I reached out, flexing my hand towards the remote on the floor, using [Take]. It flew through the air, before landing in my palm. Sadly, eleven in the morning on a Tuesday was not a time that lends itself to having good television.
“Savior has gone on to apolo-” click
“As we hit the third month of lockd-” click
“Like, zoinks, Scoob! We’re totally getting busted for this pot!”
I flipped through channels until I landed on something halfway bearable. Each thought pounded against my skull, making me wish I could go back to sleep. There was no way in hell I would’ve done the work of getting off that recliner and going to bed, though.
I watched as Shaggy ran from the cops, in some weird Scooby-Doo remake. Or was it a sequel? Whatever. It was unbelievable just what these networks were doing to make a buck nowadays. Not that I could judge, I was watching it, after all.
Sadly, my peaceful morning of a horrible hangover and shitty cartoons wasn’t made to last. It was easy enough to ignore my phone, because who cares what some asshole is calling me about? What I couldn’t ignore was a message sent to me through the system.
The biggest benefit of the system was the messaging feature. It was secure, instant, and accessible as long as you were awake. But it absolutely sucked to use. Each message received felt like someone flicking the back of your head, which was so much worse when hungover. I focused my eyes, pulling the blue box of the system into view.
All it took was two messages to ruin my day. I gave up on attempting to enjoy my painful hangover and forced myself off the recliner. I picked up my phone, while shuffling towards the kitchenette of my studio apartment.
As I shoved some old Chinese food in the microwave, I checked my phone. The first thing I noticed was that it was actually Friday. I also had dozens of missed calls, mostly from unknown numbers. The only saved number that bothered to call me was my boss, Polymeniac.
I scarfed down the slightly expired lo mein while grumbling to myself about how unfair it all was. Sure, I was technically a henchman. But that doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like one. Who does that General Grievous looking asshole think he’s ordering around?
I crawled into bed after finishing my breakfast, thinking about where I’d tell Polymeniac to shove all his limbs. My paper-thin bed sheets barely kept me warm, only my anger helping fight off the cold. Yet, even as I wrote up an insulting text that I wouldn’t send, I knew exactly who he thought he was ordering around.
Me. Despite being a super, I was still the lowest rung in the gang. While I technically had my own crew, that didn’t mean I was any different from the other henchmen. Who cares what your shovel is made of when you’re all picking up the same shit?
I went to sleep, hoping that I’d wake up feeling a bit more alive. If this hangover didn’t calm down, there was no way I’d be able to handle a heist. And who knows, maybe I’d wake up to find myself being a respected villain. It wouldn’t happen, but there’s no harm in dreaming.
The latest message managed to wake me up. They were intrusive, even in your sleep you could feel them bore into your mind. Normally, Poly didn’t bother messaging me unless it’s important or he wanted to be a dick.
I grabbed my phone, noticing the unread texts asking where I was. What also popped out was the fact that it was currently a quarter to eight. Gangs have a real funny relationship with time. If Poly needed me to be somewhere, I’d have to be there early, but that did not go both ways. He could show up whenever he wanted.
I dragged myself out of bed, trying to rush through the motions of getting ready. I shoved a pair of contacts into my eyes and searched through the dirty clothes pile for my mask. It was a blue metallic mask that covered everything below my eyes. I snapped it onto my face as I ran out the door.
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Around a block away from the bank, I saw the rest of my crew. They were standing outside a nearby restaurant, smoking a few cigarettes. I heard them laughing with each other until I arrived, my appearance distracting them from their conversation.
“Jesus, Taker, you look like shit,” commented Ronnie.
“Just.. Ran… Eight blocks... Need a minute,” I panted through the mask.
Kev spoke up, “We’re moving in five, so you got time to breathe. Just be ready to do your part, and we can go for drinks after.”
“Sounds good,” I responded, desperately attempting to swallow air through the mask.
Kev went over the plan while I tried to cool off, leaning against a nearby wall. Technically, I was supposed to be in charge of planning, but they usually went over things themselves. Thankfully, it was an easy enough job.
We had an insider who left the vault unlocked for us, we just needed to get there. Kyan and Ayden had a handheld battering ram that they could use to get through the bullet proof glass. Once we got past that, we were golden. There was a security system, but no cops would drive out to this part of the city, let alone for a bank robbed so often that it was called Crook Bank.
