Conor_McGregor sat slightly slumped over in his 1932 Lincoln Towncar, black as the night. Deep in thought, he reminisced of the previous weeks excursion with Surtr, the long drive down and back from South Philly, where they picked up quite the crate of swag. Time to put it to good use.

Conor is awoken from his thoughts by the passenger door opening and he looks to his right. Afgan-Mango greets him with a grin.

“Wake up, Conor. Can’t have you falling asleep on us!”

He laughed out; And miss this? You’re kidding right?

Surtr opens the rear passenger and climbs into the car,

“Stop flirting you two, let’s get to work!”

Conor glares at his fight manager in the backseat; Don’t make me start calling you that one unflattering nickname you hate so much!

Conor straightens his posture and puts the car into drive, speeding off towards South Central Bank in South Side, Chicago. He speeds around every curve, laughing as Surtr clutches his chest nervously. A few minutes later, they pull up to the bank and Conor slides into a parking spot. He throws the car into park and wiggles the key in the ignition, until he can pull out the key while the engine remains running. He slides the key in his pocket and exits the car. Afghan-Mango and Surtr follow suit as we all walk to the back of the car. Conor pops the trunk and hands everyone a pistol and a Tommy Gun.

Everybody remember their role? Afghan-Mango and I will handle distracting the customers and clerks, while Surtr, you break into the safe and load the bags.

Afghan-Mango and Surtr nod in agreement, so we pull a light mask over our faces and walk into the bank. Afghan-Mango steps onto a table and waves his Tommy in the air as Surtr sneaks off towards the safe. Conor points his Tommy at the patrons of the bank as Afghan-Mango begins to speak.

“Hands in the air! Everyone listen to me and nobody gets hurt! Everybody to the middle of the room, on your knees, hands stay in the air.”

The scared patrons and clerks of the bank listen to Afghan-Mango and gather in the middle of the bank, doing exactly as they were told. Afghan-Mango keeps his gun on them at all times, as Conor walks to the registers and pops them open, emptying their contents into his bag. A few minutes later, Surtr comes from the safe and tosses Conor and Afghan a couple of duffle bags each.

“We’ve got everything we can, let’s get out of here!”

They nod in agreement again, pick up their bags and back towards the door. As soon as they exit the door, they are instantly surrounded by black cars reading Bureau of Investigation. Conor, being the loose-cannon that he is, fires a bullet straight into the first Investigators head, while Surtr and Afghan-Mango follow suit. A full fledged war breaks out, until they finally reach their running car, Conor opens the doors and they file in. Conor with a wound to his side, Surtr to his arm, and Afghan-Mango to his shoulder.

The money. Did we get any of the money?

Afghan-Mango and Surtr look at Conor disappointed, as Afghan-Mango speaks up;

“Maybe a couple hundred, just what we were able to fit in our pockets, they filled the bags pretty good. Not much we could do.”

Conor lets out an obscenely loud “FUCK!” as he punches the steering wheel and puts it into drive, speeding off as quickly as he can to the burn house.

He pulls the car in the back, and then under the building, thinking it should be safe from any heat there. They all limp out into the building.

Does anybody have any idea who those fucks were, or where they came from?

Afghan-Mango speaks up; “J. Edgar Hoover. His secret task force, to try to shut us down.”

Surtr notes; “I’ve heard he’s starting a national operation to do much of the same everywhere.”

Conor nods in understanding; Our solution is simple then. J. Edgar Hoover must be eliminated. Let’s get to planning boys. We’ll need to let Spunky know, we’ll need his good graces for something this massive. I’ll get with my contacts, see if we can get a few more bodies in on this.

"Well I suppose we should call the Doc and have him make a visit to get us fixed up."

Afghan walks over to the phone and starts to dial the Docs house number.

"I haven't seen this guy since you took your cat to him to have her fixed Conor, at least that little feline whore isn't filling your garage with kittens anymore right?! Even though he is just a veterinarian I think he can patch us up in no time so we can get to planning on how we are going to take Hoover and his boys out."

The phone starts to ring and is quickly answered by the vetinarian.

"Hey doc, it's Afghan. We had a little situation tonight and we need you over here as soon as possible."

"Ya, you know the place. Same as usual, just fucking get here before the three of us bleed out okay?"

"Alright we will see you shortly, thanks doc!"

Afghan slams the phone down. "Fucking hell, it's always twenty questions with that guy. You would figure by now he would understand we don't answer questions on the phone!" 

