2019-02-13 Police Station (heist)

2019-02-13 Police Station (heist)
Hoxton, Dallas

[15:03:21] * Hoxton has joined
[15:04:17] <Dallas> ((HOXTON! HOXTONNNN! D8<))
[15:04:33] <Hoxton> ((WHAT? D8)
[15:04:46] <Dallas> ((WE GOTTA GET HOXTON BACK. D8<))
[15:35:25] <Dallas> *Well, let's start, then. It's a chilly morning in DC, and Twitch is driving a panel van with a clever decal slapped on the side: Bodhi's Dry Cleaning. Free pickup, next day home and office delivery! Sitting in the back with Hoxton, Dallas adjusts his policeman's hat. It's been... a morning. Bain had Twitch drive them to an address in Georgetown, an empty apartment where their MPD gear sat in inconspicuous Amazon boxes. There was a woman, too. Bain's makeup artist. She asked Hoxton into an empty bedroom, sat him down in a chair with her whole kit laid out. First time having makeup put on to conceal the scarring, right? How did he feel going in? Nervous?*
[15:37:04] <Dallas> *All those powders and creams, all laid out like she's gonna smear some red paste across his forehead and call him Simba.*
[15:38:05] <Dallas> ((It's gonna be the third district station because I just realized what the second district station looks like. There's a frickin' community garden out back. :I))
[15:38:17] <Dallas> ((Though--get this, the third district station has the frickin' firefighters in the same block. WHAT.))
[15:38:22] <Dallas> ((I will use much artistic license.))
[15:38:35] <Sydney> ((not uncommon around here tbh))
[15:39:34] <Dallas> ((Though good news, if a certain officer gets assigned to the second station, he can go out back and tend his tomatoes when he's got nothing to do.))
[15:40:42] <Hoxton> *Somewhere there is a witty joke about it having been a while since a woman invited him into a bedroom. But considering what is going to happen the next few hours, he just gives the woman a nod. Bain has probably given her enough info to work with and in their field, the less shared the safer. And he thought he didnt care about the scars so much. But it's still...weird. A throwback to more than two years ago now. When shite was somehow...kinda different. Fuck, I am soundin old, he thinks as he sits down. He gives the array of mackeup a look.* Fook me. Ya gonna need all of this?
[15:48:57] <Dallas> *Some of it, she says. She has a sweet laugh. The process is a bit like a painting. You have to start with a solid foundation, or everything falls apart. She asks him to hold still while she works. It's a bit hypnotic, soft smelling creams squeezed toothpaste-like out of tubes to even out the scarring, applied in smooth circles. There's a tickle when she takes a brush to his cheek. Then--it's over. She holds up a mirror for him to see. Tell me what you see.*
[15:53:13] <Hoxton> *It's no fucking big deal. Who cares if the scars are there or not? That's what he tought would go through his head. But the transformation is startling. He catches himself holding his breath for a moment.* Fuckin hell. *He is tempted to touch the cheek but stops himself. If his hair was grown out proper...it's like a look at him from before Hazelton. Sure, there are more lines on his face but fucking hell. He turns his head a little, inspecting the work. He cant resist lightly tapping a finger against his cheek. Just curious how fragile this cover is.*
[15:57:33] <Dallas> *Feels strange compared to his bare cheek, but the makeup holds, doesn't suddenly crack or flake off like you might expect it to. It's surprisingly convincing, even up close, light detailing on his jaw like he might wind up with a five o'clock shadow tonight.*
[16:01:33] <Hoxton> *It's impressive. He gotta admit that. The detail is honestly baffling. Sure he knew much can be done with shite like this and someone who knows how to use it. But still. It is goddamn baffling. And surpisingly robust. And even the beard. Man when was the last time he had a beard? Ah but it's just a cover. And it looks good so he nods in appreciation.* Blimey. Now I look presentable. Good work.
[16:08:39] <Dallas> *A small smile from the makeup artist. She gives him supplies to help get the makeup off later, when the job's done. And there's an unpleasant surprise waiting for Hox when he comes back out, clean and unscarred. Houston, standing there in the empty living room, as bold as brass. He says he's coming with. He'll be posted up on a roof across the street with a rifle. He says it's a done deal, but the final verdict is up to Hoxton--that's what Bain tells them.*
[16:08:45] <Dallas> *Dallas, however, has been silent. A long look at Hoxton's entrance--long stare at his face--followed by a sharp breath, after which he lit up a cigarette. Some kind of pain.*
[16:15:53] <Hoxton> Oh ya gotta be kiddin me. *He huffs as he spots the fifth musketeer.* Been a while, twat. So ya here to help out huh? Fuckin ironic. *He grunts but apart from not as muttering, he doesnt object. As much as he is a stick in the mud with a stupid frown, Houston has the same kinda dedication for jobs that Dallas has.* Try an hit the cops if shite gets down, dickhead. *He turns, catches Dallas' look with a suprised pang that makes him stop for a moment. Penny for the man's thoughts. Maybe thinking back to when shit hasnt been as complicated as well? A little self consciously, he approaches him. Gives him a grin.* Too handsome to handle? *he pockets the supplies of the artist. Looks between both brothers. Hard to believe they are related but there are some similarities he cannot deny.*
[16:22:57] <Dallas> *Their frowns bear the same furrow, undoubtedly. Dallas says in a low voice* You're gonna make a good looking officer, Hox. *He's laid their clothes out. Full uniform, jacket, radio, bodycam. After the barefoot Jimmy incident, Bain made sure everything was the right size, all the way down to the boots. Look at that. Years spent fighting the cops, and now they're wolves in sheepdogs' clothes. The makeup artist slips out the door, leaving her card with Hox. A way to contact her in the future.*
[16:27:54] <Hoxton> *Hox grins. Unscarred. Maybe looking a younger, more carefree.* Well cheers, Mr Officer! Lookin good yerself!*He gives a lazy salute, then chuckles and tells Houston to fucking turn around when he gets dressed. Staring at an english gentleman? Unacceptable. Though he sneaks a look at Dallas. Cop uniform, looking indeed like a respectable officer. Well, he will remember the sight. A few moments later, the card from the artist pocketed, there he is. Officer Hoxton. The clothes fit him perfectly. Almost too well, considering they are dressed as their biggest adversary. He adjusts the hat, pins the cam on the lapel of his jacket.* Shite. This feels weird, I fuckin tell ya. Karma temptin us to go legit?
