"And... one, two, free, four, five, six, seven, eight..."

Despite their large number and varying sizes and species, the line of dancers all moved in perfect sync, none daring to fall behind while their instructor paced back and forth to study them. Even the young lioness sat at the piano in the corner remained deadly focused, making sure she didn't miss a single note while she played Sergei Poodlefiev's Dance Of The Knights on loop.

While they danced, the harsh CLIP-CLOP! of their instructor's hooves was somehow just as graceful, each footstep being perfectly paced with both the music and her counting.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight..."

The middle aged mare was slender but strong, her flowing white mane sticking out in stark contrast to her black turtleneck shirt and neutral grey coat. Her small, rectangular glasses accentuated the piercing gaze of her hazel eyes, and she marked the end of each count with the sharp SNAP! of her long, wooden cane.

A few days prior, being given the chance to train under Redshore City's master choreographer - Madame Amélie Jument herself - was the greatest honour that any of the dancers present had ever received. But after a gruelling, monotonous cycle of complicated dance moves, strict deadlines and scathing remarks at any shortcoming or failure, it was clear that many were beginning to regret their life choices.

"One, two, three, four, five, six -"

"Gah!" One of the younger students suddenly lost his footing, falling out of line before he stumbled down onto his backside. The violinist stopped plated and the other dancers froze on the spot, all of their eyes widening with dread while they looked over to their instructor.

After a few seconds of complete silence, the loud SNAP! of Madame's cane hitting the floor made everyone tense back, even more so when she turned on the spot and set her sights directly on the offending student. Despite the warm, bright lights that hung off the ceiling of the studio, the horse's tall, slender stature seemed to cast a long, dark shadow over the young proboscis monkey, who bit his bottom lip and tensed back as she slowly approached him.

"Stand. Up."

The monkey immediately did as he was told and scrambled to his feet, quickly straightening down his goldfish-brown fur and his blue Clay Calloway shirt to look more presentable. "I... I am very sorry, Madame, I... I just tripped and -"

Madame suddenly thrust her cane forward, placing it right on the monkey's lips to cut him off. Glancing down with a grimace, she used her other hand to prod his small but still noticeable gut, the monkey trying his best not to react before she looked him right in the face.

"Name...?" She said bluntly, rolling her eyes when he didn't seem to process her question. "Your name, petit...?!"

"Oh, yes... um..." The monkey cleared his throat and stood a little. "I am Klaus, Madame. Klaus Kickenklober."

"Kickenklober...? Oh, mon dieu..." Madame pinched the bridge of her nose, then held her cane to Klaus' chin, inspecting both sides of his face. "A name like that, coupled with your silly accent, I would say you are from... Schnitzeldorf... yes...?"

"Yes. Absolutely correct, Madame."

"Hmm..." Madame cupped her chin, then pulled a small, insincere smile. "Well, fraülein, if you are villing to put in ze effort, I'm sure we can make something worthwhile out of you."

Klaus nodded, before clearing his throat. "If I may, Madame Jument, that is not how -"

"Non!" Madame suddenly barked, swinging her cane down with another SNAP! as the monkey cowered back a bit. "I vill do ze correctings in this class! You vill be silent! Yes...?"

"Oh, um... y-yes, Madame."

"Good. Now..." Madame cleared her throat, before pointing her cane over to the other terrified dancers in line. "Return to your position, fraülein, and we vill take it from ze top!"

"Ah-ha, didn't I tell you?! We are goin' up in the world now, boys!"

Stan and Barry both knew Marcus had big dreams of success - it had been clear as day since they'd first started their gang in school - but they never would have expected that their friend's lofty ambitions had any chance of becoming reality. And now, at the age of just twenty-one, here they were, carrying massive bags of money - stolen from one of the most secure banks in Calatonia, no less - on their way to speak to the most feared and revered gangster in the city.

As they entered the main room of the stately but dimly-lit mansion, the faint sound of a piano tune was audible from upstairs. While he had never considered himself a music lover, Marcus couldn't help feeling rather intrigued by the tune - which he would later learn was Beetlehoven's Symphony No. 5 - but he was snapped back to reality when a short, well-dressed daschund stepped out of the office to greet them. "Mr. Griswold will see you now."

"Oh yeah. Thank you, Miss." Marcus nodded respectfully, before looking back to Stan and Barry. "Now remember, boys. Best behaviour."

