December 12th, 2007
ABC Local News

"...and local authorities in Salem, Massachusetts are looking for two African-American males in their late teens to early twenties in relation to a robbery of Salem's 1st National Bank at the corner of Division and Cooper. The two felons made off with over twenty five thousand dollars in cash as bank guards just happened to be carrying money out of an armored vehicle outside. Police believe the timing to be planned to include this. Currently, a reward of...."

December 13th, 2007
Manchester, NH

"Yeah man, we got the money. I told you, we had ourselves a plan, all we needed was some vehicular assistance, dig? We got the five grand we promised you too... but you know, seein' that you ain't got a gun, and we do, we ain't sharin' none, and we're keepin' the car too." The man who had just barely started shaving spoke lowly, the blue bandanna denoting him as a member of the Cryps was wrapped around his head.

"Yeah, homey, we's keepin' it all." The junior partner piped up from the passenger seat of the old Ford LTD.

"You vill hand me the money, Comrade." The old Russian spoke with a soft confidence, his eyes boring into those of the young African American man. "All of it."

With but a mute nod, the driver of the Ford handed over the satchel-full of money to the Russian, muttering a soft, "We's keepin' it..." even if his actions denoted otherwise. After a moment, he blinked and began to speak rapidly, "Goddamn mothafuckin' sunuvabitch... give us back our goddamn fuckin' money or I'm goin' to cap you're commie ass." A .38 revolver was then produced and aimed at the Russian's chest.

"Go ahead, Comrade, shoot me, but you are not gettink this money back. You have attempted to betray my trust, and know you are payink. Leave now vhile you live still," the Russian said softly, with no malice whatsoever in his voice. The cane that held him upright shifted slightly on the cement of the sidewalk.

"Fuck you, muthafucka," the driver growled as he put a .38 calibre bullet straight through the Russian's left lung. Instead of collapse, bleeding or dead, the Russian stood there, smiling. Another bullet past through him, then another, and another. The Russian staggered, fell, then stood back up, the four wounds in his chest oozing blood.

"You had best leave, Comrade. As you can see your bullets have little effect beyond aggravatink me." The Russian's canines had elongated and stood out prominently as he spoke, his voice turning cold as ice.

"HOLY FUCK! LET'S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, MAN!" the junior partner exclaimed, and was apparently agreed with by the driver as the vehicle suddenly screamed away down the street. Before it could get more than a hundred meters away, flames began to shoot out the engine and envelop the two men within. The vehicle careened into a light post as the two men screamed, dying instantly when the gas tank cooked off and the car exploded spectacularly.

The Russian walked away calmly, the wounds already healed shut as the car continued to burn. Considering the area of town this had occurred in, no one would remember anything, nor would police or fire crews arrive for at least ten minutes. After rounding the corner, the Russian put the money in a late model Chevrolet car and slipped into the driver's seat and drove away.

December 14th, 2007
ABC Local News

"...and police rushed to the scene of a car explosion in one of the poor sections of Manchester yesterday evening only to find James Coppel and Michael Simpson, the two suspects in the Salem 1st National Bank robbery case from two days ago dead in an apparent carfire. Police suspect foul play, and a potential drug deal gone bad. Nearly ten ounces of street grade cocaine were found charred in the trunk and none of the money from the previous robbery was found within the remains of the vehicle nor within the residences of the two men. The car itself was reported stolen two nights ago from the parking lot of Peterson Trucking...."