Where's da money?

You can tell from our bright picture featuring glib people that we're the real thing. The Heavy Mob - the one offer you can't refuse. Our customers don't ask for protection, but we go one step up and GIVE IT ANYWAY. Then insist that they pay for it.
There's only one rule: 'Don't ask questions.' If you have any questions, please refer to the rules section for further assistance. Then promptly report to the nearest capo bastone for immediate execution.
Maybe someday you'll get paid. *snicker*
If I had my way then I would be in charge and you would all report to me. Wait - that's already true!

This is also a group for my bestest buddies. If you're in here, congratulations! It means I hate you less than I hate the rest of humanity.

THE SCOUT: Once a self-proclaimed too-handsome-for-his-own-good ladies man, he got rejected one too many times and realised that maybe they'd answer his calls if he had some money. They don't need to know its illegal, but that'd probably appeal to them anyway. And if all that doesn't work, he has a very spiky bat, which he affectionately nicknamed The Seducer.

THE HEAVY: He hardly speaks any English, but then he doesn't need to, with a shotgun that does the talking for him. Everyone's too scared to tell him to put the safety on, and in fact, we're not sure it even has a safety. But we can afford to replace the roof and various office objects 3 or more times a month. He also likes the hat, but he hasn't mentioned it.

THE DEMOMAN: Nobody has the heart to tell him that the 1800s ended 200 years ago, but he's good at blowing things up, so we keep him around anyway. We only pay him in fake gold doubloons bought from a nearby Disney store, and we don't know where he keeps getting those bombs from. This is one of those times where it's probably smart not to ask.

THE SPY: He'd be a dead-eye with his revolver, provided his targets stopped moving all over the damn place. Nobody trusts him, and I wouldn't lend him any money if you paid me to. The only thing he uses his paycheck for is buying new suits, but he wouldn't need to if he stopped getting shot all the time. Since we own the only suit business he buys from, we're considering paying him in suits.

THE ENGINEER: The only intelligent person to ever come out of Texas, we put him to good use making sure the lunch room vending machine is in working order. We get the feeling he might be bitter about it, because every gun in the armory have started inflating balloons instead of killing people, and the vending machine has only accepted Zimbabwean dollars for some time now.

THE SNIPER: A disturbing man from the depths of Australia, who insists on throwing his own bodily fluids over his adversaries, which is why we made a point of never arguing with him in case he has a jar handy. He also swears more times than you can shake a fedora at. He claims he can shoot an apple off your head from 300m out, but strangely enough, I don't want to test that.