Sharpening my knife, I look at the hostages around me. They sit almost as if they were indifferent to the dead guards among them.
It wasn't my plan to do anything but rob the bank. I was trained heavily on knives and had the teller plenty scared with my speed and precision as I flashed the knife to her throat. Things had been going well.
One security guard always has to be a cowboy.
This always spurs the other guards to join in. Bullets can't touch me. I am way too fast. In the hopeless attempt they made as I stabbed the first guard in the heart, two customers were shot by their bullets as they missed their mark.
That's their fault.
Slitting two throats and disemboweling the final guard, I find myself on the business end of a very sticky situation. There are cops outside and I have killed some of the "hostages". It's possible that they will see the guards as a risk they took by taking the job. If that's the case, they won't be breaking in here to take me out.
The phone keeps ringing. I guess they want me to answer it. What do they want me to say? List my demands? Simple, "I want you to walk out of here with the money I intended to take, so that the daughter I never met can have a chance for college."
It was too late for me. I was a hardened criminal with no hope of retribution. Putting me in prison would only delay me from my next crime against the common public.
The phone stopped ringing, and I heard the voice of someone through a bullhorn, "Answer the phone or we're coming in!"
The phone started ringing again. I didn't know what they wanted me to say that they couldn't figure for themselves. I was trapped in a bank with a bunch of people I never met, and I just wanted to make sure my daughter could go to college.
These people were marks, but they never did anything to me. The guards were casualties of their own demise. I didn't have to kill them. They could have simply accepted that the money was insured and let me go.
The phone kept ringing.
I had to move fast. I ordered the hostages to stand up. They all moved quickly, despite me holding nothing but wrist-lock knives.
The manager had opened the safe.
"We know you're in there! Come on out, and we'll be amicable about this!"
I packed the money into my gym bag.
"Let the people go!"
Hey, that's a good idea.
I packed my knives into their holsters in my back.
I said to the people, "It's time to go." They got up with a look of hope in their eyes. As they began to scramble for the exit, I moved with them. In the midst of the crowd, I reached the front doors.
Cops quickly grabbed each of the hostages and pulled them aside with a shock blanket. I stood there as more went past me.
I saw a dead guard beneath me. His gun was in his hand. He fired a single shot, which means even the oldest gun would have 5 more. However, he had an automatic, which means he had at least 7 shots to go.
I picked up his gun and palmed it. IF these cops were going to kill me, I was going to take at least one of them with me.
I'm not going back to jail. I'm no good to my daughter there.
The crowd continued to flow.
With a bag full of money, and a gun in my hand, I realized I never knew my daughter's name as I charged out the door with everyone else.
I kept the gun to my back. No sense in using it if I didn't have to, but if it came down to it, I would be shot and killed before I go back to jail.
Clicking the hammer back on the gun, I thought to myself, come get some, pigs. An image of how my daughter must look appeared in my mind just before I kicked open the door.
Here goes something...
