated his pampered life) However in the events to come this would be his greatest test and Jared would finnally know of the horrors he so desired.
On the night of Dec 17th 1988 11:45 PM a group of 28 composed of nothing but females broke into his estate kidnapped him and many of the maids working that night brought them to the cellar and forced their victims to torture one another in many forms that I not mention *Use your imagination * the worst of it was saved for Jared part of him enjoyed it part of him cried out in vain but all of him hated what happened next.
They dressed him up in leather straps, clamps and nothing short of the gears a dominatrix would have, once they finished their molestation they clamped gloves with
Robert: Simply, he hates himself and does everything he can to be someone else (He does not know about his other personas) he thinks that he is the reason for that fateful night of Dec 17th 1988 and that the voices he hears are their tortured souls
Crime Specialty: Robert:Identity theft, kidnapping

Name: Ellis 'Ella' Masons

Age: 23

Appearance: 5'9" with androgynous features. Though bald often wears elaborate wigs. Not a single day has gone by where he would wear the same clothes twice. Each day it is a different outfit or costume he has made himself. Every time he is done with one he passes it off to his 'harem/family'. Slim, with well built and toned muscle. Often seen barefoot.

Personality: Ellis is a calm and collected individual. He keeps his thoughts and words to him self unless necessary. He loves adding a personal touch to everything, from the way he arranges his home to slaughtering those in his way. No matter how close he is to someone, no matter how loyal he is to them or they are to him, he is always thinking up ways to kill them. They may be 'friends' now, but things could always go south. In fact he counts on more going wrong then anything going right. Has a soft spot for gay and transgender kids, especially those who had been abused, kicked out, and left to the streets.

Biography: Ellis knows nothing of his family. He was found on the steps of a nunnery at 3 months of age by Sister Claire Masons as she returned after her sudden year long sabbatical. Sister Claire was the closest thing he ever had to a mother, for she worked hard to make sure she was the one to take care of him growing up. Just past the age of ten he became confused when the other novices at the Abbey started to grow in the chest, and from what he over heard 'cry blood'. It was then Sister Claire told him that the novice 'Ella' he had grown up thinking himself to be, turned out to be 'Ellis'. A male child abandoned at the Abbey. Against Abbey rules, Sister Claire raised him as a girl, in their way of the church. That very night, at the age of 13 he ran from the Abbey. He spent the next two years greatly confused and torn about who and what he was.
After some time he managed to wash up on the back step of a theater, run by the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Madam Luna took the boy in for the night, and after hearing his story decided to take him under her wing. It was during this time that his broken mind and identity began to heal. He learned much about acting, design and elaborate costumes, make-up and planning. All things he would draw on in his future.
He was still greatly confused however, for now he did know he was a boy, but all those years he had been raised to be a celibate girl never to think of sex. Now in this new home he found him self attracted other boys. At 15, he confessed this new found attraction to Luna. It was that night she took him into her dressing room, alone. What ever happened that night he keeps to him self and he left the theater the very next morning.
With in the year he made his way to LA, in hopes of taking his learnings from the theater and making a name for himself. The name he made however was nothing like the one he had envisioned. As soon as he entered the city he fell into a crowd that began to use his talents for their own purposes. After a year, he was already an expert and no longer felt like being used. In a single night he slew his bosses with subtle poisons, furthering his name and freeing himself from bondage.
He willing works for the Seven Deadly Sins, having chosen to do so.

Crime Specialty: Cons, Prostitution, Sabotage, Safe houses

Other: When ever he finds a child kicked out of there home and living on the streets, he takes them in to join his 'family'. Each and everyone of them quickly becomes loyal and devoted to him and would protect him with their very lives.

