[center] [img]http://i.imgur.com/drrqNvx.jpg?2[/img] [b]Part IV Bad Boys[/b] [i]"No Justice, No Peace" -- Traditional[/i] [/center] Parker saw Grofield coming out the airport terminal and honked the horn of his car. He was dressed in jeans and a jacket. His straw blonde hair was styled in a thick mop over his head and he had a thick mustache the same shade as the hair on his head. Alan Grofield and Parker had worked together on many jobs over the years. Among the many recurring partners Parker had, Grofield was among the most frequent. Unlike Parker, who considered thief as the closest thing he had to a job, Grofield was an actor first and a thief second. All the money he made from heists went to fund a theater troupe he and his wife ran somewhere out in the Midwest. The fact that Grofield kept having to come back to pull jobs was a pretty good indication of how successful the troupe was. Next to Handy McKay, Parker worked with nobody better than Grofield. They complimented each other almost perfectly. Parker was rough around the edges while Grofield was all charm. Grofield could talk his way into a locked room while Parker would just opt to kick the lock in. Even in the looks department they were a ying and yang, Parker with his stern looks and Grofield looking like a young Robert Redford. Some wiseass working with the two of them on a job once called them Butch and Sundance in honor of the old western outlaws. Against Parker's wises, the nickname stuck. "Parker," Grofield said as he got into the car with his bag. "What's it been, three years?" Parker looked at him for a second before nodding. "You need to cut your hair." "Wow... nice to see you too, buddy. Do you know that you're the closest thing to a best friend I have in the criminal underworld?" Parker turned back at Grofield and looked at him silence for a moment before nodding again. "Keep the mustache. It plays with what we're going to do." --- Parker's hotel room served as the command center for the job. The far wall had the blueprints of the Finger Homes pinned to it. Alongside it were notations and observations written on sticky notes and attached to the wall. Along with Parker, Handy, and Grofield was another pro from out of state. Parker had never worked with Luis Ortega, but Handy vouched for him. In the few days he'd been part of their crew he seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders and that's all that mattered to Parker. "Our intel comes courtesy of one Lil' Peanut," Handy said as he stood in front of the blueprint. All four men were in the room. Parker and Ortega stood while Grofield sat on the bed. Three black uniforms were on the bed beside him. They weren't perfect copies of GCPD uniforms, but they would hold up for what they needed to do. "Lil' Peanut is a dealer who works out the high-rise tower," said Handy. "And in exchange for a cut -- or so he thinks -- he laid out how Skeevers' system works. The man himself lives in an apartment on the top floor. 12D. His money is close by in apartment 12F, 12F is the clearinghouse for the whole projects. Skeevers has a crew in there counting all the money before it gets redistributed to him, the other dealers, and their supplier for more drugs. According to Peanut, someone from the high-rise goes through the projects and the drug corners twice at noon and midnight to collect the proceeds for the day. Most of these operations are damn near 24/7, so they get a nice chunk of change from every stop along the day." Parker was glad for the daytime collection. The job was always planned as a daytime one for several reasons, the Bat among them, so it helped them out that if they hit in the middle of the afternoon the counting room would most likely be flush with the profits of the previous twelve hours. "Where's the drugs?" Parker asked. "That's a little bit different. They're still in the high-rise, but the stash is moved on a regular basis. The cash is up top and Skeevers knows nobody in Gotham would be crazy enough to take his money, but you can't trust a junkie so he moves it every few days to another location in the high-rise. According to Peanut, they just moved it to 5B. If we're going on this soon then 5B is still going to be the location." "How are they going to react when we make our play?" Ortega asked. "Are they used to cops coming into the high-rise." "Nope," said Parker. "Cops are always harassing the corners outside the projects, but they rarely go in. Which makes me think they might have someone on the payroll. That might be trouble if we don't move fast enough." "So the action is this," said Handy. "We go in fast, get up to the twelfth floor, grab Skeevers and the cash, ride the elevator down to five and get the stash. Throw the cash and stash in the trunk with Skeevers in the backseat. And we deliver all three to our employer." With a slight gift to Skeevers, Parker thought to himself. It was something that he hadn't discussed with anyone, but he was going to make the move himself just before the hand off to Segel and his heavies. The man had blackmailed and threatened Parker into doing this job. If Parker didn't put a stop to him, he would almost certainly try to do it again. "Get a good night's sleep," Parker said. "We're meeting back here at ten sharp to get ready to go." --- Parker looked at himself in the mirror. He wore a gray suit with a white shirt and black tie. His shoes and belt matched the color of his tie. The suit was off the rack, decent quality but something that a detective could afford. He had a glock in a holster on his hip and a fake badge tucked into the breast pocket of his sports coat. A knock at the door drew him to it. When he opened it, Grofield was standing there. His hair was now in a buzzcut, but he had that thick mustache still. He wore the uniform of a GCPD patrol officer along with aviator sunglasses. "Sir," he said evenly. "I need you to come with me downtown." Parker smirked and looked over his shoulder. A replica GCPD patrol car was parked beside Parker's car. Again, it was a fake but high quality. With Segel bankrolling them they could afford the best of almost everything. The only way to get more authentic would have been to go out and steal a cop car. Handy's van pulled up and he got out with Ortega. Both were wearing the same uniform as Grofield. The four men quickly got into the car. Grofield got behind the wheel while Parker took the shotgun seat. They pulled out of the hotel parking lot and drove towards the projects. "The shotgun's in the trunk," said Grofield. "Handy, do you want to do the honors?" "I certainly will," he said with a grin. When they got two blocks away, Parker nodded. "Grofield, light it up." "With pleasure." He flicked the lights and sirens and sped up. The car announced its presence to everyone as it sped into the housing project. Grofield came to a skidding stop right in front of the high-rise. The dealers and musclemen always hanging around the front entrance scattered as the four robbers jumped out the cop car. Parker, Grofield, and Ortega pulled their glocks while Handy pulled the shotgun out from the trunk. "Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do," Grofield sang as the four men went through the door into the high-rise.