Vehicles parked in a half-circle in front of March Central Bank’s massive facade, the creation of soft cover for the handful of police officers executed to a pitiful display. Already spread dangerously thin, the six patrol cars were of an intermix of rusted shells, broken windows, and removed doors; material taken from salvage lots pressed back into emergency service in utter desperation.
Fourteen police officers kneel behind them, forms barely peeking out in concerned glances. Unfit for frontline duties, a pair of bolt action rifles and a singular submachine gun were split between revolvers and pitiful breech loaders; insufficient firepower against the heavily armed and entrenched gang within the building.
Peacekeepers keeping frames of fragile flesh away from fields of fire, their ordinance held towards the earth beneath their feet in conservative warfare.
The Bandit peaks out from broken front windows, a form barely exposed as she gauges the threats at the base of the staircase.
Behind her the Lookout speaks up, Adami shouldering her heavy battle rifle on her chest. “Not a good turnout huh?”
“Terrible turnout.” Maddie agrees.
“What’s the plan then?”
The response is held for future thought as a handful of officers notice her form, their weapons rising from stowed positions and pointed towards the barricaded entrance.
“If we shoot our way out of this now, someone's getting killed.” The Gang Leader grits, ducking back into cover. “We’re stuck here until that entire thing at the Palace Complex blows over.”
“That’ll be… what a couple hours?” Adami follows up as she leans out of the windowsill.
“Well at least Issac’ll have enough time to finish up.” Maddie claps her gang member on the back, legs bringing her back to the main lobby as she consumes herself with the plan of action. “Keep watch, just speak up when you want us to do a shift change.”
“Alright, good.” The middle aged woman agrees with a thumbs up, her watch station at the window returned to its rightful owner.
Boots crunching broken glass, the Bandit Leader takes a moment to breathe as she arrives at the central wing of March Central Bank.
Cathedral-like in design, woven concrete pillars stretch up towards a shaded skylight. Five suns breathing filtered fury into the lobby, a well lit interior augmented by hand crafted electrical lamps.
Four large writing tables, now overturned, play out pieces of cover from the interior of the room. Huddled against them were twenty two hostages total; a sample population of March from all stratas. A mixture of ages, half-a-dozen origins, and personalities crushed together in circumstance; souls held within forced on vests and wired together by bright blue electrical cords.
The security guard, now disarmed, sits against one of the tables as Jacob carefully dabs a slightly damp cloth upon his forehead. The scent of alcohol in stagnant air, a careful sanitation of inflicted wounds by well trained hands.
Patient forced to rest by a captor healer, the chilling smile from the Enforcer enough to silence any protest from the security guard.
“He’ll be fine.” Jacob harshly comments as he senses his leader behind him. “Next time don’t let Auntie Adami go in first.”
“Well next time, how about you volunteer?” The Leader chuckles.
“Well maybe I should, just like I always do.” Jacob removes the medical pack from his waist, applying a long string of gauze bandages upon the bleeding cut on the man’s head. A perfect medical treatment, nurtured alongside advice. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Walk it off when we’re done here. You understand sir?”
Under threat the security guard nods, the Gang’s enforcer stretching as he rises up. A deep yawn of boredom, an extended timeframe already testing the limitations of humankind. “Gods above, how much longer in this crap shoot.”
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“We’re waiting it out.” Maddie translates her plan down to subordinates. “Nobody’s outside right now except for the Police.”
“Great, the one time I’m not planning one of these things and it falls apart.” Jacob jokes.
“Why not leave through the back?” The form of Rin speaks up, towering over the hostages and her comrades.
“We’re not backing out of this job either.” The Gang’s Leader insists. “Ain’t got a choice but to see it through.”
Turning towards the group of captured souls the young woman speaks, arms outstretched in commandment. A voice booming in authority, leadership and candace of forged charisma from an unknowable past. “Ladies and gentlemen of March, we ask for your patience in these next few hours. I understand that we’ve probably ruined your day and we don’t want to ruin it any further. Please sit tight and don’t do anything sudden. Afterall, we don’t want that little surprise in your vests to be spoiled too early.”
Silence in obedience, the Leader pausing as she leans against the pillar at her back. Eyes gazing towards the small crowd, questions raised at an attempt at entertainment. “Anyone want to guess how much cash is in the vault? Excluding you seven.”
Waving a hand towards the present employees the Bandit continues, a teasing tone spoken. “Closest guess is gonna get priority for release.”
Silence at the offering for a chance at freedom, a word of trust tested against the insight of the population of the City of March.
“Two million.” A voice from behind one of the tables offers.
“Stand up.” The Leader orders as she spots the form of a teenage boy huddled alongside a middle-aged woman.
Both thin and scrawny, the family of two against a hostile universe.
“Please no.” The woman begs quietly as her son stands.
“Two million.” The Bandit points casually. “That’s a good guess. Anyone willing to challenge that?”
Utter silence, the two present Gang Members exchanging silent glances between one another.
The next question is directed at the employees, dark red uniforms identifying them against the stereotypical worn clothing of the Southlanders. “How much cash does a Bank this size carry anyway?”
“You would know.” The Manager defiantly answers.
Maddie points out to the standing hostage, an assumption of age placed within the question. “What year of schooling are you? I assume March at least has the decency to use the Federation’s primary school fund well right?”
“N-no. I… I don’t…”
“Gods above.” A groan from the Bandit, her amber eyes turning to the rest of the hostages. “What’s your name kid?”
“A-Adam.”
Jacob turns to Rin, a jovial whisper placed between the two. “We just found Auntie’s counterpart…”
Ignoring comrades, the woman continues. “Alright Adam, if you had five hundred dollars right now what would you do?”
Fear breaks down thought, a sputtering answer remains in the world of incompatibility. “I-I d-don’t know.”
“Don’t know.” Jacob scoffs.
“No wonder why this place is falling apart.” Maddie sighs. “Just remember, five hundred’s enough to buy your way up to University. Or wriggle your way into any business you want.”
“This is March Maddie.” Jacob continues off his boss. “Kid’ll probably gamble it all… ”
“Don’t be so quick to judge us.” Another, much older voice, answers sternly from the ground. “You bastards think you can do this to us, you’re dead.”
A weathered face etched with lines from a lifetime spent in the toils beneath five suns, deep set eyes of blue hearkening to the twelve cities of the southlands. An age upon his face calculating an existence to possibly before the fall of March by the hands of the Federation, the absolute wisdom of survival and salvation played upon his simple, dusty clothing.
Jacob chuckles at the old man, speaking forth publicly as the words are digested. “There’s that Southland attitude I talked about.”
“We’re not afraid of you: Thugs and Thieves.”
“You actually think we’re stealing from you?” The Bandit stops as she locks eyes with the offending party. “Does anyone here actually know how a bank works?”
The pause is held, the Bandit turning over to her comrades and then towards the Manager. “This money’s insured anyway, right?”
There is no answer from the fat man, Maddie kicking him hard in the abdomen.
A groan of sudden pain from the individual, a faltering of a mind evident as he attempts to curl into a ball. The Bandit scoffs. “Come on, speak up.”
“You think you’re trying to do something good here?” The man coughs out. “You’re stealing from the PEOPLE!”
“The people huh?” Behind the black bandana the smile arrives, a light chuckle echoing through concrete halls. “Which is why you keep your debt documents in the main vault along with the rest of the cash.”
Silence at the observation.
“You’re not special.” Maddie observes as she casually strolls around the main lobby, a tone sarcastic in delivery. “You can give your one liners about serving the public good but we all know what the truth is… don’t we?”