Verbal hurried over to his shot up truck and made sure nothing was left in the cab.  No clues can be left as to who it belonged to, damn micks didn't need any help figuring out who had done this.  He rummaged under his seat for his bag.  Another habit he'd picked up from his old man...Always have a stash with a back up piece, plenty of ammo, blackjack and knives for quiet work, lockpick kit, along with about $1000 in cash.

"Someone is going to pay for this, don't worry," he mumbled to his truck.  He popped the hand brake, stuck the truck n neutral, hopped out and pushed it back enough to clear entry to the alley.  Picking up his bag, Verbal half jogged towards the delivery truck, thinking about the man he had just bumped off.  He hated having to do that , but family came first, plus he  didn't want to show weakness in front of Al, he respected him too much.

He looked up just in time to see the delivery truck pull away from the curb and speed by him.

"What the fuck!?" He hollers, rushing out into the street, pulling his .38 out and firing after the receding truck.  "Curse of the fucking Irish!  Al's right, someone is going home in a damn bodybag!"

He stood there in the middle of the street, gun in hand, bag over his shoulder, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the nuts.  The angry, dazed look on his face slowly gave way to a scrunched up thoughtful look, then broke into a big grin.  "I've got it!"

Running back to the pub, he ran just inside the side door and yelled out, " Al, no time to explain, get the booze into the alley and make sure Maeve is ready to go, I'll be back in 5 minutes tops!"

Dropping his bag into the dark corner just inside the door, he turned and sprinted towards Juniper Street.

"Good thing Don T insisted on making me drive this route so many times or I'd never had known!"  Getting to the corner, he looked both ways and spotted what he was looking for about a half block north.  Crossing over the street he rushed towards a small group of 2-3 people.  Getting closer he pulled his collar up and pulled his hat down tighter over his brow to shadow his face.  Looking up the street he could see what he'd hoped to see.

The bus line! The fucking bus line!  He'd remembered seeing them on this street on all of his drivebys.

As the Yellow Coach bus stopped, he pushed his way to the step first.  Once on it, he turned to the small waiting group, slid his gun out from under his coat and said, "I'd suggest you all get hoofing it."

As they all took off running in all directions, he turned, placed the gun against the bus drivers temple, looked back at the 7 passengers already on the bus and stated simply, "Thirty seconds, be off the bus or be dead, your choice."

All seven passengers tore for the door, leaving purses, parcels, everything on their seats.  Once they were all off, he turned, looked at the driver.  Their eyes met and Verbal reached into his pocket, pulled out a small wad of cash, maybe $37, held it out to the driver and said, "Why don't you go have a few drinks and forget about reporting this for an hour or so?"

"Y-yes s-sir," he exclaimed, the relief evident on his face.  Grabbing the cash, he vacated the bus.

"Um, you might want to try a bar besides the pub on Drury," he chuckled to himself, "cause that place is about to get really hot."

Putting the bus in gear, he turned left onto Drury, made his way to the alley, maneuvered the large bus into it and pull up to a growing pile of crates outside the door.  As he pulled up to a stop, Al popped out thru the door, with a case of booze.  He looked at the bus, looked again, looked up at Verbal, eyes wide.

Before he could ask any questions, Verbal leaned out the side window and said, "Don't ask.  Get the booze loaded, I'm standing guard, we're not losing this fucker!  Grab my bag, if you would, sitting right inside the door.  Also tell Maeve to hurry the hell up, my truck needs torched too."

Pulling brass from his pocket he quickly reloads his revolvers and steps just outside the door into the alley and swears unholy vengeance on anyone trying to take this fucking ride.
 

As Albino lugs the heavy boxes and crates out of the side-door, he notices the biggest bus you could imagine casually parked in the alleyway. Stunned by the sight, he looks through the door to see Verby looking rather chuffed with himself. After processing the giant vehicle in front of him, he looks at it again, nodding and raising his eyebrows. Turns out a bus was actually a perfect fit for the job. Big enough for the loot, the crew and although large - very inconspicuous.

Wiping the dust off of his chest, Albino says "Loving the bus, Verby... Light us up a smoke while I get the rest of this booze, will ya mate?"

The smell of the gas fumes fill the air and travel through Albino's nostrils. Feeling light-headed and worn out from all the work and fumes, Albino can't believe how long the recent events have made the day. He thinks back to before finding the Phoenix Rising family - when he was back home in jolly ol' England across the pond. He was once with no direction in life and now he'd been entrusted with the future of the family - and more importantly the fate of a rival family.

As he started to relax knowing the area was becoming increasingly safe from the mick bastards, he couldn't help but spur a thought on the tommy gun. He still wondered who the fuck that was and why the fuck they were shooting the pub. Not letting the memory leave, all he hoped was that it was an ally - he'd really had enough excitement for one day. All he wanted was his cigarette, a whiskey and his bed - preferably in that order.

