Bank Heist (Part Two)
WHO: Evan Fox (THE CAT), George Woodruff (THE FARMER), Noah Connell (THE WOLF), Eddy Richards (THE DOG) and Shelley Peterson (PETER'S WIFE). Special guest appearances by: Mr. Yuppie, Mr. Pantyhose, the Bank Manager, Miss Priss and Expendable Thugs 1-4
WHEN: Very late last Monday Night, several hours after this has been going on
WHERE: The Bank
WHAT: The hostages are working on their getaway
RATED: R for language
NOTE: Why yes, Virginia, this log is 9 days late. I'm sorry that I fail at timeliness. :( Just think of it as... retro! It's a groovy retro log, folks...
EVAN: It took the robbers about three hours to break into the vault, but once they had their duffel bags packed, it was time for the hostages to be used as human bargaining chips. Cramped and afraid, the hostages weren't moving as fast as the robbers would like, and several of them were shoved up the stairs mercilessly. Evan once again put his arm around George as they brought up the back of the line, but this had much less to do with appearances and more to do with the fact that he didn't want his tiny friend hurt.
The ground floor of the bank was what Evan would describe as a 'proper sight'. There were police barricades outside the glass doors, and the blurry shadows of a crowd gathered behind. Blinding lights shone through the high windows every time helicopters passed. If the robbers were expecting to make it past this many policemen, Evan and George were in trouble. Real trouble.
"Fuck. I think we're screwed, George."
GEORGE: Evan and George weren't the only ones nervous about being taken upstairs. In the hours that passed, the cops had apparently been in contact with the crooks, who stated their demands. Those demands included that they be given a van in which to make their escape, but these crooks clearly weren't dumb enough to think the cops would let them waltz out of the bank with their stolen money and no insurance.
"Okay, listen up," Mr. Pantyhose said, standing more or less at the head of the group. Evan and George were somewhere in the middle, and George was actually huddled against him more out of genuine fear than out of a desire to try to look like a believable couple. "Five of you get to be our ticket out of here - the rest of you will be free to go." A collective whimper went through the crowd as everyone expressed a desire to be let out. Mr. Pantyhose just scanned the crowd, still holding his gun in one hand though he at least pointed with the empty hand.
"You," to the Bank Manager. "You," to Mr. Yuppie. "You," to a pretty redheaded co-ed who had spent most of their time in the room downstairs trying to fix her mascara which was running due to her tears. Mr. Pantyhose scanned the crowd and watched Evan and George for several moments. There may have been a smirk, but it was hard to tell. "You," he said, pointing to Evan which caused George's arm to tighten a little more around his waist. "And your girl. Over there." He gestured with the gun towards the area behind the counter where the tellers normally stood and the bank manager started leading the way. There were protests that the girls should leave and even offers by some of the guys to take their places, but these arguments were silenced when Mr. Pantyhose clicked the safety off on his gun. Once the five bargaining chips were secured, the remaining hostages started walking out of the bank single file with their hands on their heads.
"Damn," George muttered to Evan. "Looks like we'll never get those tic-tacs now." The statement was wry and there wasn't any real amusement in her tone since she was terrified at the moment. She was trying to keep herself together, but it was a lot harder now that she and Evan had been more singled out. She didn't say anything, but her hand found his down at their sides and she held on tightly.
EVAN: Now would have been the perfect time for Evan to panic, had been one with a nervous disposition. Fortunately, Evan tended to not worry about things until they really hit the fan, and as far as he was concerned, they would be fine no shots had been fired. Any concern he felt was for George, who was starting to get frightened beside him. But the sarcasm seemed to be helping her stay calm, so he kept his own tone light as well. "Looks like I'll just have to make do with your breath without them."
There was a ruckus outside as the police teams dealt with the released hostages. The robbers had made sure they knew there were still five hostages remaining inside, so that there would be no attempts on entering the building yet. Evan, George, and the others crowded together behind the counter, all five guns now pointing in their direction. Each one had a different reaction to being at gunpoint. The poor manager was shaking with nervousness and trying desperately to hide it. Mr. Yuppie beside him had gone cold and stoic, his eyes clearly indicating that he had checked out for the moment. Upon realizing that Evan was the only one reassuring anybody, the redhead had decided to use his arm as a security blanket and began to cry against it. Evan didn't have the heart to shake her off him, so he held fast to George's hand, pulling her close to his free side.
Mr. Pantyhose had been on the phone with the police for the last five minutes, and when he came back he looked as pleased as someone could through the tight fabric. "Alright guys, the cops said the van will be here in twenty minutes. So you just got to keep it together for a little bit longer." He stepped towards the redhead, who backed away behind Evan, digging her nails into his skin. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We don't want to hurt you." The crook moved away to confer with his partners, allowing everyone to breathe again.
These next twenty minutes were going to be hell.
GEORGE: George was not exactly thrilled at this latest turn of events. Lack of tic-tacs aside, it was good that the other hostages were getting out and logically, she knew this. But at the same time, she was having a hard time feeling good about her fellow hostages when she and Evan were still stuck inside. Stockholm Syndrome? Yeah, not so much. George's tolerance for other people was pretty low to start with, but people were generally harder to get along with when they were under stress.
