Chicago, United States

It's been said that if you don't control your own destiny, it's determined for you. You become a product of society, a carbon copy, an empty shell. You give up on your dreams, on yourself. They say that your aspirations come from the deepest part of your heart, and that you can only be happy by following them. It's a load of horseshit, really. No sane man picks a life of crime -- I didn't. I had a future, before my folks passed. Now it's muddled. But, to tell you the truth, there are days when the thrill of not knowing which day will be your last is the only thing keeping me going. And I am still that boy from Teoloyucan. But now I carry a gun, and I steal lives. Because it's either them or me, my folks taught me that. It was their last lesson, spoken by their caskets. I do what I do because the money's good, and I just.. Don't think about the bad parts. This is my life. Me, the crew, and our next job.

It was a dreary day in Chicago. The clouds hung low like a dejected man at odds with the world, and there was a nip to the air, just cold enough to settle into the bones of the weary traveler. Though it was March, and this was Chicago, Juan Medina could not adjust to the climate of his new "home". He looked out the window of his hotel, closing his eyes in an effort to will himself to greener pastures. Their last job had been in Monaco. This.. Is not Monaco, Juan thought to himself with a pang of longing, opening his eyes in defeat. He had had a good time in Europe: it was almost like a vacation. The beaches, the women, the luxury.. He almost forgot that the reason they were there was to rob an old trust-fund millionaire. The guy had connections to some of the heads of Parliament, so.. Juan doubted he'd be able to go back. Now it was Chicago, in late Winter. Alex had called them there to prep for the next heist, but gave little detail. Said he'd fill them in after the plane trip. Juan grabbed his leather jacket and put it on over a white t-shirt. He had started to dress formally, putting on the bottoms to one of his black three-piece suits, but decided to run to the hotel lobby and down the block for coffee first. On his way out he stole a glance at the paperwork for the room. He had checked in as David Ramone, which was to be his identity for the week, or however long the Chicago job took. He didn't want to think about it.

On his way down to the lobby, Juan reflected on just how he had gotten into all this in the first place. The crew he had now -- the ones he trusted with his life -- had been together for a little over a year now. In that time, they had pulled off sixteen successful heists, robberies, cons, you name it. They were all pros, each one a specialist in their own field. Juan was the confidence man, but he got his hands dirty with the rest of them from time to time. They had two wheelmen, Werner and Angelo, both good guys. Juan always tried to get them to talk more, but then again.. Their actions speak louder than words when they're behind the wheel. James, the group's tech specialist was, on the other hand, a natural conversationalist. James was a Brit, but he wasn't out of place: the group had criminals from all sorts of places. Juan was the only Mexican, though. And James was in good company with Charlotte, their.. "Temptress" from London. But the crew often got in positions requiring direct confrontation, and people with skill in firearms and the mettle to use them. Mike and Jim were those men. To Juan, Jim is a loose cannon; but he's saved Juan's ass more times than he can count. Mike is harder to read. It had been a year, and Juan still had trouble placing him. Finally, they had Alex: their "official", often their contractor and, most importantly, their cleaner. Also the reason Juan was in Chicago, but he didn't hold that against Alex. The guy was reliable. He had never met him -- nobody had -- but he was a big reason as to why their jobs ended with a payday, not a lockup.

That was their crew. The seven people whose fates were attached to Juan's. With them, he'd either make it big, or die in the attempt. It wasn't a morbid thought for Juan to habe, simply a realistic one. He was going to die, some day. But not today, he promised himself, as he opened the lobby door and caught a gust of chill Chicago air.

it is said that to survive a person needs to have a steady job, a family, a home. to hell with that.

Angelo liked his life just as it was living day by day. scoring big heists that would be more then 30% of Americans make in a year, that is just an assumption though. Angelo didn't care about his life before this because his life was boring, predictable and especially annoying. Angelo lived like anyone else would, he was one of the hollow shells trying to go to college to get a desk job. Sometimes Angelo considers what happened that day to be a blessing because it broke the chains of his fate and now Angelo could live the way that most children would dream about.

