Lea's eyes open with some difficulty. They seem to be partially crusted shut with dried blood. Her face hurts, and when she tries to raise her head off of the floor, her cheek makes a sickly peeling sound as it parts from the cheap hotel carpet. Pushing herself upright, every muscle screams in abused agony. As she finally reaches a sitting position, her head begins to swim. One, two, three slow breaths keep her upright, although breathing isn't as easy as it should have been.

Crawling across the floor towards the phone stand feels like a day and a half and a million miles. She can see where the telephone cord has been carelessly ripped from the outlet. Amateurs. Did they think she was stupid? Stripping the wire with her teeth, she twists the wires back into working order and slips the plug into the wall where it belongs.

Jesus. Even her fingers hurt. What remains of them, anyway. Did they have to take the pinkies? Savages.

As she clumsily dials your number, her eyes sting with tears of pure frustration. On the second attempt, she gets the operator. "Klondike five, twenty thirty two..." she grounds out through gritted teeth. When she prods a particularly sore one, it pops out of the socket.

God help this bitch if she makes me repeat myself, she thinks as she waits on the call to go through. A series of clicks can be heard down the line, and finally, the ringing begins.

Pick up pick up pick up is the new mantra.

"Yeah."

It's your bodyguard, Patrick.

"Lea. Be a good bodyguard and fetch your boss," Lea says as she starts to slide sideways, vision tunneling down to a pinprick. 'They're headed over there next...'

Anomander had noted the phone as it rang and then forgotten about it, turning his attention back to the money in front of him. He stared at it blankly for a few moments. What was the count?

"Ahhh bollocks!" he exclaimed, reaching over to move everything into one pile and start again. Before he could make a start, Patrick burst through the door, panting hard. The man was built like a brick shithouse and nobody could claim he was out of shape. Anomander was on the third floor. What had been so important that Patrick had sprinted up three flights of stairs?

"Spit it out man" Anomander barked, annoyed at the disturbance and his inability to finish the days takings. Maybe he was hungry?

"It's......huh.......Lea.........says............huh............They're...........huh.........coming.........!" Patrick gasps, hands on knees, back shaking.

His mind races as he comprehends the mans words. His eyes flick to the clock on the wall. Assuming they'd just left her place, that gave him maybe 20 minutes to prepare. Maybe less. He reached across the desk and with a wide sweep of his forearm pulled all the cash back into the cloth sack, tied the ends quickly and walked to the back wall, pulling aside the oil painting of the dogs shooting pool and opened the safe. He stuffed the bag in the back and pulled out his revolvers. With a quick check on the clips, he slammed them into their holsters and closed the safe, turning back to his bodyguard.

"Get on to HooLZ. Let him know what's happened." he growled to Patrick as he stepped passed the man and into the hall, racing down the stairs three steps at a time.

"Everyone get their fucking game faces on! We're about to be hit!!" he bellowed as he made his way through to building to the ground floor. Already he could hear the sound of multiple engines approaching...

A cab pulled up in front of a apartment block. The door opens. A tall guy steps out of the taxi first.
"All safe boss" the guy says.
HooLZ steps out of the car and sighs. Finally back home he says. It was on hell of a trip.
He was looking forward to grab a cold beer in his favorite bar around the corner and relax a bit with his friends.

As soon as he was in front of his door he hear his telephone ring. He started looking for his keys and opened the door, walks towards his phone but then it stopped. "Hmm, They will call again when its really important he thinks." He turns around to grab his suitcase that is still standing outside when suddenly the phone started ringing again.
HooLZ picked up the phone. Who is this, he asked. When the voice on the other end started talking he recognized it. It was Patrick, AnomanderRake 's bodyguard. Patrick was doing his story as fast as he could but HooLZ decided to not wait till the end of it. He heard the name Lea and the word trouble.

HooLZ started running outside where his bodyguard was still paying the cabdriver. I need your taxi my friend! HooLZ says while tossing the cabdriver a stack of money. That will do he says while jumping on the passengers seat. He started yelling towards his bodyguard: Get behind the wheel and bring me to AnomanderRake 's place as fast as you can... The taxi drove of with a loud engine noise......

Returning to the Steel Works HQ after another successful and profitable series of crimes organized by the crew, Jack was planning on catching up on paperwork, checking the financials and preparing the weekly taxes when he heard a few bodyguards, gathered around a table.  They sound stressed, concerned even.  Before taking off his coat, Jack walks over to the table.

"Good afternoon guys.  Sounds like you have concerns?  Is everything alright?"

The table stays silent for a moment, all the men looking at each other, hoping the other speaks first.  When a mountain of a man, someone Jack had not met before, stands up with  an angrey look on his face.

"Boss" he says, "we just heard that Hoolz and AnomanderRake are racing across town.  Patrick, one of Anomander's guards got a call from Lea, we don't have the details, but it sounds bad.  He said Lea got worked over pretty good, and it's not over yet.  You shouldn't be heading out alone for the time being.  I've called the rest of the protection crew and they are on their way over."  

The man turns to his brothers in arms, placing his massive hand on the shoulder of the man next to him.

"Let's get ready boys, have a feeling Jack isn't going to want to sit around here waiting for the next move."

Shrapnel hammered the overturned table Anomander was covering behind as a grenade exploded nearby, a sharp chunk of sheet metal piercing the wood inches from his face as screams cut through the cacophony. He looked at the metal for a moment, thanking his lucky stars before popping his head over the table. A figure in the doorway was laying down short burst of fire as he advanced on two of his bodyguards who had been pinned into a small storage room.

He took a couple of deep breaths, slowing his heartbeat and steadying his nerves as he took aim, lining up the shot. 

**BANG! BANG!**

**BANG!**

The first shots took the intruder in the shoulder and torso, subsequently spinning him around and slamming him up against the far wall where he stood, legs wide as he tried to hold himself up against the bricks and mortar. They failed and as he slid to the ground the third bullet took him between the eyes.

From outside Tommy Guns barked to life once more, punching through what remained of the large wooden factory doors. Splinters of wood reigned down like confetti as he dove back behind the protective shield of the table. He looked up to see Patrick, his bodyguard, take a bullet through the neck as he scrambled to reach him. His eyes widened in surprise at the same time as his knees buckled and he came crashing to the floor of the factory, 6 foot shy of the table.

Anomander just stared impotently as Patrick clutched at his neck, the surprise giving away to panic on his face as he began to choke on his own blood. With a curse, Anomander crawled to him, grabbed the back of his shirt collar and began unceremoniously dragging him back to cover. Pain exploded in his left leg and he crumpled to the ground, clutching at his calf feebly. Blood soaked through his fingers as his mind went numb.

Clearly his subconscious wasn't particularly overjoyed at the idea of dying on a grubby factory floor. It left his conscious to jibber and whimper as it took control of operations. A primal will to live forcing him to claw his way back behind the table, his fist still pulling the prone figure of his first lieutenant along with him. With one last monumental effort of willpower, he heaved the man mountain alongside him and collapsed on his chest, sucking in huge breaths of air.

His conscious had begun to recover. The inhuman levels of adrenaline surging through him at the moment were to thank for that, he supposed. That wouldn't last long. None of them would last much longer if this kept up. They'd been under fire for less than 15 minutes and already as many men were down as were left standing.

If help didn't come soon, they were fucked. He glanced down at Patrick, the man's eyes were glassy and distant. His blood covered hand lay limp beside his neck. The flow had stopped.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and angrily tying it above the wound in his calf, he spat. Climbing to one knee and firing two shots into the doorway as a figure stepped across the light...