Name: Desmond Burke
Age: 30
Appearance: Desmond is a handsome man, standing just at 6 feet. His skin is lightly tanned, and his face is covered with light dirty blonde stubble. His dirty blonde hair is slightly unkempt, but intentionally kept that way. His features are handsome, but ruggedly so. He is muscular, but not to the point of a body builder. It’s toned, and not overstated. He typically wears custom tailored slacks, a fitted t-shirt with some sort of graphic (bands, logos, ect), and a blazer jacket. He has a tattoo of a tattoo of a shamrock on the outside of his right wrist, and wears a silver cross around his neck. On his left wrist, he wears a braided leather bracelet.
Personality: Desmond is the opposite of his sister; he is quiet, he is withdrawn, and he is calculative. He only speaks when he has something he finds valuable, and he thinks through every single possibility before he acts. He is prideful, which is why he enjoys being in control of the Seven Deadly Sins. The only person he cares about in the world is his sister, who he would protect with his life. But when it comes to anyone else, he would watch them die without blinking. He is an overachiever, and he strides to keep his organization as the best.
Biography: Desmond Burke was born on April 12, 1983 in Northern Ireland to Arthur and Marianne Burke. He was six years old when they brought home Juliet from the small hospital, and though he refuses to admit it, it was a day that was better than Christmas. They were typical siblings, but he always tried to protect her. When his father died, Desmond swore he would always look after her, even though he was only eleven.
When Thomas moved the two to Dublin, Desmond was taken under his wing and started learning the ways of the “family business”. At first, it was simple. He would clean up in the back of Thomas’s bar and run errands. But the older he got, the more he learned the truth. He wasn’t in the business of shop keeping; he was in the business of crime. His uncle distributed guns and forged money, and was going to teach Desmond how to do it without getting caught. He learned quickly, and eventually he spread into other illegal areas. He pulled off cons, heists, started distributing drugs and the like. But things took a bad turn, and Thomas screwed over the wrong people. They took a contract out on his head, and he was killed in a bad accident.
After that, Desmond devoted his time to avenging Thomas, and killing whoever had a hand in the death. He spent night and day looking, which put a distance between him and his sister. Eventually he found the person, and he slaughtered them. He didn’t flinch at the blood, he didn’t even realize what he had done til his sister found him with the blood on his hands. The questions she had after that were hard to explain, and it broke his heart when he had to take her away from Ireland. He was guilty, but eventually that guilt faded and turned into pride.
When the two came to Brooklyn, Desmond trained his sister the way Thomas trained him. He taught her how to kill, lie, and steal to make her way in life. He taught her apathy, endurance, and how to push the pain away. She learned well, too well. Eventually she outgrew Brooklyn, and left the country and her brother behind. He never lost touch with her, but he started to feel lonely. So he formed an organization he called the Deadly Sins, a small group of five criminals that pulled off small scale conjobs. They stayed off the radar, or tried to. But they grew too big, they crossed the wrong people. They were looked at as a bug, a small little thing on the radar that was easily squished. And they were. A contract was taken out, and everyone but Desmond was killed. Those events ran him out of Brooklyn, and eventually into Los Angeles where the Seven Deadly Sins are now located.
Crime Specialty: Desmond is a jack of all trades, which is one reason he is successful as the leader of the SDS.
Other: N/A

LAPD:

Name: Detective Nathan Slater.

Age: 36

Personality: Slater is a very conflicted character. An incorruptible idealist with deep beliefs in justice and an abiding love of his city, he is also a committed cynic whose knowledge of human nature constantly reminds him how far off those ideals are. He can be short tempered, but always prefers to take his target down alive. A member of the financial upper classes through money left to him by his father, he still has an innate dislike of hereditary wealth and the horror of social inequality. Before he passed away, Nathan's father observed that Slater is anti-authoritarian even though he is, himself, an authority figure, "Which is practically Zen". The conflict within Slater is between his virtuous nature ("the Watchman") and what he calls "the Beast", an almost unstoppable urge to take revenge on the criminal world at large for the unsolved murder of his wife and son.


Biography: Still working on this, I'll edit it in soon. (Perhaps one of the sins could turn out to be behind the murder of his family?)

Crime Specialty: Robbery and homicide. (In my case I assume this means crime he specializes in solving?)

Other: Since the death of his family, Slater has become a heavy drinker.

Appearance:

Name: Nathan Cross

Age: 26

Appearance:

Personality: Crooked, lying, deceitful. Nathan cares about money and money alone. He has a severe case of OCD. Nathan is unpredictable and erratic. He almost never plans or even thinks ahead, and this is his worst shortcoming. He isn't concerned for his safety or the safety of others. Frankly, it's a miracle the LAPD even keeps him on the payroll.

Biography: Nathan Cross started his career as a police officer at age 22, after college. He worked well for a year and a half, doing his job and keeping the streets safe. He climbed to the rank of lieutenant. Then his life took a turn for the worse. His parents both died on the same day, due to carbon monoxide poisoning. Nathan was positive that it wasn't just a faulty pipe or vent. Someone had killed his parents. His father was a lawyer, and a damned good one at that, so he had plenty of potential enemies. Nathan dedicated his life to finding that killer. Several unsanctioned investigations, interrogations and searches led to him being de-ranked to sergeant, and barely anyone still respected him. When his fiancee left him, he sank into downright eccentric and erratic behavior. With his bride-to-be and parents gone and his pay docked, Nathan needed a second source of income to finance his investigations. Now he runs jobs for the local gangs, the Seven Deadly Sins in particular, keeping evidence off of the table and witnesses out of the courtroom. But his obsession with avenging his parents takes top priority. Nathan's crazy, and he won't stop until he finds the truth.

Crime Specialty: Nathan specializes in stalking and investigating targets. He can use the cover of his police badge to search homes or people virtually unnoticed.

Other: (Sorry for short bio, will edit later!)

