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The strong smell of rain was in the air. “Of all days to rain, why did it have to be today?” That was the thought of the men as they loaded up inside of their large white van, able to fit nearly twenty men, or, in their case, six men and a lot of soon-to-be cargo. The smell of rain was nothing they weren’t used to, as it rained quite a lot in The City. But tonight, rain was the last thing they cared about. Because now the Boss had given them a job.
The men all knew what it meant to be given a job by the Boss. Get in, rob the place, shoot it up some to scare people, kill them if you need to, and get out before He or the cops arrive. The cops weren’t even that much of a worry. Everyone else in the City knew they would arrive late, and had a wait time due to all the other crimes going on. Not to mention some of them being corrupt. Recently the city gained someone else…someone to worry about if you were a criminal…Him. He was the worst, because He didn’t wait or even take that long like the cops would.
But tonight was their lucky night. Tonight, He was across the city, dealing with… something or other. They didn’t ever really pay attention to the news, as most of them didn’t care to. They only ever did when it was beneficial to the gang. And the Boss kept up on where He was last seen so he could plan around it. So, after hearing where He was, the Boss sent them out.
But none of them cared that much like the Boss. Most of them wanted to unwind after a job was done. Each man in the van either used their communal tv to watch sports, or a tv show rerun from their childhood. But even when they had time to watch the tv, it was usually cut short by the Boss. The Boss didn’t much like them slacking off. What he liked to see was work, whatever kind of work, whether it was counting money, helping with shipments, or even just target practice. And if he caught you slacking or ‘relaxing’, he would…get mad. And they all knew better than to make him mad, unless they wanted to see his bad side.
Even so, that didn’t stop the older of the group, Tony, who was their leader for today, to ask the Boss why go out now when they knew He was out. Going out at night was already risky, not just for regular civilians, but even now for them after He made an appearance a few years back. At first, people like Tony thought He was going to be a one off, someone who got taught a lesson soon as to why the City didn’t have men like him. But now, it has been five years since He has been active, and wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. And now, people were scared of Him. Everyone knew to not go out when He was active. Especially when you could see the light in the sky. And tonight, his light could be seen. So, Tony could help but ask. The Boss, snarling with the left side of his lip curling up higher than his right, clenched his fist tightly. He hated being questioned. He didn’t even look at Tony after he asked his question, staring at his closed fist, his knuckles becoming white.
“Because Tony,” he said in his low, gravely voice, “He is on the other side of the city. And if He stays over there, then you’ll have a while before He can make it to you. Maybe you’ll get lucky and no one there will trigger the silent alarm. That’s if you’re lucky.” While the Boss spoke, he flicked between each finger on his left hand a quarter that was badly damaged on its tail side. It was something the Boss was known for. Newcomers to the gang would usually be warned that ‘if you hear a coin flick, that’s the Boss. So straighten up when he comes ‘round, less you wanna meet his other half.’
“Alright, but if that’s the case, why not come with?” he asked, trying to ask it in the best way possible, the way that wouldn’t get him shot.
The Boss, though he snarled more, answered him. “Because Tony, if I did, and the silent alarm gets pulled, and we get arrested, then I go back to the place,” he answered as he stood up slowly. The Boss was a tall, and big man. People used to think the Boss was Him before he fell into the mafia life. He then stepped out from behind his desk and walked to Tony. Tony himself was a tall man, but not that tall. He was forced to look up at the Boss who whispered down to him, his voice sounding even more gravely. “And we don’t want that, do we?”
Tony shook his head softly. “No sir. You’re right sir. Sorry sir,” he said, making sure to maintain eye contact with the big man who stood in front of him. The Boss patted his shoulder before motioning to the door and walked back behind his desk, having decided he had made his point.
Tony blinked after remembering the moment that was only 30 minutes ago and sighed gently as the van rumbled, rolling down the streets towards the city’s main bank. He looked at their get away driver who kept his eyes on the road while there was some conversation between each man. Including Tony and the driver, there were six men in the car. Three to get the money, two for crowd control, and the get away driver. He didn’t think any of the men here liked doing what they did, but in the city, it was either be stuck in the gutter for your life, be born rich, or be where they all were.