[16:34:15] <Dallas> Dallas: I always thought, if this heisting gig was a wash--security consultant or something. But this... this I can live with. *He's frowning, standing a little stiff. Uncomfortable in the MPD uniform, maybe, but then he says* The ladies love a man in uniform. They're gonna be swooning to the floor at your feet, so watch your step. *He reaches out, adjusts Hox's tie. Puts his earpiece back in.* All right, let's do this, gentlemen.
[16:40:34] <Hoxton> Better not, pal. Ya with the cops? Might tempt me stayin in the business. *He chuckles, giving him a light nudge.* Jesus, relax, Officer. *he adjusts his cam, eyeing him closely. A few adjustments until he is satisfied with Dallas' appareance. He laughs.* Wanka. Usin the uniforms to get lucky? Naughty. *he laughs, stands a little straighter as he adjusts his tie. At least their uniforms look spotless. No one should suspect anything odd.* Almost like old times, huh? Let's bloody do this. Fuckin with the law and they wont even know it!
[16:53:28] <Dallas> *From there, it's a straight shot downtown to the third district station. Morning traffic's tapering off. It's a quiet drive. Houston's got a nice long sniper concealed in a guitar case. If it weren't for the deep frown furrowing his brow, he could pass for some kind of hipster on his way to a metro station to grab a cup of Starbucks and melancholically strum his guitar on the platform. And if he's heard which unpleasant circumstances led to this precinct situation in the first place, he doesn't say.*
[16:54:22] <Dallas> ((Houston: *sad acoustic cover* When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore... BI))
[16:55:11] <Sydney> ((when the cops shoot your guy and you shout to god "why" that's amore...))
[16:56:33] <Hoxton> *Hox leans back in the van. The shiny hat on his lap. It's been a while since they have pulled a caper like this. And if things go well, they'll remember this for a good time. Hox almost holds off from throwing a snarky comment about the guitar case but the edge is dulling the closer the station comes. It's weird seeing Houston with a rifle. New Hoxton huh? But fuck that, he cant be even annoyed about that.* Fuckin throwback, huh? Glad ya came with me, fella. It's gonna be like old times.
[16:58:49] <Sydney> ((when you take down one score but you go back for more that's amore))
[17:04:25] <Dallas> *Houston looks up sharply, already looking defensive, but when no sharp barb comes, he says grudgingly* It's good to be here. *Twitch pulls to a stop by the curb. Houston looks out the back of the van, says* This is me. *And then he hops out, and Dallas says after him* Hey--hey!
[17:04:29] <Dallas> *Houston looks back. Dallas goes* Keep your head down, huh? Don't get killed. *Houston nods impatiently, shuts the doors and crosses the street, out of sight.*
[17:07:54] <Hoxton> *Hox frowns and watches after Houston. Firmly keeping his mouth shut until he is out of the car and heading off to wherever he will perch and watch their arses. That was bloody weird. He'd say somethin is lacking when he isnt giving him the verbal middle finger but instead, he puts a hand on Dallas' shoulder.* Kid's gonna be alright. Better fuckin be or I'll trash his arse eh? He aint half shite with a gun.
[17:16:13] <Dallas> *Dallas looks at him, nods solemnly. Can't quite muster a smile, but it's clear he's grateful for the encouragement. Twitch pulls up two blocks away from the police station, stops on the curb to let them off. Bain's voice in Hox's earpiece:* All right, guys. This is it. I've fitted ECMs into your police radios. They work the same way. I've also been able to get in contact with our inside man. He'll let you into evidence as soon as the alarm goes off.
[17:20:13] <Hoxton> Roger that, mate. *He nods. He inspects the radio, making sure he'll know where to press once need be. Yeah this is it. Walking right into the lion's den.* Want us to turn on the cams?
[17:23:10] <Dallas> Bain: Yeah, do that now. *Dallas frowns down at his bodycam and fumbles with it, switching it on. Bain confirms the feeds are live, then says* All right, heisters, let's get heisting.
[17:28:03] <Hoxton> *Softly* This is gonna be fun. *he switches the cam on, nods at Dallas. Standing straighter. Looking vigilant but mixing in a sense of protection. Officer Hoxworth on duty. He gives Dallas a thumbs up and starts heading towards the precinct. Two cops returning from a patrol.*
[17:34:08] <Dallas> *Dallas follows after him, walking briskly. They're exposed, unmasked. Impersonating an officer--that's a serious offence. But people pass them on the street without so much as a second glance. No one questions the uniform. When they stop on the corner to wait for the green light, a skinny young woman skids to a stop alongside on her bike. She casts them skimmed glances, like cheating on a test, thinking she's subtle and they won't notice her looking.*
[17:37:58] <Hoxton> *Under his breath.* Well. Someone's thinkin about breakin the law. *He manages a chuckle without smiling much (Officers on duty) and dutifully waits for the light to turn green.* We could tell people off for jaywalkin. Fuck me, this is strange.
