The Super-Badass Hold-Up at the Philomath Regional Bank

Content warning: mental health, kidnapping, strong language

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe alcohol was their savior. Thomas, Bradey, and Reed had spent years being shepherded by The System, but it wasn’t until their vodka bottle was empty and their Code Names game half-fizzled out that Thoams broached his idea on how they could seize their own destinies.

The plan was simple: get all snazzy in a bunch of black masks and sunglasses, hit the bank with fake guns blazing, skim some cream from the fat cats’ stores, and finally–finally!--pay off their student loans. And it almost worked! The tellers filled their bags with mountains of sweet sweet cash like a duo of docile NPCs, the customers were as cowed by the tough criminals as a herd of sheep, and the trio worked together seamlessly for the first time since their Robotics (Division II) win of ‘21. The only one who wasn’t cooperating was God.

It took a single step out the sliding doors for Thomas to realize there was no leaving. His foot skidded out from under him the moment it hit the sheet of ice hidden in the dark, and he stumbled back into the lobby, his pant leg already half soaked from the rain. With a curse, he turned back to his two accomplices, gesturing with his bag of cash. “Freezing rain. No way we’re driving in this. I told you guys the temperature was dropping–”

Reed pushed past him and braved the newly-fallen ice himself. He immediately fell flat on his butt, his gun skidding out of his hand and knocking against Thomas’ boot. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered, struggling to his knees and skidding back inside. Behind them, the tellers and customers stared, still cowering on the ground with their hands above their heads.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Bradey muttered, pulling Reed to his feet. “Look, we’ll just keep things nice and calm here until the storm abates and it thaws a little. Just stay calm. Calm, dude.”

“It’s 6:15pm in December!” Reed hissed. “It’s not going to thaw until morning at least – how long until they realize our guns aren’t real?”

“Like two seconds, if you keep this up,” Thomas whispered, poking his friend in the ribs. He marched back into the bank, trying to look as big as possible. You’re a badass renegade. You adapt like an undercover agent. “Change of plans!” he barked. “We’re gonna sit tight, and if you all don’t cause problems, we won’t have problems, you all understand?”

The six terrified civilians – and one markedly less terrified 6’6 military-looking dude with a pleasant I-eat-shrimps-named-Thomas-for-breakfast vibe – nodded. One of them, a middle-aged man, was trembling so hard that his glasses tumbled off his nose and shattered. Thomas relaxed the tough-guy attitude for just a moment to wipe away the broken glass so the man wouldn’t cut himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sliver of glowing screen. 

Guess the ‘tough guy’ needed to stay. “Jesus Christ, what did I just say?” he growled, waving his toy gun. “Don’t. Cause. Problems. Alright, phones in the bag.” He nodded at Reed, who kept his empty barrel trained on the crowd as Thomas made a lap, collecting phones like a middle school teacher. 

His heart pounded when he turned to the military-looking dude, but after a moment of sizing Thomas up like a little shrimp cocktail, the man dumped his phone in the bag. The next one, a petite young blonde in a lace-trimmed collared dress, shook her head when he held out the bag. “No phone,” she said in a thick Germanic accent. “Do…do not know….”

“Amish?” She nodded. His buddies returned his blank look. “Uh…okay.”

He collected the last cell phone from a little old lady, tossed the bag out the window, and assumed a wide-leg stance at the door. Stony face. Show them you’re not a man to be trifled with. Reed and Bradey copied him, assuming similar poses at the other exits. They stood in rapt silence, the civilians between them only moving to flinch when the howling winds lashed rain against the windows.

And then the lights went out. 

“Nobody move!” Thomas called. “You two tellers–where are the flashlights?”

“There’s some lanterns in the back office,” the female teller, a middle-aged woman, said in a quaking voice. 

“R–” fuck “--right-hand man, my right-hand man, go with her.” Dual shuffling from both of the doors where his buddies stood. “The taller one!” Reed stumbled through the near-darkness, almost tripping over the woman as he bent down to bring her to her feet.

When they returned, they placed an array of blinding fluorescent lanterns on the desks. The people blinked and averted their heads, looking properly intimidated by the illuminated criminals towering over them, and Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to relax. “Hey dudes…who's up for cards?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trio kept an eye on the civilians as they dealt hand after hand of poker from the cards Thomas kept in his pocket, trading their stolen goods between them. Reed was collecting his fifth winnings in a row when the little old lady raised a trembling hand.

“...yes?” Thomas asked.

“I need to take my pills every twice a day with breakfast and dinner” she said, not meeting their eyes. “I have my evening’s pills in my purse, but do you have any food?”

He turned to the tellers. They returned his blank stare. Reed walked to the back doors, forced them open, glanced to the left, and shuffled to Thomas’ side.

“They’d probably have some in the grocery store on the other side of the strip mall – I think it’s the only other building that’s open, and it looks like they’ve got a generator going,” he whispered. “The back walkway is covered, so there shouldn’t be any ice. Maybe we could grab some blankets, too – it’s getting cold.”

