This part of Nashville seemed to always be up for grabs.  As it used to be Sabbat turf it still had a bad reputation amongst the kindred and even worse amongst the mortals.  East Nashville was always a touchy spot for laws to be enforced.  Recent reclamation projects had only made the criminal element worse.  The rise of gangs was a common occurence and in the last six months five different gangs had laid claim to the same territory and the nights were filled with crime, but it was leaderless, unorganized, chaotic.  There was a power vacuum waiting to be filled, but by whom?

The night was early and Irvin was already on the phone talking with some of the women who worked for the gang.  "Shit girl, you no betterr than dat.  We need to move more product through there but the 5 O be all up on us.  Who we got to kill to get into that shit....haha, you funny girl...bet you could put that mouth to some good use too, huh? .....Oh?  Is that so?  Alright, I'll tell him but hows bout you and me get together and talk in person...for reals...alright, bet.  See you tomorrow night baby."

Hanging up he looks to George and shakes his head.  "Dat woman be crazy my dude but she be right.  A group of bitches be causin prroblems over near the titty joint by Harley's garage.   They killed a reporter and robbed Jamal's courier.  All told between the cops and them hitting us we lost over twenty Gs last week.  Man we got to take care of this shit if peeps gonna take us serious.  You in dawg?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:00, Fri 29 May 2015.

"Cuz," (A slang word for "fellow crip brother") "You know I am." George said.

"Excuse me, I have a phone call to make." He continued.

George exited the passenger side of the van him and Irvin were staked out in, and walked up to a nearby payphone. George pulled out his notepad and flipped to his phonebook. He placed a quarter inside the payphone and dialed a number of a younger start-up he had met informally at a gang gathering, who had some friends. Not exactly Crip material, not even sure if he had shot a gun before, but he could talk a big game. Such people were good for tasks that were not safe, but did not require much expertise either.

Carrot and the stick.

As soon as he heard a pickup George said sternly: "This is Smokes. I'm giving you an opportunity, maybe your only time to make it big. Bring a few bad motherfuckers to the Titty Bar next to Harley's Garage, and lots of heat, choppas (automatic weapons) if you got'em. It's going to get messy. Do not fuck me over, hurry up."

George dropped the phone back into its slot, not caring for the answer. and walked back to the van.


"Go ahead and head over. We may have some younger members try and prove themselves. What kind of heat do we have tucked in here?" George asked, looking at Irvin. Lord help him if all we had was the .45 tucked in the back of George's pants and whatever sidearm Irvin brought.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:10, Fri 29 May 2015.

"Not much brother.  Got that Glock 21 from Jamal,  a shotty, and two Mac 10s.  Hard to keep a lot when the popo be ridin our ass so hard.  Dis van ain't exactly ballin material ya heard.  Still I know dis dude who can get us some throw aways for a few hunnerd if ya want.  Hell we could probably rob his ass but word gets out ya know?"

As he talks Irvin unwraps the Glock and checks the magazine.  Seeing that it was half empty and only had seven rounds in it he frowns and starts pushing more .45 acp into it.  A creepy smile played about his lips and without glancing up he asks coldly, "These dudes...when it done they gonna meet up with the end of a gun?  Lots of younger dudes means lots of mouths.  Peeps talk and that be dangerous with the crackdown, ya heard?"

Obviously talking about the reclamation project and all the heat the police were putting on the neighborhood Irvin finishes loading and looks up at Smokes with a raised eyebrow.

As Irvin was unwrapping the Glock, George was slipping on a pair of disposable plastic gloves to inspect one of the MAC-10's

"What we have will be enough, thanks." Although, he would have preferred something larger, the matters George was dealing with were urgent.

Quick retaliation, with overwhelming and unmerciful force, that was how you didn't get your shit touched again.

"As far as the youngins are concerned. They don't know our real names, and they sure as hell aint hiding out with us after rolling by." This was said with an endearing tone towards them.

The reality however, was that George had already calculated that factor into the plan in the few minutes they were reacting to the situation.

First, this implies they survive the initial firefight in the first place. Good luck.

Second, they live, and run their mouths about their exploits, they go to jail, and if they talk about some man named "Smokes" expecting a plea deal... Good luck.

Third, they bring someone who aren't who they say they are, and they die on the spot. Good luck.

The strip club was nearby and it was easy to get to with lots of places to leave a vehicle so as to go undetected and unnoticed.  Within moments they ccould see the parking lot of The Crazy Horse.  It was still early but the parking lot was half full.  Towards the back of it were two older model caddies with eight younger men in sagging pants and white under-tank tops (wife beaters as they were commonly called) milled about drinking forties and generally being loud.  The banging sounds of Ludacris emanated from one of the vehicles with a rattling boom that spoke of poor workmanship during installation of the speakers.  The bouncers kept a weary eye on them but for now let them be.

Shaking his head Irvin exhales sharply and drops most of the street speak from his tone.  "Why we always get stuck with the fuckin retards?  Drawing attention and shit.  Muthafuckers...how we doin this shit cuz?"

Snarling his words he tucks the Glock into his waistband and cracks his knuckles before glancing over his shoulder at Smokes.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:54, Fri 05 June 2015.

George became hesitant when he saw what he was working with. It was very hard to find good help these days.

"Do you know what they look like?" George said.

"I think it would be best if we waited them out. Closing time." He continued.

"Yeah I feel ya cuz.  From what my bitcch says some of them be in there right now.  Four or five right now but more could come as the night sets in deeper.  I can go scope it out if ya want?"

A smile plays about his face as he makes a right turn and parks on the side of the street where they can see the front door.  If one thing was a constant about Irvin it was his love of strip clubs.  He always knew every one of them in town and generally knew half the strippers by their real names.  They were usually a good way to move product and a great source of information.  He called it a business investment.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Fri 05 June 2015.

George smacked Irvin on the upside of his head with the palm of his hand. He was privy to what he was doing.

"You're wearing your blue on the left side and you want to go in there alone?" George look disgusted while saying this.

"This is why I call the shots. Now we will wait. They close eventually, and when they do, we have the drop on them." George continued.

George didn't wish to intervene on the music just yet. The squad was just a red herring.

Seeming disappointed Irvin slides back in his seat and stares at the door of strip club with a mixture of boredom and disappointment.  Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel he glances back towards the cars int he parking lot and shakes his head before checking his piece and the MAC-10 next to his seat.  Glancing back up he exclaims, "Fuck...we blocked cuz.  Fucking van..."

Pointting at the black van blocking the view of the front door he shakes his head once more but then leans forward and narrows his eyes as he looks out the windshield, "What the fuck?  You seeing this shit dawg?"

As he speaks the driver gets out dressed in full military tactical gear and carrying an MP-5 equipped with a silencer.  Another guy gets out of the passenger side equipped with a modified shotgun that appears to be equipped to fire Dragon's Breath rounds.  The two disappear behind the van quickly seemingly to take up sentry positions.

As this happens the group in the parking lot seem to be looking the other direction and angrily scamper over the fence and towards an alleyway leaving only three men in the parking lot.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:58, Tue 09 June 2015.