Gallante and Vinny chugged along the choked motorways, thick with traffic, as a slight mist began to settle on the streets. It was well into the night now, and everyone was either going home or starting the graveyard shift. They were of the latter, gallante supposed, off to do some business. Though he'd prefer to leave graveyards out of it. Gallante went through some checks on the compact sub-machine gun he picked up from ol Robert, while Vinny focused on the road, silently preparing himself for the job. this would be the first time he'd been out on a hit like this. gallante used to have him run cover jobs, changing ledgers and falsifying inventory so the gang could smuggle supplies from certain businesses. This was usually the job of any non-augmented member of Gallante's family. However, Vinny was around since the beginning, one of the first people who found Gallante when he was small time. One of the few humans Gallante kept in his employ. Despite the attitude he give him, Gallante respects Vinny for sticking around, and decided it was about time to take him on a more important job.<br/><br/>The target was an old associate of the family, a human like Vinny who would help with supply runs. However, he ended up turning on them, revealing his disgust at the mostly all cyborg group, saying he was looking to stop them for the good of humanity. He called in the cops on them and a good three of his men were brought down. Gallante made it out, but ever since then was very distrusting of anyone who wasn't augmented. He figured the cops must have payed him off, or sweetened the deal with a short prison sentence. He thought of himself as the only man with any respect left in the world. A relic of times, he would say. He had no problem with any cyborgs, mostly thought of them as the downtrodden in this society, and wanted to bring them up, give them a good life. And, if that meant he would get some strong grunts to do some dirty work for him, how could he refuse? Some practically begged to join up, wanting some revenge on society. Poor, misguided anger like that was very lucrative for business and he soon whipped them into shape, making a name for himself in certain street level districts.<br/><br/>Vinny slowed the car at a red light and spotted the mark, standing outside of an old general store. Vinny tapped the steering wheel twice and Gallante looked up, spying him out of the corner of his eye. He nodded once and rolled down his window, while Vinny stepped on the gas, peeling out of the stoplight and drifting alongside the sidewalk. Gallante set his gun against the door and opened fire, spraying bits of metal against the front of the store, a path of small dents painted across it as a splash of blood completed the scene. A tragic work of art, bright against the dreary gray of the city at night. There were screams, but they died down as Gallante rolled his window up again, storing the piece in his coat.<br/>"Good work, Vinny my boy, now you're on the trolley! Let's stash this wagon and hide the typewriter, we can have one of the boys pick them up later. Don't want any bulls on our tail."<br/><br/>Later at Jorge's Rust Heap, a junkyard known for taking undesirables beyond that of cars and making them into cubes, Gallante and Vinny drive slowly in, headlights off, as the mist of late night boils over the streets. They pull up to a small, but sturdy shack in a clearing, surrounded by junk of every description, most unrecognizable from what it once was. Gallante stepped out, while Vinny waited inside, and knocked sharply on the door three times. A tall, pale man with shoulder length black hair slowly creaked the door open, spilling out both light and the rhythmic tones of a wrestling match. "What you want, Mr. Gunmetal, sir?" Gallante took his hat in his hands and glanced up at the man, squinting slightly to make out his face, slightly disfigured by large scar running from his right temple to the left side of his jaw. "My good Jorge, I require your assistance in making something very hot disappear for a few days till things cool off, see?" He hooked a thumb behind him toward the car.<br/><br/>Jorge scratched his jaw, then looked down at Gallante inquisitively. "Alright, sure, let's hash out the terms."