Sleep is one of the things the Victor Dallas enjoys most in life. Liquor, cigarillos and ladies of the evening are also up there. He dreamed of the three tonight. It was extravagant and classy, Victor loved every minute of it. One of the things he hated most in life were late night phone calls. Ringtones were in second place. Victor groaned and shoved his pillow into his face. He knew he needed to answer it. He didn't want to, he never wants to but he got into some trouble last time he slept through a call. It's not his fault those people died! It's whoever made the ringtone so loud's fault. If it weren't so obnoxious, he wouldn't have throw it out the window, and those people would be alive! Simple as that. He removed the pillow from his face and reached for the receiver.

 "Who the hell is it?"

  Victor answered, perhaps a bit rudely, frustration evident in his voice. Victor would have thrown the window at the wall if it had of been a telemarketer. Thankfully it was not. He didn't know who it was, in fact. But that didn't matter. What mattered was what they had to say. He got an anonymous tip about a deal going down at the docks. Small crew, lest they attract attention, big cash in the delivery. Victor guesses the rat is one of the crew who didn't appreciate how the criminals were treating him. He didn't know what was in the crates they were shipping, but he knew they were worth a lot of cash. Each crew member got a hefty bribe for working and keeping their mouths shut. Apparently not hefty enough. Victor thanked him and promised a cut, which odds are he wouldn't actually give him. The cost of being stupid, who gives the anonymous tip to someone he doesn't know personally and then asks for the money? He was practically saying "Welsh on the deal, Vic!". And welsh he did. Victor got up and got his clothes on. He opened his drawer and pulled out his gun, flask, and backup flask. He holstered his gun and put his flasks in his breast pocket on each side. It's cold out so he buttoned it up and threw a scarf on. Checking to make sure he had everything, he set off. Once he stepped outside the cold hit him, it wasn't anything extreme but it was enough to make his eyes sting and cheeks rosy. He walked for about a block or two before he reached his destination. He rapped his knuckles on the door steadily until the man himself finally answered. Some guy! He told him who he was and handed him a fair bit of cash.

  "Give me 4 of your best and make sure they are ready to go. I'm already running late" Victor informed him

  "Alright. They'll be ready in a jiffy! Cause you're a repeat customer I'll throw in two cars for use until you don't need the men anymore" He replied to Victor with a wink

 Victor clapped a hand on his back and gave his thanks. He really should learn this mans name, he is quite nice. Victor stepped outside and waited for the men to be ready while he had a smoke. He wasn't proud of buying hired guns, but they were cheap and he needed extra hands and suppressing fire, if need be. When the hired guns were finally ready he hopped in the passenger seat of one of the cars, and it sped off when told where to go. The men looked sluggish still, from waking them up during their sleep. Some lines on their faces and disheveled clothing. As long as they could carry crates he would be fine. Upon arriving at the docks, Victor surveyed the scene. It wouldn't be hard to get to the ship. There were a few in the docks but only one had lights on and people working aboard. Thankfully the crew was asleep. It was just the guards that remained on board. Victor and his crew of hired guns approached the ship under the cover of darkness from the side, as to not draw the armed mens attention. They crept on board and quickly incapacitated the guards. As quietly as possible. Not a shot fired. They threatened them and shouted. Knocked them out and threw them overboard. Victor walked up to a crate and cracked it open. Victor was surprised. There was money in the crates! Or at least it appeared to be money. Counterfeit bills, and good ones too. Victor laughed a for awhile and drank from his flask. He was going to make a killing! Victor did a little victory dance and started helping to load the crates into a nearby truck. The truck was originally supposed to carry the goods to the buyer, but their now carrying them to where the new owner wants them. Which he has no idea. He's going to take it to a warehouse for the time being. He dismissed the hired guns and drove off. He didn't want them seeing the location. Once he got back, Victor sent word out to anyone who knew of a suitable buyer. He offered a reasonable cut, of course, he didn't expect someone to help for a warm fuzzy.