‘Hey. It’s better than nothing,’ he lied to himself. So did the rest of the men, though none would ever admit it.
The van rolled up to the front of the bank. Each of them donned their ski-masks which were half white and half black, the two colors being split down the middle. Tony, and four other men, Mickey, Sean, Peter, and Luigi, exited the van with their weapons, each choosing their gang’s regular AK-47, with each also having a 9mm holstered on their hip. Tony and Mickey, who was the second oldest, lead the way. They kicked open the City bank’s doors and both shot two warning shots each into the ceiling, instantly catching the citizen’s inside the bank’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you know the drill. Down on the ground, kick up no fuss, and we’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Tony said, the words rolling off his tongue easily. God I’ve said this too many times he thought before continuing, “No one be a hero now.”
He walked to one of the bank tellers, a young man, no older than Sean he thought, who he knew was reaching for the silent alarm. He pointed his rifle at the young man, who immediately retracted his hand and raised his arms, shaking them slightly. “Didn’t you hear me?” he asked as he walked around the bank teller’s post, keeping his gun on him.
Sean walked to and past Tony, towards the young teller. Sean was short tempered, which didn’t help with how he looked his age if not younger. And Sean didn’t like feeling disrespected either, nor did he like pedestrians disrespecting his gang, and he considered silence as disrespect. Might’ve gotten that from his parents Tony thought as the young man raised his gun. But instead of pointing the gun, he turned it so the but of his rifle faced the bank teller. He then slammed it against the man’s face, nearly breaking his nose and immediately fell to the ground.
“Answer when you’re being spoken to!” he barked out, like a pup not getting its way, or a baby demanding to have its binkie back. Tony knew this. But he didn’t want to start yelling at one of his crew members this early. So, instead, he got in between Sean and the young teller. He pulled the man up by his tie.
“Come on, boy,” he said in a much calmer tone than the younger man standing behind him, who would’ve been grateful for the ski mask if he knew his anger was turning his cheeks red. “Let’s get that vault open, shall we?” he asked as he led the bank teller to the back, while another looked on, afraid of what was to happen to herself.
Sean followed after him, but not before looking at the female teller. “HEY! TONE!” Sean called out, using the name Tony had while working. “What should we do with her?”
Tony looked back at him and then over to Mickey. “Mick!” he called out. Mickey popped his head over to them, looking at them through the glass. “Keep an eye on her!” Mickey nodded. He was a much more quiet, reserved man. Most of them found that odd about him, but only Tony knew why he was so quiet. Sean waited for Mickey to walk around the counter. He then heared Tony shout at him. “SEA! Get over here and help me!” he barked out, sounding much more demanding, more stern, than Sean could’ve ever hoped to. So much so, he jumped when he heard his work name yelled at him. He slowly stepped away from the woman as Mickey approached. The older man gave him a knowing look, as if to say hop to it, or else you’ll be the one he hits next. And with that glance, Sean practically ran to Tony and the young teller he hit. Mickey looked at the woman and gave her a smile as she shook with fear.
Sean and Tony reached the vault, and the young teller looked at them with fear, shaking nervously.
“Go on. Open it,” Tony said in a stern manner, but still making sure to sound more gentle with this shaken up young man.
The man nodded and shakily went to tap on the pad. However, after he imputed the pin incorrectly and it made a loud beeping sound, Sean went to hit him again, barking out “IDIOT!” which made the man flinch for the strike. Tony grabbed Sean’s rifle before it could come down, and whacked him upside the head with the barrel of the gun. “OW! What was-?!”
Tony cut him off. “You keep hitting him and we’ll never get the money,” Tony spoke down to the man. Sure, Sean was taller. But the way the older man spoke made Sean shrink, making him not only feel smaller but be smaller too. “Go back and get Mick in here,” he spoke simply. Sean wanted to object, but knew if he did, it would be to no use. So, he begrudgingly went down the hallway to the bank teller booth to Mickey.