Reeds’ thick skull was usually entertaining, but Thomas was not in the mood. “What, would you have us rob them too? We can’t show our faces–what about their video cameras?”

“Well, we aren’t killers. How will your ‘sugarbabe’ feel when I tell her you let an old lady fucking die?” 

“Get Fifi involved, and I’m telling Andrea.”

“I have some fig newtons in my car,” the military-looking dude announced, his voice cutting through the room like a trench. 

Over the crowd, Bradey met Thomas’ gaze and shook his head, eyes wide. Thomas looked back at the trembling old woman. “Okay, he’ll accompany you to your car. Our teller friend can assist – it’s slippery out there.” He nodded to the male teller, a boy of no more than 19, who stared back and forth between Thomas and Bradey like they were a pair of medieval executioners he had to choose between.

“If I survive, I’m taking your head,” Bradey muttered to Thomas as he passed. He helped the teller to his feet, put the barrel of the toy gun against his neck, and nodded towards the door. “Come on.” The military-looking guy slowly stood, towering above the buddies, and shuffled out after Bradey and the teller.

Turning back towards the civilians, Thomas forced himself to take a deep breath. We’ll be fine. We’ll be strong and brave and get through this, and then the ice will thaw and we’ll have the money and be able to go back to spending Thursday nights ripping each other to shreds in Mario Bros instead of cosplaying as robbers–

There was a smidge of light in the corner of his eye. He took a step forward, and the Amish girl pushed something behind her back.

He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her by the collar. A faint glow behind her grew into the rectangular shape of a phone, a newly-sent text onscreen.

babe call 911 hostage situation at the bank

[Message not sent. Check options]

“Delete it. I’ll take care of her,” he said, putting on his toughest face. Sliding the phone to Reed, he hauled the tiny girl to her feet, grabbed a lantern, and shoved her down the hallway and into a back office.

“The police are coming. A murder charge will just add 20 years to your sentence, shitface,” the Amish – cottagecore? Cottagecore – girl snarled as he pushed her into a chair, her accent gone. She tried to say more, but he covered her mouth with duct tape, muffling her insults. He attempted to tape her hands next, but she kicked him in the shins, hard, and he had to bite back a yelp of pain. For such a little lady, she had a good kick.

He taped her ankles and then wrists together, and pulled out his own phone. “You’ve put us in quite the pickle,” he muttered, checking his wifi connection. Incredibly, he still had data. He googled “gunshot sound LOUD.” “Now we’ll have to leave you tied up all night. If you’d just…oh, here we go.” He turned the volume all the way up and hit play.

♪♪ Here at your friendly neighborhood Walmart, we’re saying goodbye to – ♪♪

“Jesus Christ.” He hit ‘skip ad,’ cracked the door open, and held his phone through the opening. After a few seconds, a gunshot sound echoed from the speaker.

“What was that?” he heard the remaining teller whimper from down the hall.

“Was that a gun?”

“What does a muffler sound like?”

“Oh my God, did he kill her?”

Thomas carefully closed the door. The sudden quiet exposed a hoarse choking sound from under the girl’s taped mouth. 

Was she throwing up? Thomas pulled the tape from her lips, and the choking sound turned into a laugh.

“The guns are fake?” she asked, her breaths shallow and quick.

“Or maybe I’m just not a monster,” he said. Tough face, Tommy, tough face.

“Oh fuck, I thought I was dead.” She laughed again, borderline hysterical. “Holy hell, I’m safe.”

“Not so loud.” He pulled up a chair and crossed his arms. You are a badass bank robber. You will not lose control to an unarmed girl.  “Do you want me to gag you again?”

She hesitated and shook her head. “How long will you keep us here?”

“As long as we need.” Mission accomplished. 

“You won’t let us freeze tonight, will you? I’m worried about the old folks.”

“They’ll be fine.” He stood to leave, then glanced back at her. She looked so small, trussed like a turkey in the chair, and, as brave as she acted, she couldn’t hide her shivering. He pulled off his sweater and took her by the shoulder, leaning her forward so he could slip it over her head.

She was tense as a board in his grasp. “What are you doing?”

“You look cold.” He leaned her back, feeling exposed in his faded DC t-shirt. “I’m not a monster.”

“You should probably tell that to the other hostages. Might save them some time in therapy later on.”

You are a badass renegade. You don’t need to explain yourself to anyone. He straightened his back. “We aren’t going to hurt anyone.” 

“You know, every time you pointed a gun anywhere near that sweet old woman, I’d hear her start to pray. She would always ask for it to be quick.”

He dropped into a chair. “It’s just an old-fashioned hold-up. She doesn’t need to be so scared.”

The girl grinned. “Oh yeah, why would anyone be worried that the big bad guys with guns would shoot them? It’s not like that ever happens in this country.”

He spread his hands. “Are you trying to guilt me or something? It’s not going to work.” I hope.

“I’m not telling you anything you couldn’t already guess.” She paused, and her expression softened. “Look, you should turn yourself in. Let us go. They’ll go lighter on you, if you do.”