When Kev’s phone alarm went off, we headed towards the bank. It hadn’t even been a month since the last group of henchmen had robbed it, and now it was our turn. Ayden pulled out the battering ram slung over his back, having Kyan pick up the back half.
Kyan and Ayden heaved with all their might, smashing through the first layer of glass with one hefty blow. Shards of glass littered the ground, making me thankful I remembered to put on boots. It took them a couple of blows to get through the second layer, the alarms loudly blaring into the desolate streets.
But once the path was open, two members of our group rushed towards the counters, looking for any bills left behind. The rest of us went straight to the vault, slowly pulling open the thick metal doors. Once we were in, the rest was easy.
Everyone grabbed a duffel bag and began filling it with as much cash as they could find and carry. We didn’t need to rush, but it was always better to finish a job quickly. Once we stuffed as much money as our bags could fit, it was time to get out of there.
Of course, there were still the safe deposit boxes, which could be filled with valuables. While I was all for taking them, Agony made it clear that we take money and nothing else, and as the boss, his word was absolute.
Most people in South Rain City hated the gangs that operated in Villain Territory, but things were different for those that lived here. They were the friends and family of our henchmen, and it would be bad for business to terrorize them for a few extra dollars.
Soon after, we ran out of the bank, having grabbed tens of thousands in a matter of minutes. Elliot road was only three blocks away, and it was even faster to get there through the alleyway.
As we turned into the alley, Ronnie called out, “Taker, first drink is on you for being late!”
“Weren’t you supposed to buy the first round tonight?” Kev asked her.
She chuckled, “That’s old news, don’t get so cau-”
Ronnie never had a chance to finish her sentence. We were halfway down the alley, when a bright red light blinded us all. Before we could recover our sense of sight, the smell hit us. Charred flesh, the sickening scent was so thick that I could almost taste it.
Ronnie laid on the ground, dead. There were two holes burned through her skull, her face a glowing unrecognizable mess. In front of her body stood a man in a tight spandex uniform, with splashes of red over the yellow base. I looked at his smug grin and robotic goggles, and I knew that we were fucked.
“Halt, criminals! You’re all under arrest!” shouted the hero while striking a pose.
“You fucking bastard!” Kev cried out.
I saw the rest of the crew move quickly, drawing the weapons holstered on their side. I placed my hand against my thigh, but my gun was nowhere to be found. The rush to get here made me forget to grab it, but then again, it didn’t really matter.
The cracking of gunfire did nothing to stop him. Laser Beam, or L4S3R B34M if we’re being technical, was one of the city's strongest heroes. He was strong enough to equal a Disciple lieutenant, so there was no way in hell any of us had a chance at beating him.
So, I ran. I turned and sprinted down the street, desperate to build space between us. I heard as the gunfire slowly stopped, one by one, replaced by violent wails and the hum of his lasers.
I couldn’t tell you how far I ran before my body forced me to stop. I collapsed against a nearby dumpster and threw up, barely taking my mask off in time, sick to my stomach at the sight and scent of Ronnie. She had a family. Her kids needed her, and some hero jackass killed her without even trying to talk things out.
I curled up against the dumpster, my heart clawing at my chest. He must have seen me running away, but did he know where I went? I hid there for what felt like hours, shaking while drenched in sweat and vomit. The only thing that snapped me out of it was when I got a message.
There was a gap in his messages, where I wasn’t certain what I should say. All I could think about was the scent of Ronnie’s charred head.
I nearly got up and started walking over there, unable to think things through, until I caught myself. Why the hell should I listen to him? I knew that I was on thin ice with the Disciples, and I couldn’t see them keeping me alive after this. And now, the only people I’d consider my friends were dead.
I looked at the duffel bag that I was still carrying. It was filled with stacks of money, at least enough to get out of this city and start anew. It technically belonged to the Disciples of Agony, even if I was the one who earned it. But did that matter anymore?
I was a dead man walking. So why not steal a couple thousand and turn traitor? While I may have been a fuckup for the past year or two, that doesn’t mean I’m going to just roll over and die. And that decision, that moment, would change my destiny.