He called out up the stairs, "The fuck you guys doing up there? C'mon... We need to get this tru... err... bus loaded. We gotta haul arse! Tony said in-and-out!"

He didn't mean to rush the crew and he held great respect for them but he really couldn't risk being caught up in front of anymore bullets. He'd had enough for the one day. As he finished bringing the last of the all-important booze out from the pub, Verby had finished loading up what he had already stacked up outside.

He turned to look at the pub. If it wasn't for all the bulletholes, smashed furniture and the blaze that was about to come, Al' would have considered it a rather beautiful building. One of the better buildings left in South Philly with all the factories and warehouses being built in the area. He took a moment to take in the sight as the two men stood shattered but feeling somewhat prematurely victorious. He turned his body to look at Verby and offered a smile followed by "How about that cigarette?"

"How about that cigarette?" Albino asked with a smile.

Verbal reaches into his pocket, grabs his smokes, pulls two out and offers one to Al.  He lights Al's cig, lights his, takes a deep draw off of it and hears a loud noise.

He looks at Al, who is staring at him wide eyed and mouth hanging open.  Suddenly he feels tremendous pain in his left shoulder and looks down and sees that his jacket looks wet.  With his smoke hanging from his lips he reaches over and touches his fingers to his jacket, and they pull away red.  He feels another jolt to his body and seems to be falling in slow motion.  As he hits the hard dirt of the alley, time speeds back up and he sees Al rolling over top of him, and wonders why Al tackled him.

More loud noises and he sees Al pulling his gun out and trying to look around the side of the bus.  The pain jolts thru his body and helps to knock the cobwebs from his head.  Realization hits, the noises start to make sense..."Son of a bitch, I've been shot! What the fuck is going on? he asks Al.  

Albino instinctively grabs Verby as he sees his body drop to the floor. With a tight grip on his jacket, he shouts, "VERBY! VERBY! ARE YOU OKAY?!"

His head spins round, scanning the area. He looks back at Verby attempting to remain calm for his friends sake, "Verby.. Listen man.. You're alright.. Stay here, yeah?"

Albino's hands begin to shake, his eyes moisten slightly. His breathing turns short and sharp. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes are glazed over, his gut is spinning. He pulls Verby's gun out of his holster, checks the clip and searches his pocket for extra magazines. Stuffing them into his pocket, he stays low and scurries across the ground towards the pub wall. Using it to hold himself up, he straightens his body. He feels himself spinning slightly and shakes his head attempting to regain his posture.

Looking around the area, he cocks the gun and shouts out "COME ON THEN YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

His anger is answered with gunshots. Diving back into the side-door of the pub, he finds cover behind a wall. Peering out of the opening between the doors, he sees a small group scattered behind a nearby wall at the end of the alleyway.

Knowing he had a big fight on his hands, he shouts up to Locarno and Maeve, "GUYS! GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE! VERBY'S BEEN HIT! WE GOT COMPANY!"

Albino closes his eyes looking above him as he tightens his grip on the gun and pulls it into his chest. He knows if the other two don't hurry and get back downstairs, Verby is fucked and he'd no doubt soon be following the same fate. However, he couldn't just stand there and let it happen. He clears hie head of the thoughts and prepares himself for what is to come.

Verbal watches Al take a good vantage point just inside the door.  He can hear bullets slamming into the bus, can hear noises that he's pretty sure means he won't be driving out of here in it. He can see splinters flying around the doorway every time Al snatches a peek down the alley.

The pain in the shoulder peaks and levels off, which has the effect of clearing his head and makes his thoughts sharper.  He knows there is only so much Al will be able to do, it sounds like at least 5 different guns firing at them.  Al yells for Maeve and Locarno to get there asses down here, but seeing as neither of them have shown up yet, Verbal assumes they have their own problems inside. As good as Al is, he knows unless he's able to help provide cover fire, they're both most likely going to die.

"Al, my bag...right there in the corner, toss it out here.  I'm going to be needing it, WE'RE going to be needing it. Toss it to me."

While he waits for the bag, he pulls himself into a sitting position on the fencerow side of the bus, using the tire for cover.  He frees up his remaining .38, lays it on his lap, and digs out what ammo he can and lays it on the ground next to him.  Flipping open the chamber with his good arm, he sees that he's fully loaded.  Relieved, he readies his weapon and peers carefully around the tire towards the back of the alley.

He can see movement, by the half wall at the corner, but can see little else so far. At least this way, they have both sides of the bus covered so they can't be surprised again.  He remembers he had a smoke and looks around and sees it broken and smoldering on the other side of the bus.  Sighing, he pulls out his smashed pack and lights himself another one, and can see that his hand is shaking again.