For example: even though they had a bunch of men pointing guns at them and their lives were in legitimate and serious peril? George struggled to suppress the urge to punch the redhead in the face. Being scared was one thing, but whimpering and being totally useless was something else entirely. Sure, it was probably a more natural response to their situation, but at the same time: did she have to hang all over Evan like that? It was irritating the blonde - probably because it was so pathetic. Not because she was jealous or anything.
"Omigod omigod omigod," the girl was whimpering, claws still firmly dug in on Evan's shoulder as she huddled against him. George glanced at her from over Evan's shoulder, then rolled her eyes a little. The look she gave Evan read quite clearly as 'Are you fucking kidding me?'
"Okay, look," George whispered to the girl after enduring a few minutes of whimpering. The girl stopped and looked up, hopeful that George had a Plan or some form of Comfort to offer. "These guys don't want to kill us because then they won't get what they want, right? So as long as they still need to get out of here, you are totally safe from these guys." The girl smiled a little through her runny mascara and looked quite relieved.
At least until George said, "But if you don't shut up and get your claws off of him? I might kill you." The redhead's smile fell and she looked over at Evan to see if he was going to object to this at all. George didn't relent though, she just made a 'shoo shoo' gesture at the girl's hands which eventually did fall away from Evan's shoulder. George looked forward again, watching as the men conferred. In the poor light, she couldn't exactly tell what they were doing, but it almost looked like they were sticking all the money in their pockets and not leaving it in the duffle bags they used to haul it out. Apparently their loot included some jewelry and other expensive items, which caught the occasional light from a helicopter search light. In fact, another of the crooks opened a duffle bag that didn't have any money in it at all, but contained what looked like... clothes?
EVAN: The conversation between George and the clinger made one thing clear to Evan - there wasn't anyone else he'd rather be stuck in a hostage situation. Not that he wanted to be in one and all, but still, George made this whole fiasco a lot easier. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at George shooing the girl away, because the latter had several inches and probably a dozen pounds on her. But Evan was behaving for the robbers, who incidentally were stuffing their pockets with all sorts of small items.
Now that the girl was off of his arm, Evan put his arm around George and spoke 'comforting' words in her ear. "They seem to have 'regular' clothes on them. What the...?" Realization struck, and he instinctively pulled her closer. "I think they're going out instead of us, George. We could be fucked." Her arm closed around him tighter. "Don't let them know that we know, though. They don't know I can see." For the first time the entire night, Evan gave the blonde a hug that wasn't just for show.
The shit was about to hit the proverbial fan any second now.
"Alright guys, I want all of your hands behind your backs. NOW!" Mr. Pantyhose barked, as one of the crooks with the ski masks tied their hands together with plastic fasteners that were painfully tight. The redhead made the mistake of squealing in pain, and got a sharp jab in the back with a shotgun in response. "Put a cork in it!" The five hostages were made to sit on the ground where the police wouldn't be able to see them, their mouths duct-taped shut. "Thanks for being so cooperative, guys. Hope you make it!"
And with that, the gunmen were out the door, posing as freed hostages, leaving Evan, George, and the other three to their fates in the dark.
GEORGE: "Mummr-UMMHR!" That, for those who didn't have their 'Duct Tape to English' phrase book handy, was George saying "Motherfucker!" as the crooks slipped out, looking appropriately terrified and freaked out. Bastards probably had their own car nearby that they could take to get away leaving the rest of them to lie around not responding to Police for another hour or so before they got teargassed or some shit. George was nice and patient when they were being tied up and even when their mouths were taped. But for crap's sake!
As soon as the gunmen were on their way out, George started squirming. She was next to Evan and she wound up leaning against him almost to the point of it being painful for him. The reason, though, was that she was trying to work her arms from being behind her back to being in front of her. Unfortunately, it was a technique that worked better with handcuffs or something that allowed more leeway, as having her wrists tied tightly together by pinching plastic made it pretty impossible.
Plan B, though, apparently involved George shoving her hands down Evan's pants. He might not have seen where she was going with it at first, but it became obvious before too long: he had that swiss army knife. It was awkward - not just the whole 'Hi, here are my hands in your pants' aspect but the angle as well. Eventually, after she wound up grabbing for something that definitely wasn't the swiss army knife, George grabbed it and managed to work it out of Evan's pocket.
"Mrrr Muh," she said, which was "Help me" since once she got the knife open, she didn't want to slit her own wrists with it, or wind up stabbing him in the hand. It was awkward, but between the two of them, they were able to angle the knife so that it sawed through Evan's tie with only a tiny nick to his wrist. As he worked himself free, there was much muffled noise and excitement from the other hostages, and from George as well. Of course, instead of urging him to hurry up and free her, she was inclining her head pointedly towards the bag she still had slung across her body and saying "Mum-MEM-ee-um" which was probably "Compendium." Presumably, Noah and maybe even another Tale would be outside watching these guys leave and could maybe point out that these five people were actually the guys who robbed the place.
EVAN: Evan was already a step ahead of George. Pulling his own compendium out from the back of his jeans, Evan hurriedly flipped it open to a blank page and scribbled a note to Noah and whoever else was out there.
Noah, Bob, anyone else outside the bank -
The five people who just left are really the THIEVES posing as hostages. There are still five of us inside. Someone tell the police. FAST!
That being done, he pulled the the tape off his mouth - which hurt like a bitch because of his stubble - and proceeded to free George. It wasn't long before the other three were free as well, each rubbing their wrists together in an attempt to ease their circulation.