Rival Organization:

Name:
Sergei E. Romanov*









Age:
41




Personality:
Most would say Sergei's mind is cold and calculated while most men of power in the shadows enjoy the sweeter things in life, Sergei spends his time wrapped in his work. Sergei is very untrusting, it could be said that he is always paranoid but to a certain extent, the only men or woman he is known to trust are those of his inner circle but even then its a limited trust. Sergei believes that in every action there is a consequence an in his mind most of these consequences are bad. Every move he makes is almost several steps ahead, and he does not ever step into a situation blindly or lightly. Those very rare few who have ever got to know Sergei know that he is a very frustrating man at times, his idea's and his morals single him out from the rest of the Shadow Thugs. Sergei is from an older world and therefore his beliefs are more for lack of a better word old school. However this does not take away from the fact that he a very decisive and brutal murderer. Sergei believes in what some call the personal touch, and unlike most he prefers to carry out his own business instead of sending someone else who might mess it up. Sergei believes that there truly are no choices in life, but it is a matter of cause and effect, when one action is completed there will always be an effect, a chain reaction that has a set ending. His way of thinking is not shared by many but in his thinking he has survived odds that many have never even seen. Even with his morals when it comes down to it, Sergei is a cut throat and he will kill anyone who gets in his way, or in the way of his interests. He has no fear of death or of pain, he has no conscious, and if tested he will always come out on top.




Biography:

Sergei was born forty one years to the day in the slums of the Soviet Union (Moscow), to his hateful parents whom one of which was in the KGB. Life was no picnic in his younger years, Sergei was a pretty beaten and bashed little boy, he Dad always told him that he was not raising a little cry baby, and that one day he would be a great Agent. Sergei had no choice in this part of his life, everyday a new torture was applied to him with but one purpose, to toughen him up for a life he did not want to live. When Sergei was thirteen years old, his father and mother were both murdered by what he found out was an American Agent in an organization called the CIA. Sergei never was told why his parents were killed, all he knew is that they were dead, an while he loathed them for the pain they put him through, he was now alone in the world. After his parents demise the Russian Government try to contain Sergei in a shit hole home with other boys and girls. But right from the get go Sergei was dangerous, unruly, and in his tenure learned that he loved to hurt other people. Eventually Sergei was to be taken ot of the home and placed in a location with other "boys" of his nature. But Sergei had enough of being controlled by these men. In the dead of night days before he was to be taken to a new location Sergei left without so much as a word. Leaving Moscow Sergei left to a smaller town where he was not known. For at least three to four years he lived on the cold streets, fighting for food, money, respect. Sergei was only seventeen when he joined a low down Mafia Lord named Ivan Borodin in the slums. With his toughness and determination Sergei quickly rose through the ranks, he was one of the single best Assassins in Russia by time he was twenty one. Ivan has taught him many things about surviving, how to think ahead of situations was one of the biggest things that Sergei took and harnessed to survive. However when Sergei became the favorite of Ivan Borodin, many felt that this was infuriating, and wished Sergei dead. This finally lead to the attempted assassination of Sergei Romanov. However Sergei was no fool and he never trusted anyone like his mentor Ivan, the men who attempted to take his life ended up being the ones who died that night. After the deaths of these men Sergei knew that his time was up within this Mafia in fact his time in Russia was up as well. It was time to begin exacting his revenge on the Americans for what they done to him. With Sergei's connections and help from Ivan, he was smuggled aboard a flight to America. Sergei was twenty one the day he touched down in America for the first time, with no where to go, and no one at his side Sergei set off into the streets of what was called Brooklyn New York. Sergei was not new to being in a place with no one to help him, and like in Russia he quickly adapted to the streets. The Americans to him were weak and stupid, it would not take long for him to take control of this city with an iron fist. It is an unknown fact in a lot of cases how Desmond Burke and Sergei Romanov meant but after being in America for several years eight to be exact. Sergei had built himself quite a reputation with his expert jobs including but not limited to Bank Heists, Killings, and his personal favorite Desecration of other gangs. Whatever the reason for their meeting, Sergei joined the what is not considered the old Seven Deadly Sins. One could say that Desmond and Sergei was two very different men with different visions and different life styles, others would have said that they pea's in the same pod. Sergei often had many arguments with Desmond which most times ended up in a fight one way or another, Sergei got his nose broken quite a few times leaving it rather deformed at the bridge. None the less fights or not the men could co-exist and they worked well together. But as Sergei grew older at around his thirtieth birthday he began to realize that, the Seven Deadly Sins were becoming increasingly belligerent and fool hearty. Sergei would often tell Burke that they were drawing to much attention to themselves but Burke refused to listen and the more and more the group grew, the more an more Sergei became offended at the lack of insight and the increase in believing they were immortal. It is another unknown fact about how or why Sergei did what he did, but on or about his 32nd birthday, as what he would call a present to himself, Sergei all but destroyed the Seven Deadly Sins, an with his intelligence he made them believe the Mob hit them hard and took them out. But Desmond Burke however was able to survive and escaped into the shadows before Sergei could finish the job an never knew Sergei's involvement thinking him to be dead as well. After the desecration of the SDS Sergei sought to form his own group, a group that would not only be better then the SDS but would prove more lethal and efficient. Deciding that he would not allow any of these filthy Americans to join his new organization, Sergei called an old friend Ivan Borodin, with help from his old mentor, men in which Ivan trusted with his life were sent to American where they joined Sergei with but one goal in mind to control everything. Their group became known as The Four Horsemen or in American terms The Apocalypse. Sergei's group rose to power quickly over the next coming years, with their resources and special training TFH became a force to be reckoned with within a short three years, not even the cops could touch them. However it was in this time frame that pray tell Sergei's ears heard in the shadows of a gang named The Seven Deadly Sin's rising in Los Angela's. Sergei believed that there was no coincidence, Desmond Burke had returned to power an this time he would not make the same mistake twice. While it held true that Sergei respected Burke, he also held a very large hatred for him as well, his arrogance and blindness insulted Sergei. After confirming what he knew was true Sergei left Brooklyn and went to Los Angela's with but one intent and that was to finish what he had started years ago, to destroy Desmond Burke. However Sergei knew Desmond had already played the infrastructure and there was no just walking in and killing Desmond he knew that if he wanted to be Desmond he would need to grow in power as well. Covering his tracks well Sergei set his own infrastructure with in Los Angela's and began to cement himself into the Shadows as Desmond had done. While it is known that a group called The Four Horsemen exists with in Los Angela's not even Desmond knows who the leader is for Sergei became known simply as Death the leader of The four Horsemen. In the secret Shadow world of Los Angela's a war is at hand between two deadly forces, once allies now mortal enemies and it uncertain who will win.