Mickey looked over at him with a questionable glance. He had heard some commotion but couldn’t make out what it was about. Sean didn’t want to speak, so he just motioned that way. He had hoped the older man would understand. Which, thankfully for him, he did. Mickey gave him another knowing look, as if to say gotta watch your temper kid.
Sean pouted as he looked at the other bank teller, who was now shaking less. Wonder what happened to her he thought and looked Mickey’s way before hearing Peter speak. “Tried hitting him again, ‘ey Sea?” he teased, chuckling to himself.
“Shut it, Pea” he said as he looked back at the woman. “What happened while I was away?”
Luigi chuckled. “Well, ah, let’s uh just say that Mick worked uh his uh charm,” he chuckled more, his Italian accent still prevalent, no matter how hard he worked on hiding it during jobs.
“Lou, shut it,” Peter said to Luigi, who was still chuckling to himself and muttering ‘worked uh his uh charm’ and laughing harder each time he said it. Peter then looked back at Sean. “But he is right, in a way. He told her to not worry, and as long as He, nor the police show up, we have no reason to hurt any of them. Then…he started hitting on her.”
Sean made a face of disgust and looked at her. “He’s like 50,” he said before noticing a third bank teller podium. He walked to it and saw a man crouched underneath it, a silent alarm button right next to his head. “Did you press this??” he asked the man who stayed silent, but still shook with fear. “HEY! Answer me!” he raised to hit the man. Luigi and Peter looked over at him as the rifle was raised in the air. Then, the lights were cut out.
The harsh change from light to darkness made all three of them temporarily blind.
“Hey, who uh turned out the uh lights?” Luigi asked.
“Crud…” said Peter.
“Oh no. No no no!” Sean yelled out. “I am not going back to prison!” he reached out for the third bank teller. “COME HERE YO-” and then, silence. He was cut off, a silent zipping sound being heard in the dark.
Peter grabbed his light and illuminated where Sean was. Nothing. He then pointed the flashlight up, where the wall for the bank teller ended. Above, he saw a perched ledge with an unconscious Sean above.
“SEAN!” Peter exclaimed, accidentally dropping Sean’s real name. He ran behind the teller’s podium. “Help me get him down!”
“Forget uh him!” Luigi said as he fumbled with his own flashlight. “We need uh to find uh Him uh and-” he was cut off with a sound of wind blowing quickly through a flag, a zipping noise, and then silence.
Peter quickly turned his attention to where he heard Luigi last, but saw nothing, no one. Him, he thought to himself and drew his gun. “I know you’re here…” he called out, trying to sound threatening, though deep down he was scared. He never really encountered Him before, and from all the stories he’s heard, he wasn’t wanting to any time soon. That didn’t matter now though. Peter walked from out behind the podium and looked around with his flash light and gun. “Fight me, coward!” he called out.
In the back, before the power cut out, Mickey joined Tony and the young bank teller. Mickey looked at Tony who was walking the teller through what to do.
“You remember the code, yes?” the teller nodded. “Then all you do is put it in, I won’t hurt you none, then me and my friend Mick will get the money, and we’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He patted the teller on the shoulder who nodded once more. He then threw him against the door of the vault and pointed his gun on him. “Now get to it.”
The teller, still nervous and shaking, punched in the code to the vault. A loud beep sounded and the vault gave way, opening slowly. Tony and Mick smiled at each other as the vault door opened while the teller stood by nervously, glancing at the men and then their guns and then back at the men repeatedly.
“C-Can I go now?” he asked nervously, his voice high pitched from how scared he was. Mickey looked at him before looking back at Tony. He then walked to the young man and grabbed him by the shoulder. The man cowered in fear before Tony spoke.
“No, don’t shrink. It’ll hurt more if you do,” he said as he walked over, which didn’t help the man from not shrinking in his size.
