[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/AnHDHQE.png[/img] [i]"My way of learning is to heave a wild and unpredictable monkey-wrench into the machinery." [/i] -- Dashiell Hammett [/center] [b]Cedar Rapids, Iowa 1:14 AM[/b] Johnny Frost drove the Cadillac while Dean Swarbrick rode shotgun. One car a quarter mile ahead of them on the interstate was the only vehicle on the road. The radio played classic rock, the only type of music that was one midwestern radio stations that the two of them could stand. Swarbrick cracked the passenger window and started to light up a cigarette. "Not in my car," Frost snapped. "When we drive your shitbox, you can stub your smokes out on the seat. But in my car, you don't fucking smoke." "Jesus Christ, alright." Swarbrick tucked the pack back into his jacket, right beside his holstered, still warm Sig Sauer. The car in front of them turned off the interstate, leaving them alone on the road. Cedar Rapids was a shithole, to put it mildly. He'd be glad to put it in his rearview mirror and get back to Central City. The job was done, save for this last little task, and they should be back home before the sun was up. Thirty miles outside of Cedar Rapids, Frost pulled off the interstate and found a back road with a wide open field. "This looks good enough," Swarbrick said as Johnny pulled off the road and slowly drove across the field. "Heads or tails," Johnny asked. "Heads." Frost flipped a quarter in the air. He snagged it out of the air and smacked it on the back of his hand. When he pulled it away, it was heads up. "Shit. Best out of three?" "Fuck you," Swarbrick laughed. "Get to digging." They got out and let the car run. While Swarbrick got a shovel out of the backseat, Frost popped the trunk and lifted it up. The dead body of Robert Hess looked up at him. A neat little hole in his forehead leaked blood and brain matter. A plastic tarp in the trunk kept the blood from staining Johnny's upholstery. Hess, formerly the owner of Hess Trucking and Transport, had been skimming his monthly tribute to the Top and pocketing ten grand a month. When the Top's people found out about it, they sent Frost and Swarbrick to send a message. Whoever took over for Hess would know not to fuck with the Top's money. Swarbrick smoked and watched Frost digging into the ground. They traded off when Frost needed a break. They threw off their coats and jackets, digging in rolled up shirt sleeves with their shoulder holsters still strapped on. After an hour, they had a hole deep enough to put Hess in. Swarbrick was nearly done filling the hole with Hess in it when Frost's cellphone rang. "Yeah?... Yeah... we're almost done here... Yeah, no later than eight in the morning... yeah... Okay." "What was that?" Swarbrick asked as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "Something's going down back at home. They need some muscle." "Of course." Swarbrick packed the earth down with the shovel and smoothed it out as much as possible. "We got time to stop at IHOP on the way home?" "Sure." ----- [b] Shake Shack Central City, Missouri 2:52 AM[/b] "Is that comic sans?" Electro asked with a raised eyebrow. Lenny Snart rolled his eyes. He should have never let Digger do the presentation. He and Digger and the rest of their gang, The Rogues, were gathered in the back of the greasy fast food place where Mirror Master worked during the day. Right now, McCullough was still dressed in his work uniform instead of his outfit. Digger tapped a few buttons on the laptop resting on the counter and clicked to another slide. "'Our lucrative plan involves stealing a shitton of money and keeping it,'," Digger said as he read the large, bolded comic sans words on the screen. "'Are you up for an exciting and different business plan? Are you ready to seize the initiative?'" "What's the plan," Heatwave grumbled. "We don't have all night for this shit." "Mirror Master, can we get some burgers?" Rhino asked. "No," McCullough said. "My register was short two dollars this evening and Mr. Ericson already gave me a verbal warning. He's on my ass." "Isn't your boss like twenty years old?" asked Electro. "Yeah... little asshole makes me call him mister." "Focus," Snart snapped. "I agree with Michelle. Cut the bullshit and get down to it. The bare bones of the plan is this: The Top has a cash stash somewhere, and odds are it's within a few hours drive from Central City. There is no way in hell he wouldn't have too far away. I know where the money train starts, but we need to run it down to the hub and proceed from there." "Stealing from the Top would put a huge target on our backs," Heatwave said with a shrug. "I'm cool with it." "That's why I love you." Snart winked. "What about the rest of you? This is a plan that could get us a lot of money, but dead men can't spend a dime." "A million dollars buys a lot of burgers," Rhino said mostly to himself. "I'm in." "That's one. Show of hands?" Without fail, the rest of the Rogues all raised their hands. "Democracy," said Digger. "Ain't it wonderful?"