"So, you think you're ready for the streets, kid?
Yah, that's laughable for sure."
You are in a room, a lavish one at that. Decorated with velvet and ornate furniture. Behind a desk made of what appears to be a type of oak is a leather chair. It spins to show a man sitting in it. This man had a very graceful and almost feminine face, but his eyes are what people feared when it came to looking at him. Unemotional, empty, yet fired by an anger so deep it was ice cold. He had a thin figure and well trimmed brown hair. He was wearing a white and red tuxedo at this time, but you knew that wasn't his only one. A smirk spread across his lips as he comes to looking at you. "You don't quite look the part to lead there. Sure you can survive?" He stands and walks over to you, observing you like a farmer looks over cattle at an auction. "You seem unconditioned. But... I know that look in your eye. I've seen it too many times to mistake it. Determination. You'll need that for sure." He goes back to his chair, and pours a glass of what seemed to be wine from this distance. "But I have no use for you i'm afraid. I have too many managers right now, in fact. I would kill them off that would make me look bad, wouldn't it?" He waves his hand, and says "Get out of my office. I'm done with you." The scene fades.

Down in a dump of a warehouse by the harbor, there was a group of men. All of them in dark suits, but one in the strangest. This man stood out because he had the demeanor of a mad man, which befitted him truly. He raises his hand, and says "Well, this is truly boring! What's on the list of hits!?" One of the other men comes foreward, and says "We have a contract on an upstart rookie, sir. He tried to get into your cousin's mob and was denied. But someone wants him dead, because he failed to do his job it would seem. Wasn't too easy on the details, boss." The man leans forward, and glares at the speaker with one eye. "And you took this contract? Detectives have set traps for us before and this sounds like one! Luckily, though, we always just shoot our way out!" He starts to laugh maniacally, but stops suddenly. In a dark and gravelly voice, he says "Kill the bastard and bring the contractor his head." The five other men make a salute and almost scream "YES, SIR! RIGHT AWAY!" and all but two scramble off. The man, whose name was John Wyler, starts to rub his hands together in a plotting way, chuckling to himself. "That should distract the pissants for now." He leaps from his chair, and grabs a wooden staff that was carved to look very ornate. "But, besides all that." He swings the staff around so it's in the face of one of the two that stayed "What is on our agenda, Gordon?" Gordon gulps, and says "Well, you could always try a heist again." John scratches his chin in thought for a few moments, and then says "That sounds risky. Men could die horrible deaths. I could die a horrible death." He grins and almost sings out "LET'S DO IIIIIIIIT!" and marches out of the warehouse, his men following him.

in an undisclosed location on the east side of the city:
I grinned widely as a man was brought before me, he was one of our underlings trying to score a quick buck by selling some drugs and taking a cut for himself. I walked over to him and I laughed as I heard him beg for mercy and as I laughed I told him "okay ill show mercy" I said as he looked like he had hope in his eyes then I pulled out a knife and I stabbed him in the eye as he screamed "if I used a gun you would be dead!" I yelled laughing as he was bleeding out of his eye and sliced his neck to shut him up. when he was dead I motioned for the guards to clean up the mess, I told everyone in the room "no one in this gang ever steals from me, or I will do much worse." I said and they all looked at me with fear just the way I liked it as I sat back in my chair behind my desk smoking a cigar. while one of my kings known the be the strongest physically and rivaled even me when it came to killing with pain was my personal guard, although the other kings took charge of the business we ran he took care of me and made sure I didn't go insane and kill everyone that looked at me wrong and if one of our guys had a sickness or was sent to jail then he would take their place until I could send them bail money

on a collage campus on the eat side:
I was one of the kings to the boss, he ordered me to keep the drug ring for the students going knowing it was essential for us to keep it up to keep earning a moderately safe profit considering collage kids will do whatever it takes to get their fix of the good stuff. doing this almost reminds me back when we were just selling simple pot with the boss before his break down. I stayed in the campus unless ordered to do otherwise so I could guard our drug ring in the area.