[17:40:58] <Sydney> ((fun fact: Virginia is one of the harshest states when it comes to speeding and traffic laws. You can legit go to jail for speeding even if you're sober))
[17:44:41] <Dallas> *Dallas chuckles, says nothing. As the light goes green, the girl on the bike heads off first, but not without a last glance back. One for the road. And there's the precinct up ahead, austere, red brick face. They pass the office building on the way to the station's front entrance. Scaffolding's been set up in the alley between the buildings, just as promised. And now, all that's left is to walk in that front door.*
[17:51:03] <Hoxton> *Softly* One for the road, Officer. *he falls quiet. It feels weird. He realizes this is the first time he's been properly out in D.C., broad daylight even. And no one is screaming yet and he is still wonderfully uncuffed. But the stern building...the knot is back at the bottom of his stomach and his eyes grow a little wider. Relax, Jim. You are not bloody cuffed and busted. Just act natural for fucks sake. He hesitates a little and then forces himself to walk on.*
[17:58:45] <Dallas> *There's an unsettling bureaucracy smell to buildings like these. Like the courthouse, remember? The smell of a long, agonizing stay in purgatory as you sit there in your chair and wait your turn at the counter for processing. Maybe there's something beautiful about the precinct lobby, with its glossy floor and floor to ceiling windows, but right now, it's hard to focus on anything other than the exits. Handful of civilians waiting in the lobby, and two men in suits--detectives, no doubt, just stepped out of an elevator in the back, where the stairs are too--and keep those heads down, boys, Bain warns them. The lobby is watched by cameras.*
[18:02:22] <Hoxton> *He remembers. He remembers the looks the court threw him. Like fucking vultures, looking forward to swoop down on him. He didnt budge back then. Not givin those twats a reason to enjoy this even more. He's tense though. Letting Dallas be just a step in front of him. Keeping his head low but walking with purpose. He belongs here. Nothing to see. Not looking at the cams either, just heading back towards the stairs.*
[18:14:28] <Dallas> *Dallas has taken note of the eye in the sky. He moves ahead of Hox, turns back to talk to him right as they move into view of one of the cams, giving the cops a narrow view of his cheek. It's something mindless. "Just keep walking." The main stairs are well trafficked, bright from the big windows set in the back. They're forced to stick to the right on the way up--heading up? Dallas slows, lets him take the lead.*
[18:14:32] <Dallas> *Quick overview of the station: Ground floor houses dispatch and comms, along with interview rooms. Second floor: Records, training classroom, conference rooms, recreational facilities for the officers. Third floor: Patrol squad room, shared offices for the detectives, tactical planning. Whole bunch of offices, and administration's housed up there too. Chief of Police's office and so on.*
[18:14:35] <Dallas> *Evidence processing is located in the subbasement, along with the cell blocks.*
[18:21:25] <Hoxton> *Heading down immediately could be a little risky, he thinks. Especially if the cell blocks are located down there. Or maybe he is just afraid of the prospect ending up in one. He pretends mindless conversation, muttering.* Head up? Find a remote fire alarm? *careful to speak quietly enough not to be overheard.*
[18:28:14] <Dallas> *Bain in his ear. He says there are two secondary stairwells at the back of the building. Far less likely for anyone to see him pull an alarm near one of those, but it would involve walking deeper into the precinct, perhaps risking being spotted and identified by an eagle-eyed officer. They could easily get to the records hall from here, and it looks like no one's in the adjacent conference room. To get to the back, however, they'd be forced to walk directly past the locker rooms.*
[18:34:22] <Hoxton> *Under his breath* Risk worth it? *If they are unlucky, someone might see them pull the alarm. Or notice the pulled alarm at evac, so pulling a remote one, could be less risky. However, getting past the locker rooms worries him. There are people bound to come and go there. Though officers heading for a break should be less inclined to be ever vigilant.* I'd say we could try it. Get to the back.
[18:36:33] <Dallas> *An officer comes up the stairs past them, and Dallas steps to the side to let him pass. Bain says* Get moving, guys. So far, it looks clear. Try and look busy.
[18:40:30] <Hoxton> *Right. Hox tries his best for an accentless english in here. He is going to sound stupid but it's a worthy investment. Hox starts a little conversation about how important it is to teach kids not to jaywalk. Traffic has been horrible and a general menace to the public. He makes sure to look as engaged as possible in conversation with Dallas. Which isnt usually something hard to do. But Dallas will notice the slight breathless edge in his voice.*
[18:50:16] <Dallas> *Dallas notices. He breaks into a smile, pats Hox on the shoulder as they hit the landing.* Hey, relax, buddy. *He keeps his tone soft, tries not to fall into the rough growl he's known for.* I think this outreach program is a great idea, especially the K-9 aspect. Chief's gonna love it, I bet. *They pass a silent conference room. There's a sign on the wall, pointing the way to the lockers.*
[18:50:25] <Dallas> *Dallas--he notices these things. Last night, after they got all their ducklings in a row, and it was time to call it a night, and get some rest, Dallas showed up with his car keys in one hand, and an empty duffel bag in the other. Said he had something to do before heading home, and he wanted Hox to come with him.*
[18:58:01] <Hoxton> Everyone is loving dogs, right? *he laughs, marvelling how different he sounds.* All this crime and we should reach out more, you know? The kids need to know we are their friend. That we are there to help. *He looks up at the pat. Feeling a little less ....walking outside his body. It's surreal and the sight of his partner in crime is reassuring. Just as it was last night. Maybe he has memorized the jingle of his car keys. He had been curious. Head thick with plans and ifs.* "What's the matter, fella? Ya look like you got somethin in mind." *And of course he had agreed, a few minutes to get his jacket and boots and he was heading after Dallas.*
[19:04:47] <Dallas> *Dallas stopped by the vault on the way out. An ordered chaos of cash stacked up along the walls inside. Business has been good for the Payday gang. And on the table, the proceeds from Vlad. He took out his share, rubberbanded stacks of tens and twenties, put them into the bag to weigh heavily on the bottom. Then he zipped the bag and threw it in the trunk.*
[19:07:59] <Hoxton> *All the while Hoxton curiously watched him. The vault has been...full. An honest fuckton of bills. Something inside him knew something was gonna happen but he helped him pack the stacks of money, playfully making them slap in the quiet of the vault. Not long and he was sitting shotgun. Eyeing Dallas. But eyeing with a smile.*
[19:12:35] <Dallas> *Dallas looked back at him in the half light, and he returned the smile. It was a quiet drive across town. Not like the silence you get at three, four in the morning, when the crew close up shop most nights. Still some people out on the street. They pulled up outside a building. Lights off inside. Slot for a dropbox by the door. It was a quiet street, no one around, and Dallas unzipped the bag and held it out to Hox so he could put the money through the slot.*
[19:12:49] <Dallas> *It was a pet shelter. In all, they went to three last night, stuffed thick wads through the narrow slot. Left no one the wiser, and then Dallas drove him home.*
[19:17:49] <Hoxton> Especially the K-9 aspect! *he laughs quietly, returning the look. And while part of him is sad no one will put this random act of kindness together with their group of professional criminals, it was a fucking blast. Like kids sneaking out to be mischievous at night. And it took the pressing feeling of doom off his chest for a few hours. He walks on, a smile on this unscarred face.* Apply for one. Taking home a german shepherd pup? It would suit you. *he sneakily looks around, checking the situation*
[19:25:20] <Dallas> *Dallas grumbles* Knowing me, I'd spoil the little shit silly. Besides, I've got my cat to worry about. *They're coming up to the locker rooms. There's a trio of officers standing around chatting outside, pair of patrolmen and a guy in civvies. Big guy, pretty brash, with a mean smile. He's got a badge, though. Hox has seen him before. Roll 2d6 to see if you remember him.*
[19:26:43] <Hoxton> !roll 2d6
[19:26:43] <RNGesus> Hoxton rolls the 2d6 and gets: 8 [2, 6]
[19:29:08] <Dallas> *Jesus fucking Christ, that's the sniper from the Roberts Bank job. Last seen shot dead in the chest by Wolf. He's alive and breathing, though, and calls out as Hox and Dallas pass him* What's up, losers?
