◆Roque (Continued)◆
“Alright everyone, hands in the air!” Roque shouted to the single clerk in the bank’s lobby as soon as he burst through the doors, waving his two assault rifles around wildly like a madman. Given the relatively-recent changes to how the world's finances worked, the original bank-teller booths had been replaced with more common desk setups that could be found in most consulting offices.
Even though there were several desks, only one was currently occupied. The woman compiled, leaping to her feet in shock and putting her hands in the air.
“The hell are you thinking, Roque?!” Tusmon stormed into the bank a second behind, his hand on his own pistol in case things got out of control and he had to subdue The Swindler. “Even for you this is stupid. Banks don’t carry cash anymore. You should know that better than anyone. So what exactly is your plan here, huh?!”
“Of course I know that,” the man shrugged, still not lowering his rifles with their sights randomly swaying. “But I’ve had this fantasy of robbing a bank ever since I was homeless on the streets. And I won’t let a lack of money keep me from living out my dreams! Even if I have no need for it, damn it, I want the experience and the rush.”
“But since there’s no money,” Roque bent down to the desk, grabbing the pen with pinky and ring fingers since he wasn’t going to let go of his gun. On the way back up, the slack of the pen’s chain went taut, so The Swindler gave it a good tug, snapping the writing utensil loose.
“I want every single damn pen in this place!” the robber made his demand. “Whether it’s cheap or ballpoint, half-used or untouched. Every single one!”
“Uhh, uhhh, right away sir!” the woman bolted off to the back, and Roque didn’t even look remotely perturbed that his hostage was leaving his sight while unsupervised.
“And what exactly do you want zjik pens for?!” Tusmon got a bit closer, mumbling his words and watching the doors in case the authorities were actually called.
“Oh, I have no use for them,” The Swindler genuinely didn’t seem to care. “I’ll just throw them in the trash as soon as we leave. What I want is to disrupt the flow of business. To make the establishment suffer. I understand that it will be a microscopic blip compared to if we were actually taking money—only hindering them until they can go to an office-supply store. But it’s all I can do in this modern age of banking. Unless you want me to steal their computers or destroy their servers. Now that might actually ruin some lives.”
“Pens are fine,” the detective dropped the issue immediately, not wanting to even entertain the idea of escalation. If this really was the extent of Roque’s ridiculous ploy, the officer could put up with it and pray that the clerk just now wasn’t too traumatized.
“Mr. Personson? That is you, isn’t it?” Tusmon and Roque, who was just as taken aback, turned to the voice, finding the bank’s manager who had come out of the back office. It seemed the clerk from before had gone to him for help, and was now trailing behind the man with a few boxes of pens, with a few more loose ones on top that were sure to fall at any second.
“Yes, I am Roque Personson,” The Swindler couldn’t deny. “I would never claim otherwise. But how do you know it’s me? Well, I guess I am somewhat famous for being rich and powerful. Confusion retracted, it’s weirder if you didn’t know it was me. What can I do for you? Don’t tell me you’re going to ask me not to rob you. Damn it! Has the slander and lies that I’m actually a good person gotten to you too?!”
“No sir, it is nothing like that,” the manager answered calmly, even letting out a slight chuckle. “It’s just… you own this bank, sir. So anything here is yours to take. Please, enjoy as many pens as you want.”
“I do?!” the now-proclaimed owner was genuinely baffled. “Hold on a second.” Roque tried to take out his phone but found it too difficult. “Here, hold this for me, and wave it around a few times, wouldya?” the man chucked a gun over to Tusmon who immediately checked the safety—which was already engaged—and pointed the barrel at the ground.
“Tch, can’t get good help these days,” Roque clicked his tongue at the defiance, but didn’t let it disturb his mission. “Let’s see here, list of companies I own. Scrolling… Scrolling… Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Ah, here we are. Damn, I actually do own this bank. Apparently, one of my subsidiaries bought it out as one of their own subsidiaries.”
“And no one thought to tell me?! Mawhgers, they know I want to be informed of everything I own. I mean, it is fair that something can slip through the cracks since I own a lot of the world at this point, but still. As their boss, they will be getting a strongly worded email and possibly a demotion or brief leave-without pay—I’m mad but not heartless enough to fire them. And… it might take me a while to figure out who I need to yell at.”
“But… man this has really taken my enthusiasm out back and shot it,” Roque began tapping his remaining assault rifle against his shoulder impatiently. “Don’t even want those damn pens anymore. And if I ruin your flow of business, that’s just hurting my bottom line now. And I’m no damn masochist. Though, uhh, can’t exactly just walk out of here like this, that’d be too awkward, so I have to achieve something.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Ah, I know, just gotta shift gears. Robber to boss. Manager, your employee has clearly undergone a hellish experience today. Why is she still here? Send her home right away and make sure she gets any help she needs. Give her the rest of the week off, and there better be a company-paid vacation in her books. Also give the both of you a bit of a raise. Clearly you were the only two who cared enough to be here today.”
“For the other slackers, I want it filed by the end of the week why they weren’t here. If their excuse is zjik, you better write them up. I understand the need for work life balance, but no moocher who doesn’t pull their own weight will ever work for Roque Personson. And you there, madam, enjoy your vacation, make them extremely envious that they weren’t here to get robbed today.”
