Chapter 18: Robbery Gone Wrong
After I’d made sure no one was following me, I headed to the bank where Chris had told me to retrieve my money. I arrived at a seedy-looking establishment, the kind of place where you wouldn’t be surprised to find bullet holes in the walls or rats scurrying about. I pushed open the heavy door and walked inside, making my way toward the bank teller.
The teller was a middle-aged woman with mild oriental features. Her eyes were sharp, and she sized me up quickly as I approached. The place was quite spacious, with an unnerving number of guards stationed around. There were seven of them, each armed with a rifle. It was clear Chris owned this place; the guards kept their distance from me, their eyes sliding over me as if I wasn’t there. It was a clear sign they’d been informed to leave me be, a gesture of amicability from Chris.
I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out the check, and handed it over to the teller. Written on the check was an astounding sum: 18,000,000 credits.
The teller’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she composed herself. “Eighteen million credits. That’s a lot of money,” she said, her voice smooth and professional. “Maybe you want to open an account? Any complications shall be dealt with properly from our side—no need to reveal your face, and simply give an alias we could work with.”
I nodded slightly, taking in her words. “I see.”
This wasn’t just any bank; it was the under-the-table kind of bank. A place where the usual rules didn’t apply, and discretion was the order of the day. I could tell they catered to a particular clientele—people like me. Criminals, outlaws, and anyone else who needed to keep their business transactions off the record. It was perfect for what I needed.
Before, I would dare not enter such places… for simple reasons such as being implicated, marked by other thugs, and the like. Since I’ve arrived in this world, I’ve done nothing but strive towards an honest life, despite the circumstances I found myself in.
Legal banks would never accept a client like me, thanks to my illegal immigrant status.
“We also offer laundering services,” the teller offered, her voice low and discreet. “We can transfer the money to legal banks in a manner that wouldn’t arouse the suspicion of the authorities.”
I shook my head. “No, I have no use for your laundering services. Give me eight million credits and deposit the rest into a new account—” I paused for a moment, an alias coming to me on a whim. “Nobody—just put the money under the name Nobody.”
“Please excuse me then,” the teller said, nodding as she took the check. “It will take some time.”
I moved to the waiting area, my eyes scanning the room. There weren’t many customers around, which wasn’t surprising given the nature of the bank. I wondered what kind of criminals used this place for their own means. I could tell there were ordinary customers here too, blending in with the seedy surroundings. Were there any independent supervillains among them? On second thought, I realized that I ironically looked the part of a supervillain myself, with my mask and hoodie obscuring my face.
I reckoned that villains would just send their minions as proxies to withdraw money from banks, but I doubted that was the case here. Small-time villainy was very rare in Kane City. Instead, organized crime was rampant, with syndicates and cartels vying for power. Here, in this bank, I was just another cog in the machine, another customer in the line of many who needed to keep their dealings under wraps.
The wait dragged on, about twenty minutes, before the bank teller finally called my name. Before long, I found myself with four duffel bags filled to the brim with hundred-credit bills.
“That sure took some time,” I remarked, trying to mask my impatience. The weight of the duffel bags in my hands felt like both a blessing and a curse—a tangible reminder of the path I’d chosen.
At one time, I was tempted to sell the gold bar simply one at a time, but decided otherwise. Gold was more precious when sold in bulk, and wayward pawnshops would just rip me off.
Suddenly, the sharp crack of gunshots reverberated from outside, and a wave of déjà vu washed over me. I frowned, cursing my rotten luck as armed robbers forced their way into the bank. Memories of a similar incident at the pharmacy flickered through my mind.
The guards inside the bank scrambled to respond, but they were slaughtered like pigs, laser charges piercing the concrete walls and tearing them apart. I ducked just in time as a laser blast nearly singed my face. A few customers and staff were caught in the crossfire, some already dead, others clinging to life.
“This is a robbery, heads down!” shouted one of the robbers, his face concealed by an orc mask.
I couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of the situation and the déjà vu from the pharmacy overwhelmed me. The robbers turned to look at me, clearly puzzled. The orc-masked robber pointed his high-tech rifle at the CCTVs, destroying them one by one. I recognized the robbers—they were the same four-man team I had encountered at the pharmacy. Their masks were cheap fantasy knock-offs: an orc, a dragon, a dwarf, and an elf. Except this time, the robbers had better equipment and had bolstered their numbers.
There were about a dozen robbers in total, all heavily armed. Besides the four-man team, the others wore animal-themed knock-off masks.
“This fucker is still laughing. Get the fuck down!” barked the dragon-masked robber, brandishing a shotgun-like weapon that crackled with electric sparks at the barrel. “All of you, on your knees!”
