Cat Scratch Fever || Bank Heist
May. 13th, 2017 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAlex’s and Lorna’s simple day of errands comes to an end when they get caught up in a bank robbery.
Alex craned his neck, trying to see around the line of people in front of him - well, "line." It was about four people. Right at the front was an old lady trying to figure out how money worked. At least, that was what Alex assumed, considering how long this was taking. He checked his phone and sighed, looking at Lorna. "What do you think the odds are that we're just going to be standing here waiting for this woman until the bank closes?"
"She is old." Turning towards Alex, "if you want to complain, complain to those bank clerks over there who are just standing around doing nothing."
"Who's complaining? I'm just making an observation." Now the teller was showing the lady something on the computer. "I feel like this is what those little offices off to the side are for, though."
The couple should have been careful what they wished for. A boring, prolonged visit to the bank was surely a better alternative than what actually happened: a man in a black turtleneck, camo pants, and trench coat (all clean, crisp, clearly just recently bought from a military supply store), stepped into the bank, dropped his duffel bag. and withdrew a shotgun. Before the security guard could react, the man bashed him in the face with the butt of the gun, and then pumped the barrel and fired a shot into the ceiling.
"Everyone, on the ground, NOW!" he barked. Though most of the patrons complied, his eyes darted around the room nervously, as if he expected more resistance. "Do as I say and you won't get hurt. It's real simple."
"I'm just saying-"
Whatever Alex was just saying was lost to the sound of gunshots, and Alex dove automatically on Lorna, tackling her to the ground before he dared to look at the man who had fired the gun. Aw fuck, was a surprisingly blasé thought to have, but it was all Alex could think at the moment. Fuck.
Lorna was on the ground with Alex on top of her before she processed what was going on. Lifting her head slightly to get a better look and possibly see the person that was robbing the place -at least she thought he was robbing it. "We need to do something." Her voice was barely a whisper it was so low.
The man approached the counter. The tellers, though safe for the time being behind bullet-proof glass, were shaking. One of them was crying and clutching the golden cross he wore on a chain around his neck.
"Don't do that," the man said brusquely, tapping the glass lightly with the end of his gun. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Listen to me, do what I say, and you all can go to your families tonight. You." He indicated the eldest of the tellers, a squat, pale woman in a gray skirt and blazer. "You already pressed the silent alarm, right? Good. Settle in, now. The rest of you!" He turned to face the rest of the patrons, now all lying on the floor. "Take out your phones and slide them towards me. Don't throw! If I see one phone in the air, then . . ." He pumped the shotgun again and aimed at Alex's old lady nemesis at the head of the line.
"Not now," Alex whispered to Lorna, pulling out his phone and sliding it across the floor like he was skipping a rock. His eyes were trained on the gun, watching the man's every move, his arm around Lorna's waist, keeping her close. Lorna could have easily pulled the gun from the man's hands, but that would expose her as a mutant. Not to mention they had no idea what else the man had on him. For all they knew there was a bomb wired under that jacket. "Let's just... play along for now."
Lorna slide the phone that was in her hands over. "I could easily break the gun and no one would ever know." She whispered again, her brilliant green eyes were trained on if anything else was on the man - metal like.
The wail of sirens indicated the arrival of the police, and the man's lips quirked up in a sad smile that did not reach his eyes. "All right, uh, you two." He indicated Alex and Lorna. "Take those banners there" — he pointed at standing signs that advertised retirement investments and mortgage refinancing with images of happy, white, nuclear families — "and move them in front of the door. Now!" He had clearly watched enough TV or movies to know he needed to obscure the inside of the bank from the street so he could not be targeted by a sniper. "And don't even think about making a move to try to escape. You go and I start shooting." He turned the gun on the old woman again to make his point.
Shit. "Right, right," Alex murmured, standing and pulling Lorna with him, trying to keep her behind him. If it came down to using their powers, he wanted to make sure no one got a good look at Lorna's face.
Lorna stood up and slowly walked over to the sign before moving them to the door. Turning slowly, Lorna looked over at the bank robber - it would just be so simple to take him out. Or the gun at the very least. If he was asking them to block the door it meant he wasn't here to rob the bank and have a clear shot to the door, they were meant to be hostages.
"D-drop it!" The crowd screamed and tried to vanish into the floor when the man shot at the security guard who, despite blood pouring down his nose from the criminal's vicious entrance, had reached for his sidearm and tried to be a hero. Not anymore. At least not with a hole in his foot, courtesy of nerves and bad aim.
Alex whipped around at the sound of the gunshot, yelling, "Yo!" almost out of habit. This was not how he wanted to die. He threw his hands up quickly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible as the gun was turned on him. "Alright, dude, alright. S'okay." He suddenly wished he could be Bobbi. She was probably better at negotiating. Or hell, he could be Warren and pay his way out of this. Really, anyone but him.
