Verbal_Kint was nervous, hell he was scared.  He hadn't been with the family all that long and this was the first major action he'd been called upon for.  This was going to be a lot more intense than running booze or dealing some drugs.  THIS was stepping up into the major leagues...and he was scared.

He looked over at Maeve, who appeared to be sitting calmly in the passenger seat, and then glanced into the back of the Model T pickup truck where Albino, Locarno and @Cambeno_Kills_Gotti were all sitting, bracing themselves as best they could.  They appeared to be joking!  How the hell could someone be that calm at a time like this?

Verbal knew where he was driving, Scarfo had said that @Don Capazzo had insisted that he make the drive several times over the last few days around this time of the day to make sure he had it down pat.  Said timing was a necessity, that it was important that we do this job during a relatively small time frame.

The Irish Pub...Don Tony had finally decided it was time to make a definitive strike at the micks.  He could feel the butt of his twin .38 specials hard against his sides, that and the fact that Al had made it clear that he needed to "drive, stay clear, and keep an eye out"', should've made him feel better.  Should've.  He kept wiping his hands on his pants legs, trying to dry them off.

He kept his eyes glued to the streets, watching the blocks go by, just in case he wasn't making the return trip. 

His hand shaking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his deck of Lucky's and his silver Dunhill lighter.  Freeing up a butt, he stuck it between his lips and lit it up, then tossed both into the seat and told Maeve to help herself if she wanted one.

Drawing in a deep pull of the harsh smoke, he pulled out his gold pocket watch and checked their progress.  Looked good.  Passing Arch Street, he could see City Hall right ahead of them.  This meant less than 5 minutes left until arrival.

They had definitely crossed over into mick town.  He could tell by the names of the shops they passed....McGillins, O'Sullivans, Daly's, Campbells....O'Briens.  Although there weren't many of the O'Briens left.  @Godfather Latin and Don Tony had seen to that.  Part of the reason they were on this job.

Slowing down to make the circuit around City Hall, Verbal looked up at the old building.  Swerving to avoid a car shooting out onto the street in front of him, he looked over his shoulder in time to see the guys rolling around the back of the truck.  He chuckled a little, and it seemed to lessen the fear some.

Making it three-quarters of the way around City Hall, he turned off onto Juniper St. and headed south.

"Ok, second street down...left." He mutters under his breath.

Flicking his cig out the window, he reaches back and knocks on the window to let the men know it was time.  Looking over at Maeve he manages to say, "Hang on Maeve, this last little bit is gonna be a bit of a wild ride."

Halfway thru his turn onto Drury St., he floors the truck, repeating his instructions in his head, "Need to make it a complete surprise, fast as hell to the pub, and inside before anyone can warn them."

Careening wildly half-way down the street, Verbal locks up the brakes at the corner of the Irish Pub and the alley next to it, so they could see the front and side doors.  Before he had even stopped completely, he could see the men flash up the sidewalk towards the building.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at Maeve, gives a shaky smile, and with all the bravado he can muster, says, "Party time, doll.  Ready?"

Maeve lets go of the inside handle on the door, her hand gripped tightly enough to leave an imprint from where she was trying to steady herself while Kint nearly killed them all with his driving. She looks at him, taking another drag off the cigarette she had accepted from him after he threw his pack at her, and blows out a lungful of smoke over her shoulder with a smile. The look on his face makes her want to laugh. He looks terrified! To be fair, this is her first time doing something this drastic before herself, and her heart is nearly breaking down the walls of her rib cage with how hard it's beating. Of course she could never show it, not to the guys. It would only give them an excuse to look down on her because she's a girl. Girls aren't good at these kind of things. Girls are weak. Bah. She'll show them all! She offers Kint a smile that looks more confident than it feels.

"Promise to save me a dance?" Because he said it was a party... There is dancing at parties, right? Damn, that was a stupid line... She averts her eyes and scrambles out of his truck, slamming the door before she heads to the bed of it where her supplies are, feeling her face heat up. Her thoughts remind her to pay attention, 'It's time. No mistakes. Do it just like it was planned. Fuck up and you're dead. You're all dead.' 

She flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, having burned it down to the filter, and lowers the truck's tailgate. It creaks as it's lowered, and she cringes at the sound. 'Please, don't let anyone hear that...' In the bed are a few large brown cans, each heavy and filled with some kind of liquid, sloshing around as she takes one in each hand and pulls them from the truck, struggling to keep from dropping them. She watches the others who have already left, taking in a deep breath before she follows after them. She replays the plan over in her head, chewing on her lip as she gets ready, hoping she'll make it back out alive.