I quickly assessed the situation, taking stock of the robbers’ positions and armaments. There were about a dozen of them. While the four cosplaying as fantasy creatures wielded high-tech weapons, the rest were armed with rifles, which were no less lethal.
Two of the robbers, injured by the guards’ initial resistance, stationed themselves at the door, keeping watch and playing sentry. Another trio moved through the room, binding people with zip ties to control the crowd. The last three scattered, securing the exits and the roof.
The dragon-masked robber’s voice cut through the chaos. “I said, fucking down!” he snarled as he marched over to me, pressing his gun against my face. “I am in no mood to murder someone today, so down! Don’t play a hero! Wearing a mask doesn’t make you one!”
He was certainly more talkative than the last time I encountered him. Perhaps his leader had reprimanded him for being too quick to pull the trigger, making him hesitant now. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the dwarf was already at the ATMs, working to crack them open.
“Just shoot him!” the elf yelled, running to the counter and throwing a black trash bag at the teller. “Money in this bag now!”
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“No killing the civilians, or we’ll have the Union on our heads! Those fuckers like to use civilian deaths as an excuse to always fuck up the city,” the orc bellowed, his voice echoing in the spacious bank. “Always mind the status quo.” He turned to a terrified clerk. “You! Where is the manager?”
The bank manager lay bleeding profusely from a wound in his abdomen, his hands pressing desperately against the flow of blood. His breaths were shallow, and his eyes were wide with fear.
“Tell us the code, or you’re dead!” the elf commanded, brandishing a high-tech spear with a glowing tip at the manager’s face.
“Are you an idiot?” the dragon-masked robber barked. “He’s already dying!”
The bank manager’s struggles ceased as he went limp, succumbing to the pain and blood loss. I watched as the life drained from his eyes.
“FUCK!” the orc roared, looking around in frustration. “Who knows the vault’s code next to the manager?”
“They should have a vault teller,” the dwarf chimed in, still focused on the ATM. “Someone who knows the vault code other than the manager!”
The dragon turned his attention back to me. “Hey, masked fucker! On your knees! Stop being stubborn!” He swung the blunt side of his shotgun at my head.
As the shotgun came toward me, I quickly dodged, the weapon missing me by a small margin. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind. What would happen if I cooperated? Most likely, I’d lose the money in the duffel bags, and the bank itself would go bankrupt, tarnishing Chris’s reputation. At that point, retrieving the rest of my money would be impossible.
I seized the moment, grabbing the dragon’s wrist and pulling him toward me. With a swift motion, I struck his throat with an open palm.
“Kugh— fucker!” he choked, dropping his shotgun as he stumbled back, clutching his throat.
The shotgun was heavy, but I caught it easily as it spun through the air. I leveled it at the orc and pulled the trigger, sending a thunderous blast in his direction. He ducked just in time, and the shot ripped through the wall on the left side of the door, reducing it to splinters. The thug standing there didn’t fare as well; the blast tore through him, and he collapsed in a heap. The other thug by the door screamed as his arm was ripped away, and shards of glass embedded themselves in his eye socket.
Two robbers down, ten to go.
I reloaded the shotgun with a quick pump, swerving to the left just as a bolt of lightning shot past me. I glanced over to see the elf taking cover, his eyes fixed on me with lethal intent.
The orc, now in a low squat, swung his laser rifle in my direction and unleashed a barrage of superheated red beams. I threw myself forward, diving behind the counter as the lasers shredded the air around me. The staff members who hadn’t fled were caught in the crossfire, their screams cut short as they were riddled with holes.
I took a deep breath, calming my mind, and focused on the orc. With a flicker of concentration, I sent a mental command via remote casting to make him forget I was even there.
“What? Why am I firing again?” the orc muttered, his confusion evident.
My momentary relief was shattered as the orc quickly shook off my mental suggestion. “Fucker is a supe, stay on your guard!” he shouted, rallying the remaining robbers.
I darted out from the right side of the counter, the shotgun primed and ready. As I aimed at the dwarf, I squeezed the trigger, and the blast hit its mark. The dwarf’s body exploded in a gruesome spectacle, and the pair of ATMs behind him were not spared, their screens shattering and sparking.
A hail of bullets rained down on me as the dragon-masked fellow retrieved the rifles the downed thugs had left behind. The other robbers joined in, taking potshots at me. Some fired in semi-auto, others went full-auto, and someone even lobbed a grenade my way. At that moment, I knew I had to focus. I used my power on myself, causing me to forget my fear and dedicate myself to a single objective: survival. It wasn’t about killing my enemies; it was about staying alive. I wasn’t a suicidal idiot, after all.