Crime Specialty:

• Assassination
• Mastermind
• Heist's*
• Desecration

Other:

Duel Smith and Wesson 500's





Back Bite Blade

Saiga IZ 240 AK 74 Rifle





Pancor Jackhammer Shotgun





Russian Ballistics Knife

Dodge Charger with bullet proof windows and Tinted for privacy

• 63 Acres
• Protected by wrought iron 10 foot fence spikes at top
• Personal Bodyguard detail on site

[Heretic209]

Mornings generally went the same way for Juan Ramiro Medina. The handsome Mexican man was accustomed by now to waking up with a backache and a massive hangover. Sure, there were some aspects that varied from day to day. The venue, for instance, be it at a five star hotel, or at an expensive estate lying next to a beautiful woman whose name he would not for the life of him remember. Today, Juan was sprawled out on his own black leather couch, inside his own expensive estate, still wearing a now heavily wrinkled Italian suit and clutching an empty bottle of Jameson whiskey. He tentatively opened one eye, and was instantly rewarded with an awful pounding sensation in his left temple. He quickly closed his eyes once more, and resorted to just laying and thinking for a while. Most of the time, his late night drinks, and the inevitable hangover that followed, were due to either stupidity and poor judgement, celebration of a job well done, or even a deadly combination of both. Juan thought back to the events of last night. In that instant, a heaviness dropped inside him, as if he had just consumed a 20 pound weight. This time, the reason was guilt.

Juan always prided himself in being a 'gentleman thief'. He had no qualms about stealing, conning, lying or tricking people out of their hard earned money. Whose to say I don't need it more? But he tried to make it a point, even to his other associates, that he would not take another life unless absolutely necessary. Last night, it had been absolutely necessary. Though the alcohol still fogged his memory, he distinctly remembered what transpired last night. His solo job, a long con involving a wealthy French businessman that had taken him two whole months to put in place. It required him to put a million of his own money into it, but the take, if successful, would have been somewhere around six million U.S. dollars. But something went wrong. Juan struggled to bring the memory up from the haze. The man's house. He had invited Juan over to "discuss business over drinks". The man excused himself at one point, and left to go make a call. Juan followed him, cautiously. Through a closed door, he heard the man talking to another on a cell phone, and the distinct sound of attaching a suppressor to a small handgun. He heard the Frenchman say "I'm finishing the job now," and walk closer to the door. Juan remembered everything that happened after with crystal clarity. The door opening. The man walking out, suppressed USP in his right hand. His surprise to see the Mexican standing there, his own Beretta pointed at him. A movement catching Juan off guard. The Frenchman swinging his pistol into firing position. The distinct ring of a gunshot. The businessman crumpling to the ground, a bullet lodged in his brain.

The long con had failed, and Juan knew it. Inexplicably, the Frenchman had been conning him the entire time. Juan had raided the man's safe and stolen other things around the house, trashing the place a bit to make it look like a robbery gone bad, but the money and fenced items would only give him about $800,000. What got his mind going, though, was who was the Frenchman's partner? And why were they trying to kill him? Juan's answer, in the end, was that they thought he, too, was just an unsuspecting businessman, and that they could score an easy million, then perhaps steal his identity when he was dead. But the possibility that it could have been something more frightened him.

The guilt of killing another man, coupled with the fear that there was something more to this encounter, led Juan to spend his night drowning his troubles away with whiskey. Tiredly, he opened his eyes, and proceeded to get off the couch. Placing the bottle gingerly on his mahogany end table, and got to his feet. As blood rushed away from his head, he felt a certain dizziness, and had to steady himself on said end table, causing the bottle to fall onto the rug floor. Juan sighed, and looked around for his cell. He was surrounded by bottles, mostly empty, and some take-out food boxes, but no phone. He surveyed the disaster that was his living room, and knew immediately that Sarah, his housecleaner, would give him an earful when she had to clean this up.

