I shouldered the deaths of a trillion souls
I burned the cities of your kind to the ground
And ignored your pleas for mercy
All your sins,
Can they compare to mine?
Yet even I was forgiven,
And I turned a new weapon upon my own brothers and sisters
For true justice I give unto your kind
THE GOD GUN
* Destri, Book 16
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The shotgun blast is ear shattering in carved stone halls, buckshot aimed skyward embedding themselves in the concrete ceiling as five bandits rush into the lobby of March Central Bank with guns raised. Deep black clothing hiding plates of lightweight body armor and bandanas covering faces, upon their forms a vicious mixture of empty duffle bags and packed rucksacks of unknown occupance.
The sole security guard reacts instinctively, reaching for the revolver handgun at his waist. A hostile act quickly intercepted with force, the hard plastic buttstock of a battle rifle cracked upon his forehead as the robber on point clumsily takes him down. Uniformed body collapsing onto the black-white concrete floor, the major threat is immediately removed in the opening stages of a stickup.
“Ladies and gentlemen please keep your hands up and heads down!” The charismatic voice orders with a handled excitement, her authority cemented as she lugs forth a multi-barreled rotary machine gun from within her long coat. Five barrels pointed towards the thin crowd, a mechanism more ancient than imaginable lifted at her hip. An implication of magic and arcane craftsmanship from masters deep in the five core cities of the Federation, a perfect weapon matching alongside its anonymous wielder. Playing out a well experienced opening line through the black bandanna over her face, the woman continues her monologue. “I would hate to have anyone here get hurt SO GET ON THE GROUND NOW!!!”
The grouping of present patrons immediately hit the floor, their hands raised away from personal weapons within holsters as they slink behind tables and desks.
A silent alarm depressed from behind the tellers’ station, the warning raised as thievery is executed to a perfect, planned point.
“Adami, get the doors.” The Gang’s Leader orders as she scans the citizens with her massive instrument of chaos. “Rin and Jacob secure the hostages and grab the manager please~”
“Gotcha gotcha.” The trio of robbers acknowledge as they stow their weapons away, separating towards differing objectives.
The young voice continues to the remaining member of the gang. “Issac you got….”
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“Yeah I got it don’t worry.” The man replies dismissively as he jogs away to the vault room, shouldering a heavy duffle bag and stolen submachine gun.
Rin is the first to reach her ordered target, her body a height towering over the rest with immense musculature. One by one the woman drags the three bank tellers over their stations, dumping them along with the rest of the troupe of hostages against screams of panic.
Personal weapons taken from every corner of the world; the concealed shapes of semi-automatic handguns, cut down muzzle-loaded shotguns, and tiny caliber derringers all tossed away from previous owners.
Behind her a massive bag is dropped upon the cold floor, the well toned frame of Jacob Marser removing the prepared devices. Tightly wound bricks of material rolled inside a layer of black tape and plastic, their forms woven within salvaged tactical vests.
All tangled together in a mess of bright blue electrical wiring.
Swiftly closing towards a short haired woman, Jacob throws the mechanism onto her body. A four barreled shotgun leveled directly at her form, the order comes with vicious intent. “Put this on! NOW!”
Panic, frozen in fear as he sweeps the rest of the huddled crowd. A roar of frustration as he grabs an extended arm, forcing the hostage into the vest.
The Gang Leader speaks up as she watches her subordinate, a frown of disapproval hidden behind the facial covering. “Now we don’t want anyone here doing anything brash or sudden so we rigged each of these vests with a little surprise! One of you even thinks about doing a funny thing and there’s gonna be unexpected consequences for all of y’all!”
Adami approaches her leader from behind, the middle-aged woman adjusting her magazine-filled bandolier as she lowers her long barreled battle rifle. “Both side and front entrances are sealed up. Left the back open as planned.”
She nods. “Good work. Now we‘re…”
A blast of gunfire down the lobby, the gang raising weapons to the sound as Rin drags a body kicking and screaming from the managerial office.
“Boss I found this.” Her rough voice arrives as she tosses the well dressed form with the rest of the collected hostages.
“You ok?” The leader asks her subordinate.
The answer comes with a murmured sarcasm, the woman dropping a captured, smoking double barreled derringer handgun as she massages a bruised chest. Ceramic plates deflecting lead, a life saved by inches. “Body armor is helpful.”
“Yeah you look fine kiddo.” Adami jibes as she begins to jog towards the front of the bank, slapping the back of the woman. “I’ll take the lookout.”
“Alright, I give’em six to eight minutes before the first one comes around.” The Gang Leader bets as she watches the subordinate move. “Get ready!”
From between them the voice of the bank manager speaks up. Old, aged and frail with balding white hair, a tone wild in implication as Jacob forcibly ties him into a vest. “There’s nothing to steal here! You’re wasting your time!”
The young woman pauses as her gaze turns towards the old man, the weapon in her hands pointing towards a new target. “Is that so? Then why are you here?”
“I swear to the Five all we got are records and paper trails!”
She scoffs as Jacob finishes rigging the man, forcibly pushing the fat form into a vest. “Well, guess we’ll find out now won’t we?”
“Your best bet is to run before the Police show up.” He continues desperately. “You’ll never crack that vault before they get here!”
The Leader laughs as the weapon's five independent barrels find themselves pointing to him. “Well that vault’s not there for show. And please have some faith in us. We’re professionals, we know what we’re doing.”
The final captive is forced into their vest, Jacob tossing a detonator switch to his leader. “Everyone’s rigged. That’s the second switch by the way, I’ll get one to Issac and I’ll keep one on me. Be right back.”
“No, I'll check the vault myself.” The ordered correction comes as the young woman holsters the bulky weapon within her black duster coat, turning to the hostages. “Keep an eye on them will ya?”
“You got it.” Jacob answers as he heaves his shotgun to his shoulders, a hidden smile aimed towards the crowd. “Any of you move and you’re eating it!”