[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Jqhg9Zb.png[/img][/center] [b]Center City, WA[/b] Tracy Lawless' Charger raced down the street towards the Phillips Park. Plenty of families were out and about in the noon hour. Inside his car he had two of Flynn's security guards, wearing plainclothes and masks. Tracy didn't wear one. He wanted them to know who he was. He jumped the curb and rode on the sidewalk. People scattered and ran for cover as Tray skidded on the grass beside a swing set. He and the men jumped out of the car and headed towards the swing set. Two men by the swings were reaching for something in their jackets, but were stopped when the two guards smacked them across the face with nightsticks. They kept beating the bodyguards while Tracy scooped a young boy up off the swings and pushed the woman beside the boy down into the dirt. "Tell Belyakov now we have something he wants," he said coldly. "If Linda Flynn dies, we kill his son." The woman screamed bloody murder as Tracy shoved the confused kid into the backseat. She called for help when Tracy and the other men climbed into the car and sped off with the boy in the backseat calling for his mother in Russian. --- [b]Brockton, MA 3:34 PM [/b] Parker jumped across the bank's counter, one hand planted on the marble surface and the other clutching a submachine gun. He landed behind the teller's desk with a thump and looked at the three terrified employees. "The vault," he said without any inflection in his voice. "Now." He marched the three of them to the vault that sat off to the left of their desks. Behind him, Stiess kept a gun trained on the three unlucky people who had been in the bank when he and Parker came through the door. Outside, their driver Mitchell sat in an idling Altima with Connecticut plates. Parker walked into the vault behind the tellers, reaching into the back of his pants and pulling out large nylon sacks with drawstrings on top. "Put all the bills bigger than a twenty in those sacks." Three minutes later, Parker was running out the bank with Stiess by his side. He slowed down long enough to look up at the camera bolted over the door. Stiess wore a ski mask, but Parker had opted not to. Just like when they had robbed the bank in Weymouth.... and the one in Randolph... and the one in Fall River. The three man stick up crew was on its third state now. They'd torn through Connecticut, Rhode Island, and now Mass. Harbor Inlet Savings and Loans were the banks they targeted. Not too many of them around, but more than enough to make the people behind Harbor Inlet hurt. With the help of Graves, Parker knew that Harbor Inlet's owners were a subsidiary of a banking conglomerate, they themselves part and parcel of a larger company, and behind that company were The Vasco Family. The people responsible for coming after him. "Drive," Parker said once they were in the backseat of the Altima. It peeled off down the road and headed north through the streets of Brockton. Stiess started counting the haul while Parker pulled a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket and looked it over. "Hyde Park," he said. "On the outskirts of Boston, right in the city limits. That's where the next one is." ---- [b]Center City, WA[/b] Tracy Lawless pulled up a chair and watched the little boy eating a sandwich. Six-year-old Anton Belyakov didn't make eye contact as he chewed on his bologna and cheese. Anton's father was Konstantin Belyakov, boss of Center City's Russian organized crime. Kidnapping the boy was borderline suicide and Tracy knew it. But Thomas Flynn wanted to kidnap Anton and Thomas Flynn always got whatever he wanted. It was going to happen whether or not Tracy took part in it, so it felt better that he be in on the job to prevent someone getting killed. "You'll be home soon," he told the boy. "I know you're very scared, but you're also very brave. You're a big boy, Anton. Your father would be proud of you." He stood and patted Anton on the head before leaving the room. Two of Flynn's heavies stood outside the room as guards while Tracy went upstairs to Flynn's study. The old man was rocking in the chair behind his big desk with a wide grin on his face. "They're an hour late with the call," Flynn said jovially. "The cocksuckers are freaking out." Tracy kept his thoughts to himself and sat down across the desk from Flynn. "These criminals think they know about hustling," said Flynn. "Tracy, you're talking to the ultimate hustler. They can intimidate idiots, but these sons of bitches wouldn't last a day in the boardroom. The sharks I swim with will cut your goddamn throat." Flynn's rant was stopped short by a ringing phone. His grin grew wider as he hit the speakerphone to let Tracy listen in. "Hello?" "You son of bitch," said a voice with a thick Russian accent. "You kidnap my son?!" "I kidnap your son," Flynn said in a mocking fake Russian accent. "This is America, Boris. You fuck a man over, you best prepared to get fucked." Tracy leaned forward and tried to get some control on the situation. The voice on the phone that he assumed was Belyakov cursed in Russian. Tracy spoke loudly over the cursing to try and calm the man down. "We propose an even exchange," he said into the speaker. "Your son will be returned whenever Mr. Flynn's daughter is returned safe and sound." "Not an even exchange," Flynn said over Tracy. "I deserve something for my suffering, you Commie. I want my daughter safely returned and a million dollars!" "What?! I do not have--" "I don't give a fuck, Boris," Flynn said with glee. "I get my daughter and a million dollars or I'll have my friend here strangle your son to death. I'll be sure to leave the speakerphone on so you can listen in. What do you say?" Belyakov fired off rapid Russian to someone, either Tracy and Flynn or an unknown party wherever he was. Flynn looked across the desk at Tracy with a big smile and raised eyebrow as they heard Belyakov talking softly to someone. "Fine," he finally said. "I will have your million dollars and daughter." "That's what I want to hear," said Flynn. "Meet us at midnight tonight at the Harbor Front. Have the money and my daughter