Glancing back over to the doorway, he calls out, "Al, I'm ok, trust me, toss the bag, we're going to need it."

Locarno had made his way downstairs to check on the aftermath of the automatic gunfire he had heard.  No sign of Verbal or Albino, so hopefully they were ok, but there were a whole lotta dead Micks on the ground. Then motion caught the corner of his eye and he thought he glimpsed Maeve heading up a different set of stairs.

"Shit." thought Locarno,  "Didn't know there were two separate upstairs units.  I better get up there to back her up, just in case".  Maeve was a capable woman, but she had nothing save petrol, a lighter, and some bad intentions. He rushed up the stairs after her with his weapon drawn.

Rounding the corner it looked like Maeve had already cleared most of the rooms, but now he saw the outline of her standing in a doorway. He rushed down the hall towards her feeling everything was clear until he heard shouting from the room.  It was at that moment the smell of petrol all around him really hit his senses and he realized the powder keg they were standing in.  He crept up behind her and got fully sized up the situation.  Her hand outstretched holding a fire that could cause them all to burn.

He had to think quickly and decided the best action was to take out the assailants as quickly as possible so he drew his weapon and aimed just to the side of the door where he would be sure to miss Maeve and opened fire and then watched as the wall became swiss cheese and, he hoped, had also perforated the Micks inside.  There was chaos and shooting then with a jolt Maeve stumbled backwards.

She was hit. He couldn't tell how badly, but she was definitely hit. Then, like in slow motion, he saw the lighter fall from her grasp and head for the floor.  There was no time to think about anyone but the two of them now.

He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the doorframe. "This is gonna hurt like hell, doll, but it's gotta be done." he said softly to her as he lifted her onto his shoulders and sprinted towards the stairs.  The petrol ignited and was already ahead of them, but he charged forward knowing any hesitation meant they were going to be a BBQ.

Maeve moaned as she bounced on his shoulders, but he was proud that she didn't complain even once.  They hit the bottom of the stairs and he continued moving as quickly as possible.  He knew Verbal and Albino would be out the side door, but a quick glance around at the remaining liquor and the floors drenched in petrol made his decision easy.  He headed for the closest exit at the front of the pub.  Once outside he gently laid Maeve on the sidewalk far enough away that she wouldn't be harmed by the flames.  He checked her wounds, a shot to the gut, but it didn't look life-threatening.  He took off his jacket and pushed it on her. "Keep pressure on this, if it's not hurting it's not enough pressure. We'll be back for you soon!" he said as he reluctantly left her there.

Things were about to get really hot so Locarno sprinted for the alley to warn the remainder of his crew.  As he rounded the corner two things caught his eye.  One a tommy gun was strewn carelessly on the ground. "That must have been the source of those shots earlier."  He grabbed the gun and raised his eyes to survey the rest of the scene.  He could see a....bus....down the alley being riddled with holes by 7 Micks.  "Guess the calvary has arrived" he thought grimly. Knowing his crew was their aim he leveled the tommy gun, aimed, and yelled "Hey you fuckin' Micks! I got a little something for ya's" as he pulled the trigger and it exploded into action.

Maeve looks up into a wide sky, its blue quickly darkening into a grayish black with smoke. She recalls hearing gunshots, turning to see Locarno firing into the room in front of her and then... She didn't feel it at first. It was just warm, and wet, like someone spilled hot soup on her stomach. For some reason, unconsciously, she dropped her lighter. Thinking back on it, that was probably a bad move, with both of them up there and surrounded by gas. She remembers seeing Loc coming for her. He didn't look happy, but he wasn't angry. Maybe scared? He said something to her, but she couldn't quite understand what it was, like someone had stuffed cotton into her ears. Everything was quieter, muffled. Then Loc grabbed her arm and and lifted her onto his shoulder. That's when she felt it; a spreading, burning pain in her abdomen. She grabbed his shirt to hold on, letting out a soft moan as her weight pressed down onto her stomach. It got warm around them very fast, and bright. All she could see was orange and black. Everything was moving, but slowly. Then she was outside, on the ground, looking up at the wide sky. Loc looked down at her and said something else and then she didn't see him.

Looking down, Maeve sees something on her stomach. Someone's jacket. Probably Loc's. She lifts it up, the coat coming away a deep red and shining in the light. Her shirt underneath it is drenched even worse, soaking through with warm blood and sticking to her skin. She lays her head back down on the hard cement, her eyes drifting back to the sky. Burn the place to the ground. Check. She hopes no one else was in there when it went up. After this is all over, she has to thank Loc. If he hadn't shown up she would have gone down in flames along with those Micks up there. She prays none of the other guys were in there. If they died, it was her fault. She should have waited. She knew there were men in that room. She could have waited. She didn't need to kick the door down. This was all her fault. 

