THE BANK JOB
Fiction by Ghoul Shadows
“Okay, so here’s the play,” said Dwayne, unbuckling his seat belt. “We go in. Act all business like. Scope the place for guards, pick up the goods and leave. No questions asked, got it?” His thick British accent made it a hard act to follow but Steve knew what he had to do.
“Got it,” said Steve. He fidgeted in the car seat, checking to make sure the hand brake was engaged. It made him anxious if he didn’t check it at least three times before he left the vehicle.
“And no lolly gagging,” said Dwayne.
“Huh?” Steve wasn’t familiar with the expression.
“God, do I have to explain everything? No fuckin’ about, no wastin’ time. I want this over and done with as soon as possible. I gotta fit chick back at my pad, with a rack that would knock your head clean off, and I want my bald head parked between them before the 6 o’clock news.”
Steve nodded. “Right, got it.”
“Fuck me, so help me God. If you fuck this gig up for me, I will put this gun to the back of your skull so fast you ain’t gonna realise why the fuck everybody is wearing tomato soup all of a sudden. Fuckin’ hell! I told them to send me a god-damn professional and what do they send me?… You.” Dwayne grunted loudly, his bald head glistening in the sunlight. His head swayed back and forth as he talked. Steve found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying as it was so hypnotic.
“I am a professional,” said Steve.
“Yeah? Well we will fuckin’ see wont we? Awright, show time darlin’. Get your kit on and let’s do this.”
Dwayne donned his balaclava and Steve did the same. Dwayne said something that sounded like a rhyme. Steve couldn’t make it out, and thought it best just to nod and not ask him to repeat it. Both of them jumped from the car and walked to the front door of Lloyd’s Bank. No one dared get in their way as the two black clad individuals entered.
Dwayne pointed his Smith and Wesson revolver to the ground, cocking the hammer back in anticipation. Two loud explosions rang out as Dwayne fired into the ceiling.
“Right. Everyone, get the fuck down. This is a robbery.”
“I’d do what he says, he is quite angry you know,” said Steve.
“The fuck? Get to the safe and do your fuckin’ job will you,” said Dwayne. Steve walked to the back. A security guard who looked well past his prime moved his arm to his holster.
“Ah! No heroics sweet-heart. Lay the fuck down or I will fuck you with this barrel right through that badge of yours.” The security guard wasted no time in lying down at Dwayne’s instruction.
Steve was standing at the safe doors. It was time for him to use his unique talent. A talent that came in useful for crime syndicates who required the services of somebody who could get into somewhere difficult. People like Steve were commonly referred to, in the criminal world, as “Ghosts,” due to their natural ability to ignore the rules of reality and walk through walls. Most, like Steve, were entities of pure energy summoned to perform the job at hand. They required no pay, and merely relished in the chance to interact with humanity. They found things such as names and customs fascinating. Steve hadn’t been summoned for very long; a two-month old baby had a longer Earth life than him. That didn’t stop him from carrying out orders. It was such a happy endeavour to be needed. After all, experience was the most exotic spice of life and to think that a Ghost, like Steve, was able to embrace all of these sensations. It all made him a little dizzy with excitement at times. So much excitement, in fact, that under his balaclava, he was smirking as they entered the bank. He hadn’t quite figured out facial expressions yet but it was just another thing for him to experience; and one he did gladly.
“Hmm, no, no, no, this will not do at all.” Somebody had placed another lock, not a physical one but something of a more magical nature, which prevented a Ghost from getting through., Steve, however, knew how to open it. He just needed something. Steve turned on his heel and walked back to Dwayne, who was now flirting with one of the hapless ladies with a very low cut top.
“Ahem,” said Steve.
“…what I’m sayin’ is, if you are interested in a little ‘manage a troi’ later, I have this buxom lady I would really like you to become, uh, acquainted with. She can do this amazing thing with her tongue that…”
“Ahem, Dwayne,” said Steve, much louder this time.
“What? Can’t you see I’m busy? And don’t use my fuckin’ name, you imbecile.”
“It’s locked,” said Steve.
“What? What do you mean its fuckin’ locked?
“It’s locked. I can’t open it.”
“Fuckin great. I ask for a professional and this is what I get. You’re a fuckin Ghost ain’t yah? You don’t need to open it, you just need to walk in and take what we want, then leave.”