[19:32:13] <Hoxton> *There is a tiny hitch in his breath, Dallas can hear. And definitely notice him tense up. Though Hox just waves non-comitally. Forcing any accent out as if it something disgusting on his tongue.* 'Sup. *And turns back to Dallas to complain about his car breaking down and the workshop bill to be a fucking rip-off. Just...for fucks sake. Dont bash the guy right here. Walk, Hoxton.*
[19:35:14] <Dallas> *Hox can feel the sniper's eyes on the back of his head, and then they've turned the corner, and they're out of sight. At the end of the hallway is an exit sign, and the closed door to the stairwell. There's a little red panel on the wall here, direct link to the fire alarm. Muffled voices and laughter around the corner. The three cops are still there.*
[19:38:24] <Hoxton> *Holy shit. Let's settle this, you fucking twat. Once they are out, we'll see who is the goddamn....he glares ahead, feeling the look of the cocksucker burn the back of his head. As soon as they are out of earshot and vision, he lets out a hiss. Right. Focus, Hoxton. Fire alarm. He turns around, checking the stairwell. Cameras here?*
[19:40:44] <Dallas> *There is a camera, but it isn't directly pointing at the fire alarm panel. Bain seems to be holding his breath. After a moment, he says* Keep it together, guys. I'm sure we can do this.
[19:43:08] <Hoxton> *Good. Hox waits for a moment. Making sure he is out of the cam's field of vision. He turns at Dallas, his gaze dark.* Cocksucker. Alright...this one? Just not sure if they'll see the alarm if the walk down here.
[19:44:38] <Dallas> *Dallas looks at him for a moment, then nods. Do it.*
[19:45:59] <Hoxton> *a tense nod back. Let's get this show on the road. He pulls the alarm with a sharp yank. Bracing for the beautiful chaos that is about to ensue.*
[19:50:15] <Dallas> *The alarm instantly fills the hallway, a deafening ring. Loud cursing from the three cops outside the locker room--Jesus Christ, another fucking drill? Lemme get my jacket. Clock's ticking, boys. It's a straight shot down to the basement from this stairwell.*
[19:52:02] <Hoxton> *Go go go. Hox starts walking down the stairs. Brisk clip. Casting eyes up to check for cams. The less traces they leave heading down, the better. Now shit needs to go smoothly. He makes sure Dallas is keeping up and heads down.*
[19:54:44] <Dallas> *Dallas is right behind him, calmly following. Door opens upstairs, and suits start coming down after them, chatting loudly on the way down to the ground floor. Most likely detectives. Gonna glance back at them, or just mind your own business and keep walking?*
[19:56:55] <Hoxton> *Hox doesnt yet dare to look around. Famous mug and all. But he tries to make out what they say over the blaring alarm. Heart racing.*
[19:57:23] <Hoxton> *While complaining if this is another drill. They have paperwork to do and so on.*
[20:02:37] <Dallas> *They're talking about one of their fellow detectives. He's on the cusp of retirement, and they're discussing what to do for the party. One of them goes* Somebody's gotta give a speech, right?
[20:02:37] <Dallas> Detective 2: Whoa, don't look at me!
[20:02:42] <Dallas> Detective 1: Hey, what about you, Captain? You got a real way with words, sir.
[20:02:42] <Dallas> Captain: *loudly* Talk to my secretary. She'll clear my schedule. *beat* Damn it, this goddamn alarm is killing me. Second drill this week! *The detectives start speculating over whether this is payback for having crushed the firefighters in that game of baseball last week.*
[20:05:27] <Dallas> *There's the door to the ground floor, and the stairs continue down past into the basement.*
[20:08:24] <Hoxton> *They have to shake them. Definitely. Best not look around but they'll probably notice if they keep heading down instead of outside where all the other's will go. His hands reach down and he unclips the radio, letting it fall down. A muffled curse and he steps back towards the stairs leading down. Letting the detectives pass as he goes to retrieve the radio.*
[20:09:18] <Hoxton> *He does that as soon as they reach ground floor. Hoping the little holdup might give them an excuse. He keeps his head low as well.*
[20:13:06] <Dallas> *Dallas comes to a stop next to him, awkwardly moving out of the way to let the detectives and captain past. The door opens, and they walk through, holding it open for Dallas--who catches it... and lets it gently close. Then he's heading down to the next landing at a hurried clip. It's a narrow window, with more people coming down.*
[20:14:42] <Hoxton> *Hox nods at him, a few beads of sweat on his forehead under the hat. Holy shite, it worked. Pretty relieved for now, he quickly makes way downstairs. Before any more cops come down and past them.*
[20:15:31] <Hoxton> *The insideman better fucking do his job. Just a little more.*
[20:20:14] <Dallas> *There's no one down here in the basement but them. The cell blocks are in lockdown, no way in or out. Down the hallway is a closed door marked Evidence, with a sign pointing to the washrooms, and as they come up to the door, Bain says* Guys, there's a problem. I can't reach my insider. I think he's been forcibly evacuated.
