Chapter 1 "We've got a Job"

Evening June 26th

Nick Bar grunted as he lifted a cardboard box into the back of his Rancher. The box contained over two thousand rounds of ammunition. The man next to him, Nate Ramney, made the same sound as he lifted a second box into the truck.

"Think this will be enough?" Nate asked, tapping one of the boxes.

"600 per man, plus extra," Bar pointed out, scratching his head. "Besides we all have a secondary, pistol, and some have shotguns."

"True, hopefully we won't be needing it." Ramney said as he climbed into the truck. "Although the last one didn't go so well."

"Hey, don't jinx us now," Nick scolded and put his key into the ignition. His first attempt to start the Rancher failed.

"Why the hell don't you get a new truck already?" Ramney asked, shaking his head.

"These things are built to last. They're practically bulletproof."

"Especially in the case of yours," Nate said with a smirk.

"Ya, well, it comes in handy, especially in Liberty City."

After Nick had bought the truck the first thing his did was remove the door paneling and stuff phone books in them. While this did cut down on the already low MPG, it paid off in the fact that it would stop pistol and shotgun rounds.

He started the truck up, revved the engine a few times and finally put it in gear and drove off.

The black Rancher came to a halt behind a small apartment building. A man was sitting on a step leading into the back entrance, got up when they arrived.

"You guys get the goods?" Austin Belner asked as they got out.

For a response Nick handed him one of the boxes.

"Mike, Grant, and Scott here?" Bar asked as he got the other box out.

"Ya."

They carried the boxes inside and set them down in what was supposed to be a living room. Nick rented the bottom floor apartment. In wasn't much to look at, 2 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen, living area, but it suited his needs. The other guys lived around the city but spent most of their time at his apartment since they used it as their unofficial base.

The living area was littered with empty pizza boxes, beer cans, and who knows what else. There was an old 24-inch TV, along with a ragged entertainment center consisting of a DVD/VHS combo, and an Xbox 360. Mike Demfy and Grant Nicholson sat on the couch playing each other in Call of Duty 4. Besides the couch was Bar's reclining chair, which he made clear that if anyone sat in it they would be shot, a few old bar stools that sat around a ragged bar stocked with cheap whiskey, and an old wood door propped up with cinderblocks as a table. However in the corner in the room sat a large, 24-gun safe. It contained the team's arsenal. Of course the apartment wasn't the only home Bar owned. He had a house outside the city where he spent most of his time. This was used more as a staging area and a safe house.

"Ok turn that shit off," Bar said as he sat in his chair, unfolding a map and laying it on the table.

Nicholson cursed as he died again but ignored Nick, hell-bent on revenge. Ramney got up off a stool and turned off the game console and received a nod as thanks from Nick.

"Alright we are a go for tomorrow," Bar began. "I've talked to our contact in the Lost MC. They said they would help us out again, as long as they get paid. They'll start the diversionary fires 3 blocks from our target. This will distract any cops in the area.

"We will move in two teams. Team 1, consisting of Nate, Mike and myself will surround the armored car just as they prepare to leave the bank. Team 2, Grant, Austin and Scott will provide over watch from rooftop positions and the backup vehicle. We blow the doors, incapacitate the guards, and grab what we can within 2 minutes. Then we blow the rest and move back to our car and leave. This is supposed to be a big load. Five hundred thousand dollars plus change. Any questions?"

"What if the police respond sooner?" Scott asked

"What do you think all the guns and ammo are for? Show?" Bar replied.

"You're gonna shoot it out with the police?"

"If it can be avoided, no. I want this done clean, no one dies."

Scott stayed quiet and didn't reply.

"Ok then everyone get going and get a good night sleep," Bar said and watched as everyone filed out of the room and left.

Nick refolded the map, he had forgotten to point out the safe house. Oh well, he'd do it in the morning.

Bar suddenly sat up, his pistol was in his hands before he knew what he was doing. As his vision cleared and he saw himself aiming at a shadow being casted by a streetlight.

Replacing the sidearm on top of the nightstand he tried to go back to sleep. It failed, he was now wide-awake. he also realized that he was hungry.

"There's that gas station up the street," he thought aloud. "Could get a pretzel or a hot dog or something."

He decided to go there and after throwing on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt left his apartment to find it was raining. He pulled his ball cap down lower and walked towards the gas station.

When he arrived, Nick was surprised to find several cars parked out front. He walked inside nodding to the cashier and went to the coffee machine in the back of the mini-mart. He had just filled his cup when he heard a commotion coming from up front.

Bar turned and saw a dark skinned man pointing a shotgun at the cashier. Another was trying to reach for the cash register. He ducked down behind a rack of chips and unholstered his sidearm, the same he was waving around his apartment a few minutes prior. It was a Springfield XDM, chambered for .45 caliber. With the XDM in both hands he silently moved up the aisle and stopped just short of where it ended. He was about to make his move when a lady walked in.

She instantly saw the two men and screaming, tried to run back outside. The man reaching for the cash register was faster and grabbed her before she got out the door.

"Hello beautiful," he said to her and kissed her neck.

The lady screamed again as the man threw her to the floor and climbed on top of her. He began to unbutton her shirt

Nick was now pissed. He hated modern criminals, feeling that they had no honor, no respect for anyone. They would steal anything, kill anyone for pure fun. And the one thing he hated the most was a rapist.

Standing up, Bar left the cover of the aisle and aimed at the man with the shotgun. The dark skinned robber saw movement and turned but was to slow. Nick fired three times and watched as the robber stumbled backwards; the .45 caliber slugs struck him in the chest, and fell against a magazine rack, knowing it over. He fired twice more before turning on the second man.

Nick hauled him off the woman and threw him against the counter. Bringing up his sidearm, he fired twice point blank. He was breathing heavily now, the adrenaline was pumping. Bar looked at the cashier, who was trying to get the attempted rapist's blood off his face and then down at the woman. She was curled up, crying. He knelt beside her and holstered his pistol.

"It's ok," he gently said and helped her to her feet.

She looked at him, whispered thanks and walked outside. Bar quickly looked around the room and thankfully saw no security cameras then went outside. He turned left and went down the alley. Just as he began down it he heard sirens approaching.

"Shit!" he mumbled and started to walk a little faster.

He stuck to the alley for the whole walk back to his apartment, dodging headlights all the way.