Byrd Man — Roleplayer Guild

“It seemed so illogical to punish some poor criminal for doing something that civilization taught him how to do so he could have something that civilization taught him how to want. It seemed to him as wrong as if they had hung the gun that shot the man.” 
-- Chester Himes

Central City, Missouri
11:20 PM

Lenny Snart lay on the bed in nothing but his underwear. Michelle Rory stood in front of him with two stacks of hundred dollar bills in both her hands. Snart's grin was wide as his face.

"Count it again, baby," he asked Rory.

"Twenty-five million, six hundred thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight dollars and twelve cents."

"Divde that by six."

"Four million, two hundred and sixty-six thousand, seven hundred and forty-six dollars and thirty-five cents."

25,600,478.12

That was the total amount of cash the Rogues stole from Lawson Savings & Loan, every single dollar was money earned by the Top's midwestern criminal empire. And now, every single one of those dollars was theirs. This was the score of a lifetime, even divided up evenly among the six of them it was more money than any of them had ever seen. When he was a kid, Snart was lucky to have five bucks. He was always hungry with never any money to buy food. And now? Well, one of Rory's first acts after cracking open the safety deposit boxes was to light up a cigarette with a hundred dollar bill. They were that rich.

"I love you," Snart said as Rory climbed on to the bed.

"I think you're just after me for my money..."

"You're right," he said as he pulled her into him. "The only thing better than four million is eight."

A thump from outside the bedroom made them both look up. A few moments later, they were out in the hallway after dressing in a hurry. Mirror Master rode a golden segway through the hall of their flophouse hideout, his mask off and remenants of cocaine on his upper lip.

"McCullough!" Snart hissed. He laid down a layer of ice in front of the segway. The scooter lost traction and banged against the wall, sending McCullough to the floor where he landed hard on his ass.

"Dickhead!" McCullough cried.

Snart was on him, pulling him up and pushing him against the side of the wall.

"What did I say after we split the take-up? Don't buy stupid shit. A golden segway and blow, the fuck are you thinking?"

"I'm just following Boomerang's lead! Look outside."

Parked outside was a bright yellow Hummer with flames painted on the side, platinum spinner wheels, and "Boomer!" written on the hood in flames.

"Oh, my fucking god," Rory said under her breath. 

"Hey, guys!" Digger said from inside the Hummer. "Watch this!"

The Hummer began to bounce up and down on hydraulics while Boomerang blasted heavy metal. Snart put his heads in his hands while Rory just shook her head and put a hand on Snart's neck.

"Len... we just committed the biggest bank robbery in history... with the world's dumbest criminals."

"Hey, guys," Rhino called from the kitchen. "I bought a bunch of Faberge eggs... but there ain't no eggs inside. I've cracked about three of them so far and there ain't anything coming out..."

----

Lawson, Missouri
2:29 AM

The back door opened. The sheriff's deputy squinted in the darkness at the two men. Johnny Frost stared straight ahead at the cop while Dean Swarbrick smoked. The deputy spat on the ground before nodding.

"Can't smoke in here, so put it out before you come inside."

Swarbrick flicked his smoke away and followed the cop inside. The sheriff's department was a buzz of activity even this late at night, but none of the local cops looked up as the two hitmen walked through the office towards an interrogation room. A gray-haired man in a rumpled suit was waiting for them inside.

"You're the guys?"

"We sure are, sheriff," Frost said. "You know all that we need from you?"

The sheriff nodded and tapped the table in the room. A thick manila folder was resting there on the table.

"Hot off the presses. It has all the paperwork on the case. Your employer is paying me good money, but the best I can do is a half hour alone with it, that should be plenty of time to read it. State police were here all day along with some Central City cops. The FBI is coming tomorrow, so I can't have you all hanging around here when they show up."

"We'll be quick," said Swarbrick. "Thank you, sheriff. Our boss thanks you as well."

The sheriff grunted and walked out. Swarbrick and Frost sat down at the table and began to pour over the police incident report of that day's bank robbery. Pictures, eyewitness accounts, narrative reports from officers and even Missouri W&E employees who responded to the power outage. 

"No way," Frost said as he slid one of the reports to his partner. "Look at this: People inside the bank and a few of the cops mention an asshole with a boomerang and an Australian accent."

"Harkness," they both said at the same time. 

"How did that little cockroach pull this off?" Swarbrick asked.

"He had help," said Frost. "Who he had help from, I don't know. But Harkness was involved, and we know how to find him."@Byrd Man

Central City, Missouri
1:14 AM

The bright yellow Hummer pulled up to the side of the street and honked. The horn played La Cucarcha to announce its arrival to the corner crew working the street. From his vantage point Big Tall Manny could sense something wasn't right. He took a bite of his sandwich and watched the passenger window in the Hummer roll down. This was the third time the car rolled through the spot looking to cop. The car people that rolled through mostly copped coke, nothing more than an eightball here and there, enough to last the middle class college kids the night. But this was the third time they came through looking for half a key of coke. Big Tall Manny finished his sandwich and wiped the crumbs on his pant legs. 

