Grigoriy and his companions strolled up to the back of Rich's restaurant and entertainment place, through the dirty, nasty and smelly alleyways that this city had so so many of. He had two men with him, both were average built and one had a flatcap on, which was grey. His eyes jolted from side to side, checking the alleyways to the sides of them. His hands twitched, went from his pockets to his chests, to his hair to his pockets.. this man could not keep still. The other man was silent, smoking a cigarette. The moon, which had risen during the time spent by Grigoriy to fetch his companions, was reflected in a nearby puddle right in front of the backdoor to the building.

The reflection was suddenly broken when Grigoriy stepped into it, splashing the water. He opened the door further, as it was already open to let in fresh air. Fresh air and criminals. It turned out they were in the kitchen, but the staff wasn't too surprised to see people in the back - it happened more often than not. However the Russians ignored them, one of them passing a table with a few cleavers on it. As he passed it he grabbed one of the large meatcleavers, which stirred some confusion amongst the staff, and soon after prompted some fear. The Russians continued on their way, opening another large set of doors, leading into a hallway. One of them split off without orders. It was the bald one, who seemingly had other goals in his eyes.. he dissapeared into one of the rooms in the hallway on the left side of it. The other two, Grigoriy and his bald friend, moved to the right and into the main hall where the bar and stage was located. 

As they walked into the vision of everyone there, the twitchy Russian pulled out a gun from his waistline. It was an old looking gun, but a gun is a gun, and guns are deadly.. he lifted his arm and shot into the ceiling - sure to grab [b]everyones[/b] attention.. He yelled some commands in Russian, and Grigoriy looked around the crowd. He was quite sure none of them got that.. he told his friend that he'd do the talking to which the man nodded, making sure to lower his arm and aim around the crowd to make sure nobody ran. Most of the people were frozen in their place, others were hiding under tables.. “Now.. please get away from the doors and gather in the center.” Most of the people complied immediatly, gathering near the bar area. Some had to be persuaded by being grabbed by the arm and pushed there. 

Then a large group of dancers walked in, joining the group in the center. The bald man held the cleaver at his side, a small amount of blood on it. Anyone paying attention would note that one of the girls had a small cut in her arm, bleeding slightly. “Now, please. Put your valuables in this bag. We are simply redistributing your wealth to some of our less.. well-off friends.” Some of the people started taking out money and some took their necklaces off. However due to the mixed type of people going to this establishment the profit from this small stick up probably wasn't that good - it was enough to sustain a decent living. Grigoriy walked around the crowd, taking the money and jewelry - it was low quality stuff, anyone could tell. As he passed a certain lady, he stopped and looked her in the eyes. It was Annalisa, however Grigoriy had no idea that was her name. She looked quite well off. Perhaps they could take a risk, make this one a hostage and ask a ransom. Just when he was about to ask her for her money, a loud bang was heard.

Smoke cleared and it was obvious who shot. The twitchy man had fired at the bar area, where the bartender was now standing, barely. He grasped his chest with one hand, the blood seeping out of the wound. People yelled, screamed and clawed their way to the doors escaping en masse. Even though they couldn't see, it was quite obvious the kitchen had cleared out as well. The screaming and yelling, pots and pans falling over as people dumped them, or ran into a pile of them on the way out gave it away. “Chyort!” he yelled, as the twitchy man lowered his gun and ran closer to check if he did kill him. By now the bartender had sunk into a pile of miserable nothingness. The twitchy man put a hand on the bar and swung his legs up onto it, then slid over it. In Russian he said that he was certain that the bartender was going for a gun, but that he couldn't see where the gun went. Grigoriy shook his head and told them to wrap up. 

He started walking towards the kitchen exit with the bald man, when he heard two more gunshots. After that, running steps behind him. Had to make sure he was dead, he said. Grigoriy nodded and told him it was okay. They left through the kitchen back door, and ran into the darkness, the cover of the night taking them in. Certainly this would stir up trouble with the PD..