Prologue
"I'm sorry, what? You want to rob who?"
"You heard us, Tony. Max Thompson."
"Impossible."
"Not impossible," Brad said. "Improbable."
"It's never been tried." Marc said.
"You two stupid fucks. It has been tried. Not once, not twice, but three times." Tony replied quickly.
"Three times?" Brad glanced at Marc. Marc shrugged as if to say he didn't know.
"Three times. One: Jake Corman. This guy sets it up like a con. He meets this guy by chance at a Bowling alley. So he tells Thompson that he is a championship bowler. They bowl, and they are having a great time. They have a few drinks, play a few games, Jake tells him he served in Vietnam. Max served in some war of God-knows-what, so Jake figures it's a good common point. Max knowing this motherfucker is too young to have served in 'Nam, calls his bodyguards up. Harsh words are thrown around, Jake ends up without thumbs." Tony tells them matter-of-factly.
Marc smiled. "No, that could have been a mistake. There's no potential for a robbery in there, gimme number two."
"Number two? Elmore Connelly. He assembles a crack team of super-criminals and goes into Thompson's mansion at 1' o clock at night. Unfortunately he doesn't know about the infrared beams running across any and every entrance into his house. Elmore ends up in jail for 15 years for armed robbery."
"That just seems poorly planned. Hit us with three." Marc said knowing that he could plan it better.
"Number three. Charlie DiMartino. He gets the closest. Charlie single-handedly breaks into Thompson's mansion, gets inside two of the three safes, and gets out. He is completely safe. He moves to Venice, learns Italian and lives happily for some time. About five years later, Max Thompson comes out and cuts Charlie's fuckin' heart out."
"Literally? Or do you just mean he killed him?" Brad asked
Tony stared at Brad for a second. He shot a glance over to Marc. Brad thought he was playing this out for dramatic effect.
"He killed him in a much more horrific way then cutting out his heart."
"I'm not trying to be a wiseass at all, but what's more horrific than getting your heart cut out." Brad asked
"That's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is Danny fuckin' Ocean could not pull of a heist like this."
Marc laughed. He slid a pair a dark pair of sunglasses on. "Maybe he couldn't. But Marc Black sure as hell can."
One
One week earlier
"Hey motherfucker!" Tomas Cruz yelled out as he pushed a gun against Marc Black's head.
"Whoa, whoa." Marc said cooly. "What the hell are you doin' in my house?"
Tomas didn't like that one bit. He grabbed Marc and pushed him up against the wall. "You listen to me, you fuckin piece of shit. You fuckin' robbed my man Carnell back in Austin didn't you?"
Fuck. Marc knew what he was talking about. "What happened to Luis? You know, Carnell's last Mexican bitch."
Marc realized this wasn't such a good idea when he got slammed with the butt of Tomas's gun. "I ain't no fuckin punta!"
Tomas quickly realized his temper being too high, and calmed himself. "I fuckin' killed that backstabbin' motherfucker. You think you're clever don't you, Black? You think we wouldn't realize he was helping you?"
At this point Marc was beginning to think he underestimated Carnell. "Ok, relax. We can work this out."
"Yeah we can. You can pay us back 500,000 dollars, and maybe I won't fuckin' kill you."
"500,000? I don't know how math works down in Spain, but I only stole 300,000." Marc said.
Tomas thought about giving this little fuck another pistol-whip, but thought better. Instead he chuckled.
Marc was glad he enjoyed that little crack about Mexico.
"You stole 300. You owe 500 for being a dishonest thieving cocksucker."
"Oh, now I see the logic in that."
Tomas smacked Marc with the gun again. Harder this time, enough to bring him down onto his knees.
"Fuck you." Marc coughed.
"You have two weeks to get me my fucking money. If I don't have it, I'll kill you, and your whole fuckin' crew." Tomas said.
"I don't have a crew. Just Brad."
Tomas hit him a final time, this time using his fist as a weapon of choice. Afterwards he walked straight out of Marc's apartment, leaving his door open.
"Fuck." Marc let out. He lay on the ground in pain for a minute longer. After getting up and getting some ice for his face he picked up his phone.
"Brad? We got problems. Meet me at the Diner."
Brad Clements was sitting in his apartment four blocks away from Marc. He was working on a crossword puzzle. Brad hated crossword puzzles. He did this for lack of things to do.
After racking his brain, and coming up empty he threw the crossword into the air, and turned on his television.
One would think that a week after stealing 300,000 dollars, you would have a way of entertaining yourself. But no, not Brad.
He sat there, ignoring the CNN report on Global Warming and began to think about his life.
This is only temporary.
After he had enough money to live off of, which he'd had for some time, but was putting it off, he'd go to school. Brad would absolutely love to be a doctor. What school teaches you how to be a doctor?
Fuck, he was bored.
Ring!
Ring!
Brad stood up and brushed the pretzel crumbs off him. This had to be Marc. He'd just tell him. He was finally going to college. Marc would be happy for him. Right?
