Six lethal weapons forced their flailing bodies into the bank’s door. This, one could tell, would be no ordinary robbery. No, these weapons came to conquer, kill, destroy, and get richer than rich. A man with the codename SB was their leader. How do we know? He has the biggest mask and the biggest gun. With him was Darko, Penguin, Clown, Gas, and Rabbit.
This was the Union Depository. Yes, the Union Depository. All the gold, platinum, and bills passed through here at least once in their lives. Now everyone inside had the unfortunate experience of witnessing history.
SB called out orders. “Penguin, Darko: handle the citizens here. Gas, cut the power. Rabbit, cover the counter while Clown and I take the doors to downstairs.”
SB and Clown moved towards the large doors behind the counter. He paused a moment, turned around and downed the three security guards with accurate shots between the eyes. A wave of screams and gasps spread throughout the bank. Everyone got down on the ground.
“If anyone gives any trouble, show them we aren’t messing around.”
He continued to the doors where Clown was lacing the explosives on the hinges and handle. Rabbit leapt over the counter and aimed his gun at the employees there. They cowered in fear. He jerked his gun away from the counter and they all moved away from it.
Penguin stood in the middle of the room and fired a round into the air. “Alright,” he shouted, “Let’s try to make this easy for everyone. Everybody, right in front of me. Now, please.” Some members of the crowd of people shared glances with each other, but nobody moved. Penguin aimed his gun at the crowd of people. “Now!” They scrambled together into a group. Rabbit ushered the employees out from behind the counter to join the group. Darko joined the three and surrounded them.
Suddenly the lights went out. Gas came back around a corner and gave the thumbs up. The power was cut. No cameras, no alarms, no lights, no resistance. In the distance, something rumbled. The service elevator from the vault.
“Switch to green,” Gas called out. Everyone in the Six reached behind their masks and their eyes glowed green. Gas ran over to Clown and SB and passed them some duffel bags. SB clicked on the radio communication inside his mask. He heard a faint warble coming from the radio. Great, he thought.
“We have ten minutes until the whole police department shows up, so move quick,” he said over the radio, “Rabbit, you’re on vault with us. Darko, Penguin: watch the civilians.” SB chinned off the radio and lead the others downstairs to deal with security.
Down in the basement, flashlights scanned the area. Security was awake and ready for action. One fired his weapon at the staircase, missing Rabbit by a hair. Through his night vision, he could see the guard clearly. He could practically smell the fear in him. He crouched at the bottom of the stairs and held his breath.
Center of the neck. Probably severed his spinal cord. Definitely dead, he thought as he darted around a corner to scan for more guards. He found three anxiously aiming down the hallway. They didn’t see him in the blackness. It was silent. The others hadn’t started shooting yet. Rabbit reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He threw it in their direction. They each shot down the hall. Rabbit waited until they stopped. One started to reload his weapon and Rabbit burst around the corner to light the guards up.
The others cleared the rooms in a similar fashion, using the darkness to their advantage, while SB sauntered up to the massive vault doors and began spinning the tumblers. A guard, hidden behind some crates, jumped up.
“Don’t move scumbag,” he said as he stepped forward towards SB. SB didn’t move. He just stood, frozen. Inside his mask, he chinned on the radio.
“Got a guy on my six, wants to play hero. Center of the room, near the vau-” he began, but was cut off by a gunshot. When he didn’t feel any pain, he turned around and saw the guard lying on the floor, blood splattered to form a pointillism portrait of a pine tree.
“Got you covered boss,” said Clown, who disappeared behind another corner to hunt more guards.
The basement of the Union Depository sounded like a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Upstairs, it was nearly silent. Penguin and Darko had taken everyone’s cell phones and arranged them in a group in the center of the floor. There were maybe twenty of them.
“You don’t have to do this,” someone from the middle of the group whimpered as muffled gunshots came from downstairs.
“You people always say the same thing,” Penguin growled.
“You’ll never get away with this,” said another. Darko shot one. The crowd gasped, some wiped the blood off their faces. Others didn’t.
In the middle of the crowd, a man with a striped shirt turned to the man next to him with blood on his glasses and whispered “Hey buddy, I’m packing. You wanna help me take these bastards down?”
