[CENTER][SUB][I][COLOR=SILVER]'Cause when you lie like, the devil himself, no angels gonna hear your…[/COLOR][/I][/SUB][hr][H3][B][COLOR=SLATEGRAY]C R Y F O R H E L P [SUP][COLOR=SILVER]U P D A T E D[/COLOR][/SUP][/COLOR][/B][/H3][/CENTER][hr] [INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][B][I]Status:[/I] [COLOR=INDIANRED]URGENT[/COLOR] [I]Time of Day:[/I] [COLOR=SILVER]Night[/COLOR] [I]Weather:[/I] [COLOR=SILVER]Rain[/COLOR][/B][/COLOR] [INDENT]Diving towards the hard concrete, Clark Russo barely made it out of the way of the police cruiser as the Mustang tossed the Charger aside like a bull charging through a flock of sheep. His hands stung as pavement scraped a layer of skin from the palms leaving a crimson stain on his otherwise tan skin. Gingerly grabbing his radio, Clark took a deep breath as he pushed back the pain before speaking. [B]"I think the Fierro's are here."[/B] He yelled into the radio as he continue to scramble off the road as the armored muscle car continued down the street. [B]"Some sorta suped up pony car just blew through here like a bat straight outta hell."[/B] He added, coming to rest against a building on the otherside of the sidewalk. [B]"Chip's down with a piece of the damn cruiser's fender lodged in his leg."[/B] The radio suddenly crackled to life as Antonio's reply came through. Pure venom shot from the speaker as Clark held the radio away from his face acting as if Antonio's words might actually bring his physical harm. [B]"YOU IDIOTS ARE ARMED TO THE TEETH AND YOU MEAN TO TELL ME A MAN IN GODDAMN FORD MUSTANG SLIPPED YOU!"[/B] Antonio's voice was laced with ill-intent as he continued to scream at Clark. [B]"Get your asses back to the hotel and form a perimeter. I want snipers on every roof top. If it's not one of ours shoot it. If you think it might not be one of ours shoot it, if it's driving a goddamn Ford Mustang..."[/B] Clark braced as Antonio's voice sunk low before jumping out of his skin as the man in charge yelled again. [B]"BLOW IT TO GODDAMN HELL!"[/B] Scrambling to his feet, Clark ran over to help Chip up as a SWAT vehicle pulled up beside the two, the window rolling down as the driver waved them over. [B]"Come on, you heard the boss."[/B] The driver stated as Clark helped Chip inside the vehicle before climbing in himself. Tires squealed on the large assault vehicle as the driver floor the gas pedal, fishtailing the Hummer like vehicle before it took off down the street. Barreling through a square, the driver took the most direct route possible to get to the hotel. Coming to a stop outside of the building, Clark swallowed hard as he saw Antonio standing outside, lit cigarette in his mouth as he slicked wet hair back from his eyes. Rain pelted the ground as Antonio paced back and forth, a black metal briefcase hanging from his hand. Climbing out of the SWAT vehicle, Clark took two steps forward before Antonio shoved the briefcase into his arms. [B]"Go to the roof, if you see the bastard, I want you to obliterate him."[/B] Antonio order, blowing a mouthful of smoke into Clark's face. Nodding vigorously, Clark took the case and headed for the elevator inside the lobby. [hr] Blood dripped from Dante del Fierro's nose as it rolled down his face from his forehead before performing a swan dive onto the concrete floor below him. Cold water pooled around his feet as the depression in the floor gathered a puddle in the slowly flooding basement. The sparking of the nearby cattle-prod caused Dante to wince as a quiet man sat opposite him, cracking his knuckles one by one, a large decorative ring adorning each finger. Twin holsters hung under his large arms, as rolled up sleeves showed off his toned, scarred forearms. His shoes were immaculately polished, not a scuff mark to be seen as he put his hands to his knees before standing. [color=8882be][B]"So..."[/B][/color] He began, a thick Russian brogue accented each letter. [color=8882be][B]"Antonio tells me you've been busy. I imagine your business did not last long."[/b][/color] A cold sinister smile frame his face as he adjusted the thin round framed glasses on his face. [color=8882be][B]"I imagine you paid your companions correct?"[/b][/color] He asked, pacing around Dante, the cattle-prod in his hand as it tapped against an open palm, matching the rhythm of his slow pace. [B]"Y-yes."[/B] Dante stammered. [color=8882be][B]"Good, good."[/b][/color] The Russian replied as he stopped behind Dante. [color=8882be][B]"Tell me boy, do you pay them by the hour?"[/b][/color] [B]"I-I, uh, I usually pay a flat rate mang, y'know for like the night."[/B] [color=8882be][B]"Ah."[/b][/color] The Russian stated knowingly. [color=8882be][B]"I am not a fan of being paid in these '[i]flatrates[/i]'."[/b][/color] His tone turned cold as he began to pace again. [color=8882be][B]"A flat rate is just a way for cheap peoples to cut deal, more money to be made in hourly wages I think."[/b][/color] Walking away from Dante, the Russian put down the cattle-prod as he began to unroll a folded cloth on a nearby table. The audible clunk of metal hitting wood echoed through the damp basement. [color=8882be][B]"Likewise, I think your mother would offer us a flat rate for your return."[/b][/color] The Russian stated, turning around with a long curved knife in his hand. [color=8882be][B]"I think it would be much better to charge for your return..."[/b][/color] He continued, stepping towards Dante again, the young man struggling against his bindings more fiercely with each step the Russian took. [color=8882be][B]"Piece by piece."[/b][/color] A blood curdling scream echoed through the lobby of the hotel as members of the De Vitis Crime Syndicate stepped away from the stairwell. Not even the most hardened among them had the stomach for the Russian could inflict on his victims. [hr] Rain blasted Clark's face as he opened the door to the roof of the hotel. The heavy case in his hands nearly fell as the wind caused Clark to slip, testing his balance atop the stairs. Pushing through, Clark went to the ledge and opened the case, his eyes widening at the contents. Assembling the weapon within, Clark hefted the rocket launcher over his shoulder as he stared out the scope, watching the streets below. Suddenly the familiar squeal of rubber on ashpalt caught his attention as Clark turned to the direction of the noise. Sure enough it was the armored Mustang from before. Calming his breathing, Clark watched the car race down the street before muttering to himself. [B]"This is for Chip, you bastard."[/B] Squeezing the trigger, Clark watched the missile fly, a satisfied smirk growing on his face as he watched the street glow orange from the explosion. [B]"Burn in hell, mothafucker."[/B][/INDENT][/INDENT]