The prayer is spoken aloud, the partaking of ritual answered by the majority of individuals within the room. Against the situation at hand, the light from the five suns streaming through the glass above slowly dims against the passing of a day’s time.

The scent of fresh food delivered in plastic containers permeates the well ventilated lobby, temptation pulling on empty stomachs as Jacob Marser leads the final closing words of a memorized ideology. A thanking of the five gods above; from the grace of Alina, the provision and power of Stratos and Strata, the justice of Destri’s salvation, and the cold order brought forth by Father Mar. The southlandic tradition within the enforcer’s veins provides a near perfected prayer, memorized from the holy scriptures of the cultish scriptures.

“... and for the Savior below: we thank you for providing the nourishment we eat today. Bless us in the coming and going, now and forever more.”

A pause as the enforcer raises his head in finality, picking his shotgun back up as he turns to the stacked pile of packed food. “Maddie, how are we going to do this?”

“Group by group, split between tables.” The Bandit organizes as she points out the settled hostages. “Y’all all go one at a time, pick only one from each pile! There’s sixty meals here so there’s plenty to go around!”

Pointing out the nearest group the young woman chuckles. “Your people’s favorite dishes, you get to go first. Get up.”

The four stand as ordered, brought before a temple of excess stacked upon the marble flooring. Slightly opaque bags hiding within them individually packed meals from three identifiable dining establishments, unique in design, collected together for expedient delivery.

The Gang watches as each group of hostages is slotted, the strapped vests on their forms a grim reminder of the true situation as each one collects a serving for themselves.

A meal wrought with little conversation, the Bandit watching as each individual slowly takes in the food. Delicious taste soured by threat of imminent death, a body’s enjoyment crushed against fear.

“How is it?” The Bandit asks as she strolls past a group of five; the mixture of ethnic southlanders and two westland middle-aged men staring back.

“Good.” One replies quickly.

A nod, Maddie turning towards the remaining members of the Gang.

“Jacob, Rin, you want a break?”

“I’ll pass Maddie.” The enforcer chuckles as he drinks some water from his canteen. “Pretty sure that food’s drugged to high hell in case we’re stupid enough to eat it.”

“Oh come on Jacob you gotta put some trust in the Federation right?” The Bandit turns over to Rin, pointing a hybrid fork-spoon towards her form. “Want some?”

“I will pass.” Rin sternly answers.

A voice raised to the isolated lookout of the Gang, Maddie yelling out the question. “What about you Adami?!”

“Not this time!” Adami returns the answer from her post.

“And Issac never eats until he’s broken the lock.” Jacob adds to the final unspoken member.

Maddie places her hands together, a groan echoing through the world. “Why is it that everytime this happens I’m the only one eating?”

“Issac’ll probably say that you’re probably the only one stupid enough to do it.” Jacob answers. “And I’d agree with him all things considered.”

“Seriously?” Maddie scoffs as she smiles playfully. “I hate all of you, especially you Jacob.”

A wink from the enforcer as the Bandit finds a spot against the pillar, cold stone sapping heat as the young woman cracks open the container of hot food.

Browned meat and white mashed starch drowned in sauce, the scent immediately pulling forth a notion of excessive consumption. Pulling down the black bandana covering her face the first glance at the form of their captor is processed, hostages stopping a meal to observe the young woman.

A youthful frame, light skin and sharp facial structure reminiscent of the midlands’ tumultuous history. Dark brown hair streaming from a wide brimmed hat, brushed aside by barely calloused fingers as she bites down on the meat-steak with an air of calm nobility.

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The pure blood of Centralis, uncorrupted by the eons of time and conflict.

Mannerisms cemented in dining tables and cocktail parties in the halls of politics and socialites, taken to the logical extreme by a brutal life upon the frontier of a dying world.

The Bank Manager is the first to notice, eyes widening in realization. A single fixture of monetary value in the association of the face, an order written to the nation by leaders far away. To warn against a threat, a menace to society turned over to society itself to deal with.

Contained within the soul, words spilling outward in the cursed title of the demon. “Arsa’s name…”

“Hmmm?” The Bandit turns as she wipes away an errant drop of gravy.

“N-nothing.” The old man ceases as he looks away.

“There’s always something.” The Bandit replies as she pushes herself off of the stone pillar. “But it’s never good to pry during meal time.”

