"I was just givin' my opinion is all," Cain said before making his way down to the garage. He looked over his bike, remembering the first time he ever road it. Chuckling, Cain grabbed a gas can and started filling up his bike.

Cyclops kicked his bike out onto the edge of the pavement before turning around to answer the question, "I want bikes here, in the city, as many as possible. Any full-patches not coming with me are to gather up prospects and friends, then patrol the streets. I don't want any guns in the street, and I don't want any idiot marching up to their clubhouse. Molotovs and small groups are the words of the night" he paused as he growled into the rain, putting his large, black helmet on, "Any Avenger or Demon in the street is a dead man, any bikes are to be torched. If they run to a safehouse, a flat or any other minor hidey hole, burn it. No clubs, businesses or crowded areas. No pig coppers are going to ruin this night."

He chugged out onto the pavement near the large underground entrance, "I want formation for my lot, this is official gang business. I'll be wanting Atlas in case of any trouble, and Cain I'll need you too to take care of the scene. Anyone else who wants to come with me can, but no more than a dozen bikes. We're heading to Cornwall to take care of this mess, and to deal with some business I've got down there. If we do happen to see any... unfortunate bikers on the road then I expect them to have some trouble on the road."

"Mount up and head out."

Atlas heard Cyclops call his name. He rolled his bike over to Cyclops and sat on it. "Ready to go when you are, Cy."

"Oi, Scar!" he yelled over the roar of engines as the Dogs began to start their bikes, "You with me?" There were a couple of younger members coming with Corinthian, but he wanted a full patch of Scar's experience to watch his back. Besides, the man was built like a brick shithouse, which always helped.

Cain cracked his neck and dragged his bike next to Cyclops. "Let's get this shit over with," he moaned as he sat on his bike.

Cyclops spat on the mucky ground, flecked with oil and rain.

"Show some goddamn respect for that patch you wear. You'll defend this club's honour with your life, you understand me?"

"I understand, sir," he said, throwing his cigarette on the ground. He looked at his patch and remembered all the good times. Those good times were gone now. "Where's the first place we're hitting?"

"Right now we're not. You're coming with me to take care of the scene, and I'm taking some bikes down to Cornwall to clean up this mess and to take care of some business, and to look for the bastards who robbed us. When we get back we can join that lot" he gestured to the other bikers already speeding off in twos and threes into the rain, "In some mayhem."

"Mkay," Cain said before getting off his bike to go the fridge. Inside, he picked up a can of beer. "Anything I can get you 'fore we go, 'Clops?"

"I could use some lager if there's some left."

"Got it," Cain said, picking out a can of lager from the fridge. He tossed it over to Cyclops and raised his beer up. "To the Dogs."

The Colonel opened up the door to the warehouse with a smirk. "Alright bikers, hidden inside these drums of oil is fifty kilos of premium cocaine. Your job is to get it out, dust it off and get it sold. Shanks, Pierce and Sleazy Tim, you guys are my best dealers so you'll be on the streets. Thor, you go with Shanks and make sure nothing happens to 'im. Jak and Bruiser, you both cover Pierce 'cause 'e's the best we got. Ripi, you'll be escorting Tim. Come on people, let's get moving!"

As the bikers got to work unloading, The Colonel pulled out his cell-phone telephone and dialed Machete. He was sent directly to voicemail. "Figures...Machete, the Dogs are pissed. We stole some powdered money and they want it back. Would you kindly get their troop movement?"

Machete downed her beer. The bar was almost completely empty apart from a large group of guys who must've been on their 9th beer and was already slurring. The bar was slightly cheaply decorated for halloween.
Lightweights...
She'd been around the Dog's clubhouse for a few months now. Keeping an eye on what they were doing. It wasn't a deep seated infiltration as she had done with a few other gangs. So far she'd kept an eye on whoever entered the clubhouse and occasionally watching over business deals if she could handle it. She was gifted with light footsteps and being able to hide when she needed to which made things easy. Machete however, wasn't amused when they said she could've always posed as a stripper to get in, although she didn't feel bad when she'd uppercutted them. She finished the beer and raised her arm, signaling the barkeep for another.
"So, trick or treat...?" A slurred voice muttered behind her.
Without a reply, she simply smashed her bottle on the side of the bar. A squeal was heard and footsteps from behind her leaving.