Quickly arriving at the front door, Maeve lowers her cans to the ground. She doesn't need them yet, and they would slow her down. She shakes her head, thinking to herself, 'Remember, to the back, then around, make sure you hit every exit... Don't forget any of the rooms... And the windows too, let's remember the windows. Then come back out and grab a can, just one though. You can't do shit if your hands are full. When that one is empty, grab the other. Don't worry about the people. The guys will take care of them. They know what they're doing. You gotta be fast. Don't get distracted. Now just calm down. Take a deep breath.' She tries to steady her shaking hands as she takes in a breath, looking around at the men. She can't fuck up here. If she messes up, they all pay for it. Clenching her hands into fists, she follows right behind the guys, ready to bolt as soon as she gets in to get to work.

Removing his Colt Revolver from his holster, Albino checks the barrel ensuring the gun is loaded. Content with the sight, he snaps the barrel back into place and looks at the pub doors in front of him, gripping the weapon tightly. The street was quiet but the building was about to get real noisy, real quick. Watching Maeve ready herself, Albino offers her a warming smile. Looking at the group around him, Albino felt comfortable and safe in the company he was in. He'd not done many jobs like this but he was confident that with his dedicated family members alongside him, the job would be smooth sailing. Perhaps not so much for the unsuspecting Irish scum waiting on the other side of the door - their day was about to take a turn for the worst. 

Verby had already previously saved Albino's arse once with his erratic driving and although his arse was still numb from the recent bumpy ride, he knew he was fast becoming one of the best getaway drivers Philadelphia had to offer.

Peering over at Cam' as he prepared his weapon and readied himself, he knew he could rely on his gunnery skills. Albino had already worked alongside this man on a recent job Scarfo had sent them on against the Irish. Now ready for a second taste of blood, Albino nodded confidently at Cam, silently requesting the same performance as last time.

Maeve was one of Albino's first teachers in this thing of ours. She set the foundations for him to go on and learn every fragment of knowledge he now possesses. She always looked out for Albino the 'kiddo' and with her being unarmed, one of Albino's priorities on this job was to switch roles and now ensure her safety.

Looking over at the final member of the Irish' worst nightmare, Albino saw Locarno stood firm and tall. A rather large man bursting with confidence, eager to rush in to storm the Irish fucks. Albino couldn't help but release a small chuckle for the courage of the man. He just stood there, totally unfazed and ready with his weapon - not a scent of fear coming from him at all.

Nodding his head for his own peace of mind, Albino spoke up,

"We all ready? Locked and loaded?" he paused and looked around for everyone's agreement.

Verbal leaves the truck running, sticks it into neutral, jams down on the brake and opens the door.

Did Maeve just say something about dancing, he wonders?  How the fuck can they all be so calm? 

His knees feel like jelly as he hits the sidewalk, he leaves his door open and forces himself to walk around to the front of the truck and leans one hand on the fender to steady himself.

His gaze goes from the group at the front door to the side door in the alleyway and back.

He sees Maeve set her gas cans by the front door, he's heard she's a true pyro, loves a good bonfire.  He trusts Al, admires him, never met anyone that worked harder.  Verbal can see the big grin on Al's face, almost demonic...He's enjoying this, he marvels.

Huge set of balls on that one, glad he's on my side.

He catches Al's eye, nods, and starts to move into the alleyway to get closer to the side door.  It's his job to keep an eye out for incoming or anyone trying to escape.  Hopefully they timed it right and there aren't a lot of mick goons in the bar.

"Breath," me mutters, "just breath.

Locarno felt the familiar pumping of adrenaline through his veins.  He wasn't scared, but even fighting in the great war hadn't dulled his emotions to the point where he felt nothing.  It's funny, he didn't think he would miss the feeling of imminent danger once he returned home, but nothing else got his blood pumping quite like this and he found that he was eager to get the party started.

He un-holstered and gently squeezed the cold steel of his Colt M1911 in his hand ...a familiar friend in situations like this.  Then, remembering his training, he checked his weapons and mentally counted his ammo.  He patted the small of his back where his M1918 trench knife was securely stuffed then counted - 1 .45 round in the chamber, 6 more in the mag. Two more magazines of 7 stuffed in his belt and two in his suit jacket. 35 shots in total. Some thought he came over-prepared, but he had seen a lot of combat. Hopefully that would be enough. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was to come.

He leaned his shoulder against the brick outside the entrance and carefully tuned his ear to the pub listening for anything that could help or hurt them.  There were definitely some Micks inside, but how many and where was any man's guess.  Nothing left to do other than busting in and lighting them up.

"Hah...lighting them up, just wait until they saw what Maeve had in store. They better hope I shoot to kill and not just maim." Locarno thought as he smiled.

He gently rolled his blood red cuff-links with his free hand then glanced around at his compatriots then to Albino. "Ready." he said calmly. "Let's do this." he followed up with a wink and a smile.

The war between the Irish mob and the Phoenix Rising/Phoenix for control of South Philly was a ongoing one. It had all started when a pair of Irishman attempted to take shots at patrons of Premiere Cinemas, the movie house owned by Don Capazzo. Luckily his friend and what would be his future Right Hand Man Scarfo was there with associates and was able to gun down the men and their horrid attempts.

