Kieran: Electric Banking

I left the apartment quickly. I was not happy with the circumstances. Elizabeth Lumin was a jumped up little girl, probably attending Sky University on her parent’s money. Some poor souls working middle class jobs to put their spoiled brat through college. Still, she had accepted me as a roommate. I pulled the keys from my pocket, and slipped them onto my keyring, alongside the ignition key to my motorcycle, which was parked on the sidewalk.

It was a black monster of a bike, all black and silver chrome. I slammed the helmet on my head as I left the building, and revved the bike loudly, hoping Liz could hear me, just to tick her off. 

I pulled up in front of Jeff’s studio, and dismounted the bike. Jeff came out, guffawing stupidly as he admired the motorcycle.

“Aww, dude! You gotta let me ride it,” he said. 

“Not on your life,” I replied, removing my helmet. “I’m off of your floor.” 

“She said yes? Dude!” Jeff said again, holding his hand up for a fist bump. I ignored him, shouldering him out of the way to get to the door. As usual, it was unlocked and I was spared the embarrassment of having to ask for a key. I would consider robbing him, as a way of convincing him it was better off locked, but I knew he had absolutely nothing of value. 

Grabbing my suitcase off the floor, I groaned slightly as my sore muscles finally kicked in. Raising my shirt, I could see the dark purple-blue bruise spreading like a stain over my abs. Straightening, I shouldered my backpack and hefted the suitcase that was my emergency kit in one hand. 

“Come back for the party, Kieran, it’s going to blow the roof off this place.” I hid a smile as I imagined an explosion actually blowing the roof skyward. Then it was gone as I remembered that it had actually happened to me. 

“I’d rather go under electroshock torture,” I replied, slung the suitcase onto the back of the bike and left without a second glance towards Jeff. 

Next stop, was the bank. I could use a good dose of adrenaline.

Sky City Bank was the local bank, and there happened to be a branch near the school. I had opened an account there when I’d started school, and I knew the staff there were friendly, and easily spooked. Getting off the bike a few blocks away, I pulled the black leather jacket out of my back, and zipped it shut over my shirt. I pulled on some black leather gloves, and kept my helmet on, as I switched the license plate of my bike out for a fake one. Machinas wouldn’t be needed for such a small job, but I pulled a stun-rifle out of my bag. It shot an electrified net at the target, immobilizing them and rendering them unconscious for about half an hour, give or take, depending on their weight. Slinging the rifle onto my back, I rode toward the bank. 

Being about 2 o’ clock in the afternoon, in the middle of the work week, there were a few people inside the bank, maybe one or two. Electronic banking certainly made my job easier. I waited for the customers to leave, patiently, like a sniper. Then, cutting the phone lines in the nearby telephone pole, I strode in, flipping a switch on my helmet that triggered a voice-disguiser, and triggered a cellphone jammer. 

“Hands in the air,” I said, pointing the rifle at the nearest clerk and firing. There was a blue flash, and the woman went down, sliding to the floor behind the counter. The second, and only clerk working there that day raised his hands. 

“No alarms, no police. I’m out in twenty minutes.” I said, pointing the gun at the man. He wasn’t much older than I was, and looked like he was about to wet himself. “Come around to the front, hands still in the air.” 

He nodded, and came around the desk, his hands on his head.

“Open the vault,” I ordered. 

“I-I’m not authorized to open the vault,” the young man stammered. I sighed, and without lowering the gun I pulled out a small explosive charge, the same kind that had blown my own lab sky high.

“You open the vault, or I blast it open,” I said. He cooperated much more quickly after that. 

I was in the vault, filling a handy money case with the higher value bills, hundreds, fifties. Large packs of the freshly minted bills. About fifty thousand dollars was all I needed today. It would probably last me a few month’s worth of rent and the cost of the semester, and the rest would go towards rebuilding my Machinas equipment. 

“35…40…45…” I counted, then I heard the sirens. 45,000 would have to do. I closed the case, and rounded on the clerk. 

“I said no police!” I said, and shot him in the chest. He looked shock and frightened before his face went blank and he slid to the floor. Taking the case in one hand, I saw the bank manager behind the counter on the phone. Shooting him, and then the plate glass window behind him, I vaulted over the counter, and slipped out the window with the money. Emptying the money into my motorcycle’s saddlebags, well out of sight of the bank’s security cameras, I took off the jacket and gloves, cool as a cucumber and rode the bike back to the apartment.

I entered the whitewashed room without knocking, removing my motorcycle helmet as I entered, and headed for my room. As I passed the coffee table, I dropped several hundred-dollar bills onto it’s glass surface. That would cover rent this month. Then I entered my room, and laid the suitcase on the bed. The room wasn’t bad, already furnished, with a gender-neutral grey comforter on the bed, and a plain wooden dresser that looked like it was probably from Ikea. A small door in the corner led to an equally small bathroom, which I assumed was mine. Pretty handy, having two bedrooms and two bathrooms. It meant I wouldn’t have to share one with her. 

Flipping my suitcase open, I folded everything in it neatly into the drawers, frowning at the measly amount of stuff in there. I should have stopped at the mall before coming home. Home, here I was already saying it. Home was my lab, which Gravity Girl had blown to smithereens. I cursed her under my breath, and locked the bedroom door, pulling, from the suitcases secret pocket, my Machinas outfit. My motorcycle helmet rested on the top of the dresser, and I smiled, noticing the small switch I had pressed to disguise my voice during the bank robbery. Another switch beside it, would make the black outer shell clear, revealing the white and blue Machinas insignia emblazoned on it. 

Smirking at the door, as if Gravity Girl herself was on the other side, I had a private joke that she would have no idea who I was if I stood before her. I bet I could pick Gravity Girl out of a crowd. Though I hadn’t yet. Maybe she was a hermit.

The End

23 comments about this story Feed