[20:22:29] <Hoxton> What?! *Hox inhales with a sharp hiss. Fucking fantastic. He looks around, cursing.* Now fuckin what? I got my picks with me but we are on a tight fuckin schedule!
[20:31:19] <Dallas> *It's a reinforced steel door with a lock that accepts a key. Bain says he's left shaped charges in the men's room, ceiling tile in the far left corner walking in. This outer door leads into an office where evidence is received and processed at a little window. Another door, this one secured by a keypad, leads into evidence storage--where their coke and case file are.*
[20:32:09] <Dallas> *The combination, Bain says, is 12345.*
[20:34:33] <Hoxton> *Right! Chop chop! He asks Bain to navigate him to the men's room. Hand resting over his sidearm nervously. Time is just as valuable as each gram of coke they will haul out of there.* C'mon. We dont have much time!
[20:38:31] <Dallas> *Dallas stands guard outside. Hox is forced to stand on the toilet to reach the ceiling, but the tile pushes up to reveal a bag of small, densely packed explosives. Tacky, easily deployed on door hinges. The explosion will be noisy, but it's guaranteed to grant access. Picking the door will require a roll.*
[20:45:09] <Hoxton> *Hox curses as he gets out the charges. His hands are shaking a little, each second ticking noisily. He hurries back to the reinforced door, cradling the explosives. Though he hesitates for a moment. No idea how long a pick might take. And having the charges go off, might call curious cops back inside....unless they will suspect some kinda gas leak. Hox tacks the charges onto the door.* Shite's gonna blow! *he moves back a safe distance. Pushing the detornator.*
[20:50:24] <Dallas> *The blast goes off with a thud, loud even over the blaring alarm. Smoke and debris jet sharply against the opposite wall, then the door balances forward like a drunk and clatters into the hallway, blown clear off its hinges. Inside, a small room with a windowed counter, behind which is the door into the storage room.*
[20:54:21] <Hoxton> *Hox is pushing on. He steps through the blasted doorway, moving through the smoke like a cop gone bad. He rushes forward snapping on the gloves, punching in the code.* I'll fuckin kick that insiders arse. Twat! C'mon, fella! Get the coke and I'll mess with the evidence!

2019-02-14

[16:46:53] <Dallas> *12345. What kinda moron came up with this code? But the door opens--inside, cramped shelving filled with files and boxes. It's a tight squeeze, and staring out from the back wall is a security camera, no doubt here to prevent anyone tampering with evidence. The small red LED is on. It's recording.*
[16:48:26] <Hoxton> *Bloody moron. Not even trying with a code like this. Hox stops before entering the room, noticing the camera recording. He curses, signals Dallas to stop and goes to deploy the ECM in their radios. Not today, big brother.*
[16:52:34] <Dallas> *The red LED flickers, goes off. So does Bain's direct line to them, but it's in the bag now, isn't it? Dallas waits for the all clear, then quickly steps into the room and moves to the shelf with the coke. Aleksandr's file is in the back here, near the camera. Bain was able to narrow things down to the shelf, but there are a number of clear plastic boxes here. It's gonna take a moment to find the one with the right number on the side.*
[16:55:49] <Hoxton> *Right. He dashes towards the files with the evidence. Working with clear focus to get the file and then GTFO. He casts  the cam another look and flips it off. Twats. Enjoy this show once it is over. He combs through the files.* C'mon, come fuckin on!
[16:56:09] <Hoxton> ((Are the jammers on a timer? :D))
[16:56:31] <Dallas> ((Doubt it. Probably for as long as the battery lasts, though people might notice too long of a jam.))
[17:05:29] <Dallas> *There's the box. The case number matches, and once the top comes off, he's faced with envelopes and plastic baggies sealed with red tamper proof tape. The note from Aleksandr said it wouldn't matter if the cops found the tape broken. Just mess with their evidence. He left Hox a small bag of contaminants--hair, fiber, debris--said he'd know what to do with the rest. There's one big rattling bag. Inside, a broken bottle that's been dusted for prints. A couple smaller baggies contain hair and blood found at the scene.*
[17:05:41] <Dallas> *Rustling in the room while Dallas looks for the coke.*
[17:10:35] <Hoxton> *Not sure if I mentioned before but while getting the C4, Hox has donned gloves. Not gonna leave extra prints around for the cops to play with. For a wild moment, he hopes it's not some of his hair or blood or something and goes to work. He deftly pulls off the tape and goes for the little bags. He heartily dumps the contents onto the ground, then filling the baggies with the contaminants. The bottle in the bag, he takes as a whole. Dusted for pints? Find those prints, ya wankers. He steps into the bottle, doing his best to break it as far down as possible as Dallas goes for the coke. When he is done, he does his best to put the box back, trying not to make it stand out. Nothing to see here, officers. He then goes to Dallas.* C'mon! Ya got the coke? Evidence's been fucked with.
[17:15:58] <Dallas> *The forensics people at the lab are gonna have a helluva time puzzling this one out. Dallas turns to him, holds up a heavy duffel bag. Inside, densely packed bricks of pure white gold. He zips it.* That's all of it. We're good.
[17:17:30] <Dallas> *Dallas has left the cocaine box lying on the floor, wide open and empty. No need to wonder what they came in here for.*
[17:18:01] <Hoxton> Alright! Let's get goin then! *he heads out, waiting for Dallas to leave and then steps beside the door, out of view of the cam and turns down the ECM signal. He is considering putting it back on as soon as they hit the staircase but for now, Bain is surely having updates.* Coppers gonna have a field day with this.
[17:21:00] <Dallas> *Bain comes on the line almost immediately, says in a tense voice* The pavement outside is crawling with cops. I think they heard the C4. Firefighters should be here any second. Do you guys have the coke? Is it done?
