Stop or we will fire, this is the Chicago police department. Come out, and put your hands behind your head. A Chicago P.D officer pointing his gun at the bar. Behind him stood another 3 more coppers all aiming their revolver at the same direction as the first one. 

Behind the bar, crouched Anton and George Giovanni. At this point, Anton has just the worst luck. It has been 2 years since he came back to chicago, so much changes since then but nonetheless the coppers are still as shitty as ever. 

How the fuck did they know our hideout here. FUCK. 

Since his arrival in Chicago 2 months ago, Anton has been running a small gambling den on ridge boulevard. Things were going well until half an hour ago when there was a minor scuffle between a dealer of his and a disgrunted customer. The thing about chicago coppers is that, they don't like it when mobsters don't pay their bribes, the thing that ticks them off the most is when small time mobsters like Anton don't pay them at all. 

George, tell me you know why the coppers found out about this place? 

Anton looked at his cousin, the scrawny teenager who has been working as security at the gambling den. 

Yeah, about that I called them during the fight. 

Anton looked at George in disbelief. 

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU CALL THE COPS, WE ARE FUCKING GANGSTERS. WE DEAL WITH FIGHTS ON OUR OWN. 

Anton realized the problem now and he knows that the only way he is to leave this place alive is to surrender and pay the cops their due. This is going to cost more then all the profits he has earned during the brief stint he has with his gambling den. 

Don't Shoot! We are coming out. We surrender. Hands rosed as a sign of surrendering. 

The officers still pointing their guns at Anton and George, soon signal Anton to move slowly to them and directed them to Anton's office. 

They made Anton and George kneel in front of the door and the first officer pistol whipped Anton across the face. 

NO ONE FUCKING STARTS AN OPERATION WITHOUT TELLING US YOU GOT ME? YOU HAVE UNTIL TOMMOROW, I want to see twenty thousand dollars in an fucking envelope on my desk tomorrow. The name's Captain Mc O'nell. Don't you fucking forget this name. 

As the entourage of officers walked out of the place, Anton and George stood up. Anton pushed George onto the wall and said. 

Don't call the goddamn cops next time.  

After getting her cargo, Elize decided to hit the gambling den before heading back to New York. Her train was having troubles and won't leave for another hour or two. She loved gambling and would bet on anything offered to her. She was up by 1k and settling on her sit with a glass of rum when some guys started fighting.

"I'm cashing out!" She tells the dealer. She didn't want any trouble and she was carrying an important package for her boss. As she was making her way out, the police barged in. Elize looked for another way out but she was too late. One officer grabbed her and slammed her to the wall. The pig frisked her then took interest with her package.

"What do we have here?" The fat officer asked her, taking the paper bag from her. He opened it then smiled.

"Looks like we hit the jackpot here." He took out several wads of 100 dollar bills.

"You may want to put that back...." Elize said, but before she could finish her sentence, the officer smacked her right cheek.

"Did I asked you to speak??" The pig said smirking. Elize shook her head and regretted not having her gun. Anyway, she can't shoot an officer in public. Rob wouldn't like that.

The officer then placed back the money in the bag and rolled it shut.

"Thank you young lady for this." The officer tells her then pats her on the head. She looks at his uniform and got his name right before they left.

"Carl Montalgo." She whispered to herself. Memorizing the name.