Angelo was sleeping in his car in a garage nearby, it wasn't that Angelo didn't have money for a hotel he just prefers his car more. Its the only place Angelo feels confident and safe, when Angelo was behind the wheel their was no doubt that he was one of the best street racers the world has known. Angelo's dodge charger was outfitted with a neon green coat as its primary color and a 13 vinyl on the sides of his car, 13 being Angelo lucky number and finally a Angel with a scythe was on the hood depicting the angel of death. Angelo would sometimes be forced into changing the body color if he wanted to avoid the heat but the vinyl's always stayed the same. Angelo soon got up and yawned as he felt morning come and as Angelo checked his phone for the time he soon got behind the wheel grinned wide and took some his loony bears which is appropriate considering they were gummy bears made of acid and when he was tripping he would see the badass version of the loony tunes around him. Angelo soon started his ride and started driving to the randevu point where they would meet for their next job....

Piss off. I'm still drunk.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and this soggy bitch is kicking me in the chest. I reach over and fling her leg away, but it comes pinging back and hits me. "Fuck off, hen!" I yell at her through the curtain of hair protecting her from the outside world. She mutters and thrashes the covers around creating a messy Thunderdome of sex. Sex, I enjoy, this girl taking up my fucking bed, I do not. She sits up and shouts something at me which I drown out by shouting back at her. Cheeky slag, I think to myself. She crawls out of bed and by the time I get back from the bathroom she's dragged her shite out of my hotel room.

It's a mediocre hotel, a nice enough place that does what it has to. Cooks me breakfast, dinner, cleans the shite stains off the tub. Everything it has to. I put on a suit I got from some high-end highstreet retailer and headed to the elevator. A middle-aged woman with her acne-scarred makeup-caked puss stood like a board waiting for it to arrive. I hunched against the wall, head bowed in defeat of the mighty vodka, hands massaging temples and covering eyes. The stiff bitch cocked her head at me, smug look on her canvas. "Rough night?" she asked. "Shut your cakehole you scabby whoor," I softly reply, the same smug look playing satirically on my face. She looks at me with a look of horror, pure, complete, unfiltered horror. How dare someone speak to such an elegant woman in such a fashion? I burped and blew it in her direction. "I'll piss in your cornflakes hun, I am not in the mood to deal with your clenched-arse style today." She walks away from me and the elevator to the staircase with as much dignity as she can muster when her trembling lip makes her look like a kid who didn't get a cheese string in their lunchbox.

The walk along the drizzly streets of Chicago were the best he had felt all day so far. The sky was grey, the people were timid, and the birds had shut the fuck up. It was a grim day, if anything were to describe it. I thrived in this atmosphere, and strolled down the centre of the pavement, cleaving through the crowds like Moses and the Red Sea. My sunglasses block me from glaring at an old lady who didn't shift her arse out of my way quick enough, so I bawled her out instead. "Move, saggy tits. I am an important man, with important places to be. Do not let me be stopped by your shitty knees!" I hysterically yell, the old lady with a look of nothing more than surprise on her aged face. She could be my gran, I like her. I feed off of the disgust and contempt of others. It loosens my clinching migraine so that I can now see clearly what is around me. I imagine pulling out a light machine gun and just letting loose, the whole scene plying out in slow motion with frequent slow motion shots of my angered face, spittle flying like shrapnel and empty shells being ejected out, the muzzle flash creating strobe lights. Then after that the camera would follow me as I step over a mountain of bodies, the blood slick in my hair like grease and the footsteps making splashing noises as they landed in puddles of blood. I sadly awake from my daydream when a dog barked and I nearly kicked the little bugger too when I noticed that it was actually a very pretty dog, so I didn't.

As I turned the corner I could see the ever handsome Juan walking down the road. Their beloved leader. The charming, beautiful face of this intrepid crime squad. I stopped just in front of Juan. "Morning Juan. Lovely day, isn't it?"

We rushin in?
or are we goin' sneaky beaky like?

