The stack of baggage placed upon the floor of the lobby grows to mountainous size, a collection of treasure haphazardly organized for ease of access.
From outside the Bank the chanting grows, tongues of the crowd harmonizing in a symphony of chaos. A biofuel soaked world ready to burn, the struck match held close to hearts as the Bandit drags the final bag onto the pile.
“Man, that kid was actually on point.” The Bandit grunts as she heaves a duffle bag of rifle rounds onto the pile of packed brass. “Gods above this has gotta be the biggest haul we’ve made.”
The Lookout shrugs as she takes a slow circle around the loot, sharp eyes making the estimation from experience. “That’s two million at least.”
“I told you Southland Banks are loaded.” The Enforcer points as he watches the thin form of the Locksmith stroll in from within the far wing of the building, the stack of debt papers in his hand disorganized from haphazard travel. Eyes meet, a gamble paid as Jacob speaks. “What did I say Issac?!”
“You said banks in the Southlands were loaded.” The Locksmith begrudgingly relents as he tears the stacks of paper onto the marble flooring, reaching into his pocket as he pulls forth a single nine millimeter handgun round.
A quick toss towards his comrade, a caught currency echoing a mild chuckle from the pair. “Rin’s got the final bag, we’re done here Maddie.”
The young woman dusts her hands off, a smile held as she turns out towards the massive steel double doors of the building. A curiosity forged into an unfound rage by sheer force of souls, a purpose made unclear by a crowd of both the disgruntled and bored.
“Let’s begin the real party.” Maddie nods.
A divine weapon brought forth into the world, the five barreled rotary machine gun heaved into an underslung position on the Bandit. Accuracy traded for a sheer volume of fire, a practiced stance echoing an lost authority from a lost age.
“Each of your vests is packed with five thousand federal dollars in mixed denominations.” The Bandit smiles as she casually strolls past the hostages. “They contain no explosives what-so-ever so feel free to keep them as souvenirs; for the time you all got taken hostage by the Million Dollar Woman!”
A plan executed, duffle bags brought into the antechamber by the four subordinate members of the gang.
“Ready guys?” Maddie asks as she aims her weapon against the shattered window, the five barrels catching the flashing of police lights streaming through.
“Wait, do you remember where we parked?” Jacob jokes.
Issac humorlessly frowns at the words, unzipping his carried bag. “Just follow Adami or me.”
“Alright come on, stop joking around you two.” Maddie orders as she pushes the minigun against the doors, stepping into the outside world.
The faded, unlit forms of the dead five suns hang above her, a wielder of a divine instrument unnoticed against the chaos of a volatile universe. Curiosity and discontent surges towards the police line, the handful of untrained officers pushing back faceless souls through authority of law alone.
A crowd gathered by fame and rumor, radio waves carrying with them an infectious message. Insects gathered to a rotting corpse, an infestation of humanity overwhelming in its presence. Darkened clothing barely illuminated by street lighting, the evening’s entertainment noticed by one voice.
Almost lost to ambient noise, the scream is heard by the Bandit. “It’s her!”
The young woman raises her weapon skyward, depressing the trigger of the divine mechanism. Barrels spin as electrical impetus drives motors forward, a stream of tracer fire sent skyward in a brilliant spray of multi-colored light. The roar of a demonic creature echoes through the city, gunfire catching the attention of humanity in a dying world.
A sudden silence at the sight, the flashing of police lighting blurring the form of the Bandit as she smiles in brilliant energy. Souls enraptured by the audacity of criminality, every word processed and hung upon by unnatural charisma. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF MARCH: TONIGHT EVERYONE’S A WINNER!!! ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS COLLECT!!!”
The color of brass catches hundreds of eyes, the golden clinking of loose bullets heard by souls as a waterfall roars down to mortals.
From behind the Bandit duffle bags of munitions are dumped upon the descending staircase of March Central Bank, hundreds joined by tens of thousands more as the Gang throws uncountable wealth into the world.
A singular second of processing, a morality tipped as the first step is taken towards the sight.
Eyes wide as the Judge turns away from the Bandit, watching as a collapsing wave of humanity runs at full force towards them.
A crowd turned to chaos by the allure of materialism, the mob surging past the police line as indistinguishable forms envelop the entire staircase. Screams of new found affluence intermix with uncontained violence at jealousy, souls burning in the confusion of a riot.
“Keep ‘em coming!” Issac orders the Gang as he picks up another duffle bag, dumping its contents into the crowd.
From the doors the Bandit sprints back in, joining her comrades as she revels in the mad distribution. Metal hinges slam shut as she swings them closed, turning behind her as she locks eyes with the shocked looks from the hostages. “HEY, GET OUT THE BACK WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE!!!”
Utter chaos, forms of criminal and officer lost as Judge Hoppe is shoved between bodies. An unknown hand gripped tight on her weapon, the woman attempts to reach for her radio before being knocked aside. Ordinance lost, the valuation of life diminishing as a macrocosm of rage burns and dies against authority.
Souls adrift in the power of the crowd, the Judge watching as protectors of the law turn to grab the unmarked currency as their uniforms intermix with those of the citizenry.
“Rin!” Jacob yells as she grabs a bag of paper cash.
The massive creature responds, large hands taking charge as she grips the handles of synthetic fiber. Muscles tense, the huge arms throwing the massive pile of bills skyward.
A burst of gunfire echoes as the Enforcer blasts the container mid-flight with a fistful of buckshot, pale blue paper bills exploding across the ongoing riot.
Adami pauses as she watches the sight, a smile as she dumps another duffle bag of bullets into the stairs. “I thought it didn’t rain in the Southlands!”
“Well it does now!” Maddie screams as she laughs.
The ecstasy of collective humanity, a force lost to a dying world resuscitated in but a single chaotic moment.
Three more shots echo out as Jacob and Rin focus on the bills, insane wealth scattered by the force of gunfire into a downpour of laminated currency.
“I think we should go!” The Enforcer recommends as he breaks open the breach of his shotgun, four empty shells ejected onto the marble floor.
The Bandit pauses as she empties another bag, watching as the riot turns towards the bank in its confused thrashing. A vanguard of individuals sprints towards the sourced spring of seemingly endless wealth, a disgruntled crowd following. She nods at the words. “That we should. Let’s go!”
A plan executed to near completion, the Gang moving swiftly as they sprint towards the back exit. Shouldering a duffle bag the Muscle of the group grabs a mixture of currency and bullets, the Enforcer following her as he recovers his dispensed radio.
The Bandit stops for just a moment, reaching into one of her pockets. “Oh I almost forgot!”
A single sheet of browned, sun bleached paper produced; the face printed upon the wanted poster surrounded by printed words in massive, bold text.
The gaze of a lost girl, the remnants of a previous life before criminality. Extrapolated from family photographs and more recent witness testimony, the static individual staring back at the Bandit bringing forth a near unrecognizability. Beautiful in the form of dead hazel eyes and the blonde hair of a nobility abandoned, a bounty fitting for such an individual as she scans over a slew of violent crimes listed below.
Madeleine Isnara Mcormick; the legend herself worth a million federation dollars.
The Bandit chuckles as she grabs a fountain pen from the ground beneath her, a quick autograph signed as she tosses the sheet into the now abandoned lobby of March Central Bank.
A sprint followed, the rest of the Gang impatiently waiting at the back exit as their leader rejoins them.