“Oh, so now you care about me?” He smirked to cover the unease in his stomach.

“No, I care about me. But this will help you too. Hey, maybe I’ll give you a good witness statement if you let us go. ‘Sure, he held me hostage and made me think I was gonna die, but he was so polite about it, gave me his sweater, took care of me like the queen I am. 5-star criminal, really.” She beamed at him. “You’re not getting away with this, you know.”

“Definitely not if I turn myself in” He stood to go. Paused. For all her spunk, she still looked so small and helpless. “Do you need any water or anything?”

“Such a gentleman. Do you have any?”

“....”

“My hero.”

He hesitated and sat again. “You know, you’re actually pretty cool. And, I’m sure you get this all the time, but…you’re really pretty. When I’m out of this and can afford to treat you real nice, d–”

“I’m tied up and alone with you, please don’t hit on me.”

“Noted.” He stood and stiffly nodded to her. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go see if they need any help. I’ll be back later.” He patted her head and walked back to the lobby, cursing himself to hell and back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he walked into view of the civilians, it took him a moment to realize why everyone was staring at him like he’d just torn their kittens in two. Reed idled up to him. “What the hell did you do?” he whispered. “We’re lucky our friend ‘the tank’ didn’t pop our lungs with Philomath Regional Bank pens when he heard you ‘shot’ her.”

“She’s fine. Did you get the old woman her food?”

“Yeah. Bradey Boy’s somehow in one piece.” He nodded to a very hostile-looking Bradey, who was sporting a few new bruises. “You shoulda seen the poor bastard, slipping and sliding on the ice with the other dudes. Some smooth criminal he is.”

Bradey shooed Reed away and took Thomas by the arm. “Do you still have data?”

“...yeah?”

“We’re turning ourselves in.”

“What? No!” Thomas hissed, shoving his phone deep into his pocket. The civilians snapped their heads in their direction, alarmed.

“That old lady needs medicine tomorrow, too. And there’s no heat.” It was cold, and for the first time, Thomas noticed that the civilians were huddling together from more than just fear. “The insulation here isn’t great, and some of these people are frail. And what if the ice doesn’t melt tomorrow?”

“Bradey. Our beloved voice of reason. Just…reason through!..what happens if we go to jail. Your ‘dream job’ at Cassiopeia Games, my Fifi, Reed’s little cat menagerie – you can’t paint miniatures in prison.”

Bradey pursed his lips. He looked very pale. “I need to be alone with my thoughts. You hold down the fort. He stalked down the hallway to one of the unoccupied offices. Thomas sat on a table and tried to calm his beating heart. We’ll escape into the morning dawn, and they’ll never see us again.

He called Reed over to play blackjack, keenly aware of the stares of the shivering civilians. He began speaking a little louder so they could hear. Must be boring, just sitting there. He thought of the cottagecore girl alone in the dark of the back room and bit his lip.

“Hit me.”

“Um, sirs?” The little old lady finally said.

“Yes?” Thomas asked. 

“I understand that violent crimes carry a heavy charge,” she said, almost gently, “but please, don’t endanger these people. They have their whole lives ahead of them. If you need a hostage to barter with, use me. I’ve lived my life.”

“Violent crime?” Thomas asked. She stared at him, waiting for his response. “Um, I’m not bartering with anyone.”

“It’s just, someone is here, and I don’t want to see any more people lose their lives.”

“What?” Thomas spun to the door. True to her word, the pinpricks of headlights were growing brighter in the black beyond.

“Holy fuck – dude. Dude? Dude! Get back here!” He ran to the window and squinted into the darkness. “Oh fuck, those are cops.”

“I thought you said no one could drive in these conditions!”

“They have monster chains!”

Officers in yaktrax piled out of the car and began to walk, then run, towards the building. Thomas peeled from the window and sprinted into the back room. 

POLICE - WE HAVE THE BANK SURROUNDED. WALK OUT WITH--

“I told you,” the cottagecore girl said. He began searching for a window.

“Fuck me, we didn’t hurt anyone!”

The bank door opened. 

POLICE – LAY DOWN WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD --

“I mean, I’m going to have PTSD from thinking I was gonna get shot. New mental disorder, yay.”

He stopped and stared back at her. And before he could say more, there was a flash at the door and he was beneath a cop, splayed on the ground.

“You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say will–”

“Did you do this? Did your message somehow get through?” he begged, craning his head to see the girl.

The officer hauled him to his feet. “Don’t blame her, bud. We had seven families scared to death, all calling to tell us that their loved ones went to the bank and never came back during the storm. What, do you think no one would notice whole people disappearing?” He tore the mask from Thomas’ head, and the girl broke into a grin.

As he was led out through the lobby, Thomas kept his face down, the eyes of the civilians bearing into his skin. Then he caught sight of a pair of combat boots.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked the military-looking dude.

The huge man bowed his head, cheeks red. “I…I want to see my little girl again. Can’t leave Phoebe a single mom.”

Thomas had no answer. And thus, the badass renegade was led from the bank and into his new badass life as a convicted felon.