[17:22:31] <Hoxton> Done and done. We got the coke and the evidence is bollsocked. Can ya see? We are headin up. *He shudders at the thought if the cops just knew who was doing this. As flattering as it is terrifying, he marches on.*
[17:26:29] <Dallas> *Dallas shoulders the bag, snaps the nitrile gloves off. Only door handles from here on in, and prints don't stick. Bain acknowledges, says he can see just fine. Bile briefly radios in to let the team know he's in position on a roof a few blocks down, ready to make the pickup. Has Hox met Bile before?*
[17:30:28] <Hoxton> *Hox takes his own off as well.* How many cams in the stairwell? Should we jam their signals? I dont like to be cut off from ya now. And good. Now it's time to leg it. And time to meet this Bile fella. *He has of course heard of him before but he is curious to finally see the man behind the daring pickups.*
[17:43:46] <Dallas> *Back up the narrow dizzy wind of the stairwell to the top floor. Better leave the comms open, Bain says, and as they make their way upstairs, Bile radios in, asking Houston in a lazy drawl whether he needs a ride. Houston says he'll wait to see the two in the precinct out before moving. If things go well, he should be able to make his way out of the AO just fine on his own.*
[17:43:53] <Dallas> *It's a long climb up past the third floor to the roof access, but the door pushes open without much resistance, and they're out in the cold on a wide open roof under a bright sky. Only three stories, but it still feels like a long way down. Dare a look?*
[17:48:30] <Hoxton> *Wind whips his face and he instinctively holds onto the police hat. He dares a deep breath, so fucking glad to be out of the almost oppressive precinct. Freedom ahead. He carefully steps towards the scaffolding, risking a look down.*
[17:51:03] <Dallas> *It's a long way down. The cops milling restlessly around in the street, holding their coffees, smoking, talking--they look very small. It's up high enough you might just get half of a good scream in before you hit the ground. Sirens. Firefighters have just arrived at the scene, pulling to a stop on the side of the street, lights strobing.*
[17:54:15] <Hoxton> *And none of them the wiser. Yet. A grin makes his lip curl and it feels weird as the scarred side, heavy with make up moves.* Those twats have no idea. Look at em. So tiny. *He takes a deep breath and heads to where they should cross. Where the hell are the people helping them to cross?*
[17:56:54] <Dallas> *Bain's arranged for two ways out from the precinct. Front door's no good, pavement's swarming with pigs. To take the street exit, they'd need to cross the scaffolding to the adjacent building and make their way to the van from there. They're currently on the roof. It's a one floor drop down to the top of the scaffolding from here, and it lines up with the window of the building next door. Or, they can wait here, and signal Bile to come pick them up from the roof here.*
[18:00:07] <Dallas> *Movement across the street. Houston signaling his position to them with a wide wave.*
[18:02:15] <Hoxton> *He keeps low, as not to alert cops on the streets someone is on the roof.* Bile, hurry ya arse up. We need a taxi, pronto! *He looks up sharply, sees Houston and waves back merrily, middle finger extended. Wont see anyway, right? HE turns to Dallas.* Bile's gonna pick us up. *He looks towards the edge where it's an impressive drop to the scaffolding and swallows.*
[18:02:47] <Dallas> ((Houston: *looks up from the scope* D8<))
[18:08:38] <Dallas> Bile: *over the choppy rotors* Copy that, I got your pumpkin carriage right here, freshly painted and ready to take you to the ball. T-minus sixty seconds. *Not long before the chopper comes into sight, a small black bird tipped forward and making haste to their position. There's a decal on the side; looks like a news chopper.*
[18:11:24] <Hoxton> Goin out with a chopper. Hope at least that's gonna make Vlad smile. Not gonna break my fookin legs jumping down there. *He frowns, goes to adjust his mask when he realizes he has none.* Cirque du fuckin soleil or wha. *He paces around, then spots the chopper* Thank god! The coppers gonna be here any moment now!
[18:15:42] <Dallas> *The chopper slows and spins to touch down on the roof. Pilot's grinning, a cigar clenched between his teeth, easing the bird down to a perfect landing. The rotors are kicking up a helluva lotta wind and dust, forcing Dallas to yell over the noise. But he's grinning as he throws the bag of coke under the seats, but then there's a heavy slam, and the roof access door pushes open.*
[18:16:06] <Dallas> *Okay, we're gonna do a little break here, and rewind back a couple minutes.*
[18:25:39] <Dallas> *There's an officer at this third district precinct. A beat cop, fresh out of the academy, right? Partnered to one Officer Hagen, the grizzled old hound to this beagle puppy of an officer. Kid's got sharp instincts, real taste for law enforcement. Doing good, upholding justice. Serve and protect. Meting out law and order one traffic ticket at a time. But about a week ago, this young officer and his partner responded to a call in Dupont Circle. B & E.*
[18:25:43] <Dallas> *Things went wrong right off the bat. Getting out of the car, he caught a glimpse in the big floor to ceiling windows upstairs--a man in a duct tape mask like a skull carrying a sniper rifle. Then, when they tried the front door, a grenade went off at the front desk, nearly killed them both. Officer Hagen said they had to wait for backup to show, maybe even call the bomb squad. But this young officer, he'd heard the gunshots. The screams. This kid, he climbed through the broken glass and went in there, and because he went in there, the victim--the man who'd been shot in both legs, he survived.*
[18:25:47] <Dallas> *This young officer was in the precinct when the fire alarm went off. What was he doing?*
[18:35:21] <Hoxton> *It's been a couple strange days since that call. You get called to a burglary and then...well. He's been told he saved a man's life and that's what carried him through the intital shock of seeing such a brutal attack. And training cant really prepare one of that sight. He never thought he would appreciate a quiet shift of traffic patrol ahead but here he is. It is lively at the precinct, voices chattering, phones ringing and the coffee machine sputtering some caffeinated goodness into his cup. He has got a few minutes where he just watches the busy place and heads up to the locker room to get changed into proper gear. Earlier that week he got informed the man made it and he knew that choosing this career was the right and only choice for him.*
[18:41:33] <Dallas> *Three cops stand blocking the door, two beat cops and that one loudmouth SWAT officer who once stole a rookie's coffee, sipped it, then declared it "ASS!" very loudly right in the middle of the break room. He doesn't budge for any "excuse me", forces our young officer to squeeze his way past.*
[18:41:57] <Dallas> ((Sniper: Behold, the virgin traffic cop.))