Afghan walks over to the couch, ripping his sleeve off his shirt and starts to wrap it around his wound wincing as he tightens it to put pressure on the wound.

"Fuckin aye, where in the hell is the liquor at? Please tell me we have SOMETHING in this shit hole to drink the pain away. You know as well as I do that doc isn't going to bring us shit for pain relief so we better fix it ourselves before he get's here."

Sitting down in the torn up couch Afghan kicks his feet up as Conor hands him a bottle of whiskey.

"Thanks man, so I guess we better start discussing what the fuck just happened out there and what the fuck we are going to do about it. My sources tell me that Hoover is revamping the Bureau and is cutting the slackers and most of the guys we have on payroll and also starting an investigative unit that is completely based on fingerprints. I'm guessing that's who we just ran into and they are currently sweeping the bank now for prints, so we might have some big fucking issues here on out with any other jobs we pull. If one of us gets busted they will probably have our fingerprints tied to a shit ton of other crimes as well so who knows what the fuck will happen then. We HAVE to stop this now before we end up in the slammer for fucking life. I honestly think the only thing we can do is take out the entire fucking department, you know, with a huge explosion. All their records and investigators that know where we shit will all be gone. This isn't going to be easy though, and we can expect a whole hell of a lot more fire power than what we ran into in the process of this if we don't have a good plan to avoid it."

Afghan sits back and takes a few pulls on the bottle of whiskey and then hands it back to Conor.

"So what do you think men, how shall we pull this one off. This isn't about making it rich, this is about saving our own asses and staying out of then pen."

Surtr snaps back to reality and hears Afghan speaking. He can't keep up, his mind is a million miles away. His eyes are locked on the gunshot wound in his arm just above his elbow. Bullets are attracted to him, it seems. He lifts his head up off of his shoulder and leans back against the wall, blood dripping down his arm. A puddle was starting to form, but he doesn't care. He finally gets up the nerves to speak on the matter.

"We kill who we need to kill, how we need to. We should wait for Spunky, he'll know just what to do!"

Surtr isn't one for many words. He never has been and he never will be. He is a man of action and feels those speak louder than words, especially around these kind of folk. You can never be too sure about who might be listening in, ready to swoop if he said the wrong thing.

The sound of a loud knock echoes throughout the room, followed by another, and another. Neither Conor nor Afghan even think about getting up to open it, so Surtr decides he should if he doesn't want the door to get kicked down. He grunts and leans against the wall to help him stand up, and with a few excruciating stints of pain in his arm he manages to get to his feet. He limps over to the door and opens it a crack to see who it is.

The veterinarian. He is standing outside the door with a huge first aid kit in his hand. He obviously knows what's waiting for him inside. Surtr opens the door wide and falls back against the wall. He tugs at the vet's shirt and stares down at his wound. The vet picks up on this signal. He opens his case, examines the wound, and begins patching Surtr up. 

"Hope you ladies can sort out who goes next without killing each other!" Surtr blurts out and starts laughing, but then all is quiet until Surtr is all patched up. Surtr leans back against his favorite wall again and notices Conor and Afghan are both ignorant fucks. Neither of them notice the vet is standing idly by for the next one to take their place.

"Guys!" Surtr shouts. "Wake the fuck up! It's your go!"

Hearing Surtr shouting, Afghan looks up and notices the Doc awaiting one of them to acknowledge who is going to be taken care of next. Afghan chuckles, then looks over at Conor.

"Go ahead little guy, better have doc patch you up before you bleed out. I've been hit worse before and I know how you are with getting your toe stubbed. If you need a hand to hold while you get stitched up you can have mine buddy!"

While Afghan waits for the doc to patch Conor up he makes his way into the kitchen leaving a nice trail of blood in his wake. Rooting through the fridge that isn't plugged in which wouldn't matter anyways as all the copper had been stripped from the house before they had acquired it for the low price of killing the last owners Afghan finds three bottles of liquor and grabs them up then goes back into the living room and tosses one to Surtr and the other to Conor. 

"Sorry guys, I'm taking the good stuff and don't even ask me to share it because we all know that isn't going to fucking happen."

Afghan opens the bottle of tequila and tips it up as he take a healthy drink from the bottle and sits back down on the couch next to his previous seat that is now full of blood. He then opens his jacket and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his inside pocket and reaches into his pants pocket for a lighter, and comes up empty. Checking his other pockets he starts to feel around the couch and look around the room, glancing at Surtr and Conor he shouts. "Did one of you fuckers steal my lighter again?! Always be stealing my shit like it's your own, all you have to do is ask you know I'd tell you NO!" 