Now off of work, she'd forgotten to turn on her phone. A new voicemail signaled from the Colonel about 5 minutes before. She listened and dialed him back. She left the bar, stepping on broken shards of glass and getting on her bike while the call went through.
Shit.
"Boss, I'll be at their base in 5 minutes. I'll get the movement plans sorted."

"Ya I've got Your back mate." Scar told Corinthian, as he started his bike.

Angus Young:
"Ya I've got Your back mate." Scar told Corinthian, as he started his bike.

Spoiler: Click to View

Just before Scar and Corinthian Pulled from the parking lot Scar stopped and said "Wait I forgot something" as he ran back into the club house. He came out putting his Shoulder holster on under his vest saying "I know the boss said no guns but i've got a bad feeling about this."

Cyclops revved out onto the open street, trundling along until the rest of the bikers followed up into the proper formation.

"Hurry up, I want to get out and on the way down there in the next five minutes." He noticed the other crowds of bikers, strapping on gloves and helmets, holding onto nasty looking implements of pain that, hopefully, would soon be maiming some foes.

Corinthian nodded at Scar's words. He waited a moment for those following Cyclops to leave then revved up his bike. Aside from Scar he had five younger gang members with him who quickly fell into line as they left the clubhouse. The people on the street looked almost fearful at this mobilisation, and rightly so. There were going to be many civilians caught up in this, being forced to pick and side and they'd be praying it was the winning one.

They arrived in short order at the car mechanic, a place in a grey area who no one quite controlled. They parked their bikes across the street and Corinthian chose one junior member to look after them.

"This has to be quick boys, soon as they hear us coming they're going to break out the weapons we came for. There's ten of them, tops, most likely seven or eight. Hit 'em hard and fast, we'll put the fear of God into them. Everyone ready?"

Cain drove, closely following 'Clops. "Shouldn't take us too long. Those Satanist fucks won't know what hit 'em."

As Scar snuck up to the back door of the car mechanic he saw a guard with an AK-47 sitting on a trash can sleeping. He pulled out his knife and said "Someone did not have their caffine." as he silently slit the mans throat. As he went back around to give the all clear he put the AK in his bikes saddle bag telling the boys "I just got a new toy!"

Atlas dropped in on the man inside. One punch and the man was down, blood and brain fluid streaming from the three holes. A man too far away from Altas to punch opened fire with a pistol. Atlas dove to the side and brought out his bike chain. He whipped it across the room, the end circling the man's neck. He dropped his weapon and tried to grab the razor-sharp edges. Atlas yanked, and the chain tighted. Atlas then pulled the chain back, along with the severed head of the man. Finally, he took out one man right behind the door trying to get the drop on him. he grabbed the bat and threw it away. He then grabbed the man's head, and, using his heruclean strength, smashed it on the ground, pulverizing the man's face and killing him instantly. "All clear Cyclops." He yelled out.

"Ok here is how this is going to work. Apostle you take two of the Prospects in the front door and me and the other will go in the back. the 5th one stays and gaurds our bikes. Kill them and mark the bodies. We want those bastards to know why we were here. Call someone at the clubhouse to bring a van for the guns. And when the guns are out burn the mechanic to the ground."

Cyclops was impressed with the way the raid was going. Already they'd planned the best way to take the building and the guns, and without firing a single shot.

"I hope they don't do something stupid with all that hardware" he muttered to himself, before striking up a cigarette, the flame illuminating his face for a second before hissing out in the rain. He tossed the match aside and walked over to the prospect guarding the bikes.

"How's it going son?" The young man looked nervous. A new guy named Locks, because he used to break safes for a living until he was brought up on an assault charge.

He twitched his head around to see the menacing figure of Cyclops slouching on a bike.

"It's.. OK. I've.. I've never seen anyone die before."

"Huh. You need some experience lad, if you want to be a Dog of War" He looked a bit weedy, at least compared to the other Prospects. It was no wonder he was chosen to guard the bikes.

They sat in silence, watching the vague black shapes moving around the building. He could hear an engine through the rain, a few streets away.

"Don't forget to check for bike parts before we torch it, good luck."