Maeve tries to turn her head to look towards the other guys but she's too far away from the alley that the building blocks her view. She can only listen for them, and what she hears doesn't sound very reassuring. Bullets, or what she assumes could only be bullets, hitting metal, wood, and cement. That would be... The truck, the bar, and the ground? Hopefully that's all the bullets are hitting. That, and the bastards that fired on her men. Her part of the job is now done, maybe prematurely. She did spend a bit of time inside though. That should have been enough time to grab the booze, right? 

The only one she saw after entering the bar was Loc. The others could still be perfectly fine. Or they could all be dead... She lies there on the sidewalk, her shaky hands lightly holding Loc's jacket to her stomach, blood dripping from her fingers and down her wrists. There's nothing she can do now except to wait. Her eyelids getting too heavy to keep open, she decides now would be a decent time to rest. Taking in a deep, painful breath, she closes her eyes, her vision too dark to properly see anything anyway, and lets the din of the fight and the heat from the flames lull her to sleep.

A sudden burst of noise breaks out, echoing through the entire area. Albino looks at Verby puzzled. The gunner was back. Albino dreaded what the crazed gunner would do next - last time, Albino nearly lost his head to him! However, as the sound of the tommy gun appeared, the bullets headed in Albino's direction had stopped. 

The room around him started to heat up, he turned around and saw smoke filling the air. Flames had began to appear where once laid a trail of gas. Shit.. Maeve had already torched the joint.

"Time to get the fuck outta here!" Albino thought.

Looking around panicked, Albino didn't know who was still left. Did he risk staying in and finding them? Did he get outta the building? There was fire inside... Gunman outside... "Fuck! Fuck! Fuckedy, fuck!" he thought to himself. He had wasted too much time, the fire drew too close for him to stick around. He grabbed Verby's bag and bolted out of the door over to Verby beside the bus. A few bullets flew past him but he made it unharmed. The tommy gun was still intermittently firing. Albino crouched beside Verby.

"You okay, pal? The fucks going on out here?"

Albino peered his head around the bus. He couldn't believe his eyes - Locarno was the fucking gunman! The excitement boosted his morale. Loading a new magazine into his gun, Albino patted Verby on the shoulder and nodded - partially to assure Verby everything was alright, but mostly to assure himself.

Albino started to open fire on the new arrivals. Locarno was keeping them at bay and they couldn't do much all the time he was firing 1,000 rounds per minute at them!

Bullets were traded between the new arrivals and the Phoenix Rising family. Shouting was heard - it was clear these fucks were Irish. They're 'fecking' accent showed it.

Albino hurled bullet after bullet at the Irish gang. The distance he was at, he didn't have much luck hitting his targets. His ammunition was running low and he knew this thing had to end soon. Fed up of all the shit they had gone through so far, he decided enough was enough - he had to get closer.

He could see a large industrial garbage bin up ahead in the alleyway - much closer to the Irish gang than he currently was. Without a second thought, his legs were thrown into action and running towards it for cover. Ducking behind it, he threw his body around the side, opening fire releasing his whole clip of bullets in quick succession. The first shot was a complete waste, his second and third caught one mick in the neck and chest. Quickly swivelling his body to fire upon a second target, he released the rest of his clip into the second victim. He ducked back behind the bin to load his last magazine of ammo.

As he pulled the clip out of his pocket, he muttered a few words to himself. No one could hear what was said, but it was probably more profanity about the Irish.

It had been a long day and with just a few targets left, Albino prepared himself for the last of it. The clip clicked as he forced it into the gun followed by Albino cocking it. He filled his chest with air and then relaxed his body by releasing it. This was it - he was ready to finish them off.

Verbal looked back around the bus, no one coming yet.  Back to Al, he started to ask for the bag again, but before he could say anything gunfire erupted again, only this was the tommy gun again!

"Shit, shit, shit," he mutters as he rolls over onto his stomach and looks back under the bus. What he sees shocks him, its Locarno with the tommy gun and he's unloading on the wall where the micks are.  "This just keeps getting fucking weirder and weirder."

He can see a couple of the Irish laying at the end of the alley.  Looks like Loc caught them as they started to advance on the bus.

Just then Al came sliding in next to him and plopped his bag down next to him.  He could see the doorway behind Al, smoke rolling out.

"Well, at least Something seems to have went according to plan, burn you bitch." he thinks as he's reaching into his bag.

