Dirty Money

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Dirty Money

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Saarai on Sun Oct 30, 2016 9:50 pm

Act 1: The Score


David, the manager of his very own American Liberty bank, walked into the room that housed the bank's safety deposit boxes. He ran a finger along them until he finally came across the one he was searching. Number 572.

"Got it." He said, digging a key out of his pocket and jamming it into the boxing. He twisted the key, a barely audible click heard as it unlocked. He begun to pull it out, only stopping at the sound of a gun going off somewhere in the bank. "What the hell was that?" David asked.

He turned around, finding himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun aimed at his face. He looked beyond the weapon at the individual holding it, a womanly figure in a pair of baggy sweatpants, a baggy hoodie, black gloves, and a gold colored opera mask.

She groaned, lowering her weapon. "I'm going to go check it out. Stay here. Don't try anything, my man is on the cameras. I'll kill you if he says you're up to something." The gunman told David, turning to make her way into the lobby.

The lobby was dark save the sunlight that was sneaking it's way into the building from the outside. The gold masked bank robber laid her eyes on the soon-to-be corpse of a young man in a suit jacket. There was a grievous wound on his side where he had taken a shotgun blast.

Gold turned her head to look at her accomplices, two men dressed similar to her with matching masks. There's were colored differently, red and blue, to allow them to distinguish from each other, or maybe it was just for style. The latest in bank heist chic.

"Idiot shot the kid." Blue explained, holding Red's shotgun in his hand. "I thought he was reaching." Red said, watching as Gold moved to kneel down beside the young man. He was still breathing, but he wasn't going to get the proper help he needed.

The kid was going to die and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it.

Gold reached into the young man's pocket, digging out a stick of gum. She let out a deep sigh and let her head fall at the sight of it, eventually tossing the gum aside nonchalantly. "It looked like he was reaching." Red said to her, "What's done is done." Gold told him.

"I want you on the cameras. Tell White to come join Blue on the hostages." Gold ordered, "I'm sorry." Red said, "Doesn't matter. Get going." Blue told him, handing the shotgun back to the man.

"Yeah." Red muttered, dejectedly making his way from the lobby. He dared not look at the young man or the other hostages, content with just disappearing from the scene as fast as he could.

Blue made his way over to Gold, kneeling down beside her. "We have to do something about him. It's starting to get to him, making him jumpy." He told his accomplice, "I know. Soon. Right now we need to focus on the prize." Gold said.

"I'll handle the body. You go get what we came here for." Blue said, giving the other bank robber a nudge. "Yeah." Gold muttered, getting to her feet and letting out another sigh. She looked at the hostages they had gathered, shaking her head before leaving the lobby.

Blue put his hands over the mouth and nose of the dying young man, cutting off both airways to help ease him into a peaceful death. As peaceful as it could be considering what had happened to him. "Don't look." Blue told the hostages as the young man faded away.

He was dead. There were supposed to be no casualties, but this young man was dead. He couldn't have been more than twenty. He was probably one of the local college students. He could have been something in life.

"It's never easy. It stays with you." One of the hostages said to Blue. He was an older African-American man, very fit despite his age. "What?" Blue responded, "Doing a mercy kill. It never gets any easier, especially in situations like this." The hostage continued.

He pulled his dogtags out of his shirt, "Vietnam. Two tours." The man told Blue, "Watts. My whole life." Blue said, deciding to humor the older man. "I'm Harry, by the way." The old soldier informed his captor.

"Let me ask, you all didn't take money, not making any demands, and other than what happened to the boy, don't seem to be looking to hurt anyone, what are you looking for here?" Harry asked, "What are you planning to leave here with?"

"Freedom." Blue answered, "Freedom."
"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

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Re: Dirty Money

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Saarai on Mon Oct 31, 2016 5:29 pm

Chapter 1: Revenge

Three weeks earlier.

Zeb sat in his office, feet on his desk and a lingerie magazine in hand. Zeb was an older man, probably in his late 30s. He didn't dress like he was running his own business, opting to wear dirty jeans and a dirty T-shirt.