Two gazes meet, an understanding brought to the foot of the young woman as she strolls towards the vault room.

Guided by the sound of work; the shattering of metal and continuous drilling is soundtracked as the Bandit casually scans over a few scattered documents. A mindless activity as she continues to eat, a minor distraction as a mind attempts to calculate the bounty stored behind ancient alloy armor.

Walking past the set aside door she stops at the entrance, the locksmith pausing as he turns to face his leader. A pile of slag and sheared metal at his feet, a focused destruction applied to craftsmanship. “You know I can smell that stuff from here right?”

“You want some?”

Issac chuckles. “I don’t eat until I break the lock. That’s my one rule Maddie.”

“How far are you?” The question is asked with neutrality, reserved judgment caught by the man.

“Always the slave driver Boss.” The Locksmith pauses as he turns back to his work, dirty hands rubbed on a thick cloak. “You picked quite a convenient time to come, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

The man breathes as he removes the solid brick of plastic explosive from his opened bag. A brown paper covering runs from it a pair of electrodes; stabilized for nefarious purposes. “Some nice fireworks to round off this little escapade.”

“Oh come on… ”

“Vault breaking always requires a bit of creativity and finesse.” Issac continues. “But sometimes you’ll just need to barge your way through a problem.”

Pointing outward towards the slagged steel and around the circular door he finds the specified point, a mind analyzing a final move against stalwart construction.

“Have you forgotten what they’re keeping in the Vault?” Maddie asks as she chews. “I don’t think they’re gonna react very well to big explosions.”

“The explosion’s only gonna be on the outside.” The Locksmith points out calmly. “Try to imagine it as a more powerful scalpel rather than what the military uses to blow up buildings.”

The Bandit chuckles. “If you say so. But just so you know there’s a judge outside and she seems very pissed. Pretty sure setting off charges is gonna set her off considering what they think we got tied to the hostages.”

“Well we can be here for another five hours if that’s alright.” The man jokes as he turns to the shadowed form. “Or we can do it fast with just one blow.”

Maddie thinks, taking a deep breath. The understanding of leadership, of the knowledge brought by specialists diverted to. “You’re the most qualified to make that decision. But I think the situation outside is starting to deteriorate a bit quicker than I’d like.”

“What, the Judge managed to figure out who you are?”

The young woman shakes her head, looking outward to the vault door. A sigh and a smile. “As far as everyone’s concerned: our entire Gang’s out in the Baitan Plateau getting themselves killed by bounty hunters. We’re dead to the world, for now of course.”

Issac laughs. “Still can’t believe they fell for that.”

“Well sure cuts the competition down.” Maddie observes. “Gods, even that psycho Naro’s dead. Alto fucking Carrin, the Vigil himself took her down.”

The name is enough to trigger the senses, Issac stopping his work in surprise. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah, down in a small town south of here called Old Springs.” The woman continues. “Gods maybe he’s here in March?”

“You better hope he isn’t. Cause if he is, we're all dead.”

Maddie scoffs. “Well that’s all just headline news I saw on the way here. The Federation cleaned the entire Principality out just like that, no blood on their part too.”

“Leaves more room for us to work with right?”

“Leaves more guns to shoot at us given the amount of bounty hunters here.” The Bandit replies. “Think after this we’ll move on to the midlands again, maybe even hit the northlander banks.”

“That’ll make Adami and Rin happy.” Issac wipes a slight tinge of sweat as he finishes preparing the explosive charge, excess wire wrapped around the paper packaging of the one pound block. “Though Jacob wanted to stay down here a bit longer.”

“Sounds like him.” Maddie notes.

“Some northland air’ll do him good.” Issac motions calmly. “Plus I’ve been meaning to visit Salvation. Gotta do that at least once in my life right?”

“Ha I don’t think we’ll go that far north. Unless we really get in deep.” The Bandit grins as she watches the Locksmith step back, a spool of wire trailing him as he recollects his tools back into the bag. “Ready?”

“Just gotta clack this detonator and we’ll be good. And then…”

“Then hopefully I can explain why there was an explosion with all the hostages rigged with explosives.” Maddie exhales with slight concern. “Let’s wait till we get some actual leverage before doing anything loud.”

“That’ll be cutting it close on the timing.” Issac observes.

“We’ll figure it out.” The Bandit assures with a sly glance. “Let’s get ready, I got some hostages to release!”