The Yuppie finally broke out of his stupor. "Well, we're free. Now what?"
Evan considered for a moment how to tell him that he had sent out for help - in the dark, without a phone. Lying was probably the best option at this point. "My girlfriend has a blackberry. It didn't have signal in the basement, but I sent a message to a friend, who should be informing the police as we speak." He turned back to George with a shrug. "The only thing we can do is wait. We try anything else, and they'll shoot us where we stand."
NOAH: When it came to creative ways to spend his day, Noah had to admit that this one was definitely new: sitting camped outside a bank in a lawnchair, shovelling down fried rice and sweet'n'sour pork, and wondering how Eddy could have finished an entire meal from Taco Bell so quickly. Without the bright yellow cordons and parked police cars, though, it almost looked like a regular old entertainment spectacle: pedestrians kept stopping to watch, and then moving on. The librarian himself was sprawled in his seat, an unopened box of food next to him (a ceremonial reward for his fables, when they came out) and the compendium perched open on his knee, others' handwriting scrawling through it at an absurd pace.
But there was a buzz of fear in the air, a kind of crawling tension that prickled his spine and put him on edge. Noah could smell that the passers-by were nervous, but the peaking fear in the bank itself held more interest for the wolf -- and as long as it never burst into unbridled terror, he was relatively certain that the people inside were safe.
And then it came. They were releasing the last of the hostages, and Noah watched for George and Evan's familiar faces, ready to welcome them back to safety with lukewarm food. But five men were escorted out instead. They seemed nervous enough -- but he could smell rancid panic, and it certainly wasn't coming from them. It was coming from the people still inside. One quick glance at the compendium was enough to see Evan's message, and Noah bolted to his feet, Chinese dropping into the lawnchair and expletives dropping from his lips.
"Fuckin'... That's them, guys. Thieves. George and Evan aren't fuckin' out yet."
He motioned to the other tales, and then nodded towards the five last 'hostages'. Screw logistics. Looks like taledom had to get past the blockade and warn the police somehow.
EDDY: Eddy has just let out a rather large belch upon finishing his large Dr. Pepper when people began to exit the building. Slightly frantically, he lifted himself halfway out of the lawnchair, craning his neck for a glimpse of his two friends.
Luckily, Noah was paying more attention to the Compendium than he had been.
"What? THE THIEVES? WHAT?" Eddy's foot landed solidly in the one uneaten burrito as he jumped up. If those were the thieves, then where were Evan and George? What did this mean? And what were they going to do about it, say "sorry, but we're reincarnated fairy tales and due to some extraordinary means of magic, we happen to know that our friends (also reincarnated fairy tales, mind you) are still inside this building?" Eddy wasn't always the quickest on the uptake, but he had a rather solid instinct that that plan of action wasn't going to work.
But all was not lost, for Noah was there, and Noah had a look on his face that meant business. Eddy had solid faith that Noah always knew what to do and when to do it. And so he asked the most logical question he could think of to his fearless leader: "What are we going to do?"
SHELLEY: Being a tale and a member of the NYPD had put Detective Shelley Peterson in a strange situation, but she wouldn't have even been there in the first place, if not for that. After receiving a call from Anser and seeing the message in her compendium a few hours earlier, she had fought her way onto the scene, even going so far as to put on her uniform. Shelley couldn't recall the last time she put on her uniform, but she couldn't recall the last bank heist she had investigated, either. The latter didn't even exist; she wouldn't even have been investigating this one, unless someone produced evidence of sexual assault. Neither robberies nor Aesopeans were Shelley's responsibility, but if a Tale died and she could have done anything to help prevent it, she never would have forgiven herself. Besides, Anser had sounded like he meant business, and she knew better than to cross him then.
When the second group of hostages exited the bank, looking just as shaken as the first, Shelley found herself in an ideal position to intercept and interrogate one. The other hostages had unanimously stated that five remained inside at the time of their own release, but Evan and George weren't among these five. What had gone wrong? "Hey," she said, grabbing one recently released hostage by the arm as he tried to slip past her. She started to lead him towards the tent set up for questioning and psychological analysis. Standard procedure: the released hostages could have valuable information, and the force psychiatrists needed to screen them and make sure they could deal with the crisis. "Where are you going? We still need to take care of you."
The others hadn't been so anxious to get out of it as this one, who squirmed at the words 'take care of you.' "No!" he protested, panic in his voice. "I've got to get out of here! They're making a bomb in there!" With that, he managed to wrench himself free from Shelley's grasp and darted away in an attempt at escape.
"Stop!" she shouted after him. "This is a secure area!" She considered reaching for her gun, but she felt wary of pulling a firearm on a recently released hostage, even one getting ready to cross a police line. On the other side of the blockade, right in Shelley's line of sight, stood the Aesopean Librarian, Noah Connell. He looked like he meant much more business then than Anser could ever convey over the phone.
Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place. Evan and George's continued absence, the shifty behavior, everything. Shelley pulled out her pistol. Time to cause a scene. Maybe Noah and Eddy (and whatever other tales were hanging around) could benefit from having police attention concentrated elsewhere. "Freeze!" she commanded, pointing right at the so-called hostage's back. "Turn around and put your hands where we can see them."