Throwing the pack of cigarettes across the room Afghan says "Fuck it!"

Conor_McGregor takes a large swig of rum and walks over to the doc, holding his left side. He looks over to Afghan-Mango and tosses him a lighter.

This is my lighter dick. Don't lose it. You got it? Good. And, it just so happens getting shot in your side and bleeding out is a little different than getting punched in the face repeatedly. Now, that being said, if you want a bare knuckle boxing match, once this is all over with, I'd be glad to indulge. For Spunky's sake, I'd try not to put you up in the hospital too long. 

Conor sits down beside the doc and rips his shirt off, leaning over a little onto the side table to give him easier access to his side. He grimaces a bit in pain as the doc starts sewing up his side. 

Alright guys, I'd previously arranged a meeting with Spunky in his office, about an hour and a half from now to give him his share of the spoils from the robbery. Obviously that isn't going to happen. However, we still need to make that meeting. We can go over what we will do with him, and see if he has any input. As far as ideas go, the way I see it we have two, there may be more though. We can go with Afghan-Mango's plan and blow everything up, or we can go secret and take them out one at a time in their sleep. Either way, the heat is going to be unbelievable, and we're going to need a better escape plan than we had today. 

The doc finally finishes patching up Conor's side, so Conor steps up cracks his neck to each side, and wonders over to the spare closet just off to the side of the living room, grabbing and putting on one of the black shirts in there, just in case he bled anymore on the way to visit Spunky. He looks over to Afghan-Mango.

Get your shit patched up, so we can go to the meeting man!

Afghan-Mango rolls his eyes at Conor, but gets up regardless, taking his tequila with him. He sits next to the doc and offers his shoulder to him. After about 10 minutes, and one memorable squeal of pain from Afghan-Mango, his shoulder is good as new. Conor tosses each of Surtr and Afghan-Mango their coats, as they make their way towards the door, sliding the doc a few hundred dollars for his hard work.

Conor had always been one to keep an extra truck or two at his safe houses, never knew when one would come in handy, so he motioned everyone to climb into his cherry red Ford, as he started her up, the engine roaring to life. Surtr and Afghan-Mango climb into the truck, so Conor takes off speeding like a maniac. Speed limits are only there as a guideline right? Surely nobody really follows them. How could they? So boring. Not too much later, Conor parks behind the building that Spunky calls "home" and Afghan-Mango knocks at his door.

Spunky was sitting at the HQ, the guys (Conor, afghan and Surtr) had been out on a job. When these guys got together it was normally very profitable but he knew something was up. Nothing to do with a sixth sense he didn't believe in that shit. Since just before the robbery was due to happen sirens had been buzzing around at an increased frequency. This made him nervous that something was wrong. He had decided not to contact his mole in the police force as he didn't want to bring any unnecessary heat their way. The more he thought about it the more he paced around his office. 

The buzzer went and he answered it. One of his  men came over the speaker.

"Boss, they are here."

"What are they driving?" He replied in a stress toned.

"A cherry red Ford, Boss"

"Take it round to the garage, get the guys to spray it blue and get the plates changed. Send them through."

He had managed to calm down a little bit, maybe it was the fact that they were all there that gave him some comfort. He was now sitting down in his chair, tapping away at the desk, the nerves hadn't completely gone. The door opened and the three men walked through one by one. He looked into each man's eyes and watched as the all eased into a chair. Each one nursing an injury he noted.

He stood up and motioned for the door to be closed. He walked over to the drinks cabinet and and poured for glasses of whiskey and handed them out. He walked back to his chair with his glass and the bottle and set it down on his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a carton of smokes. He took one and light it, then he slid the carton across the desk to Conor.

"I'm assuming for the state you guys, it didn't go to plan? What the fuck happened?"

Conor took and smoke and pulled out his lighter and lit it.

"Boss, Hoover that fucker and his new damn taskforce. They were all over that job like flies on shit."

He slams his fist onto the desk, everything jumps off the desk before settling down. The tone in is voice becomes more stressed.

"I have had enough of this Hoover, you aren't the first to be fucked over by this taskforce but it is the last time they fuck with us. He and them need gone. I know you guys have probably spoke about this. So what are your ideas to solve this problem?"