He pulls out the cash and tosses it casually aside. Next comes out his knives, which he slips into his inside suit jacket pocket, along with his blackjack and lockpicks.  Now, what he's been waiting for.  He feels his hand close over the pearl handle and pulls out his Colt M1911, pops out the magazine, checks it, and slams it back into place.  Reaching back into the bag, he starts pulling out extra mags and sliding them into every pocket he has, the last two he lays down onto the pile of brass for his .38 to keep handy.  He chucks the bag over on top of the cash. 

Al and Loc continue to toss ammo at the micks and Verbal gets back around to the tire and checks that side of the bus, still no one coming down that side. Suddenly Al jumps up and runs into the barrage of bullets, Verbal can see him head for the large trash dumpster.

"Dumb sob is going to get himself killed," Verbal hollers out to himself.  He tucks the Colt into his waistband and with the .38 in his hand he tries to get up. He smacks his shot shoulder on the bumper and the pain knocks him back to his knees, gasping he tries to stand again, but the dizziness hits him and he settles back onto the ground.

"I've got to get out there," he thinks, "at the rate they're firing they'll be out of bullets soon."  Knowing he can't stand up at the moment, he tries to clear his head enough to figure out how to help.  He knows he can't run right now, and laying in the alley with a few more holes in him won't help the rest of them.  Leaning back on the bus, he has a thought.  Pulling out his Colt, he tucks it down his back.  He puts the two spare clips still out between his teeth, grabs the .38 with his good hand and starts to pull himself along underneath the bus letting his bad arm drag along.

He can see Al drop two more of the Irish...near as he can figure, that leaves somewhere between 1 and 3 left, not actually having seen them all out in the open.  He can see Al getting ready to make his move, "That can't be good," he thinks, "Al has to be almost out of bullets along with Loc."

Pulling out the Colt he lays it in front of him ready for grabbing once the snubnose runs out, he lines up 3 clips next to it.

"Al, hey," he calls out softly.  "Al, whats the plan?"

The kick of the tommy gun pressed against Locarno's bicep as he moved slowly down the alley.  Letting the bullets fly he saw two micks eat asphalt rather quickly then the others scattered, but there was no cover to be found as they were flanked by a sight for sore eyes - Albino.  Locarno saw Al sprint from behind the bus to take cover behind a large dumpster and continue to open fire.  Two more Micks went down from Albino's shots, but that left 3 more who had gone to the opposite side of the alley.

Not knowing how many shots were left, but knowing they wouldn't last forever and with them his best chance to escape alive, Locarno moved quickly down the alley to get closer to his prey.  He kept the tommy trained on the Micks the entire time ready to squeeze the trigger if they got brave, but he wanted to make the remaining bullets count so he held off firing until he was close.

Now about 20 feet away one of the Mick's slipped into a shallow doorway, hoping it would provide enough cover, but at least half of his body was still exposed and as the tommy gun roared back to life he left side of his body disintegrated into a bloody remnant and the man slumped down dead or dying. 

He swung the tommy gun back around and tracked one of the other assailants making his way to the opposite side of the bus to try to take cover from Albino's hail of bullets.  Locarno smiled as he saw Verbal, injured but very much still alive, lean out from under the ruined bus and fire multiple bullets directly into the Mick at point blank range.

One more.

Again tracking with the tommy, Locarno searched for the last attacker, but was stopped short by more gunfire coming from a doorway with a broken door.  It looks like the last one decided to seek shelter inside a small office in the next building and had kicked down the door.  Bullets were coming from that range but were fired wildly, missing their marks.  The tommy gun again screamed and bullets began chipping away at the wooden door and bricks surrounding it, but after only a few strikes the dreaded sound of clicks instead of explosions rang truth for everyone to hear...the tommy gun was now useless.

Throwing it aside and drawing his Colt in a practiced, smooth motion, Lacarno closed in on the doorway.  Pissed off, on edge, and full of adrenaline, Locarno burst through the doorway with no hesitation and emptied his entire clip into the startled Mick who slumped slowly down leaving a trail of blood on the wall he had collapsed on.

As blood dripped from his mouth he gurgled out his final words with an evil smirk, "You stupid fuck. You're already dead."

Locarno reached into the small of his back and unsheathed his trench knife.

"Don O'Leary won't rest until his wife's murder is......." he managed to slur out before the knife entered his head through the bottom of his jaw.

Locarno pulled the knife free and wiped it on the Mick's jacket.  "Don O'Leary," he thought, "who the hell is that and what does his wife have to do with anything?" He made a note to talk to Don Capazzo about this turn of events, but he knew he had only done what he was ordered to do, and for that he had no regrets.

Locarno emerged back into the alley and saw Albino already tending to Verbal.  "I'll go get Maeve, she's hurt, but hanging in there. We need to be together in case more come." he stated matter of factly then he rushed off.

