Gucci Vagabonds The Igknighted

The IgKnighted
By: Eric
PROLOGUE
Large, dark thunder clouds blocked out the sunset over the grand city of Limerick. Rain began pouring down onto the paved streets. A man, neatly dressed, stood by the window sill looking up at the blackened sky. Seth Zarian had seen all too many of these storms. It seemed like the small state of Massachusetts was always shrouded in clouds. It had been three weeks since Limerick had seen any sunlight and Seth was missing it all too much.
A smirk crossed his face, the sun is not the main concern right now,tiendas la martina, he thought to himself. This time tomorrow, I'll be bathing in cash.
The doors behind him suddenly burst open, revealing a matted, disorganized man in the doorway. Even without his horrid hygiene, scruffy Quinn Flanders had some sort of nasty smell to him.
Seth turned around,mont blanc Parker Ball Pen, slightly grimacing at the sight of Flanders, but quickly covering it up by demanding, "Have you reached the others?"
"They've been informed and awaiting orders at the meetin' spot, sir," Quinn sneered excitedly.
"Excellent," Seth turned back to the window. He began to recollect the meeting they had made the day before in his basement. He tried to gather as many criminals as he could, for his plan needed a large number of people. Unfortunately, only six showed up. They would have to rob each of his marked places one at a time, one per day. But he wanted to get his most prized burglary over with first��the Children's Fundraiser Foundation.
He chuckled to himself, "Flanders, by the end of this crusade of mysterious robberies��.we will be very rich men."
Quinn smirked slightly, then turned on his way out when he heard from behind him, "Oh and Flanders��for all our sakes, take a bath."
CHAPTER #1
Bright sunrays shined through Limerick, bringing a bit more cheer to everyone, including the infamous bachelor Harold Maxwell, who had agreed to hold the Annual Foster Children's Fundraiser Foundation for the town. He had decided, this fine afternoon, to take a stroll around the neighborhood, while the decorators hustled around the large mansion residence, trying to make things spotless. Maxwell was never too keen into dealing with hassles and such.
Harold was on his was back when he quickly stopped in his tracks and looked to his right. He was staring at the old, rundown Rineberg Electric Plant, which was still, surprisingly, in working condition. His house had been built to the east of the plant, about forty feet away. He never really noticed the building, for it seemed abandoned at all times. But as he was on his way home, something had caught his eye. Was it just a glare from the sun?
Harold shook his head and laughed to himself. He hadn't seen the sun in over a month; it had to have been playing tricks on him. He continued on his way home, forgetting all about the strange glare, and thinking to more important things, like the guest list for tonight.
The media had been dying for news. They had been getting so desperate; half their newspaper was covered in horoscopes and comic strips. The fundraiser was something they could finally use, and the manager, Mr. Terrison, made it very clear that they needed this story by throwing a telephone at one of the workers. He finally assigned Henry Fredrickson, a newcomer to the media industries, to photograph the entire fundraiser extravaganza. He also ran a message to Aaron Broider and Martin Zimmer that they needed to get down there to broadcast.
Now, the three men stood at the bottom of the stairs to the mansion entrance, taking in the size of the place.
Martin raised his large broadcasting camera onto his shoulder, "Right then. Me and Aaron will film on the bottom floor here. Henry, get as many frickin' pictures as you can. And they better turn out good, or we're all screwed over. Got it?"
Henry took a large gulp before replying, "You got it, Martin."
"Let's roll then," Aaron began climbing the stairs.
Bright, colorful lights shined, and tables were packed with men and women in their suits and dresses. The mansion had two floors to it,gucci borsa italia, large pillars reaching to the ceiling, and fine red furnish on the walls and floors. Two large staircases led up to the second floor, where bright, flashing lights were popping up everywhere among the crowd.
Henry had no intention of losing his job; bringing twenty-four more rolls of film for his camera. He scanned the top floor, snapping for the flash button at anything that moved. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach flipped straight over, his heart missing a beat. He gulped worriedly before looking up from his camera at the beautiful blonde girl wearing a bright blue dress. Clare Jenson was one of the most beautiful girls in college, but surprisingly, out of all the guys there, she decided to hang out with Henry. They had been friends since, and as time grew, Henry started realizing he never wanted to leave her. But before he said anything, graduation had come and they both went they're separate ways. It had been almost a year since then and Henry had never gotten over his true feelings about her.
