[center] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e1/67/e0/e167e0e43fb7bd7d6a189a99813c30ba.jpg[/img] [h3][color=8882be][b]Studio[/b][/color] City[/h3] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QD65dEbDLb4&] ♫[/url] [code]"Well well, look what the dogs brought in."[/code] [hr] [sub]Studio City, Delmonica Theatre 1010HRs, January 1st 2020.[/sub] Fake ID said, an old world cigar hanging on the thin flaps of skin that were his lips. He brings a zippo to the end of his cigar, the flames from within the device burst into a hue of orange as they ignite the end of the cancer stick. Fake takes the cigar out of his mouth briefly to blow smoke towards the trio. The Cleaners continue to work within the establishment, moving bodies - mostly Slammers but some unfamiliar. [i]"I guess you could say, this is a meet and greet." [/i]He smiles, his thick Mexican accent somewhat falters in his speech but it could be chalked up to age, or the radiation. He gives a small curt bow to the women before walking off to sit down on one of the steps. The Cleaners, about a dozen of them, still work away at the stains while some carry bodies away. Two Cleaners begin to clear near the trio, but they don't violate their personal space. The gang of gamblers out on the front doors are still visible, someone one as he raises his arms and everyone stands up to start complaining about it before they get back to playing while some walk off. [i]"Besides, we needed the place more than Hellcat's crew did. Sprinter likes old world movies, I like the space. We have a big gang, well - we did."[/i] He looks over to the bodies being pulled out of the auditoriums. [i]"Sometimes, asking people to leave is too much work. I'm sure you know all about that. Regardless, the show will be on its way soon. Just don't eat the popcorn will ya?"[/i] The Theatre still reeks of blood and death, and now cigar smoke as the sounds of the Cleaners wane on into the back ground of the theatre. Fake's cigar emits a distinct black hue of smoke, his hand running over his light stubble. [i]"The gang could use a few more chicks anyway eh? Hard to work without a woman's guidance."[/i] [hr] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/28/4b/a4/284ba40b716ee9e72d82fba81cd6f9b2.jpg[/img] [sub]Studio City, Delmonica Street 1010HRs, January 1st 2020.[/sub] [i]"Ey yo G!"[/i] Three black males approach the skinny pencil neck of a Russian in the alley adjacent to the police car, the men surround the man and all take turns giving the man a hand shake. In the midst of this, the Russian's trench coat explodes a small color of red. The man pushes the last man back [i]"Boys! Boys! Not too rough!" [/i] chuckling the man waves the group to his old Darcy 98'. The four door stretched van is parked in the middle of the alleyway. [i]"Lots of Dorph here for you and the boys, you think this is enough?" [/i] One of the men who wear about a dozen dreadlocks and a rasta beanie opens up one of the air hypos and inhales it. He immediately lunges for the man in a fit of rage, the other two - unprepared attempt to restrain him as the Russian applies a sedative. [i]"Aight PetersBURG, we'll take diz shits my man!"[/i] The men continue to talk as they finalize the deal and the two men start reviving their compatriot. [i]"Ey yo fuck you [color=9e0b0f]bitch[/color] and your stupid ass fuckin' theatre who the fuck you think you is G? You walk thru a brothas' game? Fuck you, fuck your studio city holla wood lookin' ass you ain't got no movies, no juice, no fame. Fuck you, step on our cards again we'll merk you ya? Ya FUCK YOU."[/i] Spits the largest black man in the group around the theatre as the entire group gets up as Vasilev walks through them to get into the theatre. The man shakes his head as he goes back to his card game, the group of about fourteen do the same as they pick up the dice once again. Sooner after another man comes up to the group, spitting nonsense to him. Chaz Thunderchuck a scrawny five one punk stood up amongst the group of black guys [i]"Ain't no way you choob, now scram before I bag you myself!"[/i]. The group laughed and the rest of the crew stood up ready to post the [color=9e0b0f]FUCK[/color] up if shit was going to go down, some slut had already walked through the game once. Aint no mistakes twice, that's how the saying goes according to some. The man walked away and everyone relaxed, he was probably a cop anyway no need for a C-SWAT knock this early. [hr] [sub]Studio City, Delmonica Street 1015HRs, January 1st 2020.[/sub] [i]"Tag that guy."[/i] Barks the female blond who sits in the driver's seat, mirrorshades covering her eyes as she sits in the police cruiser. The windows roll down an inch as the other office, a brute looking male sticks a paintball gun out the window - aiming for a skinny man in the alleyway. He pulls the trigger, shooting a red paintball - nanomachines at the mans coat. [i]"He's tracked, we'll pass it to vice." [/i] Says the male officer. The woman breaks out into laughter before she presses her head against the steering wheel [i]"Fuck those guys."[/i] The brute looks over to her [i]"Yea shut it Fusco, hey look at that joy girl going into the theatre - the tits on her!"[/i] Fusco groggily looks up at the officer before he grabs her face and turns it to the theatre. [i]"I see! I see! Fuckin' let go Sloan." [/i] She yelps as he lets go of her face, rubbing the now sore part of her once pale cheek. Sloan grabs the shades of her eyes, revealing her blood shot pupils. He puts the shades on his face, picking up her joint which has been stinking the car up for the longest time. [i]"Why are we out here again?"[/i] Fusco complains, her eyes now adjusting to the bodyguard and counselor who are walking from the end of Delmonica Street. [i]"The weed right?"[/i] Sloan points to the Russian, who they just bought drugs from and tagged for the Vice unit. [i]"No it's like.. Shots fired or somethin' - Hey is that Counsellor Taggart?!"[/i] Fusco's jaw drops, despite her high. [i]"Fuck us, right?"[/i] Sloan manages to get out before choking on his next inhale. [/center]