Rounding the corner again carefully and seeing no more enemies he approached Maeve who had passed out on the sidewalk. "That's for the best." thought Locarno, "Better she not have to feel this."  He lifted her up into his arms, more gently this time as he was not as rushed then carried her back to the other two men and laid her down gently.

It was only then that he allowed himself to take a second and breathe.  He looked around and saw the carnage of the battle.  The bus riddled with holes and two of his friends shot by these Irish bastards.  Then he looked back towards the pub and fully took in the damage Maeve and her gas had wrought.  The flames were licking out all the windows now and thick black smoke billowed to the sky.

"Not only do we need to get out of here before more Irish show up, but the police and firemen can't be far behind either." he said to Albino.  He loaded his final clip and readied the gun then looked around for any dangers while he waited on the others to make a move.

The recent events of 'The Irish Burns' business had all happened so fast, yet the evening had come and passed. Now with nothing but the blazing fire lighting the area, the four sat drained in amongst the remains of the battle. There were broken bottles, ruined vehicles, lifeless corpses, pools of blood - not to mention the huge roaring fire heating up the four victors.

Although it was probably in the best interest of the small crew from Phoenix Rising to make their tracks, the four found solace in just sitting and relaxing for a moment. After all the noise and bloodshed, they needed a rest - some time to gather their thoughts. The recent events had taken a lot out of them - emotionally, physically and mentally.

Albino gently found his way to his feet, looking at the burning building ablaze Maeve had so delicately created - the same fire she was soon saved from by the heroic Locarno.

Pulling out his cigarette tin, he lit up four smokes - passing one to each of the crew and keeping one for himself. Not a single word was spoken between the four, they just sat there content with the performance each had given. Every single one of them had worked extremely hard. Together, they had given everything to achieve the goals their Don Tony Capazzo had set for them. 

As he smoked his cigarette, still watching the building fall apart, sirens were heard in the distance. At first, Albino took no notice of them. In fact, he didn't even hear them. He was too busy stuck lavishing and basking in the moment of pride he shared with his comrades. Nothing brought him a greater feeling than the one pumping through his veins as he stood beside the group he had just worked with.

This evening had been such a whirlwind of events, until now none of the four had time to think. Every action was based on instinct, love and respect for their family, their don and each other. It wasn't spoken, but it didn't need to be. Between them, they could feel it.

Finishing his cigarette, Albino throws the butt to the cold, hard cement at his feet. Still relaxed, he places his foot on top of it and crushes it slowly. As the smoke disappears into the air, he looks over towards the 3 from his family and reveals a smile. 

Not wanting to break the moment they were all caught up in, he knew they had to make an act of disappearance soon, to avoid getting pinched. Reluctantly, he ends the quiet moment between them with one short question,

"Now what do we do?"

Things were unwinding to the end, in more ways then one. The Phoenix Rising group continued to jump hurdle after hurdle and barrel through obstacle after obstacle. Just when they thought that things were over...they weren't. A group of Irish mick fucks drove by and a shootout ensued. The shootout would prove to be a big blow for both sides as the entire Irish group got their contracts permanently cancelled via the guns of the Phoenix Rising group. Things didn't go off without a hitch however, in the process, the group lost their bus. It was caught up in the fiery bullet exchange and was in no shape to be driven. Some booze lay in it but the vehicle had already breathed its last breath. But most of all, and more importantly...Verbal_Kint & Maeve both got hit and were shot. One in the stomach and one in the shoulder. Each minute was off the essence.

These events caused Maeve to inadvertently drop the lighter that immediately brought the Irish Pub in flames.

Our group stands there, hurt, tired and breathing in smoke from the flames nearby. It has been a emotional and physical roller coaster. They've done a outstanding job thus far. Only problem that presents itself is finding a vehicle to load the stash of booze they have and to hightail out of the area.

Then another problem arises.....

From down the road it could be heard getting closer and closer and closer. Police sirens. The brigade was on its way. THREE police cars teared down the South Philly streets and a firefighter truck followed behind. They continued to accelerate. Once they got there they surveyed the area. Blood, shells, bullets and dead bodies is what was mostly visible. 

The three police cars immediately lined up and the officers got behind their cars and drew their weapons.

"FREEZE RIGHT THERE! WEAPONS ON THE GROUND!! HANDS IN THE FUCKIN AIR!!!"

The Phoenix Rising group stood there knowing that ammo was not a thing that was in abundance anymore. They had won this small battle with the Irish. They did everything asked of the beloved Don Capazzo. But this...THIS was not something anyone had expected nor planned for. 

The officers had their guns and targets set.

