2012-07-26 Shoot to Thrill

The night air was hot, even at this hour, and armed guards watch dutifully over the workers moving crates from
containers to skiffs. It was going to be a long night for Tony Satrione, a street level enforcer of the Salveon
family. After the loss of a shipment of guns to unknowns early this week the boss wasn't too happy. It was Tony's
job to make sure that didn't happen again. From where he stood on the aluminum porch attached to a mini-trailer that served as his office he could oversee a good bit of the loading area. His perceptive eyes pick up on two workers standing idle and he spits a threat in their direction in his thick Itallian accent, "Heeey, these skiffs aren't
gonna load themselves. Talk while ya work or take a hike."
He took naturally to giving orders, probably why the boss put him in charge of this operation. His muscled mass
surely made it easier for him to 'motivate' people to work harder. Glancing at his watch he saw it was almost half
past the hour and there was still plenty of work to be done. "Fuck me, it's going to be a long night," he said to
himself absently.
The non-descript white van bounced along the near vacant Gotham streets towards the docks. Its passengers had a surprise in store for Tony.
Two-Face glances to the men in the back of the van. "Don't cut them any slack tonight. If you have a shot take it." He adjusts the axe riding up front. "I thought it fitting for this evening." He raises the shining metal bit up for
the driver to inspect. Two-Face checks all the men in the van with a cold glare. "Dont make me look bad fellas." The van continues on.
Bossworth sat quietly in the van, his tall stature making the back of the open van seem cramped. In his lap sat a
fully automatic AR-15 with some slight personal modifications. Having donned all black fatigues for the events of
the night a black ski-mask bunched up at the top of his head, in position to be pulled down quickly. A .45 in a
shoulder holster swinging slightly with every bump and bounce of the van. He checks his cargo pockets one last time to make sure he has fresh magazines ready for the firefight ahead.
He looks Two-Face in his 'good' eye as he says, "Yes sir, Mr. Dent." He grabs the assault rifle from his lap and
rocks a round into the chamber, checking to make sure the safety is good and he is set to Semi-Auto he takes a deep steadying breath.
The driver of the van smashes the gas hard as the gates to their destination come into view. Bossworth pulls the
ski-mask down over his face and moves to the sliding side door, the butt of his rifle nestled against his shoulder.
The sound of a reving engine comes into earshot, the closest workers and guards taking note just before a van
crashes through the closed gate leading into the lot. Brakes lock and the van slides to a halt. Tony from his
vantage point can barely make out what is going on but he grabs a walkie talkie from the banister in front of him
and chirps to one of his guards, "What the fuck is going on down there?! Waste those bastards!"
Several men with guns near the van take a cue from a large Italian near them and open fire on the van.
The back of the van flings open as two men in red suits check targets and starit unloading from their assault rifles
at the Salveon men. The driver, also in a red suit, rolls out from his side and brandishes a .44 magnum revolver to
an unlucky fellow on the mob payroll. The hand cannon splits his forehead with little effort. Two-Face begins
blasting with one of his .22 automatic pistols from behind the glass, shattering the window. He screams, obviously enraged. "Die grease monkeys!"
The doors open, Two-Face's men file out and begin unloading their weapons. Bossworth comes out the van quickly, staying low he surveys his surroundings. Two trucks to his right will serve as cover. A fat mobster ordering the others at the rear of the vehicle is his first target. His rifle snug against his shoulder comes up to eye level. "POP!POP!POP!" Three quick shots take the man in the chest, blood gouts from the wounds. Bossworth has forgotten the man's face before he reaches the front of the vehicle. He spares a glance into the lot, there are Salveon men everywhere, weapons blazing at the unexpected company. Their bullets ring against the truck, but he is already moving between the trucks to get a better vantage point.
The Salveon mobsters fire wildly at the van and its passengers. Their only real leadership having just been dropped now bleeding out on the ground at the rear of one of the trucks nearby. Workers run for their lives and guards head for cover, many having forgotten they are in a real gunfight stand in the open, extremely trigger happy.
From his vantage point Tony can only tell that whoever it is has automatic weapons. His first thought to grab his
gun and join the firefight. Better judgement takes him and he heads into the office behind him. Grabbing his
cellphone off the desk there he hits speed dial.
The driver places his back against the van as he looks for another easy victim. Two-Face continues blindly pulling
the trigger as bullets from the Salveon guns hit the van by his door. The men from the back of the van keep firing
with their assault rifles. Laughing as rounds pick apart the opposition until they have to reload.
The passenger side door opens quickly and from inside steps Two-Face wearing gloves and shouldering a
double bitted axe. Seeing red, and not from the suits or the blood, he charges forward. With the axe handle in his
right hand he searches obviously not planning anything good. He screams out a gibberish that can be translated only into bloody murder as he picks a target and hurls the axe end over end towards one of the Salveon men. The axe catches him in the center of the chest.
Seeing the man fall brings back his sanity somewhat and Two-Face pulls his other .22 automatic. The men
standing offering him an easy target start to drop as he returns fire with accuracy.
Bossworth moves quickly down the narrow corrider created by the trucks parked parallel to one another. Fifteen yards ahead he spots a forklift parked near some skiffs loaded with crates. He checks his corners, spots two men moving his direction, unaware of his presence, seeking cover of their own. He pauses for a moment allowing them to get jus ta bit closer before he comes at them. Their attention focused on the van with the hail of gunfire spreading out from it. He sprints out and plants a foot in the man's belly, stopping his forward motion. The second hearing the strained "HGGGGGH" of wind being knocked from lungs turns just in time to see the muzzle flash that rips his face in half. The first man, now on the ground squirming, is put out with a quick stomp to his temple. The large black clad man heads for the parked forklift ahead of him.