The five-man crew he managed were among the best dealers in Central City. The men they worked for never had to come down here to beat somebody's ass for skimming money or product. The count was never short because he knew how to handle his boys. He motivated and inspired them, pushed them to keep going and keep making money. In another life, he would have made one hell of a sales manager at some car dealership. But he was a black man born and raised in America. It was a miracle that he was twenty-five and still hadn't seen the inside of a jail cell.

Rico, the youngest member of his crew at twelve, flashed a hand signal at him from across the street. He held up two fingers three times, their sign that they needed more product. The stash for that night sat in a large gym bag in a hollowed out section underneath the stoop Big Tall Manny sat on. He was the only one who went in to get more product. Anybody tampered with it or even went for it, no matter who, he pulled the 9MM in his waistband. That was what the big businessmen with their MBAs called "asset control" and "loss prevention", ten dollar words to describe something that was common sense to a lowly dealer from the eastside.

Big Tall Manny was in the process of getting the coke out the duffle bag when he felt something sharp stick him in the lower back.

"Alright, mate."

He spun around and saw a man with a--

"Fucking green ski mask?"

The man snarled and hit Big Tall Manny across the face with the barrel of a pistol. Manny slammed against the stoop and fell down. Blood dripped from his face but he could see some guy with a... boomerang... holding his crew at bay. 

"Thanks, mate," the man in the skimask said gleefully as he ran towards the Hummer with the gymbag around his shoulder. He got in while the guy with the boomerang jumped into the driver's side.

"Spread the word," the guy with the boomerang announced to Big Tall Manny and his boys. "This is what happens to people who have something Captain Boomerang and Mirror Master want!"

The Hummer burned rubber and squealed off down the street. Even though it was dark and his vision was blurry, Big Tall Manny saw the license plate. It was a paper tage for a brand new car. He remembered the car's make, color, and gaudy accessories like the horn and the spinning rims. The people he worked for would be able to track it down in record time.

"Yo," Rico said with a look at the rest of the crew. "Did we just get robbed by cosplayers?"

---

La Araña Discoteca
3:52 AM

Nigh on four in the morning and the nightclub was still in full swing. Latin techno thumped through the speakers in time with the flashing strobe lights that showed snatches of bodies in motions. A mass of human flesh moved in time with the music and the lights. In the middle of the dancing, writhing clubbers was Digger Harkness. He was coked up and out of his mind, just like he liked it. Across from him, Evan McCullough was grinding against some half-naked club kid and grinning widly. Digger smiled. McCullough was the only one in the group that understood him. Snart and Rory were too obsessed with being pros to let loose while Dillon was aloof and Rhino was a moron. There was something there with McCullough that Digger recognized. They were both ex-pats in America, both had hard upbringings that they tried hard to escape. This was part of that escape.

Snart liked to rag him for his debauchary, but he just couldn't understand that this was how he and McCullough were. They spent anything they made as soon as they could, they ate and drank and lived like there was no tomorrow because for nearly their entire life there was no tomorrow. Growing up, every new day for Digger had been a challenge. He never knew where his next meal would come from, where he would sleep that night, and how he would make it to the next day. To people like Snart it was impulsive, but to Digger and McCullough it was just instinct. They robbed the drug stash because they could, and who the fuck could actually stop them? Nobody. That was what Snart didn't realize. The six of them could run this town if they had the balls. But all Snart wanted to do was rob. That was going to change soon if Digger had his way. The days of living hand to mouth were over thanks to the bank robbery. Now it was time to make a legacy as kingpins of the city.

Digger felt a hand on his mouth in the dark, followed by something hard and metal against his temple. 

"Harkness," Dean Swarbrick said in his ear. 

Through the strobe lights, Digger saw Johnny Frost doing the same thing to McCullough.

"You have fucked up big time, Harkness. Big Tall Manny sends his regards."

---

6:30 AM

"Do you come from a land down under? Where women glow and men plunder? Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover."

Lenny Snart and Michelle Rory had just gotten to sleep good when her cellphone started to ring. Snart grunted and rolled over as Rory climbed out of bed and groped for the phone. Snart rolled his eyes and sighed. Fucking Harkness probably had some bullshit scam he was trying to pull in the middle of the night all coked up and not thinking straight.

"What, Digger?" Rory grumbled. "The fuck... wait. Len--"

She hit the speakerphone button. Snart listened, but sat up when he realized what he was hearing.

"We've got Harkness and his little Scottish buddy. You've nine hours to return every single penny you stole from the Top or we'll kill both of them and then proceed to track you all down and kill you. Tick-tock."
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