Had wondered a bit where Valentina went missing when suddenly werent in our crew, glad nothing bad happened her and shouts to her when seeing here.

"Hey girlie, saw you change the warm weather at us and now are freezing, poor you, but hope all other things are ok and want to great you travel over to the east like you did"

Happy to located Valentina he fast runs to what he was about to do when spotting here and glad in his mood he ran into some of his old freinds and goes for a good friend ship occcasion with those 2

Valentina started to follow Nicholas. In one hand she held the burlap sack, while the other hand was in her coat's hip pocket, fingers wrapped around the grip of her Beretta M1915 pistol. It was her only real family keepsake; she'd nicked it from one of her older brothers' belongings. He had owed her money. It really was a wonder that her family wanted nothing to do with her.

Immediately on entering, she counted heads--six and Danny. So, it was like this. Two versus seven wasn't the best of odds... however much her beau's military training might compensate for her own lack of violent history. Guns were great equalizers, sure, but that--of course--went both ways. They had caught these gentlemen with their pants down, so to speak, at ease and not on guard. It was all about capitalizing on these first moments, setting the right tone, and getting this over with and getting out.

Robbing your would-be fence's side business still irked her a bit. Mostly, she was frustrated that Glenn/Danny Miller hadn't just bought her take today, it wasn't like there wasn't profit to be made of these things. If he'd only played ball, they wouldn't be here, and more importantly she'd be off shopping. Looking at clothes and not strangers that could shoot her as much as she might shoot them.

She adopted a very straight posture. In her pocket, she kept the gun pointed at an upward angle. The angle of her elbow made it obvious. The idea was that it was harder for one of these men to grab in her pocket than if it were extended out in front of her. Especially since she was playing greedy Santa Claus, filling up the sack. That meant proximity she usually avoided.

First, she went to the nearest man. While the shock of this could get relatively easier compliance from the first guy, she was figuring he'd be the first to act up, and she could steer the ship accordingly. 

To him, she simply held the sack out, hovering just out of arm's length. In each hand, she herself offered two options: tribute or gun. 

Strangely docile, the man offered up a clip of money. After Valentina looked pointedly at his watch, he even unclasped it and dropped it in the sack, too. He wasn't worried at all. It wasn't necessarily a good omen. He could be sure in his own fate for something Valentina didn't yet know...

The second man, the one with the most chips and the reflex to have put his cards facedown, glared death on her approach. He spat a choice word in Italian, but she didn't react. It was a knife edge, the way it could flip at any moment. She took his money.

The third man practically vibrated with anger like an engine turning. He offered nothing. It was better not to let him keep thinking and getting more riled up.

"Surely your life is worth more than this," she reasoned with him, overly friendly.

"My life is worth ten of yours, you worthless..." She tuned out the insults, flipping the second safety on her pistol back on. The little click silenced him. To say nothing of what Nicholas was carrying, just a few steps away. The burlap sack was weighted by more bills, as she slowly slid the safety back off as to not make a second sound.

The fourth man telegraphed a strong throw, so she braced and managed not to drop the burlap sack. The fifth and sixth each paid up without further incident.

She rounded the table, glad to have a barrier, and went to Danny Miller. "Where is that pool, then?" He would have prize money stashed somewhere, and the man was stock-still with nerves, and yet to answer Nick and now her. She shook the sack to shuffle the contents, feeling how much room it had. Plenty. She pulled the Beretta out, thinking of a drover dog, barking at a sheep's heels to keep it going onward. 

Miller took careful steps to a closet, with Valentina following.

"Open it," she instructed.

Inside was a glossy mahogany cabinet. Its shelves were bare, but not dusty. Things kept clean were things most used. A closed cupboard was down on the bottom of it. Miller pulled open the squeaky double doors to reveal a small safe.

"He is not your immediate concern," Valentina told Danny Miller, who was hesitating before the safe in the hallway closet. The yelling in the main back room was getting to him. "Think now of the lead in my hand. Worry only about that."

