You have a couple automatic rifles. You had the OFTL with such a passion it knots your head toes. You know that fancy club where the big wigs hang out to sniff cocaine and fuck Women of various species. And boys. You spend a couple days walking around the place at different hours casing the spot out. Once a car slowed down so the driver could spit on you. You are sleeping on the roof with your two rifles the next night. Ready to raise with the sunset and pick off some of those shit suckers. You raise do stretchers. Watching for the elites to arrive. Seven minutes before opening a crowd of pompous fucks in expensive clothes gather in front of the place. You walk to the ledge and aim and start firing. Bill Lamp, net worth 300 million, industrial Mollkin skin Product tycoon. His left eye explodes spraying the gathered s half fist size hole in the back of his head and he is flung backwards knocking over Paul Wormcrouch, C E O of GreedTech. Paul crawls behind the fleeing crowd while you fire round after round, killing seven and wounding nine. Now there there's no one to shoot in sight. You throw the empty rifle down and pick up your spare rifle. You are hurrying downstairs when you hear troupe transport vehicles pulling up and many angry shouts. They send sixty seven soldiers after you! They have the building surrounded and they are rushing in. It looks like you are going to die.