Walking up first thing in the morning, his girl tries to tug him to bed, "Hnn come back to Bed." she said in her cute morning voice, teasingly, he replied with "I will climb back once I finish what I have to do, alright?" smiling at her, he got up and dressed, looking at the weary condition of the weather, only the subtle noise of the radio and his girlfriends adorable light snoring filled the air. "Weather's really damp and rubbish today, huh." he mutters to himself, glancing at the clock, he noticed that he's late to a meeting with his crew, dressing up. "Bollocks, I don't wanna be the fuckin' skive again, Jim almost got my head last time I did." he thought to himself as he grabs his ever so important computer bag case.

Finally in his two piece, navy blue suit, he adjusted his inner polo and started walking towards the elevator, an old lady was there "How do you do, you seem a bit knackered, can't have that can we?" he said to her, smiling. With a ding, he leaves his 4 and a half hotel, which was a grandeur place. It was with pools, recreation facilities, and the like. Leaving through the automatic doors, he winced at the gust of Chicago hit his face, "It's bloody freezing, what the hell." he thinks to himself, the scenery of Chicago wasn't bad, groups of friends laughing with each other, children playing football, it was one of the nicer places they they visited.

Walking a bit, he had gotten a hotdog beforehand, being exceptionally careful not to spill it on his new suit. Halfway through finishing his hotdog, he noticed two of his 'heist' buddies already greeting each other, waving to both of them, he only met with the chilly glare of Jim. "Scary as always, you'll knock my knackers off if you do that. Anyway, how's it goin lads?" he asked both of them in particular.

blitz·krieg
(blĭts′krēg′)
n.
A swift, sudden military offensive, usually by combined air and mobile land forces.

Blitz. Werner first heard the word in high school history, in one of the rare moments he gave the instructor his full attention. Short for blitzkrieg, or “lightning warfare”, a military tactic used by Germany’s military forces during their offensive front at the beginning of World War Two. It was characterized by a sudden, rapid motorized attack, giving the opponent no time to react. He couldn’t think of a more fitting nickname for himself when he joined the crew. The strategy applied to the entire group, really. Most of the time, they were in and out, loaded down with cash, before the police had the chance to respond. If something held the bag-men up inside, well, even the slowest response team would make it in time. That's when Werner earned his share.

Perhaps it was fitting, then, that he was driving a car manufactured in the very same country that produced the blitzkrieg doctrine. The 2015 BMW M5 rolled down the broken streets of Chicago’s downtown, the whine of its twin turbo DOHC V8 piston engine barely audible over the roar of the big city as the manual gearbox downshifted into second. If Werner was to design a car for heists, this would be it. Unless you were a car fanatic, nothing stood out about the M5. Silver paint, executive-style body, four doors. It looked like the daily driver of a businessman; before Werner stole the car, it actually was. Hell, it looked like every other BMW on the line, another cookie-cutter German automobile. Cops would look at it and forget they ever saw it. The M5 was all about what was beneath the exterior, the powertrain, chassis, and suspension.

Werner knew it was a sin, driving the car in the slow, heavy morning traffic. He could feel through the gear lever the drivetrain yearning to be pushed to the limits, urging him to slam down the accelerator, shift into third, and scream past every daily commuter. It was moments like these where Werner found it difficult to restrain himself, but he managed. Sitting on top of 575 ponies and only pushing 30 mph for him was the equivalent of trying convince a starving man to take a handful of rice from the bag. He bravely trudged on, thankful he was at least out of the cold for now. The midwestern climate took its toll on the Las Vegas native, his body not nearly as adapted to the weather as his northern companions. The mechanic sat in the M5, heat on full blast, wrapped in a heavy black parka and a with a nasty cold. He’d done work in Chicago before, albeit in the summer, so he knew the roads of the windy city quite well, but he never felt any love for the place. Werner would give anything to be back in warm weather, even if it meant flying halfway across the world, a task he hadn’t undertaken until joining the new crew; that first flight was quite an experience.