Things were about to go from bad to worse for these set of people....yet ANOTHER truck from afar hauled its way down the roads ripping its way from street to street. It wasn't seen who the driver was nor the passenger, but one thing was probably for sure. It was more then likely the Irish coming for round 3.

Sunny bounces and jerks as she hauls ass around the corner and onto yet another street "We have to be getting closer" she thinks to herself before she looks out the window sees smoke billowing up filling the sky like a distress beacon, reaching down she grabs the shifter knob and stomps the clutch hard pulling the armored bus into third gear, glancing over to her passenger she sees him climbing quickly to the outside of the bus getting himself into position for an ambush, Brinks made one hell of an armored tank out of this old school bus, only Brinks could come up with the idea to put a tail on the bus in the form of a Ford Model T armed to the teeth with Tommy gun wielding guards, Coming across this vehicle the decision was simple it was beyond perfect for the the job they were on and they both had decided they just had to have it, a gun battle had ensued it had taken then several hours to take out each and every one of the guards hence their delay..  they would have gotten here a lot sooner to help the other members of The Phoenix Rising Group had those fucking guards not been so well trained

She can see a group of men in uniform standing behind three squad cars, ramming the truck into forth gear she presses the gas pedal down as far she can until her foot is pressed tightly against the cold steel plated floor, She yells loudly "I am going to ram those pigs be on the ready to take out any that scatters in time" Sunny clutches the steering wheel tightly and takes a deep breath every second seemed to be moving in slow motion as she approached the men using the armored bus as a battering ram the scent of thick smoke and gun powder filled her nostrils as she saw a limp body dink off the windshield, the bus rolled through the men like a butter knife through warm butter, within seconds she slams into the back of one of the police vehicles pinning on of the uniformed men in between the two vehicles, Sunny eases her foot off the pedal and screams out to her passenger  "Kill these bastards dead... drop the hammer!"

KTI picked up the M1921 with the type C magazine and slapped the action back with the palm of his hand, chambering the first round. KTI then exited the armored car through the roof access point of the back of the bus and begins climbing to the outside of the bus to get into a position for an ambush. They had no idea what they were going into or what went down at this bar. 

KTI sees the three uniformed officers behind their squads with their guns drawn, at that moment he hears Sunny throw it into the next gear and gun it for the police men. Realizing what she was about to do, KTI got ready to hop off before the bus made contact with the squad cars, he really didn't feel like getting thrown around today. 

KTI manages to hop off of the bus before it slams into the police vehicles.. one of the policemen is accounted for as KTI sees him bounce off the vehicle and out into the street. KTI hears a second loud bang as the first squad Sunny hit had been pinned against another. The blood-curdling scream that came from the policeman sent a chill down KTI's spine. Time itself seemed to slow down as KTI snapped into action.

Walking up to the front of the bus where the policemen was pinned, KTI laid several round into the man's skull ending his misery instantly. Trying to account for the one officer that was not accounted for; KTI turned around and saw the last officer duck behind a wall of a parallel building to the bar. The officer fired a round at KTI. The response was KTI laying on the trigger of the automatic weapon while jogging towards the officer's position. This kept the officer were he was. 

KTI was then close enough to take the butt-stock of his weapon and smash the police officer's nose from around the corner of the wall. KTI then drew his M1911 and put one round in the cop's head. 

KTI ran back to the armored bus to grab another "Tommy Gun." He once again slapped the action back. 

He ran up to the driver's side of the bus.

"Sunny, all clear.. I am going to go find the others, lord only knows where they scattered to after the fuzz showed up." 

KTI then starts walking towards the blaze that is now the building.

"Strange how the amount of shots fired that they only sent three lousy cops." KTI thinks to himself as he see the street littered in spent brass. 

KTI regained his focus to look for the others....

Searching for any avenue of escape, Locarno laid his gun down reluctantly and raised his hands, glaring at the police with contempt.  But just as the police had him turn around and place his hands on the ruined bus a new sound began to echo from down the street.  Glancing back over his shoulder, Locarno could only sigh as a huge armored car was barreling towards them.

He resigned himself to his fate. With no weapon to defend himself, two injured, and now more Irish thugs descending on them, Locarno regretted that his time in the mafia world was so short lived, but at least he was going out in a literal blaze of glory.  Watching the truck keenly he noticed that it wasn't slowing down, in fact it looked like it had just sped up.  What in the hell was going on.

It was then that he saw none other than Kill-The-Irishman jump off the truck and recognized Sunny behind the wheel just as it slammed into their captors.  It was all Locarno could do to stifle his excitement and keep his composure.  It was then he felt a pang of regret and Locarno kicked himself for having so little faith.  The boss had sent them on this errand and what he had learned about the Capazzo's came roaring back into his mind.  "We are loyal to family and there was no way they were going to be hung out to dry! Plus he didn't see Tony or Scarfo letting all this liquor go to waste." he thought with a laugh.