in a warehouse at the northeast side:
get those guns shipped out now you little piss ants!" another one my kings yelled, he was in charge of our gun trafficking in the area selling to those that would keep their end of the bargain with the right gun. he made sure that the trucks had escorts and went to the right places and if someone decided to take a gun for themselves or if a buyer didn't pay the agreed price then he was given permission by the boss to kill them on sight. unlike the boss he made it quick for them and took no joy in it but he wasn't going to let anyone screw them over as he kept the trafficking in the area running smoothly

Heading North on the interstate, Upstate:

“Why do I never get to choose the channel?” Damien asked of no one in particular, clearly disappointed with his position along the picking order. An exchanged glance, and Felix and Ken answered synonymously, “because you don’t drive, Andrew,” his name wasn’t Andrew, of course, but a long standing joke at Damien’s expense had been circulated amongst the crew for years originating as a misunderstanding on the part of one of his female friends, and clearly it had stuck. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole… Bitch,” Felix finished, a quote each present had heard more times than they could count. “Shut the fuck up Felix, you still don’t even know where that quote came from,” Ken responded, as a little blue Honda Civic cut them off whilst traversing a particularly sharp turn, causing Felix to swerve wildly to the side to avoid the passing vehicle. “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” Ken shouted, reaching past his fellow passengers to grab ahold of the, ‘Oh Shit,’ bars lining either side of the obnoxiously yellow classic Chevy pickup truck they happened to be taking upstate that particular night.

“You shut the fuck up Ken, we’re fucking fine, as usual,” Felix retorted, clearly pleased with the happenstance turn of events providing him the upper hand in their pointless debate. “And besides, if you die we’ll bury you in a Jew cemetery and you’ll go to purgatory or some shit for kinda believing in the right God,’ ‘Fuck you Felix, if your shit driving gets me killed I’m coming back as a ghost and haunting your Muslim ass,’ ‘Both of you shut the fuck up! We have a job to do, and our chances are dodgy at best if your constant bickering gives me a damn headache,” Damien finished, clearly unhappy with the turn of events. “Always with these two yanks, I swear. You fucking twit this, you bloody twat that, yada yada Jew, yada yada Muslim, Jesus fucking Christ,” the Englishman among them thought to himself, momentarily relieved of the torrential word slinging as the three each drifted into their own thoughts for a time. “Damien, your gay,” Felix uttered nearly beneath his breath before beginning to chuckle half way through his delivery.

“Says you! You’re the one who won’t shut up about people’s dicks! All the time, dicks this, dicks that, you have a complex or something,” Damien retorted angrily, Felix clearly having hit a nerve, which is exactly what he had been aiming for. Damien may have been brilliant, but common sense and an easily obtained understanding of the psychology of his peers was not his strong suit. “Shut the fuck up. Neither of you would have ever gotten laid if it weren’t for me paying women to sleep with you,” Ken not so subtly reminded them. “Well, there was Vio--,’ ‘don’t you even start with the whole Violet thing, Andrew! I tricked her into sleeping with you to, ‘make me jealous,’ because I’m a good person, ‘well, actually that’s not a very nice thing to do,’ ‘shut the fuck up, Damien, you were madly in love with her and I did what it took to get her to willingly give you a taste, be fucking grateful,” this having struck a deeper chord returned the three to embittered, contemplative silence.