GEORGE: The sight of a cop pulling a gun on a newly released hostage was enough to earn several collective gasps from nearby spectators, and got a camera or two pointing in their direction, of the 6 o'clock news variety and the 'cell phone video' variety. The hostage turned and looked at Shelley and then around at the people nearby and at how surrounded he was. He licked his lips nervously but asked, "What the hell are you doing? I just had a gun on me for eight hours!"
Behind him, though, things were a bit more interesting. Even though this guy was the most eager to slip away, suddenly two other men bolted from the scene. One of them got grabbed by the back of the jacket as he made a break for it, and the cop pulled with enough force that fabric tore somewhere. When the guy was pulled to a screeching halt, something fell out of the back of his shirt: several neatly wrapped bundles of hundreds and a diamond necklace. The other guy to make a fast break was faster and actually managed to hurdle a police blockade and make a break for a group of civilians before the cops could all start shouting and pulling guns on the latest batch of 'hostages' to be released. With exception to the one guy who was running for it, the rest were quick to comply and get face down on the pavement with their hands behind their heads. They left the guns inside, after all, and there was little alternative to 'going quietly' right now.
Inside the bank, George was busy defending the fact that she hid her imaginary Blackberry by arguing "Um, hi: it's expensive and it's for work," as the reason she didn't hand it in with the rest of the cell phones. When the commotion from outside breaks out, the hostages look over. The co-ed is so relieved that she starts to get to her feet, only to be stopped by George who kept her down on the ground. "Do you like getting shot?" she asked. "Because they might shoot you if you go running out there."
"We should just wait," the manager said. "They must have caught those men, they'll send someone in to make sure we're okay. We need to co-operate with the police until they get everything straightened out." Finally, the shock of having been taken hostage was wearing off and he was beginning to remember the sort of training the bank must have given him for hypothetical situations like this. Still, after today he was probably going to start looking into an early retirement package. Or a transfer - maybe to a branch in Ft. Lauderdale...
NOAH: He didn't want to do this. He really didn't want to do this. Every little selfish preservation instinct was screaming at him to go skulking away during the chaos, but there was something of pack instinct and the alpha wolf in Noah still -- an urge to protect the two tales still stranded in the building. So in the heartbeat after Shelley pulled her gun, Noah shot her a quick little smile of gratitude. Needed that distraction.
But then all hell broke loose. Noah remembered enough of hunting that he made a sudden, instinctive jerk towards the fleeing man, finding himself chasing him before he even realised there was a chase to be had, their paths converging with all the inevitability of two oncoming trains.
Unf.
Daredevil librarian and panicky robber rolled on the pavement, knees and elbows skinned on cold concrete, and Noah felt his breath knocked out of him even as he managed to pin the smaller man down, effectively ending his little burst towards freedom.
EVAN: With Noah effectively stopping the last fleeing robber, the chaos outside began to subside. The cops had caught the five men they were looking for, and the news crews had gotten their headlines. The hostages seemed to have slipped everyone's mind - everyone except the tales, that is. "There are still five more inside! My friends are still inside!" The cry made its way all the way inside to Evan's ears, and he knew that they were safe at last.
But the night was far from over.
The police helped get the last five hostages out of the bank before giving it a once over. Blankets and coffee were brought for all of the dazed victims, as they began to be debriefed. Much to Evan's relief, not all of Noah's Chinese food had been ruined, so George and him were able to have a cold (but oh so delicious) dinner after all. Two more hours had passed by the time Evan and George were released, and Evan was thoroughly exhausted. He walked with George back to the Pentamerone in a comfortable silence; both of them had seen too much to say anything just yet.
And then they were in the lobby, and it was time to say good night. Evan wondered what the appropriate thing would be to say to someone you had just spent the most intense and terrifying few hours of your life with. Unable to come up with anything acceptable, he went for heartfelt.
"Good night, George." He stepped forward and kissed her for real. There were no robbers forcing his actions this time - it was just Evan right now. "And thank you." Evan moved backwards towards the stairs before turning back to face George.
"Oh and just so we're clear, we're not starting on the lobby until the afternoon."
GEORGE: The release from the bank was a rather chaotic mess: the final five hostages were reunited (sometimes tearfully) with significant others, worried family members and an equally worried domestic partner. George and Evan, though, made out much better: they had their friends there waiting for them. And in addition to being heroes like Shelley and Noah? Those friends had food.
Evan and George barely had time to scarf down some cold lo mein before being hauled off for debriefing. That was a hazy few hours of answering questions and drinking stale police coffee. Once their statements were taken and corroborated, though, they were free to go. And rather than have a police cruiser drop the two of them off in front of the Pentamerone and maybe start wondering how a couple of allegedly unemployed twentysomethings can live in a place that swanky, the two decided to walk. And they decided to walk out the back to avoid the few reporters who were outside trying to get statements.
George was half asleep by the time they made it to the Pen, and she had her head on Evan's shoulder as they walked, partially for warmth and partially just because. "I think I'm gonna sleep for a week," she said as they started up the front walk and she fished out her keys. Once inside the drafty lobby, though, there was the awkward 'Well, now we go our separate ways' moment. It was good that Evan had something in mind because George was at a complete loss for what to say.
Admittedly, the kiss startled her quite a bit. Nevertheless, it was eagerly returned. When their lips parted, she could only blink up at him a bit stupidly and mumble, "You're welcome." It wasn't until he was halfway across the room that she realized this was possibly a dumb thing to say, and she blushed and brushed some hair behind her ear. As for the mention of starting in the afternoon, she laughed. "LATE afternoon," she added. She watched him go before she finally made her way down the hall to her apartment, grinning quite stupidly until the moment her face hit the pillow, at which point she abandoned smiling in favor of snoring.
