Walking through the city, Peter admired the sights and sounds of the streets. He preferred to walk wherever he could, believing it projected his presence in the community and he was always keen to meet someone he could call a friend; someone he may grow a mentoring role as Neal had mentored him in his early days.

As he passed the Scotsman restaurant, Peter admired the smells and sounds from the bustling establishment and smiled, remembering when Neal had transformed it from smouldering embers, like a Phoenix from the ashes.

Beyond his favourite eatery in the city and down the road a bit, there was a quaint post office which Peter often made withdrawals, despite having no account and making no deposits. As he was going to visit a local whore-house later that evening, tonight was to be another fine night for a withdrawal.

As he neared the post office, Peter pulled his long dark jacket around him and fastened it tightly, pulling his fine silk scarf up to cover everything below his eyes and lowering his fedora to finish masking his face.

Turning into a darkened alley across the road from the small building, Peter began casing the business and the street outside for any reason not to make his hasty, forced withdrawal. As it was early in the evening, most of the families in the area were sitting down to eat their evening meal, giving Peter an ideal opportunity.

Walking into the post office, Peter pulled his snub-nosed revolver from his jacket pocket, pointed it at the unsuspecting clerk and tossed a material bag over the counter.

"I'm gonna need you to fill the bag before I empty my gun and take the money anyway."

Despite making some mumbled protests, the clerk began to transfer the loose change from the till to the bag, before Peter lowered his gun to the bag, shaking his head slowly.

"No, I mean the money from the safe. I don't need it all, a couple of grand should do it."

Despite complaining loudly and verbosely in pigeon English, the shop clerk opened the safe and began angrily jabbing handfuls of notes into the waiting sack before throwing the bulging bag back into Peter's hands.

Thanking the man as he backed off out of the door and down the alleyway opposite the shop, Peter revelled in the rush he got from the occasional petty crime. Once he had reached the seclusion of the alleyway, Peter began rustling around his ill-gotten gains; mostly low value notes. Was that it?! Thumbing through the notes again, Peter knew he couldn't afford to return to the scene of the crime so soon.

Muttering sarcastically to himself "Congrats Peter, you grabbed yourself $668", he started walking towards his favourite Cat-house. Perhaps he would get a loyalty discount.

After a long night slaving away at work making those micro transactions with some of the local drug dealers Grunt had to find some way to relax. His good friend and right hand man PeterBurke had told him about this whore house which he would occasionally go to on the corner of fifth and Main Street; it was in the basement of some speakeasy. When Grunt entered the speakeasy he walked over to the bar and ordered a pint of rum. After downing it in one foul gulp he flashed a roll of cash to the bartender and drunkly shouted..

"HEY!! I want some entertainment tonight! *GULP*"

Unamused the bartender went from behind the bar and motioned Grunt to follow him down to the basement..

After having traveled the streets of Chicago, acquiring the tools he needed, Vandlgat found himself in a back alley in The Loop. Coming down from a 14 hour hashish binge, Vandlgat felt it was time to make an attempt at some ends, seeing the need to collect currency is total.

Pacing himself, he makes his way to a more populated area to maybe snatch a purse or something. 

Vandlgat looks across the street and sees a high class mobster, Fedora'd and masked up, backing out of the Post Office. Vandlgat hears this professional looking criminal say,"Thank you for your business," to whoever was at the 'death' end of his hand-cannon.

He sees this unidentified scarf'd mobster move into the alleyway, where he is no longer in sight of Vandlgat. As he takes out his flask, filled with Scotch, an imaginary light bulb manifests above Vandlgat's head, signaling singleness of thought.

Vandlgat is now motivated to run a loan sharking operation with the people from The Loop......