“Dude, your girlfriend looks like Carly Rae Jepsen,” Felix reminded Ken after a few quiet moments. “I have a girlfriend?” Ken remarked with mild amusement, before bringing an open bottle of Dos Equis Amber to his lips, simultaneously handing one to Damien, the last two remaining in the six pack they had brought along with them for the ride, before mouthing a silent cheers, clinking the two bottles together, and remarking, “that’s news to me,”. “Yeah, dude,” Felix preached, with absolute conviction, “that twelve year old stripper from Fantasy whatever,”. “You mean Kim? Dude, she’s Asian, and like, twenty three,” Ken responded in between sips of his newly procured drink. “So’s Carly,” Felix retorted, still possessed of the zealous Gnosis of a fanatic religious convert. “She has blue eyes, Felix,” Damien remarked, laughing all the while. “She isn’t Asian, bro. Although I did once know an Asian girl with blue ey--,’ ‘No one wants to hear about the Asian girl with blue eyes you used to know, Ken. We know all about your fucking muse, if you’re so in love with her why don’t you marry her?”.

To this Ken and Damien exchanged mildly bewildered looks once again before responding in unison, “You know what, ‘muse,’ means, Felix?” both now chuckling a bit amongst themselves. “I hate you guys,” the three spoke together, each with a dramatically contrasting tone, before returning once more to the quiet which had marked the majority of their trip, broken up only by arguments about nothing important lasting minutes at a time. “This is my last time, guys. I’m out,” Damien broke the silence, before breaking into an obviously pre-prepared speech; “we’re out of Sudo. This is the last batch, and you both know it. I only planned to spend a year abroad, and it’s time for me to go back home and get a real job--,’ ‘fuck you, Andrew,” his clearly well planned and meticulously calculated speech blown to bits with a simple phrase, courtesy of Ken. “Do what you want dude, pirates are free, but you really think you can go back to working a desk job after all this?’ ‘well, it would be in a lab,--‘ ‘I’m well aware of what you went to school for Damien. You gonna stop sleeping with hookers, doing blow off stripper’s tits, making a million plus a year to go be a lab assistant for people who make better boner pills for fat old fucks?”.

Defeated, possessed of a headache, and in no mood to play along with Ken’s verbal swashbuckler’s dream, Damien looked out the window of the passenger side, the truck itself having no back seat and Ken, easily being the smallest of the three always having been regulated to the middle seat, allowing him to hide his face away in a childish, “you can’t see me,” sense of the term. “Dude, that Asian chick’s twelve,’ ‘fuck you Felix, she has tits,’ ‘so does my twelve year old cousin,’ ‘then she’s fucking old enough,’ ‘dude, gross,’ Felix and Ken rambled on amongst themselves, stopping only as their exit came into view on the left side of an irregularly traveled rural highway thirty miles from the nearest gas station, a hundred from any settlement large enough to consider a town. Eight miles of forest, “road,” if you could call it that, and there it was, a seemingly ancient Winnebago abandoned in the middle of nowhere, complete with interior booby traps, shenanigans Felix had insisted upon, and a functioning meth lab. Exiting the three began stripping off their civilian clothes, dressing in stark white painter’s garb before strapping on gas masks and plastic hair nets. “Let’s get started then,” Damien moaned, painfully.

East side collage campus:
hey Lukas" one of the sellers said to one of the three kings as he responded "what is it now?" "we got a message from the boss saying he wants us to expand the reach to the south side" "that so?" he asked as he took the note the courier gave him, since their were always hackers looking into different messages the boss insisted that we used letters and burn them after we read them. it did say that the boss wanted expansion to the southern side to get more of the docks territory for the arms we sold. he wrote a message and gave it to the courier and made sure the courier had an escort to get back to me....

meanwhile in the north east side:
I made sure I was in the office building nearby the trucks depot to help schedule and redirect the trucks we used for selling the arms we had and that each truck had men both inside the truck taking care of the merchandise itself and a car escort nearby in case of a drive by. the boss didn't accept failures well especially when it came to weapons so he made sure to be careful on when the trucks went out when it was most likely that other gangs wouldn't be tempted to take them. he made sure to direct the trucks as close to our territory as possible before going to the pier on the south side hence the reason the boss wants to take control of it to make an established front in case of an attack

At the Winnebago, in the woods, Upstate:

“I’m telling you dude, there’s a guy moving in on the University out East ,” an extended drag of a cigarette, a few solitary puffs in the shape of, “o’s,” and the expected response was mouthed, “so what do you want me to do about it, Felix?” Ken wasn’t the muscle of this operation, and so far as he was concerned procuring the sudo necessary to keep their little operation up and running, coupled with the eminent desertion of their resident chemist was of a much greater immediate demand on his mental faculties than some asshole trying to move in on turf that wasn’t even theirs to begin with. Caught by the statement half way through his own drag Felix attempted, poorly, to keep from spluttering as he choked, “wha--, guh, huh-huh, heh, heh…,” and, noisily preparing a wad of mucus, saliava, and tar for departure in the depths of his throat blurted, “you? Nothing. Me,” before finally releasing the contents of his sinus all about the now slowly rotting tires on the passenger side of their Winnebago, grabbing at the double barreled shotgun, Lucy, he insisted on carrying with him every time they took the truck out.

“Put that fuckin’ thing down before you hurt yourself,” Ken groaned more frustrated than legitimately concerned or angry, the weight of this quite possibly being their last cook together growing more burdensome with each passing moment, as he dug through a side pouch in the duffle he had brought along for their weekend getaway, producing a small plastic packet containing a few neatly folded tissues. Taking one before blowing his nose in the most melodramatic of fashion within its plush folds, Felix balled the thing up before catching a glare from Ken in his direction and stopping flat in his tracks. “Oh, right, you fucking puss,” was the only reply Ken’s glance seemed like to receive, however, before Felix moved to place the tissue in the garbage can where it belonged. “It’s for your safe--‘ ‘fuck, Ken, I’ve heard it a hundred times, don’t leave DNA, that includes motherfuckin’ tissues, listen to me, I went to college,” the absurdly pointless mock yipping gesticulations made with his fingers, however, served only to cause Felix to burn himself on his lit cherry, dropping the butt with an audible yelp in his instinctive haste to flee from the heat.

Before Lucy could hit the ground Ken moved to catch her with a knee, then moving to place a hand on the weapon opened her up and dumped the shells onto his lap, handing Felix’s prized possession back to him empty. Of course he had other shells, but it was done more for the satisfaction of seeing the look on the guy’s face than in an effort to effectively disarm him. Retrieving his cigarette both Felix and Ken each took another drag in silence. “Hear me out here, Felix. We need sudo,’ ‘no shit Sherlock,’ ‘shut the fuck up dude. We need sudo, right?” the silent, derisive response he received did nothing to stem Ken’s building excitement towards his newfound scheme. “So this whole time I’ve been thinking to myself, ‘where do I get sudo? It’s not as if the big city has any ma’ and pa’s hick drug stores, and even if they did every street has ten cameras pointed right at it,’ right?’ ‘I swear to God, if you say let’s steal a barrel of methylene,” the creaking of the Winnebago door, and Damien’s sudden appearance through it’s doors had gone unnoticed in the commotion, but managed to stymie Ken’s speech for but a moment regardless.

“Shut up Andrew. We can’t do another drug store heist up here, almost got clipped the last time ‘round, security in the city’s too extensive and I’m not taking a chance running it up from out of state. Instead, we let the sudo come to us,”. This revelation was met with exchanged glances, mutual in their confusion and dubious outlook. “Listen, the sudo comes from somewhere, right?’ ‘well, obviously,’ ‘I said listen the fuck up Damien. It comes on a truck from out of state, down South, up North, out West, doesn’t matter. When it gets here it goes to a distribution center out of town, and gets shipped in smaller batches via commercial van to Walgreens and shit in the city,” the grin on the young man’s face was swelling so much it seemed he might burst, clearly taking an inordinate degree of pleasure in the suspense he was forcing on his colleagues, though neither of them spoke. “So, we wait until the vans are loaded, watch where they go. Walgreens only stocks so many things, every van that goes out to them’s gonna have a case of Allegra-D, maybe some legit sudo,’ ‘so let me get this straight, Ken; you want to steal a high security van on the street in the middle of the day? It’s GPS monitored you twit!” Damien’s disapproval, however, only increased Ken’s giddiness.