"Brad?" Marc's voice filled the phone. "We got problems. Meet me at the Diner." Marc hung up before Brad got in one word.
Ok. So Brad would tell him when they got to the diner.
Tomas felt good. His hand hurt, but other than that it was all good. He was going to get his money.
When Luis came to him last week and told him he had helped Brad and Marc steal all that money from Carnell, he didn't originally think he would kill him. He figured he would turn him over to Carnell.
Boy, would Carnell fuck him up.
On the way to Carnell's, Luis told Tomas about a plan to get that money plus 100,000 back. For himself. He offered to cut Tomas in on the deal.
At the time, things had seemed flawless, but then Tomas had thought, why get some when he could get all?
Tomas stopped the car, got out, and pulled Luis out. Tomas would never forget his horrified shrieks.
He took him back into the woods, and shot him right in the back of the head. Blood spattered all over. He threw Luis's dead body in the water.
When he saw his bloody, ruined shirt, he wished he had shot Luis in a more painful manner.
Tomas wasn't a monster. He didn't like killing Luis. Tomas and Luis had been friends. But Tomas saw a chance to get ahead and he took it. What's the problem with that?
Tomas drove over to Carnell's house. He got out of the car and shot the two bodyguards out front, straight in the chest. As he calmly walked toward the door he shot each of them again in their heads, just to be sure.
He didn't follow regular procedure. Instead he blew right past the doorbell and walked into Carnell's home.
"Hey Motherfucker!" he recalled yelling.
Carnell came up and leaned over the top of the balcony. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Tomas skipped the typical villainous chat. He looked straight into Carnell's eyes and shot him. He fell down over the balcony and with a sickening crunch Tomas was sure he was dead. He turned out and got in his car.
Drove straight to Los Angeles and paid Marc Black a visit.
That's why his hand hurt. And that's also why he felt good. With a slight altercation to Luis's plan, things were going great.
Tomas smiled into the sky. "God bless you, Luis."
On the other hand, Marc Black's eye hurt. And he did not feel good.
He sat in the corner diner waiting for Brad to get there. He seemed to take forever.
"What the hell happened to your eye?" Brad said as he slipped in to the booth across from Marc.
"I got a little visit from fuckin' Tomas Cruz."
"That asshole who rolled with Carnell?" Brad asked.
Marc could tell Brad was a little scared. Good. "The very same. Now, get this, you and I are dead if we don't get this fucker 500,000 dollars in two weeks. We need to pull something big. Very big."
"Fuck. 500,000 in two weeks. That's enough time to pull off maybe one job."
"Yeah." Marc replied. He knew how fucked they were. But panicking would get them no where, and he assumed Brad realized this as well. "Now, who is the only person that we can rob who has that kind of cash."
"I don't fuckin' know. Just tell me, will you?"
"Max Thompson."
Two
Present
"So now do you understand?" Brad calmly explained.
"Look," Tony said. "I understand, but you two just don't seem to understand what I'm saying"
Marc looked at Brad in confusion. Then back to Tony. "What exactly are you saying"
Tony saw this as such in idiotic motion from Marc, had he not cared about his reputation would have said, "Duh!" He went with this instead. "I'm sayin' that you two are fuckin' morons"
Brad let out a chuckle.
"Don't fuck with us Tony. You know what I'm saying. Are you in or out?" Marc asked.
Tony paused. He looked side to side at these two. "You're fuckin' crazy. But you got the drive. I'm in if you come back here with a competent fuckin' crew. No stupid assholes who just saw The Italian Job and wanna be in on a fuckin' heist"
"We got you. It shall be done." Brad smiled.
"Piece of cake." Marc lied.
Walking out of Tony's big lakeside house, Brad nervously glanced over at Marc. This definitely wasn't the simple job they thought it'd be. Tony's word may have gotten to them a little bit.
"You realize we're fucked right?" Marc stopped. "I realize nothing of the sort. We can do this. We'll treat it just like its some fuckin' douche bag up back in New Jersey"
Brad seemed to have left his smile back at Tony's. "We aren't in fucking New Jersey anymore. We are in Los Angeles. And we're not goin' up against some regular Joe. This is Max Thompson. We got to do this smart"
"That's what you're here for. Make this operation smart. This is not a we lose, we leave town situation. We lose, Carnell will kill us." Marc became serious for the first time since finding himself inside this predicament.
"That's another thing I meant to ask. How far off was our judgment? I mean, I don't know about you, I but I thought this Carnell guy was kind of…I don't know, small time? Not a cold-blooded killer." Marc knew exactly what Brad meant. And that's what disturbed him the most.
"So, we have one week to steal 500,000 dollars. We have no crew, no support, no plans, a mark who I have absolutely no knowledge about, so basically no chance." Brad said.
"You forgot to say our lives are at stake"
"Aren't they always? Ok, I'm going home to try and assemble a fuckin' crew. Meet me back in the Diner at 7"
"Aye." Marc replied in his best pirate impression.