Perhaps we loaded up too much loot, the truck laboured to start. Fips was sprinting across the forecourt, the yard master in pursuit brandishing a nightstick. Clearly his bribe had not worked.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!!!”

Louis slammed his foot down and the truck lurched forwards, it was too late. As the sound of sirens grew nearer, security closed the main gates. We disembarked and scattered.

Muttchops was chased screaming back into the warehouse by some pretty angry looking dogs.

Weebl tore the back of his pants on the barbed fence, scrambling to safety.

Fips took a beating from a 65 year old man in the middle of the yard.

I hung my head in shame, shortly before being tackled by 7 of Philly’s finest.

Oh, the shame.

You failed to Raid a Trucking Depot with the LouisGato gang.

Louis had spent hours planning the crime. He had assembled a gang which included several experienced, trust worthy members of The Explorers Club. Fips had run the plan through his mind a few times. Everything seemed perfect, nothing could go wrong.

But apparently Louis had missed something, or maybe we were just unlucky.
The sour taste of leather boot to the face, and the punches of an elderly man. He was wearing a ring, which only made the beating worse, but the pain itself wasn't too bad, but the shame. The shame hurt. How did this go wrong?
Fips opened his mouth to yell out to LouisGato before the officers chasing him would reach him.

"Ugh! Louis, behind you! "

'Atleast I avoided jail time' Fips thought to himself, as the elderly man finally let go and walked away, leaving Fips on the ground.