WHEN: Very late last Monday Night, several hours after this has been going on
WHERE: The Bank
WHAT: The hostages are working on their getaway
RATED: R for language
NOTE: Why yes, Virginia, this log is 9 days late. I'm sorry that I fail at timeliness. :( Just think of it as... retro! It's a groovy retro log, folks...
EVAN: It took the robbers about three hours to break into the vault, but once they had their duffel bags packed, it was time for the hostages to be used as human bargaining chips. Cramped and afraid, the hostages weren't moving as fast as the robbers would like, and several of them were shoved up the stairs mercilessly. Evan once again put his arm around George as they brought up the back of the line, but this had much less to do with appearances and more to do with the fact that he didn't want his tiny friend hurt.
The ground floor of the bank was what Evan would describe as a 'proper sight'. There were police barricades outside the glass doors, and the blurry shadows of a crowd gathered behind. Blinding lights shone through the high windows every time helicopters passed. If the robbers were expecting to make it past this many policemen, Evan and George were in trouble. Real trouble.
"Fuck. I think we're screwed, George."
GEORGE: Evan and George weren't the only ones nervous about being taken upstairs. In the hours that passed, the cops had apparently been in contact with the crooks, who stated their demands. Those demands included that they be given a van in which to make their escape, but these crooks clearly weren't dumb enough to think the cops would let them waltz out of the bank with their stolen money and no insurance.
"Okay, listen up," Mr. Pantyhose said, standing more or less at the head of the group. Evan and George were somewhere in the middle, and George was actually huddled against him more out of genuine fear than out of a desire to try to look like a believable couple. "Five of you get to be our ticket out of here - the rest of you will be free to go." A collective whimper went through the crowd as everyone expressed a desire to be let out. Mr. Pantyhose just scanned the crowd, still holding his gun in one hand though he at least pointed with the empty hand.
"You," to the Bank Manager. "You," to Mr. Yuppie. "You," to a pretty redheaded co-ed who had spent most of their time in the room downstairs trying to fix her mascara which was running due to her tears. Mr. Pantyhose scanned the crowd and watched Evan and George for several moments. There may have been a smirk, but it was hard to tell. "You," he said, pointing to Evan which caused George's arm to tighten a little more around his waist. "And your girl. Over there." He gestured with the gun towards the area behind the counter where the tellers normally stood and the bank manager started leading the way. There were protests that the girls should leave and even offers by some of the guys to take their places, but these arguments were silenced when Mr. Pantyhose clicked the safety off on his gun. Once the five bargaining chips were secured, the remaining hostages started walking out of the bank single file with their hands on their heads.
"Damn," George muttered to Evan. "Looks like we'll never get those tic-tacs now." The statement was wry and there wasn't any real amusement in her tone since she was terrified at the moment. She was trying to keep herself together, but it was a lot harder now that she and Evan had been more singled out. She didn't say anything, but her hand found his down at their sides and she held on tightly.
EVAN: Now would have been the perfect time for Evan to panic, had been one with a nervous disposition. Fortunately, Evan tended to not worry about things until they really hit the fan, and as far as he was concerned, they would be fine no shots had been fired. Any concern he felt was for George, who was starting to get frightened beside him. But the sarcasm seemed to be helping her stay calm, so he kept his own tone light as well. "Looks like I'll just have to make do with your breath without them."
There was a ruckus outside as the police teams dealt with the released hostages. The robbers had made sure they knew there were still five hostages remaining inside, so that there would be no attempts on entering the building yet. Evan, George, and the others crowded together behind the counter, all five guns now pointing in their direction. Each one had a different reaction to being at gunpoint. The poor manager was shaking with nervousness and trying desperately to hide it. Mr. Yuppie beside him had gone cold and stoic, his eyes clearly indicating that he had checked out for the moment. Upon realizing that Evan was the only one reassuring anybody, the redhead had decided to use his arm as a security blanket and began to cry against it. Evan didn't have the heart to shake her off him, so he held fast to George's hand, pulling her close to his free side.
Mr. Pantyhose had been on the phone with the police for the last five minutes, and when he came back he looked as pleased as someone could through the tight fabric. "Alright guys, the cops said the van will be here in twenty minutes. So you just got to keep it together for a little bit longer." He stepped towards the redhead, who backed away behind Evan, digging her nails into his skin. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We don't want to hurt you." The crook moved away to confer with his partners, allowing everyone to breathe again.
These next twenty minutes were going to be hell.
GEORGE: George was not exactly thrilled at this latest turn of events. Lack of tic-tacs aside, it was good that the other hostages were getting out and logically, she knew this. But at the same time, she was having a hard time feeling good about her fellow hostages when she and Evan were still stuck inside. Stockholm Syndrome? Yeah, not so much. George's tolerance for other people was pretty low to start with, but people were generally harder to get along with when they were under stress.
For example: even though they had a bunch of men pointing guns at them and their lives were in legitimate and serious peril? George struggled to suppress the urge to punch the redhead in the face. Being scared was one thing, but whimpering and being totally useless was something else entirely. Sure, it was probably a more natural response to their situation, but at the same time: did she have to hang all over Evan like that? It was irritating the blonde - probably because it was so pathetic. Not because she was jealous or anything.