"Well like I said to the others at the burn house we are totally fucked if this investigation unit keeps running. It's only a matter of time before they have our fingerprints. Once they have our fingerprints I'm sure they will link them to some of our other jobs we have done. Who knows what all it will be linked to but I'm sure if we were to ever get caught and when they ran our finger prints they are going to match up to plenty and that will result in a lifetime behind bars. I know we have a lot of good guys in the pen but I don't really want to join them at this point in time of my life."

Afghan looks over at Conor who is holding out a pack of cigarettes his way and takes them from him, pulling a cigarette out of the pack he then grabs the lighter from Conor's hand and lights the it. Taking a nice long drag Afghan exhales and start again.

"Now what really pisses me off is that we just lost a handful of guys on the inside too when Hoover fucking re-organized the Bureau. They got rid of all the slackers and a good majority of the guys that are on one family or anothers payroll, including ours. So we are fucked when it comes to trying to have someone cover up any investigations into any of our business. Honestly, I don't know if they left any softies there that we could bribe for a reasonable amount to come to our side and work for us. Ya every guy has his price but fucking aye, these guys have an extraordinary price. It's going to be a lot cheaper if we just got rid of all those fuckers. I'm sure they will start all over but at least our finger prints will no longer be on record if we blow the place up, all their records will be destroyed a long with most of the fuckers that want to put us behind bars as well. They will have to rebuild and find new fresh rookies that will take a hell of a lot less to do our bidding."

Standing up Afghan grabs his glass of whiskey his boss poured him, drink the entire glass and slams it down on the desk and begins to pace around the room.

"This was supposed to be an easy in and out job and now look where the fuck we are men. If anyone has any better ideas, let's hear it because we need to think up something fast and go for it. If not I guess we need to start planning this bombing out. I know this crazy fucker that can get us as much TNT as we can buy so at least we have that part covered. Shit is not cheap at all but I know for a fact no one will know except him that we bought it."

Conor_McGregor sits comfortably in his chair, sipping his whiskey, while he listens to Afghan-Mango animatedly describe a plan to blow up the Bureau of Investigation. He finishes his smoke and squeezes what's left of the cherry to put it out, right about as his glass of whiskey runs dry, and Afghan finishes up.

Conor reaches over and grabs the bottle of whiskey and pours himself and Afghan-Mango another glass. 

That's an excellent plan mate. I have something to add to it however. 

Conor takes a long drink from his glass and sets it down on Spunky's desk.

Blowing up the joint is perfect for the evidence, and for the agents of the Bureau. However, I think we can delay, perhaps even stop, the rise of a new Bureau. I say we make a public execution of Hoover. He has a press conference scheduled next week to detail information on his new and improved task force, and also to brag on his accomplishments of stopping so many robberies. Let me draw something real quick.

Conor walks over beside Spunky and sees a memo pad laying on the desk, he flips to a blank page and grabs a pen. He draws a quick layout of the central court house, where the press conference is to be held, and the surrounding buildings. He puts three x's on the paper. 

Now, if we have one man in the crowd, dressed as a reporter, I have a guy who can get us some gear to look the part, and one guy in each building with a rifle, once the shot is taken we'll have mass hysteria. The two guys in the buildings can cover for our fake reporter, while he escapes the scene. 

Conor finishes off his glass of whiskey and looks around the room at everyone.

Our reason for attacking the situation in this way is simple. At a federal level, we have Teddy Roosevelt coming in. He will be shaken by this assassination. He'll be weary to start it up again. Or at least, he'll be slow to do so. What do you think?

He takes his seat back and lights another smoke.

Spunky sat and listened intently to Afghan. He was livid, he had never seen him so animated and worked up. Afghan's face looked like it was going to explode. His plan was interesting to say the least.

"Afghan while I appreciate we are angry with him for getting involved in our business. Burning the department down will get rid of the evidence but may not get rid of the man. Too many variables to consider. If he gets called out urgently or the fire department work quicker than we expect. Then we bring a lot of heat our way excuse the pun for not a lot of reward."

He watches Conor get up and stand next to him and start to go through his plan on a memo pad. He starts to nod his head at Conor's plan unintentionally. He scribbles on another memo pad as Conor finishes up his plan. 

"OK, I like this idea but we need to tidy it up. I don't want any fuck ups. I want this to be smooth."

He finds the map of the city and looks at the surrounding buildings. Just standard office blocks, which was perfect. 

