A jingle of bells rang through the Mojave Desert as a group of young men and women sat on the ground, a dejected and defeated expression on their faces.  The seven bells that were attached to a dressed mannequin rang in the distance, the only noise in earshot.

“This is completely rigged!” a young woman shouted out in the direction of Yacht, who was leaning up against a wall of rock. Yacht stared at the scarecrow figure as heavy winds blew the mannequin’s bells about.  His sheer disappointment in the recreation of this final, crucial pickpocketing test was palpable, as the constant winds prevented, and ostensibly failed, his initiates from completing the task of silently swiping seven items from the jacket that the mannequin, also attached with seven bells, wore.  Yacht’s journeys outside of Bogota took him to a semi-legendary pickpocket academy located in the Andes mountains - thieves of the highest caliber.  

“It.. it worked in the Andes!” Yacht shot back despondently, shaking his head. Yacht’s first crack at an initiation ceremony did not factor in the weather of the day - and realized he had to relent, accepting a previous offer for a more conventional setting.

Yacht raised an arm and gestured to a barely visible black car in the distance of the desert.  Minutes later, Dovahkiin and a small entourage of vehicles arrived at the initiation site.  After a quick greeting, she directed her gaze towards the mannequin,  her sunglasses beaming in the bright desert sun as the bells and model rang and swayed with the wind, cutting the silence.

“Told you this would happen.” she said, curtly.

“Yeah, well..” Yacht began and ended, turning his view to the huddled men and women who were visibly frustrated at being in the desert in the middle of the week.

Dovahkiin produced from her bag a small slip of paper that he handed to Yacht, containing an address in Las Vegas.

“It’s an old antique shop just inside the city. Spacious, a few levels. Enough for a business, along with our business.  As well as whatever.. this is.” she continued, waving her hand at the group Yacht had recruited into the desert.  

“Not the yacht life, but it’s yours.”

Yacht examined the address and smiled. 

“Thank you.  You can’t go wrong with antiques.  You won’t regret this. I’ll catch you back in the city?”

With a slight nod, she snapped a finger to her bodyguard and returned to her vehicle.  With two other drivers waiting to transport Yacht and his group, he whistled at his group.

“Stop groveling.  We’re going to Vegas, folks. A lot more marks out in the city than here. Pack it up.”

Yacht headed towards the vehicle before stopping in his tracks, bells ringing in the distance.  

“And put that god damned ringing mannequin in the back of the trunk!  It’s coming with us.”

Kate leaned against the outside of a casino on The Strip, having lost enough to finally justify a walk outside and a breath of fresh air. She stuck her thumbs in her belt, sighing as she thought about her increasingly large debts. She grumbled to herself as she saw a small caravan of three black cars make their way back into the city. Was it one of the established leaders? Or the new guy, Yacht ? She couldn't be sure. 

Whoever it was, they were doing a hell of a lot better than she was. Still, she wished them luck. Vegas was a good city, a good place to try to make one's fortune. 

Maybe at blackjack? With a smirk, Kate turned away from the cars and walked back inside.