A beat of silence passed, and the phone behind the desk rang.
Eyes and gun still trained on his hostages, the man slowly stalked his way to the phone and pressed the speaker button. Hostage negotiator, kindly introducing himself with all the pleasantries to distract him from the fact he faced certain death in most outcomes of this scenario. He snorted.
"My son," he replied. "I've asked politely over and over again, and you pigs haven't done anything. Now you will. Find him and everything's fine here. If you don't, then I won't be the only one without a full family tonight." He hung up before the negotiator could answer.
Alex got down on the floor again with Lorna, eyes flitting between Lorna and the gun. "Fuck," he breathed before focusing on Lorna. This would have been so much easier if it were a straight up robbery. "Take out the gun," he whispered to Lorna. The man had only fired it once since entering the bank. He probably wouldn't notice for a while. But him not having that weapon would make things easier.
Lorna nodded as her eyes moved from the man to the gun. With just a thought she broke the gun in a way to make it jam. "Alex, did you hear him? His son is missing. All he wants is his son." Of course threatening lives of others isn't cool, but she knew the lengths a father would go for their children. Her father being the more on the extreme side of revenge. Turning towards Alex, "I want to talk to him."
"So do I." That was why he wanted the gun taken out. Alex was... mostly assured the man wouldn't shoot him. But better safe than sorry. He stood slowly, still shielding Lorna a bit, and held up his hands. "Why do you think the police aren't looking for your son?"
Their captor glared at him and did not respond immediately. He pumped the shotgun again as a warning, but this time, he did not aim it at anyone. "Salem Center has made no secret that they're run by bigots and fascists," he said, practically spitting venom. "To them, one missing mutant is a good start. They're not motivated unless normal humans are in danger."
"Your son is a mutant?" The words were gentle. It might have been a normal conversation if not for the gun. Even if it was disabled. The security guard's face was proof that bullets weren't necessary for that thing to do damage.
His expression wavered at the expression of sympathy but only for a second before he steeled himself again. "Yes. Do . . . if you have a problem with that, too, then you can join Mister Hero over there."
"No. Do you think I dyed my hair green for the fun of it?" Lorna stepped forward so Alex was no longer shielding her. "We take on cases for missing people, even ones no one else wants to take on. We want to help. And I am only reaching for our business card." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a card and held it out the the man. "X-Factor Investigations."
He hesitated before reaching for the card, and hastily withdrew his hand once he took it. He eyed Lorna, Alex, and the card suspiciously, but perhaps to his credit, he did not aim the gun at them this time. "Mutant PI's?"
"We help people who need it," Alex said simply. "And mutants need it a lot right now." His eyes dodged around once, taking in the cameras he could see from where he was standing, then leaned over to whisper to Lorna, "Take out the cameras." The last thing they needed was proof they'd been here.
Lorna's hand glowed green for a moment before sending out a miniature magnetic pulse to take all electronic devices in the nearby area. "As you can see, I am like your son. And really I -we- want to help. No one should be ignored because they were born special."
"I . . ." The man surveyed the scene. People cowering on the ground, many of them crying or comforting those who were. Another pair of patrons were helping the injured security guard so he would not bleed out. "You really think you can find him?"
"Yes." Saying they absolutely would find him was a bit much, but Alex could promise one thing. "We'll do everything we can. But you gotta stop this. You're just hurting your own cause."
The man shook his head. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want my son back safe and healthy. His name's Collin. Collin Bush. Two L's. He's like a . . . cat person. Ears, eyes, fur. But he's just a boy, really."
Lorna nodded, "Do you have a picture?" Though a mutation as unique as that one shouldn't be hard to find. "We will help. But you need to let the people go."
"Not on me, no. You don't think I'm so foolish to bring my own phone or wallet with me?" he asked wryly and then sighed. Putting his gun down, he wrote his address on the back of some abandoned form on the desk and passed it to the pair. "Talk to my wife. Tell her what happened here and . . . tell her I'm sorry."
Alex nodded, pocketing the piece of paper. "We'll start first thing tomorrow. I promise."
"No." He struck the desk with his gun, and several of the hostages yelped. He almost looked sorry for startling them. "Now. Today. Collin could be hurt, he could be in trouble, he could be . . ."
Oh boy. "Today, then," Alex said quickly, holding his hands up again. "But you gotta let us go before we can do anything."
Lorna walked over to the man, "I promise we will find your son."
"Fine. Get everyone out. Tell the cops I'm coming peacefully once everyone's out. And . . . thank you."
Alex looked back at Lorna, and nodded. Missing kids were a PI's bread and butter. This would be simple.