“Sure, it is. That’s why we’re never going to deviate from it’s route,” now open mouthed, and in utter disbelief, both Felix and Damien fell absolutely silent. “I’m not saying we’re breaking into the distribution center, or stealing the van. Just a little run of the mill vandalism. See, those van’s are mighty heavy, and have massive tires, too big for a normal guy to put on without tools. We look up local prescription drug distribution centers on Google, watch where the vans go for a few days, then put a few nails on the street and wait. When they pop a tire they’ll call for a tow, and, ‘and then we hit ‘em?” Felix blurted, now wholly immersed in the prospect of some good old fashioned highway robbery. “Fuck you Felix. We watch what tow truck company picks up the van, look up their address, then we break in, pop the back and make off in five minutes or less with as much of the usual suspects as we can carry. Security’s lax, even if they have a system it won’t be on during the day, and everyone takes a piss break sometime. Best part? Company’s in the fuckin’ boonies. We just walk out, park a half mile in the woods and we’re golden. Can even close the van back up after we’re done, no one will notice a thing until it gets to the pharmacy,”.

undisclosed location on east side:
the courier came back and I read his message from Lukas and I nodded to the courier "send a good 100 men. make sure they have a hacker with them to block out any form of security measure they would use. its a dock so they will most likely have cameras their and an alarm system. make sure that they are blocked and let the men take over" I told the courier and he nodded writing everything I said down before running back with the hundred men and hacker that I allowed them to have. as I drank more of my tequila waiting for the courier to come back with the good word

east side college campus:
me and a good 30 men that we could spare came with me while the rest made sure to keep up their drug selling and make the right amount owed to them while he was gone. the men grabbed whatever pick up truck or car they could scratch up to make the trip quicker as the hundred men and hacker showed up. he nodded to all them as he got into his own car and lead their 'charge' to the docks on the south east side.

Winnebago, in the woods, Upstate:

“Felix, surely you’re not serious? I mean, truly? In here, while we’re working with highly unstable chemicals? Right next to one another?’ ‘Fuck you Damien, pirate, do what I want,” the two had been on each other’s nerves for the past four hours, and it seemed as though things were about to come to blows as the door of the Winnebago crept open. “Do you bloody see this?” Damien demanded of Ken, pointing to the, well, currently indisposed member of their party as the newcomer leaned over him, checking the Wal Mart thermometers placed in some of the heated beakers on the rack. “It’ll fall off if you leave it exposed to these chemicals too long, Felix,” along with a gulp and the audible zipping of pants this was the only response he received, however. “I made tea, Damien. I’ll watch the burners, go get some air,’ ‘thanks, man,’ ‘tea? This is ‘Murica, you fuckin’ limies,’ ‘shut the fuck up, Felix. You need to go wash your shit with soap and water. Vigorously,’ ‘man, that’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time,’ ‘lotion is not the same thing as soap you fuckin’ deviant, and git’ me a gerd damn beer while you’re there,”.

The last phrase was a joke aimed at Felix’s drunken hillbilly uncle, Bowe Brown, with whom they had stayed in Georgia, and who had never quite mastered the English language. Or perhaps he was simply too drunk at any given time to speak coherently, either way he was known locally as the single worst electrician to have ever lived, and spent the majority of his time drinking domestic pisswater and playing Call of Duty until he passed out, and the finesse with which Ken could manage an impersonation of uncle Bowe always managed to evoke a hearty laugh from anyone who had the misfortune of having met uncle Bowe, besides Felix. This was no exception. “Why are you even here, Felix? Don’t you have a job?” this question, as soon as it was posed by Damien, brought the two other people in the trailer to an awkward silence. “Fuck you, Andrew,” was all Felix spoke in reply before getting up and walking out, presumably to go wash the toxic chemicals from his flesh. “Dude, Damien. Harsh,’ ‘Well, it’s true! Why is he here, Ken?’ ‘Because, you blithering idiot, you’re leaving at the end of the week, remember?”.