there. If you're late, your son dies." Flynn hung up and whooped in victory while Tracy sat back down and started to question why exactly Hyde sent him into this situation. The last thing Thomas Flynn needed was help. If anything, the Russians needed him more than Thomas Flynn ever had. ---- [b]11:52 PM [/b] Tracy stood out in the chilly night air and smoked a cigarette. Center City's harbor area was one of the few safe parts of the city. Tourists flocked to the water during daylight hours and filled the piers with activity. Tonight, it was nearly deserted. Tracy counted himself as just one of four people on the expansive pier that jutted out into the Pacific Ocean. The other three people on the boardwalk were all Belyakov's men. The Russian crime lord's men started filtering into the area a half hour earlier. He made them all thanks to their Slavic looking faces, thick beards, and tracksuits. Tracy got there two hours earlier and watched the comings and goings ever since. His military training taught him the value of patience. When it came to work like this, be it assassinations or covert meetings, patience is what separated the pros from the amateurs. A serious operator would stake out the place sometimes twelve hours in advance. Tracy once spent two days in a wadi in Iraq, watching a road until a specific vehicle showed up at a certain time. When they showed up, Tracy killed the driver and the four passengers in the car with a sniper rifle before quietly disappearing into the desert. He finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, stomping it out. Thomas Flynn and his group of armed thugs were two blocks away, waiting Tracy's confirmation that the coast was clear before moving into the area. The fact that Belyakov's men hadn't showed up until a half hour before the meet spoke volumes to Tracy. The chances of a wrinkle happening in the hostage exchange was very slim. If a double-cross did take place, Belyakov's men would have beaten Tracy here... or so he imagined. Tracy pulled his flip phone out and texted the number Flynn gave him to contact when he was ready. Right at midnight, the black SUV carrying Flynn, his men, and Anton Belyakov rolled down the street and parked by the harbor entrance. Tracy stayed where he was and watched the party of five climb out of the car. Flynn walked by himself with two guards flanking him while one carried Anton. The boy seemed spooked and unsure of what was going on. Tracy felt for the kid. Hopefully this would all be over. Tracy went still when he saw one of the men he marked as Belyakov approach Flynn's party. Words were exchanged between the man and Flynn that lasted for nearly twenty seconds. Tracy read the displeasure in Flynn's face at once. The party started stalking back to the SUV. Tracy gave them a long leash before walking towards his car. The Russians were sending them somewhere else. That made sense to Tracy. Flynn's choice of the harbor would upset a lot of criminals because of its openness meant plenty of room for a double cross or police interference. Belyakov was trying to get the upper hand by moving the venue on them. He followed the SUV distantly in his Charger, never losing sight of the car's taillights. His phone rang just as he followed the big car onto the freeway. "These cocksuckers are fucking with us," Flynn said loudly into his phone. "They moved the meet to Rucka Park!" "I'm right behind you," Tracy said. "I'll be there when you do the exchange." "You better be." The phone went click and Tracy tossed it into the passenger seat as he accelerated to catch up the SUV. Tracy led the procession to the middle of the empty soccer field. Flynn, Anton, and the goons walked close behind him. At midfield was another small group of people. The faces Tracy recognized well, Konstantin Belyakov and his goons with Linda Flynn. Her tight club outfit with torn in spots and she was barefoot. The thick mascara from the night before was all runny and made her eyes look like the rings around a raccoon's eyes. Konstantin Belyakov carried a thick briefcase in one hand. "Boris I presume," Flynn said once the two parties had met. "Here is money," Belyakov snarled, holding up the briefcase. One of his men pushed Linda Flynn forward. "Here is whore daughter. Now, give me son." One of Flynn's guards walked Linda over to the other side of the meeting while Tracy took the briefcase. He began to start Anton back over towards his father when Flynn held out a hand. "Not yet," he said with a finger wave. "I want to count the money." He took the case from Tracy and opened it up. Tracy saw the nervous look on Belaykov's face and knew trouble was coming. The Russian mob was successful, but not successful enough to round up a million dollars in cold, hard cash in under twelve hours. Flynn laid the case down and started to sort through the money. Tracy saw about half a million dollars on top... followed by shredded newspaper below. "You liars," Flynn said as he looked up. "You lying motherfuckers!" "I could not get that much money in so little time," Belyakov shouted back. "But you expect me to get five million dollars in the same about of time?!" Tracy pushed Anton Belyakov behind his back as both sides started to reach for their weapons. "You bit off more than you could chew, Boris! Somebody kill this motherfucker!" Tracy pushed little Anton down and fell on top of him as the shooting started. --- [b]Hyde Park Boston, MA 3:14 AM[/b] Parker lit a match and chucked it into the Altima. The flames hit the gas soaked seats and ignited the rest of the vehicle's interior. He walked away from the burning car, leaving behind almost all of his share of the robbery spree. Steiss and Mitchell hit the bricks after they split the take three ways. Parker stayed behind to get rid of the car. Four hundred thousand dollars. That's what was going up in flames behind him. Save for twenty grand for expenses and folding money, Parker made sure to burn it all so the cops and the people who pulled their strings knew that all the theft and violence of the last two days was not about money. He wanted the Vasco Family to know it was personal. He wanted them to hurt.