He gave a friendly salute to KTI and Sunny after they finished cleaning up the scattered police presence and with a smile turned towards the rest of his beaten up crew.  Slowly spinning one of his red cufflinks he smiled and said "Let's go home. But don't forget the liquor, I think we all deserve a glass tonight!".

He extended his hand to Maeve offering to help her into the armored vehicle that was their promise to safety and recovery.

Hearing the sirens blaring towards them, Maeve closes her eyes and takes a long drag on the cigarette Albino had given her. This is it. Their time is up. Maybe if she had played it safely, the fire might not have alerted the police. Of course, the gunshots probably would have anyway, but the billowing smoke signal sure didn't help things along. She leans her head back against the wall, knowing what was to come. The cops wouldn't give them a chance to surrender. On top of that it looks like the cops have the Irish coming in to back them up. Even if they were arrested, they were not going to get out alive. She knows the Irish have the pigs in their pocket. The least she can do is die honorably with her crew.

Much to her surprise, the armored vehicle containing what she thought to be more Irishmen plows into the cops. Out of the top of it she can see a familiar face wielding a gun that isn't aimed at them. This man is very much not Irish, quite the opposite. Maeve manages a smile as she watches Kill-The-Irishman take out the cop pinned between a squad car and the armored vehicle driven by someone very much resembling the oh so sexy Sunny before he rounds on another one. She breathes a sweet sigh of relief. Maybe they can actually get out of this mess alive. 

She looks up at Loc, his hand outstretched towards her, the fire blazing behind him. It's probably from the loss of blood, but from this vantage point he looks a little otherworldly. He's above her and reaching out to help her, which gives him the look of an angel, but at the same time the flames add a demonic aura around him. Either way, she feels safe now, especially with him here, and gratefully takes his hand, pressing her back against the wall as she pulls herself up. Losing her balance, she stumbles forward into him, dropping her cigarette to grab his arm. Waiting for the world to stop spinning around her, she closes her eyes and takes a breath before she looks up at him and nods. Leaning into his shoulder, she lets him lead her away to safety.

The sirens were growing louder.

Al helped Verbal to his feet and they both leaned back against the large trash dumpster.  Verbal tucked his .38 back into its holster, and slid the Colt into his waistband. 

"We aren't getting out of here this time," he thinks.  He looks over at Loc, who is squatting next to Maeve.  He sees for the first time she's bleeding pretty badly from her stomach.  "Damn, she's looking bad, at least the cops will get her a doctor."

Just then the street is filled with police cars all screeching to a halt, with doors flying open and guns being pointed in their direction.  Looking around the alley, he sees all of the dead bodies and the pub blazing away, and knows they're screwed.

"FREEZE RIGHT THERE! WEAPONS ON THE GROUND!! HANDS IN THE FUCKIN AIR!!!"

He sees Loc lay his gun on the ground and stand up, fury on his face.

Verbal pulls flicks his spent butt towards the cop cars, reaches into his waistband, pulls out his Colt and lays in the ground in front of him.

He reaches into his jacket to grab his remaining .38, when he sees an armored truck approaching the cop cars, fast.  Way too fast. His hand freezes inside his jacket as he watches what can only end badly for the cops.

Just before the large vehicle slams into the cop cars, the notice its on them and try to scatter.  At the same time he sees someone jumping from the truck.  That's a real familiar face he thinks, then realizes its Kill-The -Irishman.

He sees one cop bounce off the hood of the heavy vehicle and then as it slams into the first car, had can see one of the cops jerk and move with the car, followed by a loud pained scream.  He watches KTI put the man out of his misery and then finish off the remaining cop.

Verbal just stood and watched, hand still inside his jacket.  He slowly lowers it and reaches down to recover his Colt. 

Looking towards the armored truck he tries to see who the driver is in the dim light.  Upon seeing it's Sunny, he mumbles, "She keeps that up, she's gonna take over my driving duties."

Even so, he feels a great relief and a great appreciation for Sunny and KTI showing up when they did.  "Saved out asses, that's for sure."

He watches Loc help Maeve to her feet and head slowly towards the truck. 

Verbal stands up straight, punches Al on the shoulder and starts to head towards the truck himself.  Looking back over his shoulder, he says, "Sorry pal, looks like you, Loc and KTI get to load up the booze.  Bum shoulder, ya know." 

He chuckles, feeling almost giddy from relief at it finally being over. 

Looking over at the truck and Sunny, he thinks, "I wonder if she'd stick one of those icepicks in my skull if I gave her a big thank you right on those red lips?"