More and more gangsters are appearing from what seems like thin air as the initial shock of the attack subsides. A man near Two-Face pops shots at the known villain but his shaking hands make his bullets very inaccurate, each shot he takes accompanied with a backwards step. Trying desperately to put distance between himself and the intimidating 'monster.'
In a panic, Tony paces to the window, pulling the blinds down to survey the carnage outside as he waits for the
other end to pick up. Finally the a voice answers, "This better be fucking goo.." Tony cuts the voice short, "We're
being raided. Fuckers are here laying lead all over the place. We are gonna need some help."
As Two-Face returns to sanity he remembers to find cover from the hail of bullets. Spotting a crate he takes the
opportunity and dives behind it. Here he takes the time to reload both pistols. Looking forward at the van he
arrived in. It isn't too far.
The men inside the van switch out clips and start a more organized round of return fire. Taking the example
from Bossworth. The driver of the van has fired a few placed rounds but for the most part has stayed on the safe
side of the van. The driver reloads his revolver.
After reloading his automatics Two-Face glances over the crate to see the swarm of Salveon descending. He
calls out to his associates. "It's time to split! Let's get moving!" He stands and does his best to stay low and
sprint at the same time. Bullets closing in as he moves for the van. The men in suits at the back of the van see
Two-Face and do their best to provide cover fire.
Running full speed and barely slowing his stride, Bossworth hops into the worn seat of the forklift. He gives theignition key a quick turn and the engine roars to life. He throws the lever to forward and stomps on the gas.
Several guards nearby take notice of him lay a blanket of fire on the 8 ton vehicle. Pulling another lever he raises
the skiff of pallets on the forks up in front of him to give himself some protection from the bullets flying around
him. Woodchips fly all around him as bullets find new homes in the crates. Leaning out to his left he spies a
trailer that no doubt serves as some sort of foreman office. He brings the forklift in line with the trailer.
"What the hell do you mean you're being raided? Who is it?" The voice on the side of the line doesn't seem to
understand the dire situation at hand obviously and Tony doesn't know how to get it across without putting it
bluntly. "I don't have a clue who it is! All I know is this assholes have firepower and they aren't messing arou..."
His sentence is cut short as the forklift crashes through the trailer. Unfortunately for him, Tony was at the desk
looking at the wall directly where the forklift made a new entrance. Having been caught head on by the heavy
machinery the phone call is cut short.
Just before making impact Bossworth dives clear of the forklift. The sound of metal on metal and tearing alluminum siding rings out clearly across the loading area. All the mobsters nearby turn to see the trailer torn to shreds by the unmanned forklift. His arm badly injured from the leap, Bossworth quickly gathers himself and heads back towards the van. The fall having obviously disoriented him, he is no longer moving stealthily or fast.
Two-Face picks up the pace the closer he gets to the van. Firing a few rounds over his shoulder as he makes it to the passenger side. He closes the door and starts firing from inside with his pistol. The driver returns to the
front of the van and takes his place behind the wheel. The men at the back of the van witness the carnage of the
forklift smashing into the trailer. Two-Face looks of the window when he hears the commotion. He flashes an evil
glare to the driver as the two men with assault firles pile into the back.
Two-Face asks a simple question. "How many?" The driver pulls his revolver as he turns to look at Two-Face.
He answers him with "I got one for sure." In a flash Two-Face produces his coin and gives it a flip. He smiles at
the driveras he says, "Give me your gun." Once he has the revolver Two-Face places it to the driver's forehead and pulls the trigger. He kicks the body out and sits in the driver seat. "Hang on fellas, we got a passenger to pick up."
Two-Face hits the gas, slamming his foot down and pressing it all the way to the floor. As the tires squeal
the men in the back steady themselves, a bit shaken at staring out the open door while moving. In a rookie attempt at a 180 spin Two-Face manages to bring the rear end of the van close enough for his goons to scoop Bossworth. "What are you waiting for! Grab him!" The men in the red suits step out only for a moment and collect Bossworth. They slam the door shut when everyone is aboard. Two-Face take the cue and smashes the pedal to the floor.
Staggering slowly across the area now ridden with bodies, Bossworth is in bad shape. He is no longer holding picking shots as before rather he is in full auto mode and laying down controled bursts in any direction that poses a danger. Taking refuge behind a large stack of pallets, he reloads his assault rifle and gathers himself up to continue across the lot to the van. The surge of guards is overwhelming now. Sitting with his back to the pallets between himself and the pissed off mobsters, one comes around the corner just as he gets the magazine in. The sneering thug levels his shotgun at the helpless man on the ground in front of him, Bossworth knows he has finally met his end and is resigned to accept it.
Just before the shotgun makes pallet paint out of him, the mobster is torn to shreds by a hail of automatic fire. He just stares unblinking at the mess that was only moments before his impending doom. The sound of a vehicle reving pulls him from his thoughts and he looks around to see the van coming his way. In the driver seat, Two-Face is swerving around obstacles navigating the almost useless van right up to the stack of pallets. The tires squeal as he jams the brakes and cuts the wheel, bringing the ass-end of the van around. The van jerks to a halt only a few feet from where he is sitting, a thug in a red suit comes out the side door, helps him to his feet and they quickly dive into the van.
Rubber peals on the pavement as the gas pedal touches the floor. Lying in the back of the van, his ears ringing, his arm aching, his breath coming in quick short gasps. As the sounds of gunfire fades in the distance he pulls himself up and crawls up to look the driver in his good eye when he says, "Thank you, Mr. Dent." He slumps to the floor, a weird adrenaline/exhaustion dump takes him.
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