"Of course, 'do your thang' gentleman." He said to them putting on an American accent, trying to relax his humour as he got more comfortable around these two.

Watching John try to distract the lard arse with his card tricks, he snuck up the other side of the car and slipped into the building. He hoped that Caesar was quick on his feet as it seemed John was more distracted by the fat blokes' food rather than the flat blokes' unconciousness.

Extremely light on his feet, he crept through the garage towards the front where the the '34 was patiently waiting. As he went to pass the little office door where he could hear the grunts of a man tossing his salad to a dirty magazine, he pondered whether it be best this man is also knocked out. After all, if the others made a noise and he decided to come snooping with his rifle, it prove difficult to finish the job smoothly. He pulled out a bobby pin from his inside pocket and picked the lock on the door.

As he opened it, he was unusually happy to see the man still fapping away - the fact that he was still unseen. The man was sat on a swivelly chair with his feet up on the desk, magazine in the left hand and his member in the right. Was this man fucking disgusting - or just lucky he can freely bosh one out while at work? Either way, this fellow was about to get floored. D stood up as he picked up the wrench from the side and with one fell swoop, he twatted the mechanic straight across the back of the head. A steady stream of blood poured out as the man lay flat out with his family jewels on full display.

As he went to leave the office he noiced a row of hooks drilled into the wall for all of the car keys. He picked out the one for the Duesenberg, and kicked the mans stray arm back through the office so he could close the door.

To his surprise, he heard a bell ring - the sound of the front door to the garage opening as a customer walked in. What the bloody hell? Someone must have forgotten to turn the sign to 'Closed' and lock the door! He'd been watching the garage for many days and each day they never failed the routine. He had to think quickly. He didn't want to have to attack an unsuspecting member of the public for being in the wrong place at the wrong time...

Using his initiative, he pulled the mask off his face leaving him in just the overalls and walked through to the front area.

"Howdy. I was just admiring this beautiful lookin' '34 I seen't through the window there. Mighty fine aint' she?" the customer said in a strong Texan accent to Decypha.

"Why yes she is, sir. A modern beauty that captures the hearts of all men." He replied, putting on his best American accent as he posed as the owner of the garage.

"That she is. You sure your okay there partner?" The man said to him, looking down at his hand which was shaking and covered in blood - which must have spurted out on impact - while still strongly clutching the wrench.

"Oh, that? Nah, thats nothin'. Just got my hand trapped while tightenin' some of the bolts up under that darn engine." He said in the hopes that the man bought his cover story.

"Oh hell, I bet that shit happens all the time. Well, I better be leavin', you take care now." Said the customer as he went to leave.

Decypha stood there hoping that the other two wouldn't come bursting through, all guns blazing, before the customer got out of the door. In fact, what the hell where they still doing out there?

Decypha heard all the gunfire and went running outside to find out what the fuck was going on out there. As he went to walk out he saw an old man with his brains spread across the wall like jam on toast. He then saw the fat lard-arse slumped down at the parked car outside with a card stuck right into his eye and blood trickling all down his face.

"What the bloody hell has been going on out here, lads?" He exclaimed as he stepped over the old mans body trying to avoid getting any blood on his overalls.

"That poor chap's brains are clinging to the wall like a young lads bogie clings to the school toilet cubicles! Nevermind, we need to get this car moved out of the way so we can back the Black Beauty out of here. Can you deal with that chaps while I go and fetch her?" Said D to the other two as he tried to get things moving now as quickly as possible.

The gunfire would have alerted the professional donut munching police force that would race to the scene and rain hell down on them, they had to get a bloody move on if they wanted to get out of there alive.

"Bollocks..." He said to his friend with a pause.

"Well it's too late to stop now, we better get a move on." He continued.

Luckily, the job can still be done with two people. He couldn't understand why JohnCon left in the middle of a job like this... There must have been some urgent reason, it's definitely not in that guy's nature. After all, he deals in dark magic and killed a guy with a damn playing card to the eye, death is definitely not unknown to this man.

D put his mask back on and wiped his leather gloves on his overalls so they weren't slippy and went over to move the fat shit slumped near the car. He gestured for Caesar to get in the car and release the handbrake while he pushed the car from behind to move it out of the way. Caesar spun the wheel and jumped out of the car, which then lost control and rolled away and crashed into a nearby building, which sent alarm bells ringing and left a huge hole in the wall. Inside there was a load of office workers who were now scrambling in panic as they looked up to see Caesar and Decypha stood covered in blood holding guns.

Shit.

This simple car theft has now turned into a fucking bloodbath, and they will soon have every gun-weilding officer in the city tailing their asses. Decypha pulled out a home-made stun grenade and threw it into the hole in case any of them tried to get brave.

"We need to go. Now." D exclaimed to Caesar as they turned around and ran inside the garage to get the Black Beauty. He jumped into the drivers seat and started her up. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the roar of the engine made his balls tingle.

"You got a choice of seat now, Salad Fingers. Preferably, I need you sat where you can light them up. No doubt as soon as we get out of here they are going to try and surround us. I hope she is as fast as they say, we're going to need the speed." He said as he usered his mate to get into the car.

"Are you ready?" He asked, making sure they weren't leaving anything behind.

Without wasting time by standing and flapping his gums, Caesar hops into the back-seat of the vehicle, and opens the case containing the MP-36. Taking the weapon out, he fits a magazine into the slot, cocks it, and turns off the safety, while running a finger over the rugged black metal lovingly. "Hop in and turn her on. We have some guests to attend to." he tells Decypha with a twisted smile.