Off in the distance, he heard a ring. Then another, definitely his cell phone. He headed towards the sound, walking through the dining room and into the kitchen, where he found his cell phone atop the black marble countertop. He was getting a phone call - the contact ID simply read "Mi belleza". He smiled, knowing the called. He pressed answer on the touch screen, and picked up the phone.
"Jules! What a pleasant surprise." He heard Juliet's familiar voice on the other end.
"Hola mi amigo. I need a favor.."

[Lord Seth Cross]

Sergei sat silently inside the Los Angela's bank with about thirty other people, he knew for a fact that there was thirty civilians, seven tellers, four security guards, and a bank manager who just happened to be working today upfront. Sergei looked around as he stood in the line of people, he caught a couple glances from some of the younger ones. Sergei did not even care enough to make any remark, Sergei was 6,5 and his nose looked like it had been broken several times, which in reality it had been, so pathetic little peons looking upon him with fright did not bother him. Sergei silently looked down at his watch, it was exactly 8:59 and 50 seconds, looking up Sergei observed the guards, each had a post in a part of the bank the first two were positioned on either side of the door, the other two were positioned in the back, all four watched for suspicious activity constantly. Sergei watched the seconds tick down as his watch hit 9:00 exactly an small alarm went off which caused a few people to look around idly. Sergei put his watch up as he looked at it falsely and then as he clicked off the alarm he spoke into a small mic he had inserted into the watch.

"Check."

Sergei put his hand through his black hair as he merely just made the movement look normal. Sergei then silently moved off to the side and began walking towards the back of the bank to the two nearest security guards. The guards seeing him move towards them immediately put them on guard, an when a 6,5 man comes towards you in a bank it might startle you. As Sergei got within five feet of them he spoke with a fake smile as he looked at the first guard.

"Todd I knew it was you. I have not seen you or your family forever since you moved out of Orlando"

Sergei spoke in a perfect English accent which he loathed but it was needed to pull of the illusion. The guard who had been tense seemed to become alittle more at ease as he looked Sergei up and down an gave a small smile.

"Yes I guess it has been a long time, I don't really recall you though I am sure I would remember a man of your height."

"That is understandable we meant when I was sitting down, you used to go to that small diner down on Packing-ton street to get lunch everyday. I to used to be there a lot their was delightful. One day they were filled up an you happened to ask if we could share a table, we talked for hours don't you remember?"

The guard seemed to go into thought trying to remember the scene Sergei had just made up, in fact Sergei had read the case file on Todd and had acquired this information easy enough, the rest was just clock work. Sergei knew that the diner was always packed and this man had in fact done what he had specified, and Sergei knew he would either remember someone who looked like him, or fake it so he didn't look like he was stupid. That was the American way to lie to cover your own ass after all. The guard seemed to finish thinking as he smiled.

"I'll be damn it has been a time since we talked your name is Frank right?? Frank Tarantella man your a lot taller then I gave you credit for, what are you doing out here in Los Angela's?"

Sergei smiled another fake smile as the guard did not disappoint in being stupid and belligerent.

"I had some family business to take care of my friend, my cousin passed away recently and I am here making sure the buriel and such is taken care off, sort of the personal touch if you know what I mean."

The guard seemed to nod as he would no doubt apologize for the loss, however he did not have the time as Sergei's watched beeped once and all hell broke loose as the doors to the bank slammed opened. The guards near the doors were caught off guard as three large armed men, each with a mask over their faces entered the bank. The two guards nearest the door tried to reach for their guns but two resounding gun shots were heard as the guards both fell back and hit the gleaming floor, a trail of blood shortly hit the floor as they came to a halt. Sergei acted surprised as he quickly out of the way behind the other two guards who had their guns pulled out and drawn.

"Get down!!"

Todd yelled in Sergei's direction as everyone else quickly hit the floor to give the guards a clean shot, however Sergei quickly stepped forward laying a large hand one each guards heads and cracked them together. There was a loud thud as the guards hit the floor unconscious maybe dead from the blow Sergei didn't care. Sergei's men quickly secured the entrance with a lock an chains as one of the men threw Sergei his holster which held his two S&W 500's. Sergei caught the holster as everyone was screaming and crying on the floor Sergei removed one of the 500's and put it in the air as he shot off a round and yelled.

"Shut up and listen!"

Sergei spoke in his heavy Russian accent now, the people quickly quieted out of fear as Sergei had their complete attention.

"Good I will only say what I am going to say once so listen closely."

Sergei silently pulled out a pack of Russian imported cigarettes and placed one in his mouth and lite it almost casually as he heard sirens off in the distance already, everything was going as planned an was on schedule.