"Omigod omigod omigod," the girl was whimpering, claws still firmly dug in on Evan's shoulder as she huddled against him. George glanced at her from over Evan's shoulder, then rolled her eyes a little. The look she gave Evan read quite clearly as 'Are you fucking kidding me?'
"Okay, look," George whispered to the girl after enduring a few minutes of whimpering. The girl stopped and looked up, hopeful that George had a Plan or some form of Comfort to offer. "These guys don't want to kill us because then they won't get what they want, right? So as long as they still need to get out of here, you are totally safe from these guys." The girl smiled a little through her runny mascara and looked quite relieved.
At least until George said, "But if you don't shut up and get your claws off of him? I might kill you." The redhead's smile fell and she looked over at Evan to see if he was going to object to this at all. George didn't relent though, she just made a 'shoo shoo' gesture at the girl's hands which eventually did fall away from Evan's shoulder. George looked forward again, watching as the men conferred. In the poor light, she couldn't exactly tell what they were doing, but it almost looked like they were sticking all the money in their pockets and not leaving it in the duffle bags they used to haul it out. Apparently their loot included some jewelry and other expensive items, which caught the occasional light from a helicopter search light. In fact, another of the crooks opened a duffle bag that didn't have any money in it at all, but contained what looked like... clothes?
EVAN: The conversation between George and the clinger made one thing clear to Evan - there wasn't anyone else he'd rather be stuck in a hostage situation. Not that he wanted to be in one and all, but still, George made this whole fiasco a lot easier. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at George shooing the girl away, because the latter had several inches and probably a dozen pounds on her. But Evan was behaving for the robbers, who incidentally were stuffing their pockets with all sorts of small items.
Now that the girl was off of his arm, Evan put his arm around George and spoke 'comforting' words in her ear. "They seem to have 'regular' clothes on them. What the...?" Realization struck, and he instinctively pulled her closer. "I think they're going out instead of us, George. We could be fucked." Her arm closed around him tighter. "Don't let them know that we know, though. They don't know I can see." For the first time the entire night, Evan gave the blonde a hug that wasn't just for show.
The shit was about to hit the proverbial fan any second now.
"Alright guys, I want all of your hands behind your backs. NOW!" Mr. Pantyhose barked, as one of the crooks with the ski masks tied their hands together with plastic fasteners that were painfully tight. The redhead made the mistake of squealing in pain, and got a sharp jab in the back with a shotgun in response. "Put a cork in it!" The five hostages were made to sit on the ground where the police wouldn't be able to see them, their mouths duct-taped shut. "Thanks for being so cooperative, guys. Hope you make it!"
And with that, the gunmen were out the door, posing as freed hostages, leaving Evan, George, and the other three to their fates in the dark.
GEORGE: "Mummr-UMMHR!" That, for those who didn't have their 'Duct Tape to English' phrase book handy, was George saying "Motherfucker!" as the crooks slipped out, looking appropriately terrified and freaked out. Bastards probably had their own car nearby that they could take to get away leaving the rest of them to lie around not responding to Police for another hour or so before they got teargassed or some shit. George was nice and patient when they were being tied up and even when their mouths were taped. But for crap's sake!
As soon as the gunmen were on their way out, George started squirming. She was next to Evan and she wound up leaning against him almost to the point of it being painful for him. The reason, though, was that she was trying to work her arms from being behind her back to being in front of her. Unfortunately, it was a technique that worked better with handcuffs or something that allowed more leeway, as having her wrists tied tightly together by pinching plastic made it pretty impossible.
Plan B, though, apparently involved George shoving her hands down Evan's pants. He might not have seen where she was going with it at first, but it became obvious before too long: he had that swiss army knife. It was awkward - not just the whole 'Hi, here are my hands in your pants' aspect but the angle as well. Eventually, after she wound up grabbing for something that definitely wasn't the swiss army knife, George grabbed it and managed to work it out of Evan's pocket.
"Mrrr Muh," she said, which was "Help me" since once she got the knife open, she didn't want to slit her own wrists with it, or wind up stabbing him in the hand. It was awkward, but between the two of them, they were able to angle the knife so that it sawed through Evan's tie with only a tiny nick to his wrist. As he worked himself free, there was much muffled noise and excitement from the other hostages, and from George as well. Of course, instead of urging him to hurry up and free her, she was inclining her head pointedly towards the bag she still had slung across her body and saying "Mum-MEM-ee-um" which was probably "Compendium." Presumably, Noah and maybe even another Tale would be outside watching these guys leave and could maybe point out that these five people were actually the guys who robbed the place.
EVAN: Evan was already a step ahead of George. Pulling his own compendium out from the back of his jeans, Evan hurriedly flipped it open to a blank page and scribbled a note to Noah and whoever else was out there.
Noah, Bob, anyone else outside the bank -
The five people who just left are really the THIEVES posing as hostages. There are still five of us inside. Someone tell the police. FAST!
That being done, he pulled the the tape off his mouth - which hurt like a bitch because of his stubble - and proceeded to free George. It wasn't long before the other three were free as well, each rubbing their wrists together in an attempt to ease their circulation.
The Yuppie finally broke out of his stupor. "Well, we're free. Now what?"