He glanced over the top of the magazine every once in awhile, focusing on the security monitors that showed him the rest of the building he was in. A warehouse filled with hundreds of barrels and boxes. His eyes went back to the magazine, but they didn't stay their long once they heard the noises from Zeb's TV.

"Good afternoon, Bakersfield. I'm Jeffrey Orman for BAHC channel 12 news, and leading the news today, another in the string of California bank robberies. This time a bank in Oakland. Mike Cocuzza is on the ground with more."

The TV shut off before he could hear more, Zeb tossing his hands up as he looked to see a young woman standing in front of it. "I wanted to see what they would say." Zeb told her, "They always say the same thing." The woman said.

She was tall, petite, and extremely fit with light brown skin. Her hair was long and black, the tips dyed purple to match the purple tracksuit and sneakers she wore.

"Always talk about bring us to justice, but little do they know that myself, and this crew, are some real consummate professionals." The woman told Zeb, "Look at you, Mary. You and Mike gonna start taking resumes when you need a crew?" Zeb asked.

"At least three references and a work history to go along with it." Mary joked, taking a seat on Zeb's desk. "What's with the magazine?" She asked him, "Kat's birthday is coming up. I'm gonna get her something. Something special." Zeb answered, tossing the magazine aside.

Mary leaned over to pick it up, jumping as the office phone rang and startled her. "I got it." She said, grabbing the phone and bring it to her ear.

"Joakim Shipping, Mary speaking." Mary answered, putting on her best professional voice. It was met with a thumbs up from Zeb.

An angry look found it's home on her face as whoever was on the other end of the line spoke, with a quick push of a button the phone was on speaker mode.

"Repeat that." Mary said, "I said, if you want to see Katrina as anything but a corpse, get in touch with Arcadio in person. He'll fill you in after I fill him in. You've got a month." The man on line said before abruptly hanging up.

Zeb and Mary were silent, Zeb staring blankly at his lap. The silence was only broken when another phone began to ring, this one mobile. "That's me." Mary said, digging her phone out of her pocket.

She flipped it open, taking a look at the caller ID. "It's Mike." She told Zeb, watching the man closely. She was concerned, he hadn't said a thing. "Putting it on speaker." Mary said, hitting one of the buttons on her phone.

"What the fuck is going on, Mike? You were supposed to be looking out for Kat." The woman said to Mike, "I was. At least until some assholes put a pistol in my face, hit me with it, and then pulled me out of my car. And they took my damn car with her." Mike said.

Zeb stood suddenly, "Call Arcadio! Set a meet with that motherfucker, because I want to know who I need to kill to get my wife back!" The man exploded, tossing his chair against a wall.

"We'll be there in a few hours. Handle that. Put some of the set together with Tanya, I ain't trying to walk into an ambush." Mary said to Mike, "The usual spot?" He asked, "Yeah, do it as soon as possible." Mary ordered, "I'll handle it. We'll get these fuckers."

Mary put her phone away, hopping off of the desk to approach the angry Zeb. He was pacing angrily, fingers moving restlessly. He didn't know what to do with himself, that much was clear.

Zeb turned to Mary, looking right into her brown eyes with his own blue. "It's fucking Tuco. That motherfucker fled to Mexico after you put that hurtin' on him and exposed him for the rat he is. We should have killed him. Now, he's got my girl and he expects us to pay him." Zeb continued.

"He'll just kill her after we pay. The cartels and La Eme might keep their word, but like you said, he's a rat. His uncle is protecting him, he's got no real power or sway outside of whatever crew he pays to be his yes-men." Mary said, putting a hand on Zeb's shoulder.

"Listen, we're going to play along. We're going to see how much he wants and we're going to try to get it together. I'll check in with some people I know, see if we can find out where Tuco is living south of the border. No way I'm letting him live." Mary told the man.

Zeb nodded, "Okay." He said, "We gotta head to LA for the meet. I'll drive." Mary said, "I don't know, if we're going to save my girl I think we need someone who doesn't drive like a maniac." Zeb managed to joke.

Mary scoffed, "I get results though."

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