The Irish had decided to retaliate, the cousin of the man Scarfo gunned down in front of the movie house cornered Don Capazzo, then Left Hand Man to Don Latin, outside his LUX nightclub. This didn't end to well and the Irishman was never seen or heard from again.

During this time Don Latin had set up a deal for a shipment of booze. A officer had been on the payroll to ensure everything went smoothly however to everyone's surprise those Irish micks went above and out bribed the officer. The officer would then turn over all the booze to the Irish thus furthering the turf battle and making money and business a factor now. The South Philly mobsters would eventually get there way however.

After some time had settled, Scarfo at the time the newly appointed Underboss of Don Capazzo's PHOENIX RISING was outback unloading yet another shipment of booze. A drive buy halted all this as the Irish hit back and hard, this cost Scarfo one his dearest associates, Antonio and a wide array of booze.

Following these events Don Capazzo became outraged, the often calm, cool and collected Don was growing tired of the Irish antics. Scarfo quickly devised a plan for some of the men to hit Jack's Barbershop, a known hangout for the Irish mob. That was part 1 of Don Capazzo's plan...hit them hard and take lives.

Part 2 would be the reclaiming of the lost booze from the failed assassination attempt on Scarfo behind the LUX a few nights before. Don Capazzo was never happy to lose out on money, the booze had been riddled with bullets and it was time to return the favor to the Irish. Strict orders were given Albino, Maeve, Locarno, Verbal_Kint, @Camebno_Killa_Gotti to go the Irish Pub and too extract every single drop of liquor from the place amongst other things.

These events continued to unfold. Everything was in place everyone was ready. It was a matter of time that they busted in there and took what was there. It would have to be quick, the Don stressed that they all come back alive and with all the liquor the pub had to offer. The truck was their running and waiting to be loaded.

Everything was ready, all set and good to go, nothing could stop them now.......

Then suddenly, the truck made some noises, the car began to instantly smoke up. The engine had been shot. There was no getaway car, no way to load the booze. This dilemma would have to wait for now though as the group was prepped to enter the pub. The unfortunate mishap of the truck dying would be a problem in which the solution would have to be thought out later...

All prepared and ready to storm the pub, the group suddenly heard gunshots from where their getaway truck was parked. Knowing Verby was in the vicinity of the truck, Albino rushed to ensure he was okay. He saw Verby hurtling towards the vehicle, looking around for the rotten bastard that just destroyed their chance of escape.

Happy that Verby was safe and unharmed, Albino let out a sigh of relief and raised a thumb to Verby to further check his safety. Now assured Verby was safe, Albino was overcome with the anger of the ruining of their getaway plans. Assuming it was one of the mick fucks, Albino decided they had done enough waiting around. They would worry about their escape later. For now, he just wanted to get in the pub and unleash Hell.

Albino rushed back over to the crew. After letting them all know Verby was safe and ready, he nodded and put his thumb up. The crew were eagerly anticipating the raid. Now, it was officially time. The job had lasted long enough already - it was time to storm in, kick arse and get the fuck outta there before any more mishaps.

Albino run at the two thick-wood doors, booting them with his size 9s when he became close enough. As soon as he saw the insides of the dark, gloomy pub, he started firing at the silhouettes that appeared. The pub was dimly lit, but not so much that he couldn't register faces. However, Albino was far too angry and prepared for the bloodshed, he didn't take the time to remember their faces, he just opened fire.

Albino counted about 10 or so targets in front of him. 2 of which were bar staff and the rest unsuspecting bar-goers enjoying a quiet drink. Opening fire and working his way towards the far-left of the room, Albino finished emptying his gun and ducked behind the counter. As Albino found cover, some of the more prepared bar-goers had unholstered weapons and started firing in his direction - the rest just ducked for cover, hiding and praying to their Gods. He peers over at the front-door, noticing the rest of his crew taking cover behind door-frames and outside walls. 

"Ready, guys? I'll cover you!" he waits for the rest of his crew to start storming the pub.

Locarno heard a shot ring out and as he crouched to take cover saw smoke rising from their getaway car engine. "You have got to be kidding me." he muttered to himself. "Who in the heck is out here shooting car engines?" he thought, but quickly put the thought aside.  He scanned the environment for the shooter as Albino checked to make sure Verbal_Kint was ok, but couldn't spot anyone. He was on high alert for more possible shootings then watched a furious Albino kick in the door and start firing. "So, I guess that means go?" he said with a smile and shrug.

Locarno jumped to his feet and swung his gun around the corner of the entrance preparing to fire as he made his way into the pub. Registering 2 employees behind the bar and around 8 other patrons he continued to scan until he saw what he was looking for...the stairs to the floor above. His role was to get upstairs and clear it as quickly as possible and the stairs were tucked in the corner beside the entrance to the bar serving area.