"OK the two office blocks we will infiltrate as maintenance guys. Work it out who does what. I will get a couple of people jobs in those offices and temporary workers, they will carry the rifles in a suitcase and leave it in predetermined locations. You go in wearing caps and a wig to change your look. Head up assemble the rifles, the 'reporter' takes the shot. As soon as the other two see Hoover dropped shoot at Bureau officer closest to you. No civilians to get caught up. Give yourselves 30 seconds then get out the building calmly. There will be maintenance vans waiting for you to take you separate locations. My men will torch the vans along with the outfits. Another car will take you to a safe house. The 'reporter' is the risky one. I'm not 100% on how to play it. What do you guys think?"

Conor_McGregor grabs and takes a look at the memo pad recently written on my Spunky. He nods his head intently as he traces the routes on the paper and goes over the plan more in his mind. 

Excellent Godfather. Excellent. I have a pretty good idea of how to escape the scene, so I'll take the "reporter" role. All of the buildings are pretty closely packed.

Conor grabs the map and traces along the route. He draws a large "X" where Hoover will be standing, then he traces lines backwards.

After Hoover falls, there will be a brief delay of hysteria, while the other two take their shots at his fellow bureau men. During this hysteria, reporters and everyone should be scrambling. Nobody will know who took the shot, and everyone will be trying to get to safety. While everyone is scrambling, I can merge into the crowd, and sneak down this alleyway here; 

Conor points at a small opening between two buildings where the lines are drawn.

If we could conseiveably have either one of the vans waiting at the end of the alley, or a car, truck, anything. I can hop in, and we can take off to the safe house. At this moment, after Hoover has fallen, and the three of us are safely at the safe house, I believe we should enact phase 2 of the plan. I see where Afghan is coming from, if we don't get rid of the evidence, they will just promote from within and have everything they need. We would be sitting on a moral victory at best. We'll have to blow up the Bureau. I believe Afghan-Mango has a plan that would eliminate everything and not give the fire department the time they need to get there. 

Conor takes another sip of whiskey and looks over at Afghan-Mango.

Tell him what you told me on the way over here mate.

Well I really think we gotta get rid of the evidence they have most likely gathered on us. This new unit Hoover has created is solely for gaining a collection of identities associated with any and every crime and now when ever we get arrested they will check our prints against all those prints they have on file on crimes that have been unsolved but they have found fingerprints of people that were involved in it. I'm not positive they have any of ours but with all the work we have been doing lately, I just think the risk is to great to chance it. I do agree that those we kill in this will just be replaced by someone else and then there is the fact that if we try and pull this off while people are there the risk of getting pinched is going to go way up too. So why don't we just do this during the night so there will be less eyes to see us and we will have the cover of darkness. Since this is a government building though we will have to also worry about the response time of the firefighters. I know we got guys on the inside over there that can slow it down but I really think the less ears that know about our involvement in this the better. There's gonna be a lot of fucking people out there that are going to want to rip whoever killed Hoover piece by piece and feed them to the dogs. I don't know about the rest of you but I rather not have my name associated with this one. So to slow down the fire department what we will do is start multiple fires around the city. Get the closest department out at a call and try and draw out the other stations as well with a couple more, then we will set the investigation units office on fire when we know that it will be hours before those fire fighter fucks can get over and even begin to put it out. By the time they even get on scene all the evidence will be gone and they will have to start from square one again. 

With that being said I really think we should get another person involved in starting a fire. With just us there is going to be a lot of running around going on and we have to have this go exactly as planned and these fires have to happen just in time and in the right order or it's going to put the majority of the firemen not too far from the building that has to burn. We should start at least four good fires before we start the main one, they wont know what the fuck is going on and complete and utter chaos will ensue. 

Afghan picks up his glass and finishes the rest and sets it back down. Sitting back in his chair he reaches inside his jacket and grabs a cigarette. Looking over at Conor he holds out his hand. Still got that lighter? I have yet to find mine. Fucking things. 

Surtr was struggling to keep his focus on the conversation going on. Maybe he was the ignorant fuck now, or maybe his mind was just caught up in this whole situation. Maybe even both. But Surtr's face lightens up when he hears the word 'fire' spoken several times. It's as if someone was reading his mind and knew exactly how to bring him back down to earth. Fire! This was exactly what he was waiting for, it's his time to shine!

"Fire, you say? Count me in!"

Surtr pauses for a moment and stands up, very slowly. He slumps over to Conor yanks the lighter out of his pocket. He tosses it to Afghan and goes back to his favorite spot on the floor. He leans against the wall to help him descend and sits with his legs spread out in front of him.