Evan considered for a moment how to tell him that he had sent out for help - in the dark, without a phone. Lying was probably the best option at this point. "My girlfriend has a blackberry. It didn't have signal in the basement, but I sent a message to a friend, who should be informing the police as we speak." He turned back to George with a shrug. "The only thing we can do is wait. We try anything else, and they'll shoot us where we stand."
NOAH: When it came to creative ways to spend his day, Noah had to admit that this one was definitely new: sitting camped outside a bank in a lawnchair, shovelling down fried rice and sweet'n'sour pork, and wondering how Eddy could have finished an entire meal from Taco Bell so quickly. Without the bright yellow cordons and parked police cars, though, it almost looked like a regular old entertainment spectacle: pedestrians kept stopping to watch, and then moving on. The librarian himself was sprawled in his seat, an unopened box of food next to him (a ceremonial reward for his fables, when they came out) and the compendium perched open on his knee, others' handwriting scrawling through it at an absurd pace.
But there was a buzz of fear in the air, a kind of crawling tension that prickled his spine and put him on edge. Noah could smell that the passers-by were nervous, but the peaking fear in the bank itself held more interest for the wolf -- and as long as it never burst into unbridled terror, he was relatively certain that the people inside were safe.
And then it came. They were releasing the last of the hostages, and Noah watched for George and Evan's familiar faces, ready to welcome them back to safety with lukewarm food. But five men were escorted out instead. They seemed nervous enough -- but he could smell rancid panic, and it certainly wasn't coming from them. It was coming from the people still inside. One quick glance at the compendium was enough to see Evan's message, and Noah bolted to his feet, Chinese dropping into the lawnchair and expletives dropping from his lips.
"Fuckin'... That's them, guys. Thieves. George and Evan aren't fuckin' out yet."
He motioned to the other tales, and then nodded towards the five last 'hostages'. Screw logistics. Looks like taledom had to get past the blockade and warn the police somehow.
EDDY: Eddy has just let out a rather large belch upon finishing his large Dr. Pepper when people began to exit the building. Slightly frantically, he lifted himself halfway out of the lawnchair, craning his neck for a glimpse of his two friends.
Luckily, Noah was paying more attention to the Compendium than he had been.
"What? THE THIEVES? WHAT?" Eddy's foot landed solidly in the one uneaten burrito as he jumped up. If those were the thieves, then where were Evan and George? What did this mean? And what were they going to do about it, say "sorry, but we're reincarnated fairy tales and due to some extraordinary means of magic, we happen to know that our friends (also reincarnated fairy tales, mind you) are still inside this building?" Eddy wasn't always the quickest on the uptake, but he had a rather solid instinct that that plan of action wasn't going to work.
But all was not lost, for Noah was there, and Noah had a look on his face that meant business. Eddy had solid faith that Noah always knew what to do and when to do it. And so he asked the most logical question he could think of to his fearless leader: "What are we going to do?"
SHELLEY: Being a tale and a member of the NYPD had put Detective Shelley Peterson in a strange situation, but she wouldn't have even been there in the first place, if not for that. After receiving a call from Anser and seeing the message in her compendium a few hours earlier, she had fought her way onto the scene, even going so far as to put on her uniform. Shelley couldn't recall the last time she put on her uniform, but she couldn't recall the last bank heist she had investigated, either. The latter didn't even exist; she wouldn't even have been investigating this one, unless someone produced evidence of sexual assault. Neither robberies nor Aesopeans were Shelley's responsibility, but if a Tale died and she could have done anything to help prevent it, she never would have forgiven herself. Besides, Anser had sounded like he meant business, and she knew better than to cross him then.
When the second group of hostages exited the bank, looking just as shaken as the first, Shelley found herself in an ideal position to intercept and interrogate one. The other hostages had unanimously stated that five remained inside at the time of their own release, but Evan and George weren't among these five. What had gone wrong? "Hey," she said, grabbing one recently released hostage by the arm as he tried to slip past her. She started to lead him towards the tent set up for questioning and psychological analysis. Standard procedure: the released hostages could have valuable information, and the force psychiatrists needed to screen them and make sure they could deal with the crisis. "Where are you going? We still need to take care of you."
The others hadn't been so anxious to get out of it as this one, who squirmed at the words 'take care of you.' "No!" he protested, panic in his voice. "I've got to get out of here! They're making a bomb in there!" With that, he managed to wrench himself free from Shelley's grasp and darted away in an attempt at escape.
"Stop!" she shouted after him. "This is a secure area!" She considered reaching for her gun, but she felt wary of pulling a firearm on a recently released hostage, even one getting ready to cross a police line. On the other side of the blockade, right in Shelley's line of sight, stood the Aesopean Librarian, Noah Connell. He looked like he meant much more business then than Anser could ever convey over the phone.
Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place. Evan and George's continued absence, the shifty behavior, everything. Shelley pulled out her pistol. Time to cause a scene. Maybe Noah and Eddy (and whatever other tales were hanging around) could benefit from having police attention concentrated elsewhere. "Freeze!" she commanded, pointing right at the so-called hostage's back. "Turn around and put your hands where we can see them."
GEORGE: The sight of a cop pulling a gun on a newly released hostage was enough to earn several collective gasps from nearby spectators, and got a camera or two pointing in their direction, of the 6 o'clock news variety and the 'cell phone video' variety. The hostage turned and looked at Shelley and then around at the people nearby and at how surrounded he was. He licked his lips nervously but asked, "What the hell are you doing? I just had a gun on me for eight hours!"