Those bartenders would be armed within seconds and were the most obvious threats to him getting upstairs safely so he moved quickly.  He ran towards the wall making his large frame as small of a target as possible while squeezing off 2 rounds in the general vicinity of the unlucky (or unwise depending on how you looked at it) patrons, then turned his focus towards the stairs and the bar.  His shoulders brushed against the wall as he made his way around the room and he heard the continued firing of Albino and the other patrons.

Suddenly several bullets ripped into the wall just behind him and he turned to see a Mick disappear behind an overturned table, but right beside the table was the Mick's date for the evening and she was staring at Locarno with saucer-sized eyes. Many things went through his mind in that moment as he aimed the sites of his .45 towards her forehead.

She was just trying to enjoy a night on the town and a drink. She wasn't pointing a gun at me. She was no threat. She was a dame - and quite pretty. She was inside the Irish Pub and Don Capazzo was very clear about survivors. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She no longer had any light in her eyes as a spray of red sprung out behind her and she slumped over.

Even though the shooter behind cover would be a threat again soon, Locarno figured that the death of his lady-friend would buy him at least enough time to get out of harms way. So he turned his attention back to the stairs and the bartenders nearby.  He was about 15 feet away now and went into a dead sprint.  10 feet now and that's when he saw the shotgun being lifted from under the bar.  That changed things so he prepared to fire immediately to neutralize the threat. 4 shots left in the clip and without time to aim properly or stop running he started squeezing the trigger.

The first bullet shattered a bottle of liquor behind the bartender, but the second bullet at least found the mark - hitting the mick in the side and causing him to stumble.  But it wasn't enough to put him down and the shotgun was still being aimed. The last two bullets were fired in quick succession and both were true. One in the chest and one in the throat.  The bartender sprawled backwards and the shotgun's boom filled the air, but the payload went harmlessly into the ceiling causing chunks of wood to splinter and fall to the floor.

Locarno was almost to the stairs now and he threw himself onto them and the relative safety of the wall beside them. He quickly pulled a clip from his jacket and slammed it home.  He checked the stairs above and saw no immediate threats then he glanced back into the pub to see how things were progressing for the rest of the crew.

Heading slowly down the alley, Verbal hears gunshots and drops to the ground.  Looking back towards the street he see smoke rolling from the trucks engine.

"Son of a bitch!", he shouts, "I just bought that damn thing."

He sees Al slip around the corner, gun out, they make eye contact and Verbal nods to him.  Al gives him the thumbs up and disappears back around the corner.

Dusting himself off, he suddenly hears gunshots from inside the building.  Knowing the raid is in progress he heads towards the side door.

While still about 20 feet away from the door, he hears a noise, rapidly followed by a large redheaded man darting from the building.  He's holding his side and Verbal can see blood running down his hand.

The man turns and looks at Verbal and anger rises in his eyes.  He starts to raise his gun and screams at Verbal, "Fuck you!"

Before he can raise his arm fully to get a shot off, he jerks awkwardly several times and falls, backwards onto the hard dirt of the alley.

Tucking his still smoking revolver back into its holster, Verbal frees up its twin and pulls it out, keeping an eye on the door.

Verbal walks up to the man.  He is looking up at him, fear and hate in his eyes, and blood bubbling out from between his lips.

"Fuck me?  No, fuck You."  He states simply.

Verbal puts two more shots directly into the middle of the mans face.

"That's for my damn truck."

Looking down at his hand he notices that for the first time today it's dry and steady.  Smiling he heads over against the wall and keeps his attention on the doorway and his gun ready.

Letting out an audible 'Fuck!', Maeve decides there is no time to leave the cans outside. Grabbing each of them, she rushes into the fray, her eyes frantically searching, taking in everyone's position, before she goes to the right. Tilting one hand, she lets the gas pour onto the floor as she heads to the back of the room, dodging chairs and bodies as she does. Bullets whiz past her so she keeps her head down as best she can, eyes forward and determined while she gets to the back. Seeing an open door, she runs to it, setting her gas down before she slams the door to the back alley closed. She grabs the nearest chair and props it underneath the handle of the door, giving it a good shake before she's satisfied that it's stuck before moving on.

Maeve searches the room for any more doors, spotting one in the corner by the bar, probably leading to an office or the kitchens or something. She makes her way to it, shooting glances over the room as the gunfire continues, gas splashing at her feet and soaking into her pants. Ignoring it, she wrenches the door open, squinting to see into the small, dark room hidden behind the door. Her hand fumbles against the wall, flicking the light on as she finds it before she enters, closing the door behind her to hide her from the bullets and any wandering Mick eye while she works. A few bullets smash through the door about a foot from her head. She does her best to ignore it as she looks around the room.