"As I was saying. I'll gladly light some of those fires. Not a chance in hell I'd let that opportunity slip! But, of course I'm not useless  enough to only be good for a couple fires. I'll take on the role of one of those maintenance guys, too. I'm pretty good at fixing things, like an agent's head with a bullet. One suggestion, though. Instead of a separate car for our lovely reporter, he should hop in a van with me. It wouldn't be as suspicious so long as nobody sees him enter. Shouldn't be too hard to hide that, though."

Surtr takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. He was completely out of breath. He didn't breathe at all during that rant, he was too caught up in the moment. When one thing comes on his mind, everything else vanishes. Even his instinctive functions.

"Does that sound good to you all?"

Wild-Boy was called to a meeting with the Mastermind of this evil plan Conor_McGregor yesterday.He made sure to delay all of his appointments for the day, jumped into his Lamborghini and drived straight to Con's office in South Side.When he entered, Wild noticed that the building was empty, he did not see the regular gangsters who were gathering there looking for doing jobs for Connor.Wild felt something was not right, and Con might be in danger, so he lit his cigar, removed tha safety of his gun and started slowly walking towards the office.

Wild was three steps away from the door, when it opened and Con showed up with a big jolly smile on his face.

A wave of calmness passed through Wild's body.Then he said ''Con what's up bro, what do you want to speak with me for?''

Connor invited Wild to his office telling him ''I think you will love it!''

Wild entered the room, where he saw three very familiar faces. Spunky, Afghan and Surtr were sitting on their couches, smoking cuban cigars and drinking Scotch. Wild knew that this is not just a chilling meeting, it was something pretty serious as it seemed to him and he was eager to find out what it is.

After shaking hands with his family and saying his regular joke about the meth addiction of Doggy, he sat down and looked at Connor, expecting to find out what is the purpose of this meeting. Con had no intention to torture Wild with his silence anymore, so he started explaining to Wild the scheme.After half an hour Wild was completely filled in the plan, and now he had to make a decision.

Con, Surtr and Afghan asked Wild at the same time  ''Bro will you help us build ourself a campfire?''

They were harldy sitting on their couches, while expecting to hear Wild's decision.

Wild did not even give it a second thought ''You have just happened to find the wildest pyromaniac in Chicago'' Explosions, shooting, Driving Angry,Count me in brothers.Lets tear the shit up!'', after that they all laughed together, finished their drinks and then The Dog said firmly ''I don't want any fuck ups, have fun boys''. Then he left the room and went to the Froot Loops HQ, because he had some Bizzare Business to attend to.

He sat and listened to afghan's plan. He was tapping his, he had seemed to develop it as nervous habit. Taking another drag of his cigar his brain was now going into overtime working out how this was going to pan out and where it could be improved. Afghan finished and the Wild-Boy came in. Conor gave him the run down and it was like it was all in.

"Okay guys, sounds solid the plan to kill Hoover stays the same apart from Surtr change, you can work out who does what between you guys. Now the fire plan sounds good but let's make it solid. With the fire on the unit I want us to be doing that so no chances are taken, we strike the night Hoover dies. I still have one guy inside that unit but he isn't anything special but I know he will be able to get the plans to the building as we want the fire to start as close to the evidence as possible.

Th fires around the city will be easy to sort out I have some hoodlums that owe me a favour, if we get them to set them off around the city that should keep the Fire Department busy. In the mine time I will phone 911 and get the unit it out of the building saying I have seen someone throw a rifle into the river. That should get them excited to draw the majority of them out.

What do you guys think?"

Conor_McGregor lights another smoke and takes a long drag before settling back in his seat and closing his eyes momentarily, nodding as he listens to everyone speak. At the conclusion of Spunky's explanation of his plan, he got up and grabbed his coat. 

Alright guys, it's time to kick this into high gear. Afghan-Mango, you'll be taking the maintenance position in the right building. After your shot, you will be running to the van awaiting you outside, and you will be the first to the safe house. Surtr, you'll be taking the second maintenance position, in the left building. After your shot, you will be in the back of your van, to open the door for me to get in after running from my shot. We will arrive slightly after Afghan-Mango, but we should all arrive around generally the same time regardless. 

Conor takes another long drag from his smoke, and another drink of whiskey before continuing. 