"My name for those of you who wish to know such useless facts is Death, we as in me and these men are known as the four horseman as you Americans call them. This bank and everything and everyone in it now belongs to us, if you wish to leave here today with your lives intact then you will listen to me and my men and listen well. If I see one person even try to whisper to another, I will shoot that person and everyone else in the bank. If you don't want to take my word for it, look at those guards over there an tell me if I am lieing. If you even try to make a run for it everyone dies. But seeming you Americans have such a hard time understanding things such as this let me make one other thing clear. Each of my men has what you would call a death switch in their possession which is worked by their heart rate. If any of my men die or their heartbeats raise to high or too low, a bomb which has been planted in this bank in secret will go off and kill us all. My men and I are prepared to die, so the question is are you?"

Sergei looked around as no one even muttered one single word, but the fear was evident, Sergei had their attention and that's the way it would stay. Part A of the plan was complete. Outside Sergei could see the first of the police cars stopping hard in front of the bank, Plan B would soon be in motion. Sergei looked at his men as he made a hand motion and they nodded. Two of the men went and stood by the front door out of sight from the outside police Sergei and the last man exited through a door in the back. Sergei knew there was two entrances into the bank and both of them had been padlocked, the ventilation systems had been compromised as well, if any uptight S.W.A.T team tried to enter they would have a surprise. But it would not come to that because after the police learned of the bomb threat they would play right into his hands. Sergei found the Bank Managers office and walked inside silently closing the door, his man stood guard right outside the door, Sergei turned on the security monitors installed into the desk and clicked the external view. The police were already coordinating cars in other directions away from the bank. Soon the S.W.A.T would get here and start planning, then the F.B.I once they learned of the bomb. But this did not interest Sergei, in fact only one man interested Sergei, and he would arrive very soon, it was a guarantee. Sergei took a large puff off the cigarette and waited silently to enact part B of the plan.

[unpredictable]

It was a dark rainy day as Juliet sat on a rooftop in Brookyln, a cigarette clutched in her hand. She was on a job, tracking a man who had stolen money from the wrong people. He was hidden out in a dumpy motel, hiding for his life. It was annoying that it had taken three weeks for her to track him down. But, it was nice being back in the city she had come to know as a second home. She had met some old friends, and reconnected with a lover or two to keep her occupied while on the trail. She smirked slightly, and then brought her attention back to the motel room.

Someone was moving around. She grabbed the binoculars from the ledge, and brought them to her eyes. She smiled, inside was the man and a woman who was most likely a hooker. “Well hello there Mr. Smith. Glad to see you’ve got a little company.” Juliet set the binoculars down, and slid off her perch and onto her knees. Grabbing her SR-25, she slowly moved into the right position.

Juliet looked through the scope, and rolled her eyes. He was half naked by now, and was in a rather compromising position. This would make for an interesting work story. She flicked her cigarette to the side, and took aim. “God forgive me.”

She pulled the trigger, and braced herself as the rifled butted into her shoulder. She winced slightly, and brought her eye back to the scope. She grimaced, a fatal shot right to the head. The woman was screaming, face covered in blood. Jules shook her head, and got to her feet. The Angel of death had struck again, and she knew that by the time she got to the hotel, a sleepless night would be waiting for her. It wasn’t a pleasant job, but it made her money. 25k to be exact.

Jules packed up her sniper rifle, and collected any evidence she might have left behind. If she had learned anything, she had learned how to clean up and not leave a single trace. An hour full of cabs and subways later and she was in her hotel room.

It took no time at all for her to wander to the mini fridge in the corner. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and grabbed a plastic cup from the counter, filling it up. She went into the bathroom, and started to draw a hot bath. It was her post hit routine. Drink, relax, smoke, and drink some more. Sometimes she would pick up a one night stand, because at times, meaningless sex was a good cure.

She grabbed her phone from her bag, and started to dial up Desmond. She waited a moment, and then hung up the phone. Juliet loved her brother, but his somewhat apathetic words wouldn’t really help at the moment. Looking through the other contacts, a realization hit her. Out of all the people she knew, she really only had one friend. She hit the call button, dialing the person she wanted to talk to.

It was somewhat of a relief when she heard the familiar, heavily accented voice of Juan through the phone. “Jules?”

She smirked a bit, padding into the bathroom as she spoke. “Hola Amigo, I need a favor.”
He groaned, “Does it involve me leaving my house? Because I admit, that wouldn’t be ideal..”

“You can stay in your house, but only if it’s possible for you to get me from New York City to LA in three hours or less.” She set her cup down on the edge of the tub, turning off the water, and pulling off her clothes. She slid into the tub, and took a swig of her whiskey.
“New York? What are you doing there?” His tone had changed from a nonchalance to a more serious demeanor.
"I had a job. I've been here for three weeks." She paused, furrowing her eyebrows slightly. "Haven't you noticed I've been gone?"
"I figured you were off on a job, but I didn't realize you were so far away!" He paused, as if trying to decide how to work his next words. "Besides.. I've been a bit preoccupied myself."
"Preoccupied? Do tell." She waited for him to speak, and was disappointed when he responded.
"I'll tell you when I pick you up. And.. Where would that be, exactly?"
"That's the thing. Do you have a plane I could borrow. Preferably a fast one?"