At least... he hoped so.
Alex craned his neck, trying to see around the line of people in front of him - well, "line." It was about four people. Right at the front was an old lady trying to figure out how money worked. At least, that was what Alex assumed, considering how long this was taking. He checked his phone and sighed, looking at Lorna. "What do you think the odds are that we're just going to be standing here waiting for this woman until the bank closes?"
"She is old." Turning towards Alex, "if you want to complain, complain to those bank clerks over there who are just standing around doing nothing."
"Who's complaining? I'm just making an observation." Now the teller was showing the lady something on the computer. "I feel like this is what those little offices off to the side are for, though."
The couple should have been careful what they wished for. A boring, prolonged visit to the bank was surely a better alternative than what actually happened: a man in a black turtleneck, camo pants, and trench coat (all clean, crisp, clearly just recently bought from a military supply store), stepped into the bank, dropped his duffel bag. and withdrew a shotgun. Before the security guard could react, the man bashed him in the face with the butt of the gun, and then pumped the barrel and fired a shot into the ceiling.
"Everyone, on the ground, NOW!" he barked. Though most of the patrons complied, his eyes darted around the room nervously, as if he expected more resistance. "Do as I say and you won't get hurt. It's real simple."
"I'm just saying-"
Whatever Alex was just saying was lost to the sound of gunshots, and Alex dove automatically on Lorna, tackling her to the ground before he dared to look at the man who had fired the gun. Aw fuck, was a surprisingly blasé thought to have, but it was all Alex could think at the moment. Fuck.
Lorna was on the ground with Alex on top of her before she processed what was going on. Lifting her head slightly to get a better look and possibly see the person that was robbing the place -at least she thought he was robbing it. "We need to do something." Her voice was barely a whisper it was so low.
The man approached the counter. The tellers, though safe for the time being behind bullet-proof glass, were shaking. One of them was crying and clutching the golden cross he wore on a chain around his neck.
"Don't do that," the man said brusquely, tapping the glass lightly with the end of his gun. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Listen to me, do what I say, and you all can go to your families tonight. You." He indicated the eldest of the tellers, a squat, pale woman in a gray skirt and blazer. "You already pressed the silent alarm, right? Good. Settle in, now. The rest of you!" He turned to face the rest of the patrons, now all lying on the floor. "Take out your phones and slide them towards me. Don't throw! If I see one phone in the air, then . . ." He pumped the shotgun again and aimed at Alex's old lady nemesis at the head of the line.
"Not now," Alex whispered to Lorna, pulling out his phone and sliding it across the floor like he was skipping a rock. His eyes were trained on the gun, watching the man's every move, his arm around Lorna's waist, keeping her close. Lorna could have easily pulled the gun from the man's hands, but that would expose her as a mutant. Not to mention they had no idea what else the man had on him. For all they knew there was a bomb wired under that jacket. "Let's just... play along for now."
Lorna slide the phone that was in her hands over. "I could easily break the gun and no one would ever know." She whispered again, her brilliant green eyes were trained on if anything else was on the man - metal like.
The wail of sirens indicated the arrival of the police, and the man's lips quirked up in a sad smile that did not reach his eyes. "All right, uh, you two." He indicated Alex and Lorna. "Take those banners there" — he pointed at standing signs that advertised retirement investments and mortgage refinancing with images of happy, white, nuclear families — "and move them in front of the door. Now!" He had clearly watched enough TV or movies to know he needed to obscure the inside of the bank from the street so he could not be targeted by a sniper. "And don't even think about making a move to try to escape. You go and I start shooting." He turned the gun on the old woman again to make his point.
Shit. "Right, right," Alex murmured, standing and pulling Lorna with him, trying to keep her behind him. If it came down to using their powers, he wanted to make sure no one got a good look at Lorna's face.
Lorna stood up and slowly walked over to the sign before moving them to the door. Turning slowly, Lorna looked over at the bank robber - it would just be so simple to take him out. Or the gun at the very least. If he was asking them to block the door it meant he wasn't here to rob the bank and have a clear shot to the door, they were meant to be hostages.
"D-drop it!" The crowd screamed and tried to vanish into the floor when the man shot at the security guard who, despite blood pouring down his nose from the criminal's vicious entrance, had reached for his sidearm and tried to be a hero. Not anymore. At least not with a hole in his foot, courtesy of nerves and bad aim.
Alex whipped around at the sound of the gunshot, yelling, "Yo!" almost out of habit. This was not how he wanted to die. He threw his hands up quickly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible as the gun was turned on him. "Alright, dude, alright. S'okay." He suddenly wished he could be Bobbi. She was probably better at negotiating. Or hell, he could be Warren and pay his way out of this. Really, anyone but him.