After Hoover dies, there will be mass hysteria, and we can use that to our advantage. The fires should start around midnight. Myself, along with Afghan-Mango, Surtr, and Wild-Boy will tackle the Bureau Headquaters. We can attack it at four different points, lighting the flames at the same general time. Spunky your hoodlums should set the flames at almost the same time that we do. I want two seperate vans, on each side of the Headquarters, that will stay running. After we light the flames, we run to the closest van, which will then take us to a chop shop, and then to a safe house from there. We'll all need to lay low for a bit after.

Conor finishes off his drink and walks towards the door.

Let's go boys, I'll meet you back at the safe house to get everything gathered. His press conference is coming up in a few hours.

Conor walks out the door, then motions to his driver to pick him up. Once his driver arrives, he tells him the address of the proper safehouse, and is whisked away.

That sounds good to me Conor, we just have to be sure that the headquarters is lit after the other buildings so the fire department is already on their way if not arrived to the scene of the other fires first. Since this is such an important building, if they hear about it en route they could turn their asses around and head our way. If worst comes to worst we can take care of them as well I know that but I would rather not because if someone finds out that we offed a bunch of innocent fire fighters we will get shit for awhile and might lose some business with certain people. We will also have to buy some new uniforms since the ones from the last bank job got all bloodied up. I think those were the last we had around, not positive though. 

Afghan glances out the window of the office when an approaching van catches his eye.

Looks like one of our vans has arrived, that's good. All we need to do is go load em up with the guns and to grab a handful or two of ammo. Hopefully you two have been shooting a bit, this isn't going to be the same back alley wack with hand gun. This is going to be a long range shot, most likely a couple hundred yards or so. We can't be that close if we want to have a good chance to get the fuck out of there without getting wacked by the pigs. 

Standing up Afghan pulls his cigarettes out of his inside jacket pocket and pulls one out, grabbing a lighter off Spunky's desk he lights his cigarette and makes his way out the door behind Conor. 

After a few days of recuperating from the extensive planning he was involved in, Conor decided it was finally time to pull off the job. He rang up his crew and told them to meet him at his penthouse in South Side, Chicago for final preparations, they would be leaving from there. About half an hour later, everyone started trickling in. Afghan-Mango and Surtr were dressed in blue maintenance suits, myself in a fine gray suit with a fedora. Wildboy- arrived carrying the plans for the fires that would be set later in the evening. Conor looked around at everyone and cracked a large grin.

Alright guys, this is what we've been waiting for. Godfather Spunky is trusting us to make this happen without any hiccups. We're only going to get one chance. There's not much else I can say about the plan, everybody knows what they are doing. So I'm just going to say this one thing. There's not another group of people I would rather do this with. I'm trusting you with my life, and you're trusting me with yours. Let's get this party rolling, and drinks on me when we're done!

Conor looks around at everyone's eager faces, then motions for everyone to move out. A few minutes later, everyone is loaded inside their respective vans, and being whisked away to the J. Edgar Hoover press conference in downtown Chicago. 

A short time later, the vans pull into the crossing streets surrounding the press conference area. Conor nods to the driver and Surtr, then climbs out of the van and begins casually walking down the alleyway. After he exits the alley, he spots the platform upon which Hoover will be standing shortly, and the press beginning to gather around it. Conor proceeds to weave through the press toward the front of the group directly in front of the platform. He finally settles in and grabs a pen and notepad out of his suit jacket, eagerly anticipating the beginning of Hoover's announcement.

Surtr was deep asleep when his phone rang around 1pm. It was Conor, and that didn't make it any better. He hated it when his sleep got interrupted, and Conor knew never to call before 3pm. Surtr picked up the phone just to stop the deafening ringing, and he heard the news. The plan was finally going to be put in place. Surtr completely forgot about the press conference from several nights of heavy drinking, but the very moment he heard that name, he knew exactly what was about to go down. Some shooting, and then more importantly, a lot of fire!

He got his lazy ass up and started looking around. He had no idea where he had put his outfit for this day. He checked the bathroom, the kitchen, and even the walkway outside, but he couldn't find it. He searched so hard, looked everywhere he could think of, but found nothing. He was about to give Conor a ring and tell him he fucked up, but he realized he was already wearing the uniform. Perfect!

Surtr was the last one to arrive at the penthouse. He always had to be fashionably late. Usually he would be late on purpose, but this time was different. He walked to the penthouse and ducked behind a parked car or a garbage can every time he saw a cop. There was no need for this, as nobody knew of the plans and he had done nothing to warrant the attention. He looked like someone who was just going to work, but he wasn't taking any chances. All of the pedestrians gave him funny looks when he ducked down. He didn't like that and he was giddy when he finally arrived.