[18:42:29] <Hoxton> ((Cop: BI Behold the ass connoisseur.))
[18:45:19] <Hoxton> *Ah come on. He knew he should have turned around and wait for the massive ego to unclog the hallway. There is no officer in this precinct who hasnt got told how the brave guy had shot one of the payday gang and then survived a lucky shot in turn. He rolls  his eyes, protecting his coffee with one hand as he awkwardly squeezes past the three. Christ. The guy has attitude for all three there.*
[18:47:54] <Dallas> *You're goddamn right, he shot one of the clowns right in the FACE, and don't you forget it, 'cause he certainly won't let you. And what've you ever done to improve society, rookie? Thought so. The loud conversation continues on, muffled, long after the door swings shut. And it's right when he's just gotten out of his civvies that Murphy's Law strikes, and the fire alarm goes off and starts to blare.*
[18:50:56] <Hoxton> Holy...! *about half of his cup's content splashes at the ground as the alarm blares into life.* Ah come on, again...ah shoot. *he looks at the tiny puddle accusingly and drains the rest of the content.  He heads back into the hallway, somwhat alarmed though. Could be the real deal, right?*
[18:51:21] <Hoxton> *Of his cup. Not suckling the puddle.
[18:55:08] <Dallas> *The three cops are still standing there, angrily complaining. Damn firefighters back at it again! Ever since that baseball win last week, the firefighters haven't given them a moment's peace. One of them brushes past our young cop, grabbing his jacket from his locker. None of them seem to be in any hurry to evacuate. It's just another drill. Our young cop's still in his skivvies right now. Get some clothes on, huh? It's cold out.*
[18:58:07] <Hoxton> *He squeezes back in, hurriedly fetching his clothes. Jacket, hat and a pair of gloves. When will they finally stop messing with the firefighters? Hagen told him it is ancient tradition but the blaring alarm in the morning is just making his head pound. The hat barely manages to tame his dark mane of curls and he goes back. He left the mug in the lockerroom and makes a mental note to bring it back later.*
[19:02:52] <Dallas> *The three loud cops are gone by the time he leaves the locker room. Just him and an empty hallway, and the deafening alarm. Nearest stairwell's just around the corner. There's this prickle--this feeling something's not quite right, things just aren't sitting right. Hagen called it cop instinct. Like a Spidey sense, a gut feeling when your eyes have seen something wrong, but your brain hasn't caught up yet. And there's a prickle on the way to the stairwell. Right there, on the wall. Red panel, white switch sticking out like a sore thumb. Someone stood here, just steps away from the three cops outside the locker room, and pulled the alarm.*
[19:06:38] <Hoxton> *He frowns and waits a moment. It's not protocol. He should be heading out to the rest on the street and wait for the firefighters give the clear. But there is something off. Something is not right and when he is heading to the stairwell, he stops as he spots the alarm.* Oh you gotta be kidding me. *Someone's ass will be on the line for this. Pulling the alarm is no laughing matter and he hopes the culprits are some firefighters trying to get back at them after their loss. He looks up and down the stairwell. Anyone there?*
[19:07:13] <Hoxton> *Because any officer should know better than to pull the alarm.*
[19:14:08] <Dallas> *It's a Class 1 misdemeanor, in fact. Up to 12 months' jail time if the judge is in a particularly unforgiving state of mind. Couldn't be one of the firefighters, or one of his fellow officers. He's a clever kid, right? Must've been following the news. Couple burglars in Seattle pulled fire alarms to help them rob an apartment complex. While back, an intoxicated young woman pulled a fire alarm while in custody, trying to escape while the police station was being evacuated. It's not without precedent. There might be something more serious than a prank going on. Could evacuate. The Captain should be out there, though no one's in the stairwell. They must've gone out before him. Or he could try calling.*
[19:18:44] <Hoxton> *This doesnt sit right with him. Something's off about this. The captain's office is on the third floor, isnt it? He could have a look there before heading out or calling him. The captain is a dutiful man. Could be that he is still waiting and making sure the building is empty. But who would want to rob a precinct? Or who would be so stupid to try?*
[19:23:56] <Dallas> *The alarm is still going full blast when he gets to the third floor. The place is deserted, none of the detectives left at their desks. Just empty offices, coffee left abandoned and slowly cooling in mugs. As he gets to the Captain's office, a call comes in. It's Hagen.*
[19:26:19] <Hoxton> *He barely hears his ringtone but the angry buzzing makes him fumble for his phone. No one here? Dammit. And why cant he smell any smoke or anything hinting for a fire? He takes the call, bracing for his probably worried partner* Yeah?