Werner banished thoughts of sandy beaches and empty desert roads from his mind and returned to the task at hand. Pick up the gang. Meet Angelo and the others. The congested roads finally cleared enough to allow some amount of speed, but he didn’t dare exceed the speed limit. No sense in getting the police department’s attention before a job even starts. Hell, he was already taking a risk driving the stolen car, even after swapping the plates and the VIN changed. Still, his connections didn’t reach very deep in Chicago, so he was forced to take what he could get his hands on. He finally reached his destination, Trump International Hotel & Tower, right next to the Loop. Werner wasn’t sure if anyone stayed in the monument to excess, but he knew Jim, Juan, and James agreed to meet in the area, while Charlotte, Angelo, and Mike would convene elsewhere and regroup with the rest.

After a minute or two of searching, Werner spotted the three men and pulled to the side of the road and gave them a brief, two-fingered wave, hand still on the leather steering wheel. “Jim. Juan. James,” Werner greeted them each as they entered the car, his voice slightly hoarse. “Where to?”

Life has funny ways of messing around with you, depending on the choices you make. Look at me for example. I never chose a life of crime! You gotta be a complete fool to do it willingly. All I wanted was to be a soldier. I even succeeded too. I was a US Marine. Only for six freakin' years. From 18 till 24. Then my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and I had to be there for her, to help her out. We didn't had enough money for a proper treatment so I had to make money. And I soon found out that illegally was the only possible way to make money fast. I took part in illegal fights, I worked for an arms dealer, taking care of his shit. I didn't took any pleasure in doing illegal things but it's not like I had a choice. And all the dirty money I was winning was going to a good cause, to help her get through, with only a few left for personal pleasure. So I guess that was my only consolation. After my mom overcome the cancer I decided to get straight, at least for a little bit. I opened up a legal business, not much, just a car shop. I stopped working for that arms dealer, and I only fight rarely anymore, when I feel like it. All my life I had to struggle and make decisions, I never had it easy but don't get my wrong, i'm not complaining. At least i'm still alive and well. And here I am breaking the law again. For over a year now i've been part of a band of thiefs. We all have our place, our role in the team. Me...i'm their heavy hitter, their weapons man. Well, me and some scottish lunatic named Jim. We both get along just fine. There's no competition between me and him, as in who's better and more efficient. However he's a loose cannon, a permanently angry bastard and whenever i'm around him I feel that he's gonna go all crazy on us if he won't like something.

Mike woke in the sound of his smartphone's alarm ringing, as he grabbed the smartphone and stopped it's alarm, placing it back on the nightstand. Still dull from the sleep, he yawned and rubbed his eyes with his hands as he started looking around. It was morning time as he got up from the bed and started looking around. He took a room in a four star hotel. A really nice place with everything you need. Then he saw a pair of pink thong panties on the bed with a piece of paper underneath them which aparently had a message on it. Mike grabbed the panties then the paper and started reading from it. "Thanks for the amazing time Mike. You're probably the best client I ever had. And such a sweet guy. For once I actually enjoyed having sex with a client. Usually I get it over with fast because they're all such filthy pigs. But you're different. Anyway I wanted to leave you with a parting gift. I also took the liberty of taking some money from your wallet. Don't worry I only took half of what I usually request from my clients. P.S. Thanks for the wine! Jenna" Mike imidieatly checked his wallet and it looked like the woman told the truth. Most of the money was still there with only a few missing. Then he headed to the table where an opened up bottle of red wine and two glasses one empty and one half full where located. He closed the bottle then he drank the rest of the wine from the half empty glass.

After putting it down he remembered that he is supposed to meet with the team so he quickly put some clothes on him. A pair of blue jeans, a dark blue long sleeved t-shirt, a pair of black work-type boots and a black leather jacket. After grabbing his phone and the keys to his hotel room Mike quickly headed to the elevator getting back down to the lobby. Once he was out of the hotel he signaled a cab that stopped at the side of the road as Mike got inside quickly shutting the door. "Where to?" Asked the driver. "Oz Park!" Said Mike as the driver started the meter and drove away to the destination given to him by Mike. After a couple of minutes of driving the cab took Mike to his intended destination as Mike pulled out some money from his wallet and paid the driver. "Here! You can keep the change." Said Mike as he opened the door getting out. "Thank you sir!" Said the driver as Mike closed the door and the cab drove away. Oz Park. This is where Mike was supposed to meet with Charlotte and Angelo. Then the three of them would hook up with the others a little later. "Well it looks like I arrived here first." Said Mike looking around to see if Angelo or Charlotte where anywhere to be seen. All of a sudden Mike felt hungry so he headed to a hot dog cart as he looked at the vendor. "Gimme one! With everything." He said as the vendor quickly got to work, preparing his hot dog. Once he was done Mike payed the man and walked away with his hot dog as he took a bite from it and leaned next to a pole, somewhere outside of the park, waiting for Charlotte and Angelo.