Corinthian lead the other two to the front door. Quietly turning the handle he found it locked. He waited for a couple of minutes. 'They should be round the back by now' he thought and delivered a brutal kick to the door, breaking the lock and causing it to swing inwards and crash into the wall. The two younger members were already moving in.

To the left there was an office, empty now, and to the right a waiting room where two Avengers were only just rising. The red shirts took the left one Corinthian went for the other the other.

The Avenger pulled a knife before Corinthian had even reached him and he took a wild swipe at the Dog. Corinthian dodged the blow and the his opponents arm. Pinning one arm behind his back, and forcing him to drop his weapon, he grabbed the man's head and smashed it against the chair he'd just risen from. Again and again Corinthian's arm rose and fell until the gang member went limp and lost consciousness.

The prospects had finished their man who was on the floor covered in blood.

"What're you waiting for? Find their stash before they break out the shooters!" The two prospects ran into the corridor while Corinthian drew his own knife then followed.

Atlas ran 'round the warehouse, looking for the stash. He found 2 Avengers who he quickly dispatched with two well-aimed punches. He came to a locked door. He smiled and brought up his fists. "Knock knock!" He yelled. and attacked the door with a barrage of punches. the door gave way under the massive onslaught, and caved in on itself. Atlas bent back the remaining door and saw something that astounded him. "Yo, Corinthian! I think you wanna see what i found!" Inside the locked room was a small stash of weapons.

As Scar kicked in the back door a shot rang out and the prospect that went in first was laying on the ground moaning. Scar looked at the Avenger standing there with a gun in his face he fired again hitting Scar in the shoulder. Scar grabbed his arm for a instant, then in a split second charged the man with such a fury he had never felt before. The man had no time to react as Scar hit him at a full charge and the gun slid across the floor. He picked the man up and stabbed him with his Bowie knife against the wall, the man was hanging as the knife had stuck in the wall. He called the prospect from outside and told him to take the other one to the hospital.

"You got one chance boy, what's the numbers for the cache?" When the gangster stayed quite Corinthian delivered a savage punch to his face, hearing his nose break with a loud crunch. "What's the numbers?" His fist descended again. "What's the numbers?" Again. "What's the numbers?" The Avenger screamed them out. Corinthian nodded, satisfied, before stabbing the pitiful man several times.

"Lads, stay here and guard this, don't open it yet. I'll see about the rest of these bastards." Corinthian headed towards the back, keeping an eye out for more Avengers.

Ripi grunted as he hoisted a barrel down from the truck. He had never been into the whole labour thing, but it was a necessary part of the alliance. He had to be useful.

As they finished with the truck with reasonable speed, Ripi watched the dealers scoop out measurements of cocaine from the barrels, and start to cut them. They seemed to be reasonably fast at it, but it seemed to Ripi that they would be in no hurry. It's not as if they could even set off until they knew the locations of the Dogs... unless The Colonel was just going to rush into this...

Scar opened the door to the office were the other Dogs were there and asked "You said this was a weopens Cache not a wall safe with some handguns in it! I just got Fucking SHOT and one of our boys might be dead for this!" "Here take this gun it's the one that he used to shoot me and the prospect. "If this is how the nights starting out god knows what will happen later." "Now load up the truck and lets go.""Now Apostle come here take my knife and pry the bullet out."

She followed them until they were near a familiar building. She stopped following them and went to cover. Sure that they stopped outside the Avenger's garage with weapons on their mind. She was confused about why they'd want only a few crates but non-the-less this was one of their buildings.
She picked up her phone and called the Colonel. No answer. She continued to try and time passed. She moved up the streets a little, keeping an eye on the situation.
Fuck...
The phone picked up on the other end.
"Finally. Boss. We're in some trouble. They shipped out before i could get close. A lot of them are at the Avenger's garage, They're taking our weapons. I don't think we're doing so good."

Corinthian lit a match to sterilise the knife.

"This wasn't about the weapons Scar," he said as he worked, "this was about hitting back. For the eight men we lost they lost about the same here plus however many Atlas and the others took down." Finally the small piece of metal was worked free. "And, when we torch this place, they lose an outpost and we push 'em back a little. Not to mention the half dozen guns we got." Corinthian handed Scar the bandages.