It's definitely an office of some sort. A desk littered with papers and half empty beer bottles is against the back wall, a large chair with wheels sitting askew behind it. Like in any office, a large portrait hangs on the cluttered wall and Maeve can only assume what is behind it. Stepping over a couple of boxes, she makes her way behind the chair, unceremoniously pulling the painting from the wall. A smile creeps onto her lips as she looks at the vault that was only moments ago hidden behind the portrait. Knowing that time is running out, she presses her ear to the safe, deftly spinning the dial until she hears a soft 'click!'. Turning it the other way, she spins it until another click falls into place, then back again. She whispers a soft 'Thank you' to her Don Capazzo for spending all those hours teaching her this skill that she never thought she would ever actually use as the metal door pops open, revealing papers and a small stack of money inside. She doesn't know what the documents are, but they must be important if someone went through the trouble of hiding them. She grabs the money along with the papers and stuffs them into the inside pocket of her jacket before spilling more gas around the room.

Maeve peaks out the door as she slowly opens it up, creeping out. She looks for some more doors, or stairs, or anywhere else in need of her special skills.

Albino pokes his head up above the counter. As he does, he notices Locarno darting past filling the Irish with bullets. One down.. Two down.. Locarno's face seems to be filling with glee as he carelessly tears holes through the innocent woman trying to enjoy her quiet date. To help Locarno get to cover, Albino brings up his reloaded gun and opens fire. With their attention fixed on Locarno, Albino gets 3 shots off before being noticed. The first 2 flew stray through a window, but the third catches a middle-aged man armed with two handguns. As Albino's bullet hits him in the chest, his body jolts back, landing on a table causing it to topple onto it's side. Finishing his Revolver's cylinder, Albino fills a second Irishman with 3 bullets. 

Albino's fingers rattle around his pockets looking for more bullets to fill his gun - maybe a revolver wasn't the best choice of weapon for fast combat like this. Albino made a mental note to bring something a little easier to reload.

With his gun finally reloaded, Albino pokes his head up from behind the counter once again. This time, he brings his body with him, standing up to get the best aim on the remainder of the Irish. As he does, he sees one of the bar staff running towards him with what seemed to be a baseball bat. Instinctively, Albino spins his arm to face them and squeezes the trigger 4 times. Each shot knocks the bartender back another foot eventually ending in them landing in amongst the spirits on the back wall, crashing through a few bottles as their lifeless body slumps to the floor.

With only a few targets left, Albino runs towards them while they're focussed on Locarno and dives behind the bar. Now in a better position, he uses the mirrored back wall to suss out exactly where his targets are.

He remembers something his Underboss Scarfo once said when he was first trusted with his gun, "Stick the gun right between his eyes and if the fucker blinks, pop the ginger headed fuck back to mick town." He chuckled to himself as the words repeated in his head. Scarfo definitely had a way with words, he was inspiring - poetic, almost. 

Albino heeded the words well as he popped up from behind the bar and did exactly what he was taught. As the bullet enterred the "ginger headed fuck's" head, a spray of blood travelled through the air, catching walls and windows as it landed. The body hit the deck and Albino quickly counted the lives left to take before once again ducking for cover. 

As the Irishman's numbers dwindled, the remaining ducked for cover, two even scarpered, running out of the side-door. Albino proceeded to reload his weapon and prepared himself for more bloodshed.

Locarno struggled to get his breath under control as he leaned against the stairwell wall and got his bearings.  He glanced back around the corner and noticed Maeve make her way into the office and Albino jump from behind the counter to take out a few additional marks.  He was concerned there were too many armed Micks still in the bar area to be handled by the rest of the crew, but it looked like only a few remained and the situation was under control, so he decided to get back to his task of clearing the upper level.

The situation at this point was more dangerous than the initial onslaught as, even though only a few seconds had actually ticked by, the commotion was sure to have anyone upstairs alert and ready.  Now was the time for caution, but he still needed to move fast.  Staying low, Locarno quickly crept up the stairs and peered over the floor to make sure it was clear.  He saw an open area with a couch and table. Newspapers were strewn about haphazardly and some cigarettes were in an ash tray, but he saw no smoke rising from them so they had been out for some time. "Clear." he thought to himself.

He brought himself to the top of the stairs and glanced around the corner. There was a small hallway with three doors - all closed, but the area was otherwise empty.  Sliding down the wall he carefully approached the first door. He reached down to try the knob and it turned quietly.  Easing it open he could see a sink and mirror with the reflection of a toilet. In one smooth and powerful motion he threw the door the rest of the way open and spun around into the door frame ready to fire at any motion, but the room was empty. In the middle of the floor was a small hole to the bar below made by the shotgun blast a few seconds earlier. "Clear." he thought again. Two more doors to go.

The next door was in the middle of the hallway so Locarno reasoned it would be a fairly large room as it took up the remainder of that side of the floor. He again reached for the knob and slightly opened the door to peer inside. He couldn't see much, but no danger signs so he swung the door open quickly swinging his gun from corner to corner ready to shoot.  Empty. There was a large table in the middle of the room with ashtrays, poker chips, and a deck of cards. There was even some cash laying in the middle. "They won't be needing this anymore." he thought as he stuffed the money into his pockets.