She looked around the room, and slowly got to her feet. She reached over to the sink counter, and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She sank back down, the warm water surrounding her. She pulled one from the pack, slid it into her mouth, and lit up.

"A plane? Oh, no, Jules. Just a car," he chuckled. "My work doesn't get me out of California often... But.. I know someone who runs a charter company in New Jersey. I could call in a favor for you, mi joya."
"That would be nice... I just want to come home." She faked a laughed, and frowned.
"Yes, you should come back soon, Jules. I swear, Los Angeles has had far more rainy days with you gone.."

She took a drag as her mind wandered. She missed LA, or at least.. The feeling of home in LA. "Well, I do bring the sunshine with my happy demeanor..." Her voice trailed off. "I should go... I have a bottle of whiskey with my name on it. Call me when you figure out how to get me home." She took a sip on her whiskey, and grimaced. Not even alcohol could help her purge her guilt.
"Of course, mi amica. I'll be in touch"
"Goodbye my friend." She hung up the phone, and sank down into the tub.

[Lord Seth Cross]

((Bump up))

[Heretic209]

Still holding the phone loosely in his left hand, Juan left the kitchen toward his bathroom. He could use a nice sobering shower after the night he had. But first, he had another call to make. Scrolling through his contacts, he found who he was looking for, and made the call. The man on the other end answered after two rings.

"Malcolm Charter Service, this is Brett Malcolm speaking. How may I be of assistance today?"
"Cool it with the sales pitch, Brett. It's me." The man, Brett, instantly recognized Juan's voice.
"Juan? Damn, dude, it is you! I didn't recognize the number!"
Juan allowed himself a small smile. "Yeah, I change it pretty frequently."
"Probably for good reason, too! So to what do I owe the pleasure of today's call? Business? Or are you here in Newark looking to catch up over beers?"
"Only business, I'm afraid. I'm still here in L.A., and I do believe I'd die if I had any more alcohol this week."
"Fair enough. What do you need?"
"I've got a friend in New York City who needs a ride back to L.A., and quick. Think you could do that for me?"
"No problemo, amigo," Juan rolled his eyes. "What's the name?"
"This line secure?"
"Of course, Juan. It's me, after all."
"Hah. Alright, Brett. Her name is Burke, Juliet Burke."
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Brett spoke up. "Hey, isn't that the chick you were talking to me about last time you were in town?"
Juan blushed, but only slightly. Even in his house, he tried his best to keep up appearances. "Uh.. No."
"Yeah! 'Jules', right? I remember you talking pretty fondly about her."
"Can you pick her up or not, Brett?"
"Yeah yeah, I can, amigo. Don't worry about payment, I still owe you big from our time in the Dominican."
"I remember, Brett. Thanks."
"Anytime, dude!" There was a click from the other end as the line went dead. Juan sighed, and began to undress. He groggily stepped into his shower, and allowed the hot water to wash over him.

***

Newark, New Jersey

Brett Malcolm hung up the phone, and strode over to the back door behind his shop's counter. He opened it, revealing the large fenced in vehicle storage area. On one side, a few garages stored a small fleet of limousines and hummers. On the other, a hanger held his aircraft, and a helicopter sat on its pad, covered in a tarp. An airstrip ran between them. The former U.S. Air Force pilot located the keys to one of the hummers, and drove it off of the property. As he did, he made a call to one of his employees, telling her to have the jet ready by the time he got back. So far, Brett's afternoon had not been so bad.

He made it to New York in good time, and quickly arrived at the address Juan had sent him after their phone call. He parked the hummer out front of the hotel, quickly refusing service to park his car from a young teenage employee in a hotel uniform, telling him he "would only be a minute". Brett walked into the lobby, trying his best to quickly tidy up his naturally unruly dirty blonde hair.
"May I help you?" The hotel attendant asked him when he walked up to the front desk. At 6'1", Brett towered above most everyone in the lobby.
"Yes, could you please contact this room," he produced the business card in which he wrote down the address and room number, sliding it over the counter. "And tell her that her ride is here?"

[Thekettleison]

Slater

As the clock in his hallway chimed nine o'clock, Nathan Slater stepped out into the street and pulled the door closed behind him. His day had started much the same as every other since the death of his wife. Waking up ten minutes before his alarm began to beep. Rolling to his side and laying an arm across the empty space beside him. Feeling the same wave of guilt that he hadn't been home when the killer struck. The familiar sorrow that he wouldn't see his little boy grow in to a man. The beast in the cage of his mind, raging against the bars, screaming for revenge. Then the alarm finally releasing him, beginning another day on the job. Now dressed with his teeth brushed and a cup of coffee warming him Slater was ready to face the day.

As usual he strolled past his car and walked the short distance to the local cafe for his morning vice, a large, strong, cappuccino with a little nip of whiskey from his hip flask. Nothing illegal, never anything illegal. The watchman wouldn't allow that. Just enough to give it some flavor.