Behind him, though, things were a bit more interesting. Even though this guy was the most eager to slip away, suddenly two other men bolted from the scene. One of them got grabbed by the back of the jacket as he made a break for it, and the cop pulled with enough force that fabric tore somewhere. When the guy was pulled to a screeching halt, something fell out of the back of his shirt: several neatly wrapped bundles of hundreds and a diamond necklace. The other guy to make a fast break was faster and actually managed to hurdle a police blockade and make a break for a group of civilians before the cops could all start shouting and pulling guns on the latest batch of 'hostages' to be released. With exception to the one guy who was running for it, the rest were quick to comply and get face down on the pavement with their hands behind their heads. They left the guns inside, after all, and there was little alternative to 'going quietly' right now.
Inside the bank, George was busy defending the fact that she hid her imaginary Blackberry by arguing "Um, hi: it's expensive and it's for work," as the reason she didn't hand it in with the rest of the cell phones. When the commotion from outside breaks out, the hostages look over. The co-ed is so relieved that she starts to get to her feet, only to be stopped by George who kept her down on the ground. "Do you like getting shot?" she asked. "Because they might shoot you if you go running out there."
"We should just wait," the manager said. "They must have caught those men, they'll send someone in to make sure we're okay. We need to co-operate with the police until they get everything straightened out." Finally, the shock of having been taken hostage was wearing off and he was beginning to remember the sort of training the bank must have given him for hypothetical situations like this. Still, after today he was probably going to start looking into an early retirement package. Or a transfer - maybe to a branch in Ft. Lauderdale...
NOAH: He didn't want to do this. He really didn't want to do this. Every little selfish preservation instinct was screaming at him to go skulking away during the chaos, but there was something of pack instinct and the alpha wolf in Noah still -- an urge to protect the two tales still stranded in the building. So in the heartbeat after Shelley pulled her gun, Noah shot her a quick little smile of gratitude. Needed that distraction.
But then all hell broke loose. Noah remembered enough of hunting that he made a sudden, instinctive jerk towards the fleeing man, finding himself chasing him before he even realised there was a chase to be had, their paths converging with all the inevitability of two oncoming trains.
Unf.
Daredevil librarian and panicky robber rolled on the pavement, knees and elbows skinned on cold concrete, and Noah felt his breath knocked out of him even as he managed to pin the smaller man down, effectively ending his little burst towards freedom.
EVAN: With Noah effectively stopping the last fleeing robber, the chaos outside began to subside. The cops had caught the five men they were looking for, and the news crews had gotten their headlines. The hostages seemed to have slipped everyone's mind - everyone except the tales, that is. "There are still five more inside! My friends are still inside!" The cry made its way all the way inside to Evan's ears, and he knew that they were safe at last.
But the night was far from over.
The police helped get the last five hostages out of the bank before giving it a once over. Blankets and coffee were brought for all of the dazed victims, as they began to be debriefed. Much to Evan's relief, not all of Noah's Chinese food had been ruined, so George and him were able to have a cold (but oh so delicious) dinner after all. Two more hours had passed by the time Evan and George were released, and Evan was thoroughly exhausted. He walked with George back to the Pentamerone in a comfortable silence; both of them had seen too much to say anything just yet.
And then they were in the lobby, and it was time to say good night. Evan wondered what the appropriate thing would be to say to someone you had just spent the most intense and terrifying few hours of your life with. Unable to come up with anything acceptable, he went for heartfelt.
"Good night, George." He stepped forward and kissed her for real. There were no robbers forcing his actions this time - it was just Evan right now. "And thank you." Evan moved backwards towards the stairs before turning back to face George.
"Oh and just so we're clear, we're not starting on the lobby until the afternoon."
GEORGE: The release from the bank was a rather chaotic mess: the final five hostages were reunited (sometimes tearfully) with significant others, worried family members and an equally worried domestic partner. George and Evan, though, made out much better: they had their friends there waiting for them. And in addition to being heroes like Shelley and Noah? Those friends had food.
Evan and George barely had time to scarf down some cold lo mein before being hauled off for debriefing. That was a hazy few hours of answering questions and drinking stale police coffee. Once their statements were taken and corroborated, though, they were free to go. And rather than have a police cruiser drop the two of them off in front of the Pentamerone and maybe start wondering how a couple of allegedly unemployed twentysomethings can live in a place that swanky, the two decided to walk. And they decided to walk out the back to avoid the few reporters who were outside trying to get statements.
George was half asleep by the time they made it to the Pen, and she had her head on Evan's shoulder as they walked, partially for warmth and partially just because. "I think I'm gonna sleep for a week," she said as they started up the front walk and she fished out her keys. Once inside the drafty lobby, though, there was the awkward 'Well, now we go our separate ways' moment. It was good that Evan had something in mind because George was at a complete loss for what to say.
Admittedly, the kiss startled her quite a bit. Nevertheless, it was eagerly returned. When their lips parted, she could only blink up at him a bit stupidly and mumble, "You're welcome." It wasn't until he was halfway across the room that she realized this was possibly a dumb thing to say, and she blushed and brushed some hair behind her ear. As for the mention of starting in the afternoon, she laughed. "LATE afternoon," she added. She watched him go before she finally made her way down the hall to her apartment, grinning quite stupidly until the moment her face hit the pillow, at which point she abandoned smiling in favor of snoring.