"Indeed we do, old chap." He said as he also gave a sly grin. With that, he  spun the car around in the showroom to face the rear entrance. As soon as the exit was in sight, he put the pedal to the metal and the pair of them were slammed back into their seats. They darted out the garage door and skidded around the corner where the other car had rolled into the building.

As they got onto the streets, sure enough the police had blocked off the road to the right which lead out to the Nevada Desert which was the perfect escape route - the one they were due to take as planned. Now, their only choice was to try and lose them through the city. With D at the wheel and Caesars itchy finger on the trigger, they spun around to the left and headed into the depths of the city with what looked like a small army on their tail.

As they raced through the streets, the excitement continued to surge through his veins as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. He swerved through traffic and drifted around corners, almost flipping the the Black Beauty and damaging her beautiful frame. As fast as she was, their numbers were too great to shake them off.

"Croutons, you know what to do. Light them up!" He shouted back to Caesar, who then began to let loose on the cops. One by one you saw their cars flying off the road, driving into other cars and buildings as the officers slumped at the wheel when pumped full of lead.

"Have you got another way out of this mess?" Decypha shouted to his mate, trying to establish where they should head after Plan A failed.

Caesar looks up from the iron sights of the MP-36 and turns to face Decypha. "Take us into the Mojave, and then backtrack to Tacky's joint. He can hide this beauty once we lose the cops in the wasteland." He went back to shooting at the police after that. The cops were responding in kind now, but they could not match the accuracy or firepower of Caesar's sub-machine gun with their revolvers. 

"Right, aim for the tires." Caesar thought to himself, before firing at the front wheels of the nearest car and sending it spinning across the road, only to crash into a lamp post. Although he never admitted it to anyone, Caesar did not enjoy killing those who did not deserve it. He did it as a matter of necessity, but tried his best to avoid staining his hands with the blood of the innocent, and he had already spilled enough of that for the day.

Even though he considered the police to be corrupt and degenerated scum, he knew that ironically enough, it was only such officers who collaborated with the Mafia, while the respectable ones tried to oppose them, and got paid in lead for their efforts. It was always either silver or lead. Pondering on this philosophical notion, Caesar puts another cruiser out of the fight, without lethally injuring its occupants. After all, these men were only doing their duty to earn for their families, and all he and Decypha needed to do was to put them out of the chase, and give them the slip......

"Fuck, the Mojave?" He responded to Caesar with concern for the car itself. Driving through a wasteland in the Black Beauty was definitely not what he had in mind, as he wanted to avoid damage to her at all costs. But, either way this looks like it's the only option available to the two at this point in time. There was no other plan, it had to be done.

"I guess we don't really have a choice then chap, let's do it!" D exclaimed to his friend, as he ducked at the steering wheel with the sound of machine gun fire in his ear. This really hadn't gone to plan and as he drove along swerving through the traffic, he pondered to himself how smoothly this would have gone had they not shot up the place and rolled a car into a building full of people.

Following the advice from his pal in the back, he swerved off to a road on the right that lead right out into the wastelands. As they got onto the desert roads, he could feel the car struggling and he unusually broke a sweat as he felt the stiff suspension clambering over rocks and other lumps in the road. She was taking a fucking hammering from the desert environment and D wasn't impressed one bit. If only JohnCon was here to do some of his dark voodoo magic shit and make the car float off into the desert hills.

He glanced behind over his shoulder to see that the force's numbers had dwindled down to just 2 or 3 on the chase. His face then displayed a smirk as he came to realise that they were almost in the clear.

"Alright mate, we are out in Mojave and I'm trying my best to keep my shit together for her sake. I can't head for Tacky's until we shake off these pigs! Can you get rid of them, Salad Fingers?" He asked Caesar.

After the wildest 2 hour police chase through the city and surrounding deserts of Las Vegas that many people had ever seen, D and Caesar finally managed to shake the cops chasing them after the theft of the Black Beauty back at the garage on the Strip. When they were in the clear, they were parked up at a small shack out in the Mojave where there was an old truck parked up outside. Caesar told D that he urgently had to be somewhere as it had gotten extremely late, and the theft didn't go to plan thus extending the completion time. With that, he hopped in the truck and headed on the long route around to the back end of the city.

Unfortunately, the Black Beauty had sustained some damage after taking an extreme detour. The old shack was abandonded but had a telephone line running through, it was probably used by criminals alike when escaping police or mob bosses. It was quite late, and he'd hoped that his friend Tacky by some miracle was at the garage.

He dialled the number for the garage and waited, hoping that there would be a voice appear on the other end...

He heard a crackle, "Tacky, are you there old chap?".

Tacky heard the ring of his telephone call out from the office and jogged hastily up the stares.

'Tacky, are you there old chap'

There weren't many people with such an accent around these parts so Tacky took a stab. Decypha.

'What's the story D?'

A huge feeling of relief came over D when Tacky answered the call.

"I need your help my friend, we just pulled off a heist for a car and it went a little... South. We have managed to shake the bobbies but they will be hot on the trail if I don't get me and the car out of sight! Plus, she needs fixing up a little after a detour through the damned Mojave. Can I swing by and stash her somewhere at your gaff, mate?" He asks his friend with a hint of desperation.

He didn't know where else to turn, and Tacky's was the closest and safest place at this point. He didnt want to bring the heat on Tacky as he was a close friend but if D was clever about it, the pigs would never know.