2019-02-13 #acdum 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!