[h2]Harlem, New York	12:00PM[/h2]

"Watch where you put that bag, man; it's got all the fruit in it!"
[b]"Sorry, Fargus! Hey, when's your brother going to get here?"[/b]
"He'll get here when he gets here. Listen, I want you guys to take it easy from now on. We got ourselves a second chance, and I sure as hell don't want to screw it up."
[i]"Sure thing, boss! Hey, you think the cops're still after us?"[/i]
"Nah! The docs old Lo-Hat gave us were [i]rock solid[/i]! Speaking of which, both of you are now officially Oberschmidts, got it? Having a family member in America's gonna make the immigration process a hell of a lot easier, and I don't want either of you screwing it up! Gunther, that includes you!"
[i]"You got it, boss! Gunther Oberschmidt doesn't sound too hot, but I think I can manage."[/i]
"Good! Peaches, put away the food. I'm gonna try and relax before my doctor's appointment. I'm gonna get this pain all over my ribs checked out."

Fargus Oberschmidt staggered down to the impromptu living room he had made out of the three-room studio he and his gang had rented. The Smilies were long-gone, and now the only thing left was to pick up the scraps. Fargus turned on the TV, and dozed off as the dull tones of the local news echoed through the apartment's paper-thin walls.
[color=lightcoral]"In other news, police are still investigating the gas leak that had claimed one life just this morning. Authorities say that chlorine was used, and suspect a broken pool filter as the cause."[/color]