Crimes Against Art (Open RP) - Current Pace: 1 post / day

Ian grinned, pulling out the tool he needed and extending it as he made his way towards the line of cars. "I'll handle it. We Scousers are kind of experts at this." He examined the line with a hand to his chin, examining the ones he liked.

"Hmmm...This one." He approached a dark blue sedan and got to work. "Keep an eye out, eh mate?"

The old brick building stuck out among it's decaying neighbors, it was still relatively in one piece even after those who surrounded it had fallen. Long ago, it was probably some sort of factory left abandoned to the rats and homeless, however someone had found a new purpose for it. The hitman Tony followed here had gone inside past the patrolling sentries with automatic weapons.

Tony scouted the outside of the building and counted sixteen sentries, well armed and restless. Was this where they kept the stolen painting? No, usually someone wants to keep a low profile after a heist and sixteen gun toting men surrounding an old condemned building was a little too obvious. Tony had found something else, and the mobsters here had to be well respected or feared in order to be able to operate so boldly.

What the hell did they have in there? The more Tony studied the building, the more it seemed like it was retrofitted to keep something in. It was none of his business, but the only lead to the painting had gone in. Tony was sure any attempts to lure them out would be ignored.

Tony stealthily began to scout the building again, this time searching for any possible access points into the building. Tony had to keep it quiet until he was inside, and once he was inside he would find the hitman and ask nicely.

"Where's Oleksandr Karchenko?!"

Tony held the pudgy Russian mobster firmly by the throat. By the way he was guarded, he was probably running whatever the hell was going on here, and probably knew something important. Tony had ripped through his guard detail mercilessly before disarming and interrogating the pudgy Russian with his own pistol. Tony was able to keep it as quiet as possible and was still undiscovered, but he had to make this quick.

"Karchenko," the Pudgy Russian questioned in a thick accent. He had been caught off guard by the name.

Tony responded by striking the Russian with the pistol.

After cursing in his native language the Russian continued, "He is street trash. We sometimes use him for muscle. He's not here."

Tony pushed the pistol into the Russian's face threateningly, "Where?!"

The Russian winced at the pistol before continuing, "He was here earlier. He leaved to go to place with dancing whores on poles." The Russian narrowed his eyes upon Tony before guessing his next question. "Rubicon."

Tony had the information he was searching for and considered ending the interrogation, but he paused. He had made it into the building by scaling the old pipework and fire escapes and entering through a broken window on the roof. While working his way down he noticed his pudgy Russian friend in the old foreman's office, and old shipping containers scattered through the otherwise empty factory floor, with more guards patrolling between them. There was something wrong with this picture.

Curiosity got the better of Tony. "What are you smuggling?"

The Russian turned away from Tony, but reconsidered as Tony cocked his arm back to strike him with the pistol again. He quickly blurted out one single word.

"Women."

The room was still and uncomfortably quiet as Tony stared the Russian in the eye, making him squirm subconsciously. Unsure what to do, the Russian began digging his grave deeper.

"We bring in girls from Europe, Asia, South America. Whatever you want I can get. You want money? Dope? Your friend Karchenko sold us some American girls. You can have-"

Tony had heard enough, slamming the Russian face first into his own desk, mid-sentence. There was no way Tony could walk away from this place and leave those girls to their fate.

As the Russian staggered around, disoriented by the pain, Tony grabbed a bottle of liquor off the nearby shelf and smashed it into his face, forming a brief bloody cloud of broken glass and alcohol. The Russian had little time to recover before Tony kicked him out of the window overlooking the factory floor. The explosion of glass, and the screaming Russian that followed, heralded the end of all those who witnessed it.

Tony clutched the automatic pistol in a trembling , white knuckle grip as he overlooked the blood splatter on the floor below that used to run this place. The Russian's execution was loud and brutal, alerting the sentries to Tony's presence, and it didn't matter. He was going to rip this place apart and then do the same to Karchenko.

It wasn't about the painting anymore.

After adjusting the seat and steering wheel to his liking, he pulled along side the others. "Roll up for the Mystery Tour!"

After the execution, Tony made his way down to the factory floor below. He knew he was outnumbered and had to play cat and mouse with the sentries of this human trafficking operation if he wanted to make it out alive and pay Karchenko a visit. Tony began by luring a group of four between two containers. As they rounded the corner, Tony violently disarmed and restrained the last one around the corner, pulling him back out of sight. Tony was sure to make it audible enough to attract the attention of his friends.

After a tense moment of silence, Tony sent the restrained sentry stumbling into his group with a kick. They were jumpy, and shot the first sign of movement that caught their eye. By the time they realized their mistake, Tony had already shot two. Tony allowed the third a brief glimpse of the man that killed him before sending the final round in the pistol at his face.

