Armada had decided to set out much earlier tonight. Zipping a bag of tools and throwing it over his shoulder, he took a last swig of tea from his mug and headed out.

It was only just dark and the streets were still bustling with people, Armada eyed them, suspiciously.

"Please!!" He whispered, not exactly sure who he was pleading to.

Turning a corner on a quieter street, Armada was momentarily startled by two shabbily dressed corpses, slumped against a wall,  a couple of homeless gangsters, probably. Pulling the bag tighter onto his shoulder, Armada gave the men a final glance and picked up pace as he neared the big wrought iron gates at the end of the quiet street.

He stopped and listened, not sure if he could hear anything, or if it was just his nerves.

"Stop it, idiot" He chided himself, annoyed by his own jumpiness.

He slowly inched the gate open, wincing as the hinges creaked loudly and slipping silently beyond the gates, he started to run. Reaching the first mound, his heart sank.. It looked as though this grave had already been disturbed and wasn't worth his time...

"God damn it!!!" He yelled in frustration, no longer caring who heard, as he ran over to another. This one had also been disturbed. He ran down the line of graves seeing them all desecrated, anything of worth in them, stolen.  

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He cried as he passed the graves. As the last exclamation left his throat he became aware of a shadowy figure running off, ahead. He scrambled further down the row of graves to where the figure had run from.

"Yes!" He'd scared someone off before they'd managed to complete their despicable deed.

Throwing the bag down on the floor beside the pile of dirt, he was pleased to see the unknown ghoul had done most of the work for him. All that remained for Armada to do was pry the coffin and see what spoils lay within. He opened his bag, removed a crowbar from it and began the unpleasant task of disturbing this unknown's final resting spot.

The coffin opened with ease and Armada was pleased to see that this particular chump had been buried with some mighty fine looking jewellery. He quickly set about relieving the recently deceased of their eternal possessions, throwing anything he could find of value into his tool bag.

A noise further back alerted him that he was no longer alone. Grabbing his tools and his bag, he pulled himself out of the grave and started to make his get away.

As he ran off into the shadows, he couldn't help but laugh as he heard someone shout out

"God! Damn it!"

Armada was still laughing as he jumped a wall at the far end of the cemetery. Tomorrow, he'd set out even earlier.

Butterfingers had arrived home later than usual after a tiresome day and was just about to make some super when it dawned on her. It's the 21st. Sadness washed over her as it was a month after her friend had been taken from this world and from her. She glanced out the window and the night sky stared back at her.

"Yes it is late, but I need to go and see her." she thought to herself.

Grabbing her keys and purse she sighs and heads to the door, opens it and is greeted by the chilly night air. She stops, turns and grabs the winter jacket from the coat stand and slips it on. She steps out onto the porch, closing the door behind her and heads to the cemetry.

It's a busy night on the streets, people buzzing around here and there, going about their own business yet all she can think of is the memories and time shared with a loved one passed on. The joy these memories brought were an inner warmth that helped protect her from the chilly night air.

She rounds the corner and sees the gates to the cemetry before her. It's dark and silent at this end of town and a shiver runs her spine as she enters the gates.

Walking through the cememtry towards where her friend was laid to rest she thought she heard a noise, a creaking of wood being pried open, or was it her imagination. She stops and glances around her, nothing moves, there is no sound except the wind through the trees and a dog barking in the distance. She continues on her way.

Suddenly she see's a silohuette not far from her appear out of the ground, as if it has risen from the dead. She stops and watches, ready to scream and run in the opposite direction, but the silhouette leans down, grabs what looks like a bag and runs off into the darkness.

Butterfingers hurridly walks towards where the stranger had appeared and then realizes she is at the grave of her friend. She looks down, and sees the ground dug up, the coffin lid has been opened and the body disturbed. Grief washes over her.

"Who would do such a thing? Who would be so cruel as to steal from a dead person?" She cries to herself.

And then it dawns on her. A man she met a few weeks ago, he was talking to another man about this very same thing.

"Armada!!!!!!!!!" She shrieks, cracking the silent night air with her voice.....

Tony watched from afar, quickly stomping out his cigarette on the wet grass to avoid being spotted. He watched Armada make his swift escape, and then he very slowly and quietly creeped around graves. It seemed like the corpses within the open graves were rolling around, as if shocked by how low thugs would go to make the extra buck, but they were just messily misplaced by the graverobbers. Then, from a frighteningly close distance, Tony's ears almost fell off due to a sharp shriek. It was Butterfingers who had showed up to discover her friend's grave robbed.

"Shit." Tony whispered to himself. "I knew this would be a bad idea."

Tony was not enjoying this predicament, but he had to fatten his envelope. As a freshly arrived gangster in a crew, he had to prove his worthiness. So he put his morals aside and continued to search the graves for valuable things that he could then pawn for money. Worst case scenario, he could just rob local pawn shop. 

Tony took a closer look at Butterfingers while hidden in the shadows and decided to continue his session of graverobbing, although he would ever-so-greatly focus his efforts to remain unseen and unheard by her.