San Betral started out as a promising young city in the heart of California. Sun, sand, surf, and plenty of publicity meant that its population boomed overnight and the city became a cultural icon - at least for a little while. That all changed when Frostbite attacked and broke the city apart with a series of glaciers, leaving heavy scarring for all to see. People were scared. The smarter ones left before the gangs got reorganized. Soon, riots starting breaking out in the streets. People wanted reform. The police department became too busy in keeping the angry mobs back to instill any kind of order over Old Betral. The crime rate skyrocketed and San Betral changed from a tourist hot spot to a magnet for all the scum on the West Coast.
It would take a miracle to take the city back.
11:50 A.M. at Citizen's National Bank. All is quiet and orderly. Lines were short but security was still tight. This particular bank sat near where some of the more violent riots had broken out in the past few weeks. Guards employed shotguns here, holding them casually waiting for something to go down. They knew that the sensation of the air around them betrayed a far more malicious purpose as the day trudged on. Their trigger fingers were restless. Their patience proved necessary once a black van rolled up to the front revolving doors, blocking them. Five men scrambled out of the side hatch, each carrying an automatic weapon. The one in glasses fired off five rounds into the ceiling, prompting everyone in the bank to fall to the ground. The guards fell impotent to the floor, hands over their heads, just like the terrified civilians around them. They recognized this man and his posse as the infamous cop killers on every wanted poster in the city.
"Where's my paycheck, you c*m rags?"
"M-Mr. Boddicker, you're early!" One of the attendants replied, hands on her head.
"Shut up Rachel. Give me the money and there will be no trouble, we've been through this,"
12:00 P.M. at Citizen's National Bank. The vault is empty, the last one-hundred thousand dollars deposited there stuffed into the back of Boddicker's van. They drove off back into the depths of downtown San Betral just as another riot started to break out in the streets.
"That's the last of it, boss!" Rupert said merrily, his barrel chest heaving with laughter.
"How much does that make? A million in two days?" Lonnie cackled from behind the grip of his assault cannon rifle.
"Two million, you dingus," Nathan chimed in, lighting a cigarette. "We're hitting uptown tomorrow. F*cking lawyers and doctors are gonna cry themselves to sleep on payday,"
Boddicker's posse laughed cheerfully with Rupert slapping Mouthy's back as he twitched and shivered.
"What about all the cops in uptown? With the riots, they'll be all over the place." Tony asked.
"Cops? Doesn't matter how many of them are in uptown, they can't stop us. It would take a miracle for them to take this city back."