Charlotte had been already up and walking all over Chicago as the sun was the one of the few warm spots throughout the city. With her jacket and purse, she adventured towards the local ATM and she quickly grabbed her credit card. She looked at it and couldn't help to smile a bit as she swiped her card into the ATM. All of the money she earned was for her 'hard work' in her line of work as she was able to second guess people down in Monaco. Man, did she earned a lot of money at that place. It had the best Gambling industry in Europe—probably in the whole world—as Monaco wasn't like Vegas.

She grabbed the cash and the card from the ATM and put them inside her purse as she began to grab her E-cigarette and started to smoke it. It was easier to set up than grabbing the lighter, then the e-cigarette, and then light it up and smoke it. Plus, it was way more healthy than regular cigarettes.

Charlotte recalled a couple nights ago as she already arrived in Chicago before the others got here a few days ago. She wanted to leave Monaco before she could of get caught at another party or at the airport. She met with the taxi driver, a man in his thirties and looked stressed out for his job of driving all over Chicago. Charlotte saw that and took the opportunity of getting some money for a place to stay. She had to spend almost all of her money for an airplane to Chicago and just had enough for dinner.

She talked to the cab driver as he was driving to the hotel. The cab driver told her about issues going on with his wife and his daughter as the wife wanted the husband to get a 'real job'. He kept talking about how shitty his wife was and how much her family was a bitch towards him. Even known he doesn't earn much. She listens to his story until they arrived at the hotel as she gave him the remaining cash and got out, leaving her purse behind. The cab driver soon saw that and tried to call out her; but, that didn't work. So, he got out of the taxi, locked his cab, and grabbed the purse and rushed towards her. It was a risky move; but, it got the driver out and the plan was moving forward.

She heard the cab driver's shouting as she 'realized' that she saw the purse. She thanked him as she gave him a hug and then a kiss on the cheek as the cab driver smiled a bit. The next thing you know, they were getting ready for some sexy time as they got undressed and turned off the lights. It took a few times to ask if he wanted to have sex, after all he did say that his wife was being a bitch towards him. But, he blew off some stress by sleeping with Charlotte.

The next morning was the perfect time to check his jacket pocket for his wallet. She did find the wallet and saw a picture of the family. The mother looked like she was in her late twenties and the daughter was around eight with blond ponytail hair. They were cute together and then saw the credit card. She then grabbed and set it down as she searched for paper and pen. She found those things and wrote the numbers down as she still looked at the picture. She didn't stop at all while looking at the picture and when that was over, she put the card back and then closed the wallet and placed it in the right jacket pocket.

She smiled at the cab driver as she grabbed her clothes and got dressed. The driver soon got up and realized the time as he hurried out of bed as she exited out of the bathroom. Charlotte then grabbed her purse and kissed him bye as he thanked her for the night spent with her. She nodded as she exited out of the hotel room, forever changing his and his family's lives.

She stopped at Oz Park and looked around for Mike and Angelo; but, she only found Mike. Charlotte wanted to leave the park; but, she couldn't and kept walking towards him. "Hello, Mike." she said with a cold tone, after she pulled her e-cigarette for her month. She looked around for Angelo as she passed Mike and sat at the bench. "Where the hell is Angelo?" she said as she crossed her legs and put the cigarette back to her mouth, waiting for Angelo to come to the park.