Awkward silences were all too common among the three friends turned illicit business partners these days, and in the face of Damien’s imminent departure things had only gotten worse, more frustrated and less, well, fun then it had all been in the beginning. “You’re his best friend, Damien. He’s pissed off that your leaving after things were just getting back on track, and he doesn’t know how to handle abandonment well so he acts like a fuckin’ fool,’ ‘Well, it’s not as if I promised to stay here forever! I’m not his fucking wife Ken, surely he’s learned by now that people come and people go, that’s how life is,’ ‘Damien, your still obsessed with Violet. Frankly, I’m pretty sure your madly in love with Lina, who is a hooker I pay to sleep with you, and I’d guess when you go back home you’ll still be talking about her for the rest of the fuckin’ decade. It really surprise you that Felix is having a hard time letting you go?’ ‘Well, he fucking shouldn’t be, Ken. I’m not sleeping with him, now am I?’ ‘Damien. Felix doesn’t give a fuck about the girls he sleeps with, pretty sure he’s gay myself. He does care about his friends, though,”.

Only then did either of them notice one of the beakers had become too hot, and the profuse bubbling this heat had prompted was threatening a chemical spill two feet away from them. “Fuck,” Damien and Ken announced to no one in particular at once, and as the issue was corrected Damien found it an apt time to change the subject. “So, Ken, this job you’re working. Going to be able to pull it off with two guys?’ ‘Yeah, think we’ll manage. I’m more concerned with how much purity’s going to drop with him as the most qualified lab assistant we’ve got. I mean, it’ll drop with me taking over as our chemist, it’s not as if this is my strong suit, but I’ll manage. When I’m sleeping, though? Not sure I trust him to keep from blowing the place up while I’m out. Maybe we’ll bring in a guy to take over as lab assistant, plenty of starving college students looking to live above their means while making a quick buck,’ ‘Yeah, I’m sure you’ll love that, mister OCD. Don’t touch that, do prod that, why aren’t you pouring that already? Felix is the only person I know who might be able to stand learning your system, you controlling fuckin’ twat,”.

This brought both to a hearty bit of laughter before things grew quiet once more, each lost in their own thoughts for a time. “Go talk to him, Damien. I get that you’re done with this, but you’ll both feel better about the whole thing later if you spend some time together now,’ ‘Yeah, sure, you’re probably right. Don’t let anything overheat, burner seven’s been acting up lately. Need to replace it…,” he mumbled to himself as he stood, making his way past Ken despite the narrowness of the Winnebago’s hallway, before stepping out into the twilight, closing the door behind him. Felix was sitting twenty or so feet from the Winnebago having a smoke, staring off into the sunset. “It’ll be done soon, right? Gotta get ready to start packing it all up,” an exaggerated drag led to an equally overdramatic exhale, displaying just how uninterested Felix was in the packing of meth. “Sure, it’ll be over soon, man,” removing his lab coat and gas mask Damien took his seat by his friend, finding a couple unopened beers next to their lawn chairs, along with a few empties and a bottle opener. Cracking them both open he handed one to Felix, and after a silent cheers and the clinking of glass on glass, they both guzzled the elixir, greedily.