“It’s not that simple, somebody has prevented me from doing that,” said Steve.
“What? What the fuck are you sayin’?”
Dwayne dragged Steve out the back to the safe, waiving his gun around while screaming at the staff to keep their faces buried in the floor boards.
“Open it,” said Dwayne, pointing at the safe with his revolver.
“I just said I can’t, I need…”
“I know what you fuckin said, but listen to me. If you don’t get in there this fuckin minute, I will shoot you dead right here. So open it.”
“…Yes, well, it’s not that simple. You know what that involves right? Are you sure you want me to do that?”
“Are you fuckin daft? I said open the goddamn, mother fucking door, you stupid cunt!”
Steve sighed, and bowed his head.
“Fine, have it your way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
A man proclaiming to be the manager of the bank, walked around the corner with his hands raised in the air. He was pleading with the men to release the women and children. Dwayne walked off and punched the bank manager right in the face, breaking his expensive glasses in the process.
“I said, stay the fuck down, twinkle tits.”
Steve followed Dwayne down the corridor and started looking around at the cowering people on the ground.
“Now what the fuck are you doing?” scowled Dwayne.
“I’m looking for something,” said Steve.
“That something had better get that safe open, or so help you…” Someone tugged at Dwayne’s arm.
“Please let my child go,” screamed a distraught mother.
“Shut up bitch, don’t touch the suit,” and with that, the pistol whipped her across the back of her head, causing her face to hit the cold tiled floor, with an audible marble on concrete sound.
“Oi, make yourself useful and throw the little fucker out the back while she fixes herself up.” Dwayne pushed a young child over to Steve. His mother lay bleeding on the ground; her nose gushed like a kitchen faucet.
“Certainly, I’ll get right on it,” said Steve.
“And get back to work. We are already behind schedule.”
Steve nodded and walked with the child towards the safe.
“He’s really not that bad, once you get to know him,” said Steve, comforting the crying child.
Dwayne paced, for what felt like twice the length of his love making, which was a total of twelve minutes in real time. The room was eerily silent, save for the occasional sobbing from a distant corner. Dwayne started to notice the air becoming colder. He breathed heavily as a mist poured out of his mouth. The other people in the bank were also feeling cold. Some were wondering if the air-conditioning was playing up but Dwayne knew better. Steve was about to enter the vault. Changes in the atmosphere were common with a Ghost.
“Finally,” said Dwayne, rubbing his hands on his pants to try to stay warm. He noticed the lights begin to dim, and pointed his gun at the people to keep them calm. Something was very wrong now, and Dwayne was not sure what this Ghost was doing. He had worked with others like him in the past. They were always a handful and fairly simple of mind. He had put it on par with looking after a large child who said and acted obediently. Dwayne knew that you had to watch them, and give them directions, or else they would get distracted by a homeless person, or a choice piece of technology. The last one he worked with nearly ratted the whole operation to the police. Luckily for Dwayne, he put a bullet into his head before he could experience what it was like to be a snitch. This new guy, Steve, was a bit bumbling, but mostly okay in Dwayne’s eyes. He just wished he would hurry up.
The lights blew out, scattering shards of glass everywhere. Screams filled the bank at once as everything plugged into the wall started to overload and explode. Sparks of blue and purple light began to bounce across the room, like a science experiment from a B-grade sci-fi movie. An ear-splitting noise came from the back room where the safe was. Dwayne, and everybody in the bank, covered their ears as the noise continued shifting in key to a deep rumble.
And then silence.
Steve appeared not long after, to a very pissed off Dwayne with a sobbing mother at his feet. Steve was glistening in blood from head to toe. His well combed hair was messed up and matted heavily with blood. His suit, tie and shoes were all soaked in a thick layer of crimson. In his hands were his balaclava, and the child’s torn school uniform.
“The fuck happened? You twat,” said Dwayne.
“I got what we came for. The child helped me get into the safe. Let’s go.”
“No wait. The fuck you mean the child help you get in? Why are you covered in blood?’
“He was a good child. Pure of heart. His blood and soul was exactly what I needed to break in. Shall we go now?” said Steve.
“Fuck me,” said Dwayne, as he stormed out of the building. Steve was watching the mother, who violently sobbed as he handed her bloodied child’s school uniform back to her.
“He was pure, a rarity in this world. You should be proud,” said Steve, cocking his head to the side and smiling at giving her the good news.