Juan found himself in a brand new city, and, out of restlessness or anxiousness or a combination of the two, he found himself waking up early that day. Stepping outside, it appeared as if the rest of the crew had the same idea. Coffee in hand, he was just about to dial Werner when Jim and James showed up outside the hotel.
"Morning, Jim. I'm freezing my ass off, and I'm not entirely sure if those are clouds or a curtain of smog, but.. This coffee isn't bad, so I suppose all is not lost," Juan said with a grin, nodding a friendly greeting to James before taking another sip. The crew had split into two units prior to their arrival in Chicago, for the purpose of remaining undetected while planning their next hit. It wasn't anything grand; half the team simply stayed nearby and rode with one driver, while the other half did the same somewhere else in the city. For the three of them, Werner was their ride -- and the American man pulled up next to them mere minutes after their sidewalk meeting.

"I've taken the liberty of renting us office space on the corner of Wells Street and Jackson Boulevard. We're on the fourth floor, that'll be where we meet up and plan," he told Werner, getting in the shotgun seat of his car. "We're posing as a Financial Consultant Firm, so try not to look like assholes when you go through the lobby. Or.. Maybe.. Do look like assholes. Just, rich assholes." Juan smirked and shrugged his shoulders, glancing back at Jim and James. "I'm as clueless as everyone else is about this job, so I'm hoping Alex has all the details ready for when we get there."

Angelo yawned as he kept driving towards the park where he would pick up Mike and Charlotte so they would go and learn what their next job was. Angelo took a few more of his gummies filed with acid then he proceeded to hide them. Last thing he wanted was to share his innocent looking gummy bears and have them tripping balls before the job even started. Angelo did a cool drift into a Parallel park to the entrance of the park and Angelo laugh "still awesome" Angelo said laughing then he honked the horn for them so they could get in, Angelo tried to avoid getting out of his car if he has the option. Angelo then waited for them to get in his car so he could drive to the meeting place...

Mike just finished his hotdog and started looking through his smartphone at all the music he downloaded before he got on the plane to Chicago. He made a mistake and lost all of the music he had on his SD card after he changed from his previous phone to this Samsung smartphone that he bought a few days ago. Well James helped him a lot with that too, since Mike wasn't very big on technology. All of it rock and metal, especially KoRn. Mike loved KoRn, he was a big fan. There was also some Prodigy there too. That was the only electronic music that Mike was listening too. The rest of it was pretty much crap, especially that EDM shit. That was really driving him crazy. Anyway as Mike was busy with his new toy, Charlotte arrived as she saluted him with a rather cold tone and passed him by, sitting on a bench and asking him about Angelo.

Mike put his smartphone on a pocket and turned around towards Charlotte. "First off, good morning to you too. It looks like someone is having a bad day...or night! Am I right?" Said Mike reffering to Charlotte. "Anyway...I have no idea where Angelo is. Although knowing him he's probably somewhere getting high. If you know what I mean." Said Mike as he crossed his arms and looking at Charlotte sucking off from that electronic piece of crap which by the way was nowhere near healthier then an ordinary cigarrete. But whatever...Charlotte had the right to do whatever she wanted with her body. Then Angelo finally decided to grace them with his presence. And he did it in his usual manner. "Dude you're such a showoff! Let's get out of here. Juan is probably waiting for us." Said Mike after getting inside Angelo's Charger, on the passenger seat.

Holy shite that's a tidy wee car.

I'm sitting here, in this homely overcast weather, when this thing of fucking beauty glides up next to me. Werner, that cheeky Kraut/Yank/whatever the fuck he is boy, was just visible through the stylishly tinted glass. Everything about this car makes the guy seem... important. The sleek, professional body gives us the impression of bankers but the roar of the bastard makes us men. Werner turns to us and gives us a quick wave, nothing more expected from him, and greets us as we cram into the ride. I sit down on that leather and let out a soft wee fart, and it warms my arse right up. The leather which swallows your body like a fucking bean bag shares the fart warmth all about my body and I shiver into a deeper, cosier position. "What's happening, Bratwurst?" I jokingly ask Werner. I wouldn't say we were best mates or any of that shite, but Werner's one of those blokes who don't talk so you can get the last word in. Just perfect. He'll bounce off you once in a while with a comeback and will smirk at a joke when he has to. Not entirely professional, but enough for a blonde broad with big ol' titties to feel bored and unloved. That's when I swoop in and shag her right.