Locarno was glancing around for anything of interest when the sounds of automatic gunfire downstairs caught his attention. "Shit!" he thought, "WE didn't bring a Tommy Gun!". Concern for his crew - his friends - urged him to quick action.

He rushed out of the room to finish his task so he could aid his compatriots downstairs as soon as possible. The last room was back on the left and this time he decided to just charge in. He lifted his foot and kicked hard.  The door slammed open and Locarno raised his gun and saw something unexpected - tits.  Standing in front of him beside a disheveled bed was a tall, slender redhead naked as the day she was born. She was crying and looking around in fear. Behind her and with his arm around her neck was a Mick in a bowler hat with a four leaf clover on it and nothing else but his boxers. The man forcing her to be his human shield and in his other hand pointed at the door was a revolver.

"Fuck you, you fuck!" the mick screamed out.

"Eloquent. Just like a mick to hide behind a woman. Coward. You sure can pick 'em, ma'am" Locarno said casually to the woman, but his words were cut off by the firing of the revolver.

Locarno swung back behind the door frame to take cover and saw the impact of two bullets in the wall behind where he had stood. He pointed his gun around the corner and blindly fired twice then pulled back.  Another two bullets lodged into the door frame.  Locarno knew if he could get him to expend the last two bullets then the situation would become much clearer.  He decided that the advantage of superior ammo shouldn't be wasted so he pushed away from the wall, turned around, and crouched. He then fired all five remaining bullets into the room getting them as close as he could without exposing himself to harm. He immediately slammed home a new clip and prepared for his next move.

In a blind rage the mick fired his last remaining bullets wildly. As soon as Locarno heard the click of the hammer with no ammo to strike he made his move - charging into the room.  The mick was wide-eyed in fear.  He shoved the redhead at Locarno then turned to pull open a small window and began to crawl out.  "Damn shame" thought Locarno as he fired twice and the redhead fell to the floor at his feet. "I'm going to get a reputation." he mused bitterly.

Stepping over the motionless body he saw the mick's leg whip through the window and the familiar clang of someone running across a fire escape.  Annoyed, Locarno leaned out the window and said "If you stop now, it won't hurt as bad, I promise." but the Mick ignored him and continued down the escape in a panic.  Locarno sighed and aimed through the metal slats.  When he had the shot he fired 3 times.  He saw red and knew he had hit then watched as the mick began to tumble head over heels down the remaining stairs.  As he reached the bottom his foot caught but the momentum of his body continued and wrenched his leg in an awkward direction and he let out a short scream as it broke.  He hung there upside down moaning quietly as blood dripped several feet to the ground and began to pool.

"He's done and not going anywhere." thought Locarno, so he quickly turned to make his way back downstairs to see how things were faring for the rest of his crew.

Albino's breathing sped up as the Tommy Gun opened fire, piercing holes through the walls and tearing the furniture apart. Albino couldn't see the gunman, but it sounded like it was coming from outside. Perhaps it was the same man that sabotaged their truck? Albino stayed behind cover but knew at some point he had to pop his head out and see what was going on. As he crept his head up to peer over the counter, he noticed the remaining micks weren't where they were before. He scanned the room looking for them. Much to his amazement, he could see them lying on the floor, bleeding out from the many punctured holes in their body. Clearly, they'd got caught in the tommy gun's crossfire.

Albino suddenly remembered Verby was waiting outside the side-door. He scurried over to the door and held his eye up to one of the bullet holes that now sat within the dark solid wood. Nothing could be seen except the setting sun and the now useless truck in which they arrived in.

Albino calmed his breathing and patterned it. Slowly pushing the door open, he slips outside firmly holding his gun out in front of him. Ready for anyone that might jump out on him, he hesitantly calls out, "Verby...?"

He worked his way towards and around the truck, checking all around him as he does. Where could Verby have got to? And who the hell was shooting the pub with a tommy gun? Albino's nerves were at an all time high as he continued searching the area.

Verbal waited by the side door, far enough away to have the element of surprise over anyone coming out, but close enough to make every shot count.  Suddenly a body bolts out the door, but before he can shoot, gunfire erupts, shredding the body against the wall.  Pieces of wood splinter flying everywhere and Verbal dashes across the alley against the overgrown fence and dives into the unkempt growth.  The gun rips up and down the wall, demolishing the area where he had just stood.

Breathing heavily he looks around trying to pinpoint where the fire came from. 

"That was a Tommy gun," he realizes once he's had a moment to think, "we didn't bring a Tommy gun.  Who the fuck is shooting?"

He works his way along the fencerow, waiting for more gunfire, still trying to figure out where it came from.  Verbal, gets to the corner, takes on last look around and sprints for the remains of his truck.  Slipping around to the back he raises the tailgate back up for a little more cover.  Pulling out his back up piece he puts his hands to work reloading as he keeps his attention focused up and down the alleyway looking for any movement.  Having reloaded both revolvers, he keeps one in each hand and stares into the slight glare of the setting sun and thinks he may see the movement he's been waiting for.