[19:30:35] <Dallas> *Half of a word from Hagen, and it cuts out. The call goes dead, his phone too. In the Captain's office, the screensaver with the little dancing MPD logo flickers and goes to a black screen.*
[19:39:11] <Hoxton> *Alright. He undoes the clasp holding his sidearm in his holster and sprints towards the stairwell. Something's up. And damn him but that looks like a jammed signal right there. He is taking two steps at once, heading for the second floor. He just has to make sure before heading out*
[19:43:34] <Dallas> *As he hits the second floor landing, a door bangs open down below, and footsteps come up the stairs towards him from the basement, bypassing the ground floor exit. Sounds like two men, closing fast. One of them's saying* --good. Now it's time to leg it. And time to meet this Bile fella. *Gimme a 2d6 to recognize the voice.*
[19:43:52] <Dallas> *Actually, no. Real noisy. Make it 1d6.*
[19:44:18] <Hoxton> !roll 1d6
[19:44:18] <RNGesus> Hoxton rolls the 1d6 and gets: 6 [6]
[19:44:26] <Dallas> *JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, THAT'S HOXTON FROM THE PAYDAY GANG.*
[19:47:51] <Hoxton> *The cop's face falls. What the actual.... right, he fumbles for his gun, noting the two pair of footsteps. Oh shit, the guy is not alone. A cold shudder of fear runs down his spine. Those clowns are the worst of the worst. Killing for sport and stealing money people have worked hard for. Real scum. He flinches, and quickly steps out of the stairwell. He presses his ear against the door, straining hard to listen. When Hoxton and his accomplice have passed, he will leg it after them. Holy shit he could get his criminal ass back into jail!*
[19:54:06] <Dallas> *A door bangs open and shut upstairs. No way out from the third floor. Must've gone up to the roof, but how do they hope to get away from atop a three story police station? Quick bounds up the stairs, and the roof access door pushes open to bright sunlight and cold air, and a news chopper coming in to land, rotors loud. Two uniformed officers jogging up to board the chopper--except those aren't officers.*
[19:58:02] <Hoxton> *The sudden gust of wind is startling and he raises one arm to protect his face from the cold gusts the....helicopter? What the hell! He raises his gun confusion hitting him until he realizes those are not fellow officers. He angrily sprints after them, raising his gun.* HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE! FREEZE!
[20:03:22] <Dallas> *Payday clowns in MPD uniform. One of them throws a bag into the chopper, doesn't turn to face him. Not so much as glance over his shoulder, confident he won't shoot. What does the other clown do?*
[20:08:02] <Hoxton> *The other clown, turns half to face him. A look of furious annoyance crosses the part of his face that is visible to him. Which then turns into a wicked grin.* Well well. Bloody cavalry is here eh? Fuckin lower ya gun and fook off. Or ya pig friends can scrape off ya brain from the ground here. Ya in the crosshairs, sunshine.
[20:13:30] <Dallas> *And he is. There's a bit of glare in the corner of his eye, an unpleasant prickle of danger--and if he looks down, a bright green laser dot appears and moves across the front of his jacket. The other clown's jumped in the chopper, calling out* We gotta go, Hox!
[20:17:14] <Hoxton> *Hox gives a lazy salute and the cop lowers his gun, feeling a weight on his chest. Holy shit he wasnt kidding. There is a sniper somewhere hiding out and he is in the fucking crosshairs. He could...he could shoot him right? Do the public a service. Even if....but he cant. The gun lowers and he watches with helpless anger how Hoxton laughs and yells.* To protect and serve! *and follows the other into the chopper.*
[20:20:31] <Dallas> *The chopper lifts, quickly gaining altitude and slicing away across the rooftops, leaving the cop standing alone on the roof. The green dot lingers on his jacket, then switches off. By the time he gets the chance to scan the surrounding windows and rooftops, the sniper's nowhere in sight.*
[20:23:39] <Hoxton> *Hox watches the cop for a while, clutching a rail in the chopper. Tie flapping in the wind and after the sneaky and the lingering fear, this feels goddamn liberating. They did it. They broke into a goddamn police station and got away. One cop after them and now he's a tiny dot getting even smaller. Helpless to do anything. He let's out a whoop of victory.*
[20:25:04] <Hoxton> ((:D AW YEAH. Collecting the witty points :B Hahah At first I thought of a really stupid bluff. Quickly unclipping his radio and pretend it's a grenade. Then I wondered if ECM feedback was a thing and THEN I remembered hipster houston! :D))
[20:25:33] <Dallas> ((That could be a fun thing to explore in the future.))
[20:25:43] <Dallas> ((Like it hits the ground and just emits this nasty SCREECH.))
[20:25:59] <Dallas> ((And lo, everyone had a massive headache. And Bain had an idea.))
[20:28:21] <Dallas> *Wind catches at Hoxton's hat and almost flaps it off, but Dallas grabs for it, yells out* That was fuckin' AWESOME! Put it here, partner! *Big damn high five, and in the same motion, he pulls Hox into a tight bear hug and gives him a hard pat on the back.*
[20:32:12] <Hoxton> *Hox laughs and deftly returns the high five. Resounding slap and he is laughing and whooping as well.* FUCKIN HELL! THAT WAS GREAT! SUCK IT, D.C! *he returns the hug with a pat of his own, still grinning. A lot of tension and doubt and anxiety falling off his chest like bits of stone.* We bloody did it and we did it fuckin SHAMELESSLY! SHITE, THAT WAS AMAZIN!
[20:37:22] <Dallas> Dallas: *laughing* Jesus, buddy, protect and fucking serve--the look on his goddamn FACE! Priceless!
[20:37:27] <Dallas> *Bile makes a quick pit stop on a roof, hopping down to tear the decal off the side of the chopper--revealing another decal for a different TV station. What's under that decal, you ask? Another decal, of course. It's decals all the way down, Bile says. Bain radios in, says the cops are still trying to figure out what happened. Looks like they're in the clear. It's a straight shot from here to meet up with Twitch, and then Twitch can drive them the rest of the way home. Once they're back in the air, Bile offers Hox the chance to fly the chopper. Supervised, of course.*
[20:42:15] <Hoxton> *You know what, Hox likes Bile. The guy has this classy cool streak of not giving a fuck. About the law that is. His heart is still racing and the bag filled with Aleksandrs coke looks so goddamn nice. He feels fucking great and doesnt regret calling the chopper down. And the offer to let him fly? Hox promptly accepts, promising not to crash his bird. And not scratch it..much. Hox takes the hat that Dallas caught and puts it on. Looking like a proud little shit. He salutes.* We should keep those uniforms. Might come in handy, mate.
[20:46:00] <Dallas> *Dallas smiles at him from the back, giving him a thumbs up in lieu of shouting his answer over the choppy rotors, then holds up his phone to take a few photos of Hox in the cockpit. For posterity, let's say. It's a big blue sky over DC, and under Bile's easy directions, a clear and perfect flight. POLICE STATION: SUCCESS.*