Quickly, I reloaded my shotgun. I didn’t fully understand how its ammunition worked. It was likely I had a limited amount of ammo, so I needed to use it wisely.
“Did you forget how to aim properly?” I taunted them, a smirk on my face. “Of course you did…”
My words seemed to seep into their minds, and subconsciously, the robbers began to miss their shots. I rolled to one corner and then blasted the shotgun at them. Now that I had a better look, it seemed the shotgun was some kind of railgun. The sparking, unshapely bullet struck true, killing two of the robbers in a single blast and leaving another in a crippled, legless state.
I felt the shotgun in my hand growing outrageously hot. It was out of ammo; no more bullets emerged when I pulled the trigger. I slid across the tiles, rolled, and landed just beside a pillar on the wall’s side. I took a prone position as a laser beam sliced through the air where I had just been standing.
I wasn’t built for a fight like this, yet here I was, caught in the middle of one without even trying. I had managed to cull the hostiles by half, leaving six more armed robbers. My power—the ability to make people forget—was hardly effective in this scenario. It was much more difficult to distort people's perceptions of me when so many eyes were focused on me, each one intent on killing me. It wasn’t like slipping onto a bus where no one paid attention to a stranger in a hoodie.
In day-to-day life, I could make myself nearly invisible, blending into the background with ease. But in this hostile environment, where survival hinged on my ability to stay unseen, my power faltered.
“He’s pinned down! Move your asses and converge on him! We’ll at least kill this fucker!” the orc bellowed.
“He’s mine,” Dragon growled in response.
I heard rapid footsteps closing in on me. I estimated the distance in my mind, waiting for the right moment. As soon as the footsteps stopped, I darted out in a low-crouch sprint, aiming for the sofa’s side. I landed in Dragon’s line of sight, but he couldn’t see me—I made sure of that by focusing my power on him.
“Get away from him, you draconic idiot!” Elf shouted, his voice filled with panic.
Bullets whizzed by, a few grazing my arm and shoulder. I forced myself to forget the pain and pushed through. Once I was close enough, I yanked the pins from the grenades strapped to Dragon’s vest, disarmed him, and claimed his rifle in one swift motion. I kicked him away just before the grenades exploded with a deafening BOOM!
I blasted my power outward like an aura, and for a brief second, everyone in the room was dazed, lost in a haze of forgetfulness. I didn’t waste a moment. I fired the rifle at the remaining robbers, killing three of them who were conveniently standing side by side. Orc, likely familiar with my power by now, recovered quickly and tackled Elf, saving him from certain death.
Ten down, two more to go.
I paused to catch my breath, feeling my lungs tighten as I struggled to stay calm. I was winded, but I refused to let it show. How was I so good at this? I had no prior training; it was mostly due to my power, which was working overtime.
There was something deadly in moving like a machine, with precision and focus, that gave me the edge in this chaos.
Suddenly, the elf rose from his prone position and unleashed a lightning bolt at me. I clicked the trigger of my rifle, only to find it empty. Without missing a beat, I tossed the rifle into the air, letting it intercept the lightning bolt. While it absorbed the electric charge, I scurried away to one of the fallen robbers and grabbed a Uzi.
From the other end, the orc peeked out and unleashed laser fire in short, erratic bursts. I noticed his left arm hung limply at his side, likely injured by a bullet. His aim was a mess, and I used that to my advantage, focusing my power to make him forget how to use his eyes literally.
“He vanished!” the orc exclaimed as his eyes turned white and his voice laced with confusion.
I flanked him and unleashed a barrage of bullets. The orc frantically searched for cover, but I stayed on the move. The elf, trying to match my counterattack, pointed his lightning spear at me. His weapon sputtered, emitting weak electrical charges as bullets rained down on him.
“Shit!” the elf cursed, realizing his predicament. He was out of charge.
Even though he wore a bulletproof vest, it didn’t mean anything if he was shot in the face.
The elf collapsed to his knees as death claimed him, his face a bloody mess of punctured holes.
A laugh bubbled up from deep within me, spilling out in a way I couldn’t control. It was the absurdity of the situation, the ridiculous masks, and the fact that I had ended up in the middle of this chaos.
The orc, now blind and desperate, raised his laser rifle and fired blindly in the direction I had been standing. Thankfully, he was out of bullets. I chastised myself for letting my guard down even for a moment; if the orc had had any charges left, I would have been a goner.
I approached the orc, who was still gripping his rifle tightly, his breathing heavy and erratic. I placed my palm on his exposed neck, where a deep scar ran jaggedly across his skin. Drawing on my power, I made him forget that he was even awake.
“Sleep now, so that I might as well be done with this bullshit,” I whispered, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly release as he sank into unconsciousness.