Tracking the movement down the alley, he realizes he recognizes the person...Albino.  He waits for him to get closer to the truck and gives a short whistle.

"Hey Al, over here, back of the truck."  He waits for Al to join him and asks, "What the fuck happened in there?  Any idea of who this fuck is with the tommy gun?  He had me dead to rights and blew the wall away all around me, turned that fuckin mick into a pile of sausage.  I don't mind telling you, this really has my ass in a pucker."

Spotting Verby behind the truck, Albino rushes over following his whistle. 

"I was hoping it was you! Fuck knows who it is then, but the motherfucker nearly took my head off..." he answers.

Peering into the opening, Albino tries to muster a plan together in his head before sharing his thoughts,

"Okay so.. We got Maeve inside drenching the place in gas, Locarno is going all out." Albino interrupts himself,

"Verby... You should've seen it. The finest broad you could imagine. Locarno carelessly put a bullet right between her eyes! The guy must have no soul... He's a machine!" Albino chuckles then continues.

"With those two still in there, we need to hurry and find this fucking gunner before he finds them. I'm gonna go round the front, see if I can see anyone. Don't let it trouble you. I don't like this either at the moment. One of us is gonna end up going home in a box."

Albino releases the oxygen from his chest in preparation and cautiously works his way around to the front of the pub. He finds himself against the pub wall, leaning forward so he can see the main door around the corner. Just before he changes his mind to bring his head back with caution, he spots someone looking up at the upstairs of the pub. They appear to be inspecting the building. He can't see if they're the gunman but he knows something isn't right.

Looking back at Verby, he waves his arm, gesturing for Verby to come over.

Al fills him in on the last few minutes inside the pub and ends up his story with, "I don't like this either at the moment. One of us is gonna end up going home in a box."

"Yeah, that makes me feel better," thinks Verbal.  "Cool ass customer like Al, starts thinking that way...my ass is definitely puckered now."

He watches Al move over to the corner of the building and scan around front.  Verbal sees him start to pull back then stop, and hold his stare for a good 10 count.

"He sees something, shit, what the hell is going on?"

Al slowly pulls back around the corner turns and waves him over to him.  Staying in a low crouch, Verbal runs quietly over to the wall next to Al and gives him a questioning look.

As Verby came closer, Albino took one last quick glance around the corner and then looked back at Verby. Now close to him, Albino whispered,

"There's someone there... I dunno what he's doing. Looks like he's casing the joint. We need to find out who the fuck it is, but if it's the geezer with the gun..." Albino paused.

"We need to smoke him", he finished.

The word 'smoke' flares a thought in Albino's head... He could really do with a cigarette right now. He looks at Verby, their eyes meet and the respect between them is clear as day. Prepared for whatever is about to come, Albino nods at Verby and tightens the grip his fedora has on his head as he tips it forward. 

Swinging his body around the corner, he throws his arms out in front of him. His grip on the revolver is tight as he points it at the man. "You! Who the fuck are you? What the fuck you doing here?", he shouts two questions in quick succession.

The man panics and quickly steps back throwing his arms in the air. The look on his face show he was clearly no gunman. His eye filled with terror and he whimpers attempting to find his voice. Before he could manage to speak, Albino calls out again,

"Stay still! Stop fucking whimpering. Get down here.. C'mon.. Down this fucking alleyway, now!"

The man follows the orders, cowering as he walks. His arms still in the air, he looks at Albino bowing his head in fear as he starts to walk down the alleyway.

Verbal, moves out from the alley, next to Al, both guns trained on he unlucky guy, as he continues to scan the area for anyone else, especially the fuck with the tommy.

Al forces the guy back around into the alley and backs him up against the wall.  The guy looks like he's pissed himself, wide eyed and shaking. "Definitely not a gunman," Verbal thinks.

Pulling out his Luckys he pulls 3 out, tosses one to Al, fires one up himself and offers the third to Scared Shitless. "May as well let him have one last smoke," he figures.

Lighting the man's butt, Verbal asks quietly, "So, joe, who the fuck are you, and what exactly are you doing here??

Glancing nervously back and forth between Al and Verbal the guy starts to stay something but can't seem to get the words out.

"Listen bud, don't look at him, he don't like being looked at.  I'm talking to you, look at me, and answer the fucking questions."

Looking at Verbal, the man says in a low voice, "I'm no one, sir.  I drive the delivery truck for the Irish whiskey business.  I was supposed to be delivering a shipment tonight, but looks like they won't be needing it now."

"Fuck!", thinks Verbal, "this dude isn't even fuckin Irish, talk about wrong spot, wrong time."