Tony abandoned the empty handgun in favor of assault rifle dropped by the last sentry that fell. Upon first glance Tony mistook it for an AK-47, but upon closer inspection he noticed the stamp of "N-Tec 5" next to the fire rate selection switch. Tony quickly checked the ammunition left in the clip, and found that it was little more than half full. The nearing voices told Tony there were more sentries advancing upon him and he didn't have time to scavenge more ammunition.

Tony climbed one of the containers as quietly as possible, he had only one chance to do this right. Tony knew that the four bodies were the bait and the group coming to investigate would be caught up, if only briefly. Tony would use that opportunity to strike and catch as many by surprise as possible before retreating to a different position. He had to keep them guessing where he was if he was going to stand a chance.

Tony was prone on top of the container as the second group of six men came to investigate. Unfortunately for Tony, these men were smart and split up into two smaller groups of three and blocked off both sides of the small alley between the containers. Regardless, Tony still had the advantage and bided his time until they met at the middle. As they met, Tony's silhouette appeared upon the container allowing only one of the sentries to notice, albeit too late, their fatal mistake. All six joined their fallen brothers on the ground before they had time to react.

Tony discarded the empty N-Tec 5 as he climbed down the side of the container. So much blood had been spilled, yet he was just getting started.

It was time to step it up now.

Tony knew that the sentries would now be more ruthless when their requests for updates were ignored by their fallen comrades. With every unanswered request yelled in Russian, the air seemed to get thicker and thicker with desperation.

Tony had relocated to a different section of containers and was quietly studying another group of sentries from around the corner of the container. The sentries were facing him and nearing his position, the pointman of which was carrying a shotgun which resembled a Franchi SPAS-12; Tony's current position was to the right of the group. As they neared closer, Tony realized that his best bet was to overwhelm the shotgunner, given Tony's current position and the shotgunners choice of favoring his right hand.

Tony was crouched low, his muscles tensing with every nearing shuffle of feet. As soon as he saw the barrel of the shotgun inching past him, he leapt out, seizing the weapon and twisting it from it's handler's grip. Tony made sure the shotgunner was between himself and the other two sentries, peppering the shotgunner with gunfire meant for Tony as he readied the stolen shotgun in his left hand. Unfortunately for the sentries, Tony was ambidextrous when it came to violence.

As the shotgunner fell bloodied by friendly fire, Tony finished his two friends with the shotgun, quickly firing, cycling a new shell, and firing again, sending them both to the floor in a storm of buckshot.

There Tony stood temporarily victorious, scanning the dying sentries for hostile movement. Tony found none and left them in their death throws to die quietly as he moved past them to the direction they came from. Tony came to the opposite corner of the container, and quickly peeked around it before popping out and surprising a lone sentry with the shotgun. The lone sentry was too occupied with advancing; paying for that mistake with his life.

Tony relocated again, circling around the defenders of the area, staying low and moving from cover to cover.

The last of the sentries were strewn upon the ground scattered and bloodied, like rose petals settling after being released into the wind.

Standing over them, finally victorious, was Tony; aching, and pissed off. He had wasted a quite a bit of time dealing with this Russian trash, and was glad to finally be done with them.

Tony was about to shoot the lock off the nearest container to free the women within, when a distinct mafioso caught his eye. The hitman that had lead Tony to this operation was belly down on the cold factory floor weakly trying to crawl away, trailing blood in his wake. Tony emptied what was left in the machine pistol he had procured during the last firefight into the tattooed mobster. He released the machine pistol after it angrily clicked empty, letting it clatter on the ground, useless.

After rifling through the dead mafioso's pockets, Tony found a cellular phone and a small keyring. It took a moment for Tony to realize the significance of the different sized keys which were most likely for the different padlocks used to lock all the containers. Tony spent the next fifteen minutes unlocking and opening the different containers, allowing the frightened women inside to emerge when they were ready. Some of the braver women began inching out of their portable cells as Tony unlocked the last container.

With all the women freed, Tony made his way to the side door where the armed sentries patrolling the outside of the complex were allowed entrance by the last of the inner guard detail. Before he exited the complex, Tony approached one of the braver women who was wandering around. She didn't notice Tony's approach at first, distracted by the carnage surrounding her, but finally turned to face him as she felt him near. She stood there, wide-eyed, staring at Tony as if he was Death himself. Tony couldn't blame her, he probably looked like shit.

Tony finally broke the awkward stillness by handing the frightened woman the cellular phone he had taken earlier. Confused, she looked at the cellular phone with doubt before finally taking it hesitantly. Without a word, Tony turned and left the old factory.

He still had one more man to see before the day could end.