But the walk also gave Nathan a chance to gauge the mood of the city. After his years in the force he had learned to pick up little hints by observing the actions and expressions of his fellow pedestrians as they went about their business. Subtle things that could tell him whether something terrible had happened during the night, a murder, a missing child, a drunken crash. The usual. There were occasions, where he would feel an upbeat atmosphere that said that for now at least, things were just fine. But these were few and far between. Or there were times, even rarer, where he could sense a kind of apprehension in the people around him, almost like the city itself was holding it's breath, waiting for something to happen. Slater hated those days.

At nine fifteen Nathan entered the cafe with the feeling he was in for a long day. There was an air of depression, a nervousness on the faces of the customers in the cafe. He couldn't quite place the city's mood, but he was pretty sure he'd have a lot of paperwork to do at some point today.

He had payed for his coffee and was leaving the cafe, squinting as the sunlight glinted off the roof of the bank across the street, when a waitress called out behind him. “Detective Slater?” She inquired, holding a phone out towards him.

“That's me.” He replied, turning and approaching the woman. This was an unexpected interruption to his routine, usually he wasn't called detective until he got to work. “Who is it?”

“It's hard to say.” The woman's bright red lips twisted in confusion under too much lipstick. “He's got a thick Russian accent.”

Feeling more than a little confused Slater took the phone and put it to his ear. “Who is this?” He demanded.

[Lord Seth Cross]

“Who is this?”

Sergei could hear the demand in Detective Slater's voice, but also the confusion the Russian man had come to know and even in most cases used to his own distinct advantage. Sergei looked away from the clock he had been watching which now read 9:17 everything he had planned was right on schedule, the young man he had payed to keep watch for Slater at the coffee shop had done his job and earned his pay. If nothing else Slater was a monster of habit, Sergei knew this for he had been observing Slater for many months. Sergei almost found it funny how.. straight the LA Detective was, he almost never broke the rules, except a couple hits of alcohol in his morning coffee but not enough to make a difference. This was why Sergei had taken an interest in the man, he was clean, he was not corrupt like half the cops in LA, and best of all he did not work for Desmond an that alone was enough for Sergei. Leaving his numerous thoughts in his mind Sergei switched his attention to the receiver and spoke.

"Detective Slater, Nathan Slater, which ever you prefer, as instructed the woman who handed you the phone should now be turning the T.V. to a certain channel as we speak and increasing the volume. Before we converse any farther I want you to watch, when the news is done recapping I will speak again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

News Cast on TV

For those of you just tuning in LA has been rocked by an unprecedented event, our news caster in the field is on the scene live of what appears to be a Bank Robbery in progress Todd are you there?

Screen cuts in half as a man appears with a microphone

Yes Henry I am here, I am live on the scene where there are about twenty cops standing in front of the LA Bank of Commerce. About seventeen minutes ago four or more armed men swooped into the bank and took everyone hostage. Reports are sketchy but it appears that two security guards have been shot and two others appear to be unconscious. There are about thrity hostages or more in the bank, and as of yet there has been no contact with the men inside the bank. Phones have been ringing off the hook but there has been no answer. Hold on black sedan is pulling up.

Man looks sideways as a black unmarked car pulls up, men in suits get out. Todd runs over with the microphone

Sir would you please comment about the events inside is there any other news?

The men push the camera out of the way and continue on into the barricade.

It appears that the FBI has finally arrived, we still have unconfirmed reports of a bomb in the bank. Tactical bomb units are standing by but all entrances from what we have been told is closed with heavy padlock and chain and is being watched by men with automatic rifles. More on this story as it develops LA5 News.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"By your silence Detective I am pretty sure I have your complete attention, so if you value the lives of these people, you will listen and not talk. What I am going to say I will only say once, you decide where your loyalties lay with the people or with yourself. My name is Sergei also known as Death, you can search my name until the end of humanity but you will find no file on me. I am the Leader of the Organization known as The Four Horseman, I am sure you have heard of me deep down in the slums you arrest people in everyday. As you may already be thinking, I have no intention of robbing this bank, at least this is not the normal way someone would rob a bank. No what I want is worth more to me then worthless American money will ever be. What I want is you Detective Slater, I want you, an if you value the life of these men and woman you will comply with my request of audience with you. In twenty minutes I want you to be in front of the Bank of Commerce, I will know of your arrival for I am watching, upon your arrival you will find who is in charge and inform them of this conversation, my reason for this is so we don't have a premature show of explosive. My men and I all have death switches upon our body so if your S.W.A.T or Cop's attempt to storm us or otherwise the entire Bank goes along with everyone in it. Once they are informed you and you alone will come to the front doors of the Bank and you will be admitted in, my men will remove any firearm you maybe carrying and you will be escorted to me. As a show of good faith and tolerance if you do this and comply with my instruction I will release all of the hostages in this Bank on the exception of the Bank Manager who will reside in the bank. If you choose to not comply everyone dies."

Sergei hung up the line as it went dead on both their ends. Now it was a matter of waiting, part B of the plan was complete now part C was in effect. An Sergei knew better then anyone that Slater would come. It was not a matter of if, it was just a matter of time.