The daschund pulled the doors to the office open and led them inside, quietly clearing her throat to try and gain her employer's attention. The three gorillas all glanced around at the various paintings, statues and other art pieces - the vast majority of which they recognised from being reported stolen or missing on the news - before finally looking over to the big bronze desk at the other end of the room, and the slightly thinner but no less intimidating gorilla that was sat at it.

Graham Griswold, the Calatonia Kingpin himself, had barely even noticed them coming in. Holding a fine Cuban cigar in one hand and a phone to his ear in the other, he was still deep in conversation with one of his associates over an unrelated matter of business elsewhere.

"What do you mean?! Start with the knuckles, then ya -!" Graham glanced towards the door, pulling a charming, toothy grin to greet his visitors. "Ah... I'll be right with ya, lads. Sit yourselves down..."

Marcus nodded, leading Stan and Barry over to the seats a few feet away. They all sat down, placing their bags of stolen goods on the floor while catching little segments of what the older gorilla was saying.

"Right... yeah, that's right... and what's the next thing you do? Yeah, then you put on the cement shoes on 'im, don't ya...?" Graham let out an ominously hollow chuckle. "Yeah, that oughta get 'im squawking! Ah ha ha, good man! Right, hop to it, then..."

Stan and Barry both tensed a bit when Graham rather aggressively slammed the phone back down on its base station, but Marcus remained enthusiastic when his idol went around the desk and lounged back in his big, comfortable chair.

"Now, if it ain't Marcus, Stan and Barry... the Three bloody Musketeers themselves!" Graham laughed, clapping his hands together as he looked down at the massive bags they'd just carried in. "So... what's the damage, eh?"

"Should be about six million in there, Mr. Griswold." Marcus boasted proudly, before tossing one of the bags up onto Graham's desk and letting some of the money come spilling out. "The vault said there'd only be five in there, but we saw there were some extra, so we just thought we'd take that too."

"Ah-ha! Brilliant, lads, just brilliant!" Graham pulled the bag open, taking in a long, satisfied inhale of the money inside, before looking down to his daschund assistant. "Charlotte, be a good little lass and give our fine young friends their share."

"Right away, Mr. Griswold." Charlotte nodded with a forced smile as she knelt down, fishing out several clumps of bills and quietly counting the amount to herself.

"Y'know, lads, a lot of my other partners don't really like my ten percent policy. They think it's not, uh... what's the word again... proportionate, to the work they did to get it." Graham rolled his eyes. "But the thing is, the more you bring to me, the bigger your ten percent is. Just simple maths, innit...?"

"Yeah, it is, Mr. Griswold." Marcus nodded, before Stan suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, as if trying to remind him of something. "Oh yeah, and the boys just wanted to make sure for the sake of counting... um... it's ten percent shared between the three of us, innit? Not ten percent each."

"Yeah, well... we was just having a bit of a disagreement about it..." Stan cut in, taking a small step forward as Graham raised an eyebrow. "See, Barry was saying that your policy says ten percent per partner, but I were saying a thirty percent cut would be right generous and I wouldn't have -"

"Ah, gettin' a bit greedy, are we?" Graham said, though his tone seemed more playful than threatening. "Yeah, sorry lads, but as long as you stick together, the three of you are one partner."

"I agree, Mr. Griswold, I was just saying it's just smart business." Stan gave a small, rather anxious smile, preparing to retreat back behind Marcus again before Graham suddenly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Still, two hundred thousand each is nowt to scoff at for a first score..." Graham chuckled as he patted Stan's shoulder - rather more forceful than necessary, but seemingly affectionate enough - before letting him go behind Marcus again. "Keep bringing in the goods like this, you boys'll be set for life before you can say Bob's your uncle!"

"Yeah, I've been telling 'em that, Mr. Griswold." Marcus said. "We've gotta work our way up to it, just like you did, sir."

"Very good..." Graham then paused when he heard the sound of the piano from upstairs, rolling his eyes as the student got a few of the notes wrong. "Yeah... downside to laundering money through a theatre: that little waste of space thinks she'll be the next Nana Noodleman!"

While they didn't find this remark particularly amusing - especially with the rather mean-spirited tone attached - Marcus, Stan and Barry felt it was best to laugh along.