"Okay," Verbal says, taking a deep pull on his smoke, "so you're a delivery guy.  Where's your fucking truck, I don't see any fucking truck?  You lying to us?  Cause my friend here, the one with the large gun stuck to the side of your head?  He doesn't like liars, and he has a very short temper.  So I'm going to ask you one more time, Where Is The Truck?!"

Verbal can see Al smile out of the corner of his eye, and can see beads of sweat form on the guys  forehead, and can see his eyes starting to water. 

"It's ddddown the stttreet,"he stutters, "I circled the block once and saw the alley blocked, sssso I parked down by the corner."

Nodding to Al to watch the guy, Verbal walks out to the street, glancing back towards the fencerow as he does, and looks down towards the corner.  Sure enough there is a truck sitting there.

Walking back up to the building, he asks the guy, "So, what's your name?"

"Jimmy, Jimmy Richardson." he replies.

"Ok, Jimmy, thanks for the truck.  Oh, and sorry about this." he states as he empties his revolver into the mans chest.

Verbal looks at Al, who is staring at him with a huge grin on his face. "What? Man should have an open casket funeral, no need to mess his face up.....Al, do you ever get used to doing that?" He asks as put his empty revolver back into it's holster.

"Ok, guess I need to go get that truck and you need to find out what the hell is taking them so long inside the pub.  I'll pull down the alley so we can start loading."

Finishing off his Lucky, he flicks it to the ground and thinks,"I need to see that some cash gets to 'Jimmys' ma for his funeral"

Things were heating up in the South Side of Philly. The Phoenix Rising group had opened fire into the local Irish hangout pub. Blood was splattered on the floors, the counters and the walls. The boss had instructed there were to be no survivors and the group complied. 

Maeve happened to find some papers in an office located upstairs of the bar. This would surely lead to another job or at least gain information regarding the Irish mobsters. At this point the information came at a premium as both sides were always up in guards at all times. Any leads would be helpful. It was a good find.

Albino and Verbal_Kint managed to find a route to get a vehicle. Luckily they found a driver for the Irish and he had a truck that would be perfect for the job. This was important as with all the commotion, noise and gunshots local patrons of businesses hopped in their cars and fleed the area. The cars that remained were in no way shape or form capable of carrying the quantity of booze they had to load.

The group was making strides but none of them knew what was going to happen next...

A group of local street thugs sighted the truck. It was a booze truck possibly filled with contents and at worse case scenario could be sold for anything, didn't matter what the price was, money was money. The local thugs quickly cased the truck. They looked around and when the coast was clear they made their move. In a instant they broke in, played around with some wires and within moments were burning tire down the streets of South Philly.

This would lead to yet another obstacle for the Phoenix Rising group, but nonewas wiser of the consequences these events woudl have. The woman Locarno shot at in the bar, the poor innocent woman who hadn't done anything was not just any woman. She was thee woman. The wife of Irish Boss, Don Liam O'Leary.

Hearing the Tommy Gun burst out shots, Maeve ducks. She knows that wasn't one of theirs. Eyes peeled for the gunner, she slowly makes her way across the room, towards the second flight of stairs on the opposite side. She hasn't gone up there yet and it could use a bit of gas. That's her job. Light the place up while the men take care of everything else. It does seem quieter, so they've been doing good at their job, though the booze is still behind the bar. That was one of the big points. Get out with the booze. Hopefully they can get to it in time before the place goes up in flames.

Another look sweeps over the room before she climbs to the second story, hoping it was cleared out already. She drops her nearly empty gas can on the way up and starts pouring the second one. Upon reaching the landing, Maeve sees a few doors, three on one side, two on the other. She doesn't know what the rooms are used for and really doesn't care. They won't be used much longer. She cautiously opens the first door, peering inside. Only darkness looks back. Taking that as a good sign, she runs in, sprays the room down with gas, and gets back into the hallway, knowing that time is running short and the building is becoming a powder keg with her inside.

Two more doors reveal empty rooms, which she hastily douses before moving on. The next door, the second on the right, greets her with light from the small gap between the door and floor. She doesn't hear much, not really paying attention to sound, but she has to get in there either way, knowing what will likely be waiting on the other side. She takes a deep breath and kicks the door in, her heart pounding in her ears. 

Looking back at her from inside the room is four pairs of wide eyes. At first she thinks they're wide with fear. Who wouldn't be, with all the gunshots going off? Upon closer inspection though she sees that the burly men are not afraid. In fact their eyes are wide with anger. Rage. Hell, these men are furious! Of course, she would be too if someone busted in and trashed her home and killed her family. Now is not the time to sympathize though. Unarmed, she does the only thing she can think of.

Maeve drops the half full can of gas into the room and quickly pulls out a Zippo lighter as the men pull their guns up and aim at her. With one flick, she looks back at them, her eyes hard as she tries to steady her breathing. The smell of cigar smoke, fumes from the gas, and alcohol swirl around the room as she holds the chrome lighter, its flame dancing in her hand. It's up to the Micks now. If they shoot her, she drops the lighter and they all burn together.