“I did what you asked me…please…don’t kill me..” he begged.
Tony looked at Mickey, then back at the young man. “You’re lucky the boss ain’t here kid, cause if he was, he’d flip a coin,” he said in a sarcastic, sympathetic tone of voice. The teller knew what that meant, but was still scared regardless. “Now just sit up right and relax.”
Mickey pulled the man up by his shirt. The young man tried to follow orders, but as Mickey squeezed down, he groaned in pain before falling to the ground, passed out.
Tony sighed. “Told him to relax,” he looked at Mickey and then began to walk inside the open vault. “Let’s get the money,” he said and looked around at the lit up room, the walls nearly covered up with stacks of cash. Mickey whistled as he smiled. “Boss is gonna be very happy,” Tony said before the lights shut off. “What the-” Tony asked in an annoyed tone. “Sean probably turned the lights off, that idiot,” he groaned as he pulled out his flashlight. “Come on. Let’s get as much as we can for now. We’ll come back for the rest after I yell at Sean.”
He and Mickey began to fill up four duffle bags, two for each of them, with the walls of cash. Mickey kept looking at the entrance though, hearing commotion upstairs that Tony couldn’t seem to hear.
“What is it?” he asked Mickey who was now staring at the vault entrance. Mickey zipped up his two partially full duffle bags, and pulled out his gun as he silently walked to the entrance. Tony decided to do the same, following Mickey closely with his flashlight on. Mickey motioned him to put it away, and Tony nodded before doing so.
The two of them walked up the stairs before hearing Peter call out “Fight me coward!” Are these idiots fighting? Tony thought to himself. He and Mickey got up the stairs and saw Peter nervously walking around with his flashlight and gun out. Tony was about to call out to him when he heard what sounded like a cape flying in the wind. He then saw a dark silhouette behind Peter. Peter turned and saw it too. The silhouette was void of every color, showing nothing but black, except for two white dots where the eyes would’ve been, along with two sharp edges coming from the top.
“IT’S THE BA-” Peter called out before the silhouette struck him down, his light falling to the ground, shattering on impact.
It’s Him.. The Bat. Batman. Tony and Mickey both thought, now them being the ones scared. They hurried down the stairs, each footstep they took signaling to Him where they were going. He was on the other side of Gotham! How is He here!?! Tony asked himself over and over again. He ducked behind a corner of the vault as Mickey looked for a place to hide too.
They didn’t even hear Him come down the stairs. All they heard was the sound of gas filling the room. He’s using mustard gas?!?! Tony once again asked himself as he covered his mouth. But his face didn’t burn. It wasn’t mustard gas, it was a smoke bomb in case he or Mickey used their flashlight.
He pulled out his light anyway and shined it. He once again saw the silhouette of Him, but this time, he was walking towards another silhouette, who was none the wiser. Mickey.
“MICKEY! BEHIND YOU!!” He called out but it was too late. All he heard was Mickey yell out in shock before also being cut off by the sound of wind rushing, and then silence. The figure then looked his way and began to walk to him. He dropped his flashlight, yet unlike Peter’s, this one stayed on and kept pointing at the tall silhouette of Him walking. Tony pulled out his gun and fired an entire 30 round of ak-47 bullets, 7.62 x 39 mm, into the chest of the silhouette. All 30 bullets went into His chest.
Nothing. He didn’t flinch, didn’t slow down, nothing. Just kept moving to him. Tony swung his rifle at Him, hoping that a blunt object would take him down. But his swing was an obvious one, leading to the silhouette catching the rifle before it could even come close to touching his head. Then, He head butted the man, making him drop to the ground. The last thing Tony saw was the tall black figure with glowing white eyes stare down at him before throwing a kick directly at his face.
After that came the silence. Nothingness. The epitome of darkness, which he, and the rest of his men, would forever now associate with Him, the Dark Knight. He knew they would. He knew that HE was their new demon, and HE would haunt them for the rest of their miserable days.