A beat of silence passed, and the phone behind the desk rang.
Eyes and gun still trained on his hostages, the man slowly stalked his way to the phone and pressed the speaker button. Hostage negotiator, kindly introducing himself with all the pleasantries to distract him from the fact he faced certain death in most outcomes of this scenario. He snorted.
"My son," he replied. "I've asked politely over and over again, and you pigs haven't done anything. Now you will. Find him and everything's fine here. If you don't, then I won't be the only one without a full family tonight." He hung up before the negotiator could answer.
Alex got down on the floor again with Lorna, eyes flitting between Lorna and the gun. "Fuck," he breathed before focusing on Lorna. This would have been so much easier if it were a straight up robbery. "Take out the gun," he whispered to Lorna. The man had only fired it once since entering the bank. He probably wouldn't notice for a while. But him not having that weapon would make things easier.
Lorna nodded as her eyes moved from the man to the gun. With just a thought she broke the gun in a way to make it jam. "Alex, did you hear him? His son is missing. All he wants is his son." Of course threatening lives of others isn't cool, but she knew the lengths a father would go for their children. Her father being the more on the extreme side of revenge. Turning towards Alex, "I want to talk to him."
"So do I." That was why he wanted the gun taken out. Alex was... mostly assured the man wouldn't shoot him. But better safe than sorry. He stood slowly, still shielding Lorna a bit, and held up his hands. "Why do you think the police aren't looking for your son?"
Their captor glared at him and did not respond immediately. He pumped the shotgun again as a warning, but this time, he did not aim it at anyone. "Salem Center has made no secret that they're run by bigots and fascists," he said, practically spitting venom. "To them, one missing mutant is a good start. They're not motivated unless normal humans are in danger."
"Your son is a mutant?" The words were gentle. It might have been a normal conversation if not for the gun. Even if it was disabled. The security guard's face was proof that bullets weren't necessary for that thing to do damage.
His expression wavered at the expression of sympathy but only for a second before he steeled himself again. "Yes. Do . . . if you have a problem with that, too, then you can join Mister Hero over there."
"No. Do you think I dyed my hair green for the fun of it?" Lorna stepped forward so Alex was no longer shielding her. "We take on cases for missing people, even ones no one else wants to take on. We want to help. And I am only reaching for our business card." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a card and held it out the the man. "X-Factor Investigations."
He hesitated before reaching for the card, and hastily withdrew his hand once he took it. He eyed Lorna, Alex, and the card suspiciously, but perhaps to his credit, he did not aim the gun at them this time. "Mutant PI's?"
"We help people who need it," Alex said simply. "And mutants need it a lot right now." His eyes dodged around once, taking in the cameras he could see from where he was standing, then leaned over to whisper to Lorna, "Take out the cameras." The last thing they needed was proof they'd been here.
Lorna's hand glowed green for a moment before sending out a miniature magnetic pulse to take all electronic devices in the nearby area. "As you can see, I am like your son. And really I -we- want to help. No one should be ignored because they were born special."
"I . . ." The man surveyed the scene. People cowering on the ground, many of them crying or comforting those who were. Another pair of patrons were helping the injured security guard so he would not bleed out. "You really think you can find him?"
"Yes." Saying they absolutely would find him was a bit much, but Alex could promise one thing. "We'll do everything we can. But you gotta stop this. You're just hurting your own cause."
The man shook his head. "I don't care what happens to me. I just want my son back safe and healthy. His name's Collin. Collin Bush. Two L's. He's like a . . . cat person. Ears, eyes, fur. But he's just a boy, really."
Lorna nodded, "Do you have a picture?" Though a mutation as unique as that one shouldn't be hard to find. "We will help. But you need to let the people go."
"Not on me, no. You don't think I'm so foolish to bring my own phone or wallet with me?" he asked wryly and then sighed. Putting his gun down, he wrote his address on the back of some abandoned form on the desk and passed it to the pair. "Talk to my wife. Tell her what happened here and . . . tell her I'm sorry."
Alex nodded, pocketing the piece of paper. "We'll start first thing tomorrow. I promise."
"No." He struck the desk with his gun, and several of the hostages yelped. He almost looked sorry for startling them. "Now. Today. Collin could be hurt, he could be in trouble, he could be . . ."
Oh boy. "Today, then," Alex said quickly, holding his hands up again. "But you gotta let us go before we can do anything."
Lorna walked over to the man, "I promise we will find your son."
"Fine. Get everyone out. Tell the cops I'm coming peacefully once everyone's out. And . . . thank you."
Alex looked back at Lorna, and nodded. Missing kids were a PI's bread and butter. This would be simple.
At least... he hoped so.