She, of course, had her pistol aimed squarely at Danny Miller. She had taken shooting lessons, when she had both the time and money. The advice she was given was to aim for the mass of a body rather than the smaller target that was a head. While she didn't have tremendous surety in her aim, she had practiced enough in controlled settings. Still targets were a safe bet.

With the faltering movements of a spooked horse, Danny Miller began twisting the safe's dial. After the third number, the safe failed to open with a loud thunk of its still-locked handle in Miller's white-knuckled grip. 

"Try again," she said. Whether he was stalling for time or incompetent with nerves, she couldn't say.

Gunshots rang out from the back room. Valentina damn near pulled the trigger at the shock of it.

"Turn around," she demanded in the harshest of whispers. The man started blubbering, of which she understood zero words. She heard nothing in the wake of that last boom-crack, holding on the shred of hope that it was one of Nick's. "Turn around," she repeated, "hands behind you, and you live." For the moment. If Nicholas... she would make no promises.

She pulled the fabric belt from around her coat waist, clumsily unfastening it with her one free hand. The belt was stubborn to pull out from the loops. At that moment was when Nick called out to her. Valentina could have choked on her relief. But it wasn't really the time to say, just a minute, honey! She swore under her breath instead. She tied Danny Miller's wrists together simply but securely, just as she had many a calf's legs growing up. 

"Now, go." He was frozen. She bodily shoved the man. Given their weight differential, it was surely surprise that launched him forward a long stumble-stride, and not any sort of brute strength on her end.

She would have him walk into the room in front of her, because these men wouldn't shoot their guy.

They shot their guy. 

Valentina stared in numb disbelief as Danny Miller took two bullets--three! His body contorted, now a meaty sponge for 22-caliber rounds with arms straining against the belted knot. Bloodstains bloomed across his wretched turtleneck, and he dropped to the ground. Gone was her shield. She stared through where he had been standing to the second man, the lucky man with the most chips, who was now holding the docile man's snub-nosed revolver. 

They fired their respective guns. Two bullets, one percussive gunshot.

It was a whole lot of nothing. Her shot went wide. His knocked her hat off her head. In the moment, though, she was absolutely convinced she had just been shot in the head, that she was dead, and this was it. The new air on her hair was surely the empty space of a hole clean through her skull.

The impotent click of the man's revolver snapped her back to life--she squeezed the trigger again, and again, and again. The man's six-shot revolver had been out of bullets after that hat shot, but her Beretta was not.

Two of her shots missed, but one hit home. It was north of where she'd been aiming; she had shot him in the throat. She held eye contact with the lucky man as blood sputtered out of his mouth in dark red rivulets. Two men dead and dying in a matter of moments. Her Beretta was still extended in front of her with four rounds left in the mag. 

Where were the others? Probably hiding. Valentina stepped out from the hallway properly, looking only for Nicholas. Her gaze landed on him, and fell instantly to the telltale dark on his collarbone. She rushed to his side.

BlackBlack is strolling down the street of South Philly with his wife by his side. He was here on business but that didn't stop him from having a little bit of fun. They had been out to a restaurant and eaten some amazing Italian food. His wife was wearing a little figure hugging red dress which highlighted her curves perfectly.

Suddenly, a shady figure jumped out of a side alley and runs right into them. He falls to the ground before picking himself up and running off. BlackBlack checked on his wife to make sure she was ok. She was just a little shocked but not hurt in any way. BlackBlack patted himself down. His wrist watch was missing. He turns to chase after the thief but he has vanished.

They continue on back to their hotel room. Once they arrive, BlackBlack ensures his wife makes it into the room.

"I'll be back love. I need to go get granddad's watch back"

BlackBlack heads off back to where the watch was stolen. He heads into the alleyway and hides out behind a dumpster. About half an hour passes before the same shady character as before appears in the shadows of the alley. He yells out:

"Oi, give me back my watch you cunt!"

The shady man runs and BlackBlack chases. He finally catchs up to him and beats him to within an inch of his life before taking his watch back and his wallet.