After Conor gave a brief peptalk, it was time to go. They got into their van and got driven to the press conference. It was a good thing they had hired help to drive them, otherwise they'd be speeding, blowing every stoplight and stop sign and attracting the attention of every cop in the area. This might have been a slow trip, but it was a safe one.

The van finally pulled up to the press conference. Conor went his own way and Surtr did the same. He walked over to the building to the left of where he pulled up. He walked around for a while, not sure where to go, but he eventually found the out of order restroom. He walked inside, over to the third stall, and opens the door. His rifle was waiting, propped up on the back of the toilet. He picked it up and examined it thoroughly. It looked like it had never been fired before. Perfect!

Surtr, with the rifle inside of his outfit so nobody could see it, made his way over to the lookout point on the top floor. He found an empty room that appeared to be under construction. Abandoned tools littered around the room, and a window directly overlooking the stage. He cracked it open, set up his rifle, and waits. He could see Conor through the scope, and he kept his eye on him for a while. Surtr got bored of staring at the Irish drunkard, and started looking for the nearest officer to shoot when the time was right. It took him no time at all, and he was ready for the fight of his life!

When Conor called afghan quickly grabbed his bag that he always has prepared for every job, containing all the essentials any mobster would need. Quickly running upstairs to his master bedroom afghan grabs the maintenance suit and takes off out the door with bag and suit in hand. Outside his driver is waiting in an unsuspecting van, he jumps in as they set off down the road towards the penthouse.

Arriving at the penthouse afghan grabs his maintenance suit, leaving the bag behind for later. Quickly making his way up to the penthouse afghan greets Conor as soon as he entered the room.

Here and ready, let's get this shit done and over with. 

afghan takes his maintenance suit off the hangar and puts it on over the clothes he's wearing, as soon as he gets his shoes tied he hears the door open. Looking up he sees Surtr enter the room.

Alright now it looks like we are all here. Surtr is already dressed so let's get the fuck outta here.

afghan exits the penthouse with Surtr and Conor he walks down to the street and jumps in the van that had his driver still awaiting him. They take off towards the nearby office building where he would be entering to take his shot. He heads toward the building and as he gets closer starts to look for any security personnel and police officers patrolling the area. Entering the building he walks up to the front desk and shows his fake badge, the woman at the front desk smiles and nods as she keeps talking to her assistant about their plans for the up coming weekend. Walking up the stairs afghan stops at a maintenance closet and enters, he walks in to find the briefcase that had been left for him. Grabbing up the briefcase afghan heads for the top floor and enters the corner office facing the event area. Leaving the lights off afghan cracks the window, pulls the desk to the opposite corner of the room and begins to piece the rifle together. As he fixes the scope to the gun he places it on top of the briefcase and grabs two nearby books and places it under the gun for a higher point of aim. Looking through his scope afghan finds Hoover walking up to the podium on the stage to begin his speech. Knowing the time is near afghan loads his weapon and then looks back through his scope and looks to the crowd to find Conor, awaiting the dropping of his pen to signal to Surtr and afghan to fire their weapons. As he gets comfortable and ready he chambers a round into his rifle. 

Conor_McGregor casually looks around the area, as if astonished at the architecture, he was an "out of town" reporter after all. He glances at the buildings where Surtr and Afghan-Mango should already be gathered and waiting. He nods to himself, knowing that they are just as ready as he is. Conor gets settled in to "begin taking notes", as J. Edgar Hoover makes his way to the platform. Hoover begins to speak, talking of the evils of organized crime, the perceived evils of bank robbers, thrashing our very way of life. 

Edgar continues rambling on, eventually reaching the really important part; his announcement of the forming of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He details how they are going to attack organized crime, being able to kill at will at any perceived threat. After the announcement, Hoover opens the forum for questions. Someone towards the back raises their hand and is acknowledged first. Hoover turns his head slightly to the side to get a better vantage point of the inquisitor. The time is now, or never.

Conor_McGregor drops his pen with one hand, and with his other pulls his pistol out of his coat pocket. In the blink of an eye, Conor takes aim at the side of Hoover's head and pulls the trigger. Seemingly silence fills the area, as blood shoots from the side of Hoover's head, splashing the nearby guards, and the building beside him. His lifeless body falls to the ground. Conor quickly stuffs his gun back in his coat pocket as hysteria starts to fill the area.