"Right, that's six hundred thousand, Mr. Griswold." Charlotte held up a smaller bag that she'd filled with the group's cut of the money, quietly handing it over to Marcus who then passed it to Barry.

"Pleasure doing business with you boys!" Graham held it out his hand, which Marcus shook. "Welcome to the best years of your life!"

"Lookin' forward to 'em, Mr. Griswold!" Marcus laughed, letting the older gorilla return to his seat before turning back to his two companions. "Right. Let's make tracks, lads."

Barry and Stan headed off first, quickly making their way out the front door to their car outside. Marcus wasn't completely watching where he was going as he lagged behind them, being too busy wondering why the piano upstairs had suddenly stopped playing. But he was brought back down to earth - or more accurately, the floor - when someone suddenly came bolting down the stairs and knocked right into him.

"Ow! Bloody hell!" The girl grunted as she clumsily scrambled to her feet, quickly pulling Marcus back up too. "Oh God, I'm really sorry. I weren't watching where I was... ooh... hello..."

This young gorilla was somewhere between eighteen and nineteen. While her darkish-brown fur was an unkempt mess and she was dressed in casual and somewhat frumpy clothes, she was still quite pretty, with her small, circular glasses accentuating her vibrant greenish-brown eyes. It was only then when Marcus realised they'd been ogling each other for just under half a minute, so he quickly cleared his throat to snap themselves out of it.

"Right, you're um... you're Mr. Griswold's daughter, aren't you?" He said, breaking another prolonged silence.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah, I am..." The girl anxiously bit her bottom lip as she glanced towards the door to Graham's office, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief when she heard her father speaking to another of his colleagues over the phone. "Anyway, um... I don't think I've seen you round here before. And I definitely would have remembered a big, strong bloke like you!"

"Yeah, I'm one of his new ones..." Marcus then extended a hand for her to shake. "Name's Marcus..."

"Ooh, strong grip!" The girl let out a snorting laugh, awkwardly covering her mouth as her face beamed red for a moment or two. "Sorry... b-but yeah, it um... it's lovely to meet you. I'm -"

"MARY!" A rather strained female voice yelled from upstairs, making the girl tense a bit. "I'm still sittin' up here with no coffee, sweetheart!"

"Oh yeah! I'll just be a minute, Joanne!" Mary called back, giving a small shrug as she pried her hand out of Marcus'. "Sorry, that's just my piano tutor. I was supposed to be getting drinks, so..."

"Course. No need to explain, Miss..." Marcus said. Although he'd just heard it shouted aloud by her unseen tutor, he felt that they weren't quite familiar enough for a first name basis. "Me and my boys should be getting off anyway..."

"Boys...?!" Mary's face almost seemed to shrink in disappointment for just a second, though she seemed relieved when she glanced out the window to see the two other gorillas - who were clearly not children - that Marcus had come with. "Right, yes! I'll um... I better get back to my lesson, then."

"Hmm. You do that." Marcus nodded with a smile, taking a step back so that Mary could pass by him. He hesitated for a moment or two as she made her way back up the stairs, though she froze halfway up when he finally spoke. "I um... I hope I see you again some time, Miss Griswold."

"Really...?" Mary spun around on the spot, nearly knocking into the banister as she tried to strike a more appealing pose, though she had to hold back an excited giggling fit when Marcus nodded. "Wow, okay, yeah... um... you too, Marcus!"

After another few seconds of silence, Mary bolted back up the stairs. As he headed for the front door, Marcus kept his head slightly tilted towards the direction that she'd gone, faintly catching some of the conversation the girl was having with her tutor when she returned to her lesson. "Right, I'm back! Sorry I took so long, Joanne, I were just... oh God, I forgot the drinks, didn't I...?!"

"There y'are, mate!" Stan shouted, shaking his head in mild annoyance when Marcus finally came out the door and headed over to them. "What happened to making tracks, eh...?"

"Oh yeah... sorry, lads." Marcus cleared his throat as glanced back at the house behind him, facing upwards to see Mary playing her piano in the upstairs window. "I were just making some, uh... introductions."

"Introductions? What kind of introductions...?" Stan asked, prompting Barry to pull an equally curious expression.

"Eh..." Marcus pulled a small smirk, then gestured towards their black car as he and his friends climbed into it. "It's just like Mr. Griswold said, boys... we're in the best years of our lives."