BlackBlack makes his way back to the hotel. On the way he gets distracted by a speakeasy and drops in for a cocktail. He leaves in a rush. He goes to take out a cigar but he is fresh out. He spots a convenience. He runs over and bursts through the door only to see NicholasGrimwood yell out to Valentina:

"Any luck on that safe Val?"

Herbert found himself strolling down the streets of Philadelphia. It had been a while since he let himself browse shop windows and just generally enjoy the sites in a city with this much history too it. He had just finished seeing the liberty bell and figured he should go ahead and get himself some ice cream and maybe buy himself something nice. 

He found an ice cream shop and got himself a vanilla cone with some sprinkles and cookies crumbled on top. He hoped no one from his family would see him walking around with this as it might make him look a little soft but what can you do. Sometimes you just have to enjoy life a little bit. He started licking on the cone as he walked past the shops down the street. He wasn't sure what he wanted but he knew he wanted to spend some money on something. He deserved it he thought to himself. 

Before long he spotted it, a Rolex shop with all the nicest watches of of the day. He smiled as he walked inside. He enjoyed the smell of places like this. He began browsing. That one was to goddy, that one to lean. Eventually he came across the perfect watch. Leather band, god rim, simple yet elegant and most  importantly, expensive. He called the shop keeper over and purchased it. Not even caring to ask how much money it was. He strapped it on and admired it for a second before smiling and walking out the door. He was glad he came here today. It was a nice day. 

Valentina huffed a startled, broken almost-laugh at Grimwood's comment. She would absolutely hug him with or without the blood, if not for the risk of hurting him in the process. Her thin eyebrows were furrowed with despairing worry as she looked at his hand pressed over his wound, where blood was staining his fingers. He was the doctor, not her. While growing up, she had tended scraped up legs of cows, cleaned cuts on horse's hocks, and carefully untangled barbed wire from a dog, but these were nothing serious. Whenever it was serious, they simply dispatched the animal.

It was good he was still upright. That had to be a positive sign. But they had to get out of here. A bleeding wound was a splintered hourglass with sand spilling everywhere, ultimately a timer running out faster than intended.

Trust her paramour's priorities... predicting cops, and still stuck on the loot. Never mind his injuries! She wanted to them to be thinking of their escape plan. It was her fault, though, since she could've prodded Miller better. There was no arguing from her, for she was going to have to crack that safe. She had already cracked a safe today. Its jewels were what got them into this mess in the first place. What was one more? Valentina blew out a measured breath.

Long ago, she had nicked a stethoscope from Grimwood's belongings on some hotel stay or another. It was a shamelessly prized trophy of hers, and she has kept it on her person ever since its acquisition. It was what had opened the door for her past simple locks, of which were her early bread and butter.

She gingerly stepped around Miller's corpse, then covered the short hallway in a few hurried strides. The glossy-varnish cabinet was of course still there where she'd left it, along with the damningly closed safe. As she retrieved the stethoscope from an inner coat pocket, she knelt down in front of the safe. Everything she'd learned about this, she had learned in passing. Cobbled together bits of advice from those she'd met in group jobs had formed a fairly workable routine.

Her early burglary had taken place in a silent, closed-up office. Low risk, low reward. To think, she'd been so stressed over it, a bundle of nerves huddled by the safe. The silence here was in no way the same what with her soulmate wounded out there, corpses on the ground, and gunshots to alert everyone on the block... no, no, no. This was the line of thinking to avoid entirely.

No job is the same, but one can find a routine in chaos. This, unlike the others and thus like the others. Valentina closed her eyes, listening through the stethoscope as she rotated the dial. Everything had a catch, and she was here listening for it. There. Her eyes snapped open to catch the nearest number, and she committed it to memory. She began spinning it in the opposing direction, listening, listening, listening. She was a split-second slow spying the second number. On the third go, she was simmering with impatience, all tense muscles and and her own heartbeat in her ears threatening to hide the gears ticking.

She gripped the latch, only to find it immobile. The combination was off. Damn it!