The Swindler finally turned around and headed to the door, yelling one last thing before he stormed back outside. “And hire some security for Cosmos’ sake. Just because there’s no money, it doesn’t mean you’re not at risk. Never know when some lunatic will stroll right in!”
Tusmon rushed out after Roque, only to see no sign of the man immediately. After a brief bit of scrambling, he found the businessman moping in the nearby alley. “Oh no you don’t get to feel sorry for yourself after the hell you just put me and them through!” The Investigator raged at him and threw the assault rifle at his feet. “The gun doesn’t have any ammo either.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” The Swindler huffed. “What kind of psychopath do you take me for? Pointing a loaded gun at strangers, that sort of thing is reserved for my dear friends like you.”
“Regardless of your intentions, that was way too much!” the detective wasn’t letting up. “I can’t stomach this anymore. Hell, I should have tackled you the moment you even mentioned the bank. Can we be done with this?! You won, alright. You’ve made me uncomfortable to the edge of a breakdown. So tell Phon Drazah, so she can laugh at me, and we can all move on with our lives, and I never have to see either of you again!”
“Well, no, I can’t end it yet,” Roque had to disappoint him. “I promised her entertainment until at least the end of the business day. But I’ll admit that my tactics have gone too far. No more bringing innocents into this, that’s a Personson guarantee.” Both assault rifles vanished at that moment, returning to the man’s contract
“But I’m also a bit bummed right now, since that didn’t exactly live up to my personal expectations. And you’re clearly frustrated, so let’s let off a little steam. And I know just the thing. Give me a moment,” The Swindler pulled out his phone once more. One text later, clearly to Phon, and the world suddenly changed.
“Welcome to Shindig!” Roque threw his arms, acting as a prideful showman as they stood next to a fountain in the main strip, just outside of several casinos. “The land of legal luxury, debauchery, gambling, and whatever else you can think of. But we’ll be ignoring all of that in favor of the dingier and significantly more illegal underground gambling.”
“Come along, detective. I won’t force you to gamble your pittance of a salary, but I’m sure you’ll find what we’re betting on very entertaining, and it should help you alleviate some of your pent up stress.”
Roque led Tusmon down a few backstreets, and it was a bit shocking how quickly everything went from radiant to just plain depressing. Tusmon wasn’t unfamiliar with alleyways and shady corners, but it was rarely a locale that he would visit voluntarily. And after every turn they made, the detective felt eyes leer at him. Because while he wasn’t in any official uniform, his outward appearance still screamed ‘cop’.
The Swindler began acting as a tour guide, pointing to every blank door and condemned hovel, revealing the debaucherous secrets that took place inside. It was more than Tusmon wanted to know. If he still had jurisdiction, he’d be writing it all down, compelled to take action. But since there wasn’t legally anything he could do about it without cause, he desperately tried to erase it from his mind.
“Well look at that, a mugging taking place right before our very eyes,” Roque stopped in his tracks, eyeing a pair still well-off in the distance. It could almost look like they were a couple arguing—easy to turn a blind eye too and go another path—but the man’s keen eyes picked up on the nuances.
“Stay here, I’ll take care of it,” The Investigator drew his pistol, readying himself to intervene.
“Now hold on just a second there, detective,” Roque shot his arm forward to block the man. “Allow me. A good deed to counterbalance some of today’s naughtiness. But, I just need a moment to prepare. One second.”
A quick text later, and Pox suddenly appeared in Roque’s arms. “I’m going to stop this crime with another crime.” The man sprinted forward, getting a running start as he reeled back his arms.
“Go! Animal Cruelty!” Roque then pelted Pox towards the mugger, hurling him at blazing speed as if he was trying to break every athlete’s pitching speed record. As the koala fox soared through the air, he tucked himself into a ball and started to spin. The creature smashed right into the mugger’s face with a flying kick, downing the assailant in one concise blow, knocking them face-first into the ground.
“Don’t worry, he loves it,” The Swindler insisted once Tusmon caught up and showed concern for the creature. “Look, he’s already back and wants to go again.” Pox was clamoring at the man’s feet like a kid who wanted to be picked up. “Sorry bud, but we don’t beat people when they’re dow- oh wait, they’re getting back up. Alright, round two. Time for the double tap.”
Pox leapt up into Roque’s arms, only to be dropped a second later. The creature spun into a ball again just before he made contact with the man’s overpriced shoe. Pox went soaring forward once more like a blazing zoneball. This time, he hit the mugger square in the back of the head, knocking out every last bit of consciousness and sensibility they had left. The creature came back, wanting to go a third time, but Roque had to insist they stop, and the fluffy ball accepted, vanishing with a smile on its face.
“And here we are,” Roque flashed a membership card at the guard outside the front door. And by guard, it was a disheveled man who was sitting on a few crates, with only one leg, clutching into a cane. Tusmon recognized that specific cane, however, a popular sword-cane among criminals that could be drawn in the blink of an eye if there was a rude customer that needed to vacate the premises.
The detective’s eyes widened when they got inside. He was expecting a dinky run-down gambling ring, and that’s essentially what he got. But there were far more attendees than he expected, but what caught him off-guard was that they were all Fiends.