"No bother buddy, rich can do. You got a twenty I can borrow or something though because I'm fucking broke!" I holler, laughing my arsehole off. Us Scots are the steengiest fuckers in the world. If anyone can pull of hoarding money, it's fucking me. I run my hands through my hair and rearrange it on my head so it looks presentable instead of my greasy plane-sex-sleep current look. Not that it helps the the greasy plane-sex-sleep look at all, just that I put my fucking paws through it. Juan mentioned that he didn't know anything about the job. I panic, get scared, wonder why we even went this fra if nothing had been arranged. "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you telling me you've brought us from sunny sexy Monaco on the Med to this festering cesspit if you and that dozy fucking Alex prick haven't even got anything sorted? We're robbing something, soon, and if I don't fucking know what I'm shooting, I'm gonna be shooting fucking every-fucking-thing! Just because wee taj's like you down in Tacoland steal willy-fucking-nilly doesn't mean us civilised folk do it that way!" I scream, louder and louder at each fucking obscenity. This would be the point I'd walk away at, when I realised that nothing but jail time and gangbang in the shower block are coming for me, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. The fucking car was still moving.

Charlotte sat on the bench as he heard Mike's annoying voice as usual. She wanted to either shoot his mouth or just kick him in the balls and leave him to cry. But, he is an 'important member of the team' as Juan would of said towards her. She kept smoking on her E-cig as he saw Angelo's car. She heard Mike saying how cool the car was and the stuff you would say to kiss someone's ass. The car was amazing to look at, Charlotte admitted as she couldn't keep her eyes off of it. But, she had to, as she put away her E-cig and walked towards the car.

"Nice car, Angelo." she said with a smile towards him as she got inside the car and sat at the back of the car. As she was sitting and waiting for the car to start, she couldn't help but think of the cab driver. Where was he at now? How will his wife find out about the lost money? Will their daughter not get her a gift for her next birthday? So many questions, yet not enough answers to keep up with the questions. She then remembered other people, that she had ruined. Workers, officers, business people, staff members, and even a CEO—thought he could of been a fake; but, she still got his money and information.

She realized that she didn't know where they were going. So she asked Angelo the question, "Where are we going to meet the rest?".

Financial Consultant Firm? Fuck.

Werner wasn’t even sure if he could spell his new “occupation”, let alone act like he knew his shit. Even better, Werner was sure he wasn’t dressed for the part; slim-fitting jeans, high top tennis shoes, and a heavy parka didn’t exactly scream wealth. On top of that, his lean physique, ragged scars, and numerous tattoos further suggested he had no place in an office environment. The mechanic did know, however, the importance of remaining forgettable when working in a city and on the job. In similar past situations, the driver clung onto another member of the crew and let them do the talking, usually Charlotte or James; with Charlotte, everyone’s eyes would lose focus on him and stray to the beauty at his side, and James could easily manage all of the office workers with his smooth accent and intelligence. Jim, well, he was a reliable guy, but not the most… Mild-mannered member of the crew. “What’s happening Bratwurst?” Werner heard as the Scot entered his car, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the greeting. The driver didn’t really know his own ethnic background. His mother didn’t say much about it, and he didn’t know a damn thing about his father, so Werner just stuck with American. But German was as good as any, he supposed. “Not much Jim. Trying not to freeze,” he replied with a slight grin. The mechanic heard a light squeak in the back seat and was going to chalk it up to the leather seats had it not been for the rotten smell that followed. “Agh, come on, I know its a stolen car, but show a little respect,” Werner scolded as he cracked the windows using control panel on the steering wheel, letting in a gust of fresh air. He wasn’t sure why he treated all his stolen cars so gently; they always ended up at a chop shop or in the hands of a crooked used car salesman, sold for a fraction of the car’s worth. Keeping a hot car after a bank robbery was a great way to end up behind bars. Especially when you paint the fucking grim reaper on the hood, Werner thought, his mind turning to Angelo. The kid was a decent driver, sure, but Werner wasn’t sure he had much common sense. It was only a matter of time, Werner figured, before some beat cop recognized the car and hauled the driver off to prison, or worse, pumped a couple rounds into his chest. The mechanic was just glad he wasn’t in Angelos’ car.