south side pier:
we had all gotten to the pier and I ordered everyone to stay on the lookout and wait till the hacker was done with the cameras and security system before charging and taking on the law enforcement or 'security' that would already be here. it only took a few minutes till the hacker gave the all clear and soon they charged in. lukas took his assault rifle in hand and started shooting them down behind a car while all the men made sure to stick to cover in the area since their strategy was to box them in and make sure they couldn't call for any help. which so far was working like a dream considering that the best the guys on scene had was pistols and shotguns at their disposal all of which lost their stopping power with distance so as long as they all hugged the walls in the area and made sure to move between cars and debris it wouldn't take long to take them out and stake some men here to claim as our own and finally have the ports they would need to help keep their gun shipments that much safer and easier to transport through the east side

northeast in cargo area:
mark had to make sure that all the shipments were going accordingly and so far everything was going well as shipments went to different parts of the east and even north side to the marketers with the escorts they had to drop off and collect the cash

Meanwhile, the three members of the Kings of Blood that were told to track down that wannabe were overlooking what was apparently his hideout. It was packed with heavily armed guards. "Fuck, man. How did such an upstart get so much weaponry?" one of the men said. He was a giant of a man, 6'5" and built like a bull. But he was smart enough to know when to back away and this was it. "We can't go in there, we'll be turned into a bloody mess!" One of the other men speaks up "I'd rather be a bloody mess then deliver bad news to the boss, George. There's gotta be a way to get to him somehow." The last one, a rather scrawny young man, says "This doesn't seem right. There's only one man that can get this kind of firepower... and that's Mr. Smythe." "Shut up, benjie. You're a god damned coward. Let's wait the bastard out and see if he gets in range of my rifle." "He told us to bring the fucker's head to the client on a pike" "Shut your god damned mouth, smartass. I don wanna be here either, but we have job to do. A job that pays the bills and then some." They all chuckle a little. They don't know how John does it, but the guy always pays them off for a job well done, even if it's just a beggar that someone is annoyed at. But who were they to complain? Money is money, and neither of the three minded getting their hands filthy with blood.

The only penthouse hotel on the east side:
Guards were everywhere surrounding the hotel while I drank my scotch and smiled my cigar with my king duke by my side as security kept a patrol and cameras were everywhere and if nothing else guards were at every hallway even the college students knew not to cross me and a few were ' initiates' and were in casuals to keep an eye out for suspicious people in case someone wanted to get the drop on me.

South side pier:
It didn't take long until the guards were finally killed and Lukas left a few men to take the pier buildings as their own and have complete control of the territory Lukas called me "hey boss, king Lukas. We took over" "good job my man. Make sure men are costing the pier then had back to your post" we both hung up and Lukas left with a hid 60 men and left the rest to guard the pier

The Captain’s Quarters, Fantasy Island, North West Side, in the City:

“What the fuck is this shit?’ ‘ATC, I think,’ ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch. I don’t fuckin’ pay you to talk,’ ‘Well, technically Ken’s paying her, Felix,’ ‘Fuck you, Damien. Ken still owes me twenty bucks,’ ‘Belle here charges four hundred an hour, yo,’ ‘Shut the fuck up, you fuckin’ Jew,’ ‘Says the fuckin’ Muslim,’ ‘Both of you twats shut up and cut me another line,’ whether it was a vain attempt to impress the ladies he otherwise seemed to despise in all but their most base appeal, or because surrounding himself with women of questionable morals and dubious cleanliness truly offended him was unknown, but nothing put Felix in a fighting mood quite like the Captain’s Quarters, in stark contrast to Damien who seemed to be enjoying himself a great deal, and Ken who dearly appreciated anyone who would serve him a drink at odd hours of the night (and occasionally day) whilst topless. Though the prospect of throwing an illicitly over the top goodbye party for Damien complete with hookers and blow had been tossed about a time or two in the end they had decided on the usual, Kim, Belle, and Cheri in the VIP Lounge.