It must be the second that is off. She'd known she was off and still she'd stuck with it. These were amateur hours, apparently. Valentina steeled herself and tried again, listening intently during the second spin, this time with her eyes open. She had a stronger guess for the second. And for the third... there.

The safe cranked open without resistance.

With uncanny timing, that was when she heard a shout. She about slammed the safe right back shut, having nearly jumped out of her skin. "Working on step two!" Valentina called back, as if there were any orderly steps to all this madness.

Inside was first and foremost a bevy of handguns, surrendered temporarily by the poker players. There were neat stacks of cash on a second shelf, and a wooden box on the bottom. These made up the prize pot, perhaps, and Miller's own stash? Valentina would be liberating all of this regardless of specifics. Into the sack the cash and guns went, making for a fair bit of weight.

The wooden box, fortunately, was not locked. Made of unstained wood, sanded smooth but not finished, with intricate patterns carved along the sides. It had no hinges; the top slid open smoothly. Inside were green velvet pouches and two flat gold bars. Valentina picked up one of the pouches to find it lightweight, but with a promising feel. She peeked in to see the telltale sparkle of precious stones. If the fence had only followed through to sell hers off as he was likely trying to do so with these... well, she'd be looking at a much more modest payday. There was no time to inspect it all, so she swiped the velvet bags into her big burlap one. She tightened the drawstring and stood up to go.

Her heart skipped a beat to find Grimwood wasn't in the back room. Her focus had been so narrow on the safe. She paused to see if she heard anything, belated as it was, thoughts jumping immediately to coppers or if the unaccounted poker players had returned. Hearing nothing, she zipped out toward the main storeroom.

In her haste, she wasn't thinking about the bodies and nearly tripped over one. An array of thunks sounded as the burlap sack hit the ground. The least dignified "Eeeeek" escaped her as she shrank back away from the dead poker player. She cursed, and dropped down yet again to scoop up the satchel.

A gun had slipped out. She tilted the Colt revolver to check the bullets, seeing six of six. This one, she pocketed for later.

A lesson was learned: she knotted the drawstring loosely so it would hold better. She stood up, avoided the bodies this time, and headed out to the main store. Her dark eyes searched for Grimwood.

Valentina accepted the car keys about as reluctantly as Grimwood had offered them. She would have to make sure nothing happened to the car. Not a single scratch. 

There was no casual way to hold a burlap sack of ill-gotten gains, Valentina was finding out while following Nicholas out the door. She kept a firm one-handed grip on it, while her other was in her pocket with her Beretta. She had all of four rounds left, but had the fresh Colt in an inner pocket. And at least she wasn't the one lugging a machine gun back and forth with lead in her chest... 

A cursory look down the street showed someone exiting a store--she pivoted on her heel and kept walking toward the car. Nothing to see here! She was a humble civilian that had a long shopping list for her mundane trip to a small corner shop. She was a lady that had misplaced her hat in a totally innocuous fashion. She was also diving into the driver's seat so hurriedly she smacked her forehead on the frame. 

Blinking away that sting, she dropped the sack on the middle of the bench seat. While Grimwood was getting situated, she couldn't help but do a double-take at the rear window modification. She'd never noticed, but then they hadn't had any gunfights in this thing yet. Usually you didn't take your personal, favorite car if you could help it.

When she went to start the car, it hung for a couple seconds, before she got the pedals right--she was halfway self-taught when it came to driving cars, and didn't have a real knack for it.

Valentina nodded in response to his question, and said, "Yes. I have an idea." When she went to drive off, it stalled out. "Sorry!" Again, she got it fired up, and put it into first gear properly this time. Her attempt at nonchalance when she continued speaking fell a bit short. "I run deliveries for this place, but I know it's often closed up. I can get us in no problem." As they came onto an intersection, she waffled too long on if she should turn or not, and kept driving through it. "There are medical supplies there. It's not a hospital. Well, not one for people."

She was thinking of a nearby small animal clinic, where the veterinarian preferred house calls to walk-ins.