“Stop, you’re going to make it worse,” the man whispered through gritted teeth. He didn’t even open his eyes or look at the man in the striped shirt.
“All you’ve gotta do is distract them-” he began.
“Shut up! Who’s talking?” Penguin growled, pointing his gun at the group. When no one answered, he lowered his gun and kept pacing.
“All you’ve got to do is say you feel sick or something,” the man in the striped shirt whispered again. The man with blood on his glasses just shook his head.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Penguin said, raising his gun at the man. He didn’t reply. “Speak, dammit!” he adjusted his gun.
“The man said speak,” Darko said from behind the group.
“He says he’s got a gun,” the man with bloody glasses said, his voice quivering like he was about to cry.
“You, up. Now.” Penguin said, aiming down the man in the striped shirt. The man sighed and stood up. “Step out of the group. Okay, now pull out your gun slowly, put it on the ground and kick it away,” Penguin ordered. Darko pointed his gun at the man’s back, just in case he tried something funny. The man, after a moment’s consideration, slowly put his gun on the ground and kicked it away.
“Thank you,” Penguin said softly, and shot him twice in the chest. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes and blood began to stain his striped shirt. Penguin turned back to the group. “Anyone else feel like being a hero today?”
Back downstairs, SB had opened the vault. He turned around and gazed through his night vision mask. “Anyone left?” he asked over the radio.
“Don’t think so,” said Clown as he came back to the main room to rejoin SB. Rabbit came back around the corner too.
“Anyone heard from Gas?” SB asked.
“Pinned by two guards in the safety deposit box room,” he crackled over the radio.
SB sighed. “I’ll handle this. Clown, stand guard. Rabbit, drop your weapon and start filling these bags inside the vault. Grab as much as you can. Stuff it into your suit if you need to. When Gas and I return, we’ll help out.” We walked towards the safety deposit boxes.
SB’s heart was pounding as he came upon the entrance of the safety deposit box room. He saw the sweaty backs of two guards aiming down on the sides of the room. Gas was blocked behind a column of boxes. SB had a clear shot to both, but couldn’t safely get them. He ducked out of sight and spoke into the radio, “Gas, I’m behind these pigs. I’m going to take the one on the left side. I need you to take the one on the right.”
“Can’t, I’m dry,” he whispered. The guards shouted at him to give up.
“How can you be dry?”
“I dropped my magazines when I ran in here, these two started chasing me as I was reloading.”
SB sighed and pinched his forehead as he thought of a solution.
“Okay, Gas I’ll take the one out on the left. Run in that direction, then I’ll get the guy on the right. Move when you hear me shoot.”
Time moved slowly for SB. He held his breath, took aim, and placed a bullet squarely in the first guard’s head. The second guard jumped and blindly fired in his direction, missing by a mile. Gas started to run towards the entrance of the room and the guard saw him out of the corner of his eye. He turned to take a shot but by the time his eyes landed on Gas, his optic nerves were severed by a serving of hot lead. He fell awkwardly, and SB placed another round into his neck to make sure he wouldn’t give a statement when the police eventually arrived in three minutes.
When SB arrived back at the vault doors, all the bags were loaded with money.
“Load them onto that cart and start moving towards the elevator. We’re getting out of here by air,” SB said in matter-of-factly voice, “Darko, bring the power back up and then get to the safe and fill your suit. Penguin, get down here and start filling your suit,”
“What about the people?” Penguin asked.
“Up to you,” SB paused for a moment, “Actually, send them outside and lock the doors once they’re out.”
The lights came back on and Penguin darted down the stairs into the safe, and shortly after, Darko. Everyone was inside stuffing their pockets except for SB, who was watching stairs.
“Pack as much as you can,” he shouted as he wheeled the cart with the bags of money towards the elevator. Before wheeling it in, he went back to the safe. Darko, Rabbit, Gas, Clown and Penguin were inside fitting bills wherever they could.
SB closed the door on his expired accomplices. This was his plan from the start.
On the roof, a helicopter was parked. SB loaded the money off the cart into it and took off into the morning light, flying above the sirens and chaos below.