Patterns of fear upon the faces converted to confusion at the words, the trio of bodies exchanging a quick glance before the Bandit continues. “You’ll also be volunteering for something.”

The male half of the couple speaks with confidence, courage swallowed as he rises to the occasion. “Cerritos cake, with cinnamon.”

“Twisted or straight?” Jacob Marser asks with amusement as he leans against a stone support pillar.

“She likes it twisted.” The man answers. “I like it straighter.”

“If we’re getting that we’re getting it twisted.” The Bandit sternly orders with sarcasm, turning to the old man. “What about you pops?”

Seventy six years of life experience rolling through active memory, a simple luxury chosen as the answer. “Meat steak, with tubular starch and gravy sauce.”

A collective gasp from the Bandit and her comrades, an imagination carrying with them to a rowdy celebration of years prior. A raised glass in the success of a duty done, the creation of a collective forged in the bonds of criminal action. The Bandit points him out. “You’re winning as of now grandpa.”

The final hostage is left, all souls focused on her answer. “Cactus cobbler.”

“Full course.” Rin grunts.

“That it is.” The Bandit acknowledges. “Y’all got some good taste. Though, I still need one volunteer.”

“For what?” The old man asks coldly.

The Bandit pauses as she withholds the answer, turning to the couple’s female half. “Don’t take offense sister, but you look the most vulnerable.”

“Hey hey.” The man stops. “If you’re gonna…”

“Don’t worry I swear to Alina I’ll bring your girl back in one piece.” The Bandit assures as she grabs the woman’s arm, pulling her to her feet with immense resistance.

The man stands, eyes burning in rage. “You bitch…”

“Ah no.” The enforcer’s shotgun comes into view, the lethal form pointed directly at the being as he attempts to protest. “Keep your ass down on the ground!”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

With delicate care the Bandit leads the young woman down the lobby towards the door, a sick smile paused as they reach out of earshot of the hostages. With a light tone she speaks towards her, a grave discrepancy alongside the cold weapon upon the hostage’s back. “So do you actually like cerritos cake twisted?”

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m not buying it.” The young woman answers coldly.

“I’m just wondering.” The Bandit dismisses as she leads the hostage to the doors.

Adami stands ready, the simple barricade removed as she kneels behind the massive steel mechanism. “Ready boss?”

A short nod, the Bandit leaning into the hostage’s ears as she grips the woman’s waist tightly. Blonde hair streaming from a black, wide brimmed hat catching the wind of a dying world, the first step held back with a voice. “Don’t do anything sudden, these people aren’t trained well.”

Guns cocked at the opening of the massive double doors, the realization of a lethal exchange foremost in minds. Beneath the roar of five suns the Hostage-Bandit pair step out, eyes meeting with those hidden behind gunsights.

A silence as two parties enumerate, the awaiting of both requests and demands held before divine witnesses.

“Gods above they’re rigged…” The first words are spoken, the Federal Judge’s voice crossing the boundaries of dusty air. A sound amplified by an unseen magic item, the world shakes as her words are translated into the world. “THIS IS JUDGE HOPPE: UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE RELEASE THE HOSTAGES AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!!”

The Bandit takes a deep breath, her own counteroffer quiet in comparison to the influence given by arcane tools. “Lower your weapons! Each of the hostages in the bank is rigged with a special vest, and each of us has a detonator for all of them! If even one of us is incapacitated, we’re ready to detonate them all!”

A raised hand from the Judge, weapons lowered but stances at the ready. Harsh and intense gazes meet as the Bandit continues, swallowing saliva as the lawless steadies herself against the force of law.

“Judge Hoppe, we require three items of action from you! First: we require a media presence at this location immediately! Reporters from: March Central Radio News, Radio Tomorrow, Federated Daily, and F.T.R.A. at minimum!”

Voice hushed, the Judge points to one of the standing Officers at her side. “Write that down, Officer.”

“Yes ma’am.” The thin, pale man in the uniform nods as he fumbles for a note card and a fountain pen.

Taking a deep breath, the Bandit continues. “Second: Move each of your vehicles ten feet back from the staircase!”

The Judge speaks up again, booming voice thundering across the world as she tries to revert control the situation. “WHAT IS YOUR FINAL DEMAND?!”

Stalwart, the young woman speaks out with a smile behind her bandana. “WE WANT SIXTY SERVINGS OF THE FOLLOWING FOOD ITEMS: TWISTED BOUND CERRITOS CAKE WITH EXTRA CINNAMON SUGAR, TWELVE OUNCE MEAT STEAKS WITH GROUND TUBULAR STARCH WITH AS MUCH GRAVY AS YOU CAN LEGALLY GIVE US, AND FINALLY SIXTY POUNDS OF CACTI COBBLER!”

A pause, silence in thought.

“AND TRY TO GET THE FOOD TO US BEFORE EIGHT THIRTY TONIGHT!!!”