She suddenly turned toward him, her bright blue eyes meeting his. Henry jumped a little at first, but then tried to recover with a lousy wave. She quickly hurried over to him through the massive crowd.
"Henry!" she exclaimed, "My gosh, it's been ages!"
"Heheh, yeah sorry. I've been really busy," Henry pointed down at his camera.
"Oh! You're working for the media now, huh?" Clare looked a little puzzled, "How's you're writing been going?"
Henry frowned slightly and pointed to his camera again.
"Oh, that stinks. I really liked reading your stories," she beamed at him.
Henry began to itch the back of his head, "Haha, thanks. So what have you been up to lately?"
"Not much. Unemployed so far, but I'm looking for work. Just nothing seems to fit right now," she looked down at the ground where one of her feet was drawing circles on the floor.
Henry took one last gulp, "You know, I never stopped thinking about you."
Clare looked up and smirked at him, "Cute, Henry."
"But It's the truth," Henry began twiddling his fingers.
Clare just shook her head, "Come on, let's go get a glass of punch."
"Thanks Stan. We bring you to the Annual Limerick Children Fundraiser Foundation here at the home of Harold R. Maxwell," Aaron began reporting as Martin held the camera, "Let's see how some of the people are enjoying themselves this fine evening."
Aaron walked over to the nearest person, who was holding an odd, greasy, food, "Hello ma'am! And how is your night going here?"
She looked over at the camera and then back at Aaron nervously, "I'm��mmm��doing alright, thank you," she tried saying as her mouth was full.
"Now, who might you be?" Aaron asked, mostly to stall time.
"Oh, my name's Catherine, Catherine Allsworth. My husband, Christopher works at the plant right next door," she pointed to one of the windows.
"Wait, there are actually people that still work there?" Aaron asked curiously.
"Oh yes, they're al-oh dear!" she exclaimed as she looked at what the greasy food was leaving on her hands, "Oh no, now my hands are all sticky. Would you be a dear and hold this for me? I must go to the ladies room to wash up," she plopped the disgusting food into Aaron's free hand and scurried off toward the bathrooms.
Aaron grimaced at the thing in his hand, "*Ahem* uh��thank you��Mrs. Allsworth��"
"And��cut," Martin turned off the camera, "Well, that was pretty much terrible."
"What the hell is this stuff?" Aaron remarked disgustedly.
Martin walked over to him and licked the food,Gucci Vagabonds, "Mmm, very sweet in honey."
"I think I'm gonna puke," Aaron looked desperately for a trash can.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Harold Maxwell's voice blared through the audience, "Please, can I have your attention."
He was standing at the podium, placed between the two staircases. He cleared his throat as he waited for the noise to die down.
"*Ahem* thank you, and welcome! To the Annual Children's Fundraiser!"
A roar of applause rang through the mansion.
"It is with great honor that we have collected tonight��twenty-six thousand dollars!"
The applause continued thunderously.
"Ok, ok, settle down. We still have a long evening ahe-," He began.
Suddenly the doors busted, screams soaring through the room as men, dressed completely in black, rushed inside holding guns.
"This is a hold-up! No one move!" roared the man in the middle. He placed his hand on one of the other men's shoulders, "You and Mencelli take watch outside, get it?"
"Sure thing boss," the larger man replied, pointed at another man, and they both began to walk back outside.
"Now then, Jerry,cheap louis vuitton handbags, you know what to do. Find out where the money is."
Another muscular built man started toward Harold, smirking slightly.
Suddenly, something glimmered in the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned toward the window. Peering outside, he viewed the large, shadowy structure of the electric plant.
"Actually Seth, I think I'm gonna check on something else. Just precaution," he squinted toward the plant one more time before heading toward the door.
"Errr, can't get anyone to do anything right," Seth sneered. He shot his hand straight up to eye level to a very elderly man, "Where's the money, old man?"
"I��I have no idea! I swear!" he croaked, shaking his head nervously.
BAM!
Blood splattered as the elderly man's body slumped to the floor, a hole in his head. More screams erupted from the crowd.
"Now," Seth turned around grinning,ED Hardy Sunglasses, "Can someone give me a reasonable answer?"
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