Werner knew the exact location Juan mentioned; it was right next to the Fifth Third Bank. He pulled out onto the street and made his way for their new base of operations just as traffic began to clear. The stockbrokers and bankers finally rolled out of bed and got into the office, which was great timing for them; maybe the crew could slip into the office relatively unnoticed. The city still made Werner uneasy. It was so compact, and whereas LA expanded horizontally, the City of Broad Shoulders stretched straight up; the streets were tight, and every skyscraper leaned over you, barely letting in any natural light. He quickly familiarized himself with the area surrounding the office. To the west was the Chicago River and a retractable bridge, two one way roads extended north and south. West was certainly their best option if they needed to escape, leading into the more hectic part of the city.

Juan mentioned he didn’t know the details of the job, but this didn’t concern Werner too much. Juan always took care of them, and as for their mysterious associate Alex, well… He'd been reliable so far. This news, however, didn’t sit well with Jim, who let out a flurry of insults. Werner remained quiet and rolled up the windows and turned the radio on, which started playing “Don’t Stop Me Now,” helping to distort anything those outside the car might hear the Scot scream. As Jim grew louder and louder, Werner adjusted the radio’s volume accordingly. Just as Freddy Mercury was about to inform listeners what to do if they wanted a good time, Jim’s tirade ended and Werner pulled into the office’s parking lot.

“We’re here.”

thank you" Angelo said to charlotte when she said it was a nice ride, honestly Angelo put pride in his ride and made it look as badass as possible. As Angelo drove he heard Charlotte ask where he was taking them so Angelo remembered what he could which was the address and were going to an office space on the corner of Wells Street and Jackson Boulevard, What I heard was also to act like rich assholes not just regular ones Angelo said laughing a little at him acting like a billionaire car owner or some shit like that. honestly it was just funny thinking Angelo would be rich. Angelo thought as he got their and parked the car in a space and he waited for his passengers to get out first cause once Angelo leaves the car he wont be as macho as before and wont pass as any asshole rich or otherwise.

Juan raised an eyebrow and thoroughly refrained from getting worked up, as Jim had one of his infamous explosions. It wasn't the first time he'd heard a dig at his country, sure wouldn't be the last. Perhaps Jim got so angry because he had thought Juan to be the leader -- and thus an uninformed one, with the con's last remark. He wondered how many of the others thought the same thing. Still, some of his remarked irked him just a bit.
"Jim, when we first hit that art gallery a year back, we were just seven crooks. We were desperate and broke. There was no ringleader, we were all in the dark. When one of us found a job, we all jumped at the chance," he said. "Nothing's fucking changed, besides we're a little richer and a little closer. We've dug a little deeper into our goddamn graves. But this is a job -- it's a cut for each one of us, another check for you to blow on booze, or women, or whatever. You trusted the work then, we all did. So when Alex told me he had a job for us in Chicago, I packed my bags and I took the first flight from Monaco. We are all equals on death row, my friend. I am not the 'boss', I am a con. And nothing's changed."
Werner turned the radio up, and Juan sat in silence for the rest of the trip. By the time the car stopped, he had reverted back to his usual demeanor. The building's lobby was pretty plain, and a single receptionist was the room's only occupant. She sat behind a computer, a middle-aged lady with a nametag which read "Deborah". Juan entered through the door and immediately smiled at the woman, walking casually up to the desk. When he spoke, his accent was gone -- replaced by a soft American tone. In his white tee and leather jacket, he looked like the poster child for the States.
"Hello there! Sorry to bother you, but my firm's just moved into the building. I believe I emailed the building's owner about getting security badges for my employees. Seven in all, though I'm hoping we'll expand soon with the new location," he gave another sweet, disarming smile. The lady returned it, and produced the badges from her desk. Juan found his -- Toby DeCosta, Global Trust Finances. He found the ones for Jim, James and Werner, and left the other three for Angelo's group to grab. With a nod to the others in his group, he thanked the receptionist and called the elevator.