Of course, they still brought along enough blow to put down most crack heads, so in retrospect all they really did was replace their apartment with their regular place, and the hookers with strippers. Belle, a brunette who happened to be the most, well, endowed of the three was currently lying on her back, head resting in Damien’s lap whilst her left leg was draped pretentiously over Felix’s shoulder, knee resting behind and just above his head, foot absently playing with his opposite shoulder, a fresh line being cut on a small board covering much of her stomach all the while, the only part of her which was garbed by anything as it so happened. “La la, la-la la,” the blonde, Cheri, whispered in Ken’s ear as she danced in place, hips and shoulders gyrating in time with the beat of the music blaring throughout the establishment, embracing his upper body with her own from behind as the third, Kim, a dark, silken haired beauty whom Ken had taken an immediate liking to just after moving to the City held him seated under her own body weight in a matching leather loveseat as she, “danced,” about on top of him.

“Hey, if a girl’s gonna strip for nasty old fucks while having one dollar bills thrown at ‘em they get to pick the fuckin’ playlist,” Ken shouted across the room at his less accepting compatriot as Kim rose to meet him eye to eye, stopping momentarily to ever so softly brush his lips with her own before, casting him a glance more smirk than smile, began rising to place his face at her chest, picking up his bourbon Old Fashioned and slowly pouring its contents over her flesh into his mouth, laughing at the greedy manner with which he guzzled the poison down. This was the very woman Felix insisted was, in secret, Carly Rae Jepsen, despite her being of South-East Asian descent and her continued stance that she was, in fact, not a famous pop star, and were she, what was she doing working as a stripper? To which Felix most often replied with something misogynistic, usually along the lines of all women being hoes, to which she would generally reply with a witty remark or two on how he’d be a much more enjoyable person should his dick not have forgotten to catch up with the rest of him during puberty, oft’ leaving him speechless.

The past day had been spent lounging about the apartment eating take out and playing Xbox in between extended bouts of sleep and Netflix binges, as the day after a successful cook usually was, and with the next day already scheduled for reconnaissance on their local prescription drug distribution center, or, more specifically, on the commercial vans and their routes from the outskirts of the City to its every interior nook and cranny, and the day after that the last Damien was to spend in the country before boarding his flight and returning home to London today was the last they had to give a proper send off for their chemically minded partner in crime, and even less the hookers they were well underway towards reaching the, “all-out,” mark. Several lines and quite a few drinks in and the reserved, proper Englishman was howling at the moon, or at least the ceiling, very nearly knocking the cutting board, and the rest of the cocaine with it, off of the naked woman he was using as a table in his jubilation. “Fuck, Andrew! Careful with that shit, it’s worth more than she is,” Felix fumed, clearly referring to Belle.

Truth be told, the six of them were all pretty messed up at this point. Ken was currently guzzling his eleventh drink in the past two hours, and was at least a few lines in, Felix was snorting lines like his life depended on it, and the girls had each had a few. A fourth woman entered, tall, dark, beautiful, bearing a bottle of Dom Perignon and, messily popping the cork and raining the contents down all about Damien, Belle, and Felix, brought the entire room to raucous laughter. Pouring the remaining contents into seven glasses the lot moved from their former positions to cheers, “to Damien, that fuck,” before drinking it down in a single swallow. “Gonna miss you, man,” Ken confided, as the hostess took her leave and the six returned to partying, reinvigorated by the extravagant display of friendship, or something like friendship. “I fuckin’ hate you, Damien,” was all Felix seemed to have to say, but the girls each had more than affectionate words for the subject of their little party. “Next time I have to put up with you two assholes, we’ll be in London,’ ‘Yeah man, doing shots on top of the Millennium Wheel,”.

Me and the men kept the penthouse under guard as my reinforcement that I sent with Lukas were coming back to fully fortify the entire penthouse.

East side: I had returned to the collage area and I came back to see the payments noticing that the stack was light. "Are You trying to fuck with me?" "God no king! But some of our boys are pocketing the cash" "then they must have a death wish. Give me the names of the men we suspect if pocketing our cash or else I'll send you to the boss" he didn't need anymore incentive then that as he ran to find the info, nobody screwed with the boss