[closed/completed]
WHO: Grimmjow [stradapanthera] and some NPCs
WHAT: Joker hired Grimmjow to rob one of the main Monacello banks while he takes care of Vescovo.
WHERE: Monacello family bank.
WHEN: Tonight around midnight (Day 93/94)
There were four guards.
One walking this side of the bank's exterior.
One walking that side.
A snapped neck and bullet through the head later, the Monacello bank was down two guards.
Grimmjow tugged his gloves on a little more firmly. Blood from the guard he had gunned down was creeping dangerously close to his boots where he was crouching. The radio that the guard had been about to grab had been spattered with the shit, too. Grimmjow picked it up and pressed down on the button.
"One of you got a minute?"
"Mark?"
The nametag on the dead, bleeding pig said his name was Mark. "Yeah. Dropped my damn flashlight."
"You fucking idiot. Stay there."
Grimmjow tossed the radio onto the dead fucker's chest and rose swiftly. If the men he'd left at the door were where they needed to be, things would go smoothly.
The gun with the silencer slipped back into his pocket and he grabbed the shotgun from where he'd set it down. The panther inside him ached to rip out of the fucking disguise and tear into the building. Ached to blast through the walls and tear into the throat of the remaining guard with his fangs.
Lightly his tongue followed the sharp curve of one fang in his mouth. The animal living within him wanted out and he couldn't fucking let it. Not this time. Not if he wanted to remain free and out of a cage. Because if the Monacello motherfuckers found out it was him who had helped the Joker, he'd be captured.
When he stepped around the corner he saw a third dead guard and his men holding the door to the bank open.
No damn alarms here.
There were too many fucking men. Even with a job like this, you didn't need eleven guys total. They'd just get in the fucking way. Grimmjow looked them over as he passed by and stepped into the entry to the bank. All those fucking clown masks staring back at him were unnerving.
Grimmjow used one hand to load the cartridge into the chamber of the shotgun and he heard the loud click as it moved into place.
"Hey!"
There was the fourth guard.
"You can't be in here!"
A guy behind Grimmjow laughed. "We can now."
Grimmjow saw the move coming before it happened.
Instantly and fluidly he ducked and the guard's bullets went soaring over his head into one of the guy's behind him.
That helped slightly alleviate the problem of too many fucking men.
One-handed, Grimmjow lifted the shotgun and fired.
He didn't bother watching the guy fly into the wall behind him. And he didn't bother trying to identify which part of him had been his head.
"You got the keys from the other asshole," Grimmjow said as he turned to look at the remaining nine men. "Go."
The keys weren't going to be enough to get them into the vault entirely; Grimmjow knew they would only be useful for a door and a gate or two. They knew what they were doing beyond that. They were the type of criminals who knew how to get the money out of the vault.
Once he was alone in the main portion of the bank, he rested the shotgun over one shoulder and looked around. The trench coat with its raised collar and the hat with the wide brim helped conceal his face and bright blue hair. Those long and furred ears of his had been tucked uncomfortably into the hat as well.
No fucking way was he going to wear that Goddamn cat mask the Joker had left in the truck for him. The tell-tale jawbone on his face was gone for the job so that he could disguise himself properly without a damn mask.
Those Monacello bastards weren't going to be happy.
Not very fucking happy at all.
They'd fucking underestimated Grimmjow. Gin and Ulquiorra specifically. And he didn't give a shit if the former was missing now. That piece of shit had treated him like an animal. Treated him like some kind of pet to be caged and released when the House wanted something torn apart.
And Ulquiorra. That motherfucker had severely underestimated him. He had crossed a fucking line.
Why the fuck was Renji a Monacello? Christ, Grimmjow hated both Houses, but were he forced to choose, it would be Vescovo he would go to. And that fucking Renji had to be in Monacello. The only damn downfall of the redheaded asshole.
Fuck.
Grimmjow slammed his foot into a desk out of anger. The large paw within the boot gave the kick enough strength to send the piece of furniture flying into the bank tellers' windows and cause a good portion of damage.
Flipping the shotgun around so he was holding onto the barrel, Grimmjow slammed it into a light on a wall and shattered the glass. Any and all pictures were destroyed, too. As were potted plants.
When Grimmjow was done with the place it looked like a fucking tornado had hit it.
Bags of cards from the Joker had been left by the door and Grimmjow tossed them farther into the bank. Enough of them would survive well enough to be semi-recognizable by whatever fuckers came to the bank after they left.
Now this place needed an explosion.
The grin that slowly formed across his face was just shy of revealing the sharp fangs hiding behind his lips. The Monacello would lose a good portion of their money, and they'd lose an important bank.
Wouldn't it be fucking funny if they didn't have enough money leftover in their other banks to rebuild this one?
Hah.
The Joker had supplied plenty of bombs for Grimmjow to use if he felt the need for a fireworks display.
And he did.
It was easy work removing the bombs from the bags and setting them up over all over the bank.
One bomb.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Grimmjow started losing count.
It wasn't necessary to use them all, but he fucking wanted to. Wanted to blow this fucking place so damn sky high that they'd find pieces of it in the next country and in the damn ocean.
Gunshots were fired.
Grimmjow drew his smaller gun and moved toward the door leading to the vault. Motherfuckers were killing each other already? Not fucking surprising. No fucking sense of honor left in the city.
The first one that ran out of the vault lifted his gun for Grimmjow, but Grimmjow was faster. A bullet landed between the asshole's eyes and when he fell, his lack of body revealed another asshole there with a gun. This one had his aimed already and Grimmjow managed to dodge what would've been a real fucking painful bullet wound.
And Axel had told him not to fucking get shot.
Grimmjow placed the gun beneath the guy's chin, lowered his head, and pulled the trigger. Blood splashed across his hat and he grinned like a fucking lunatic. Did these motherfuckers really think they could take him on? What the fuck did the Joker do--advertise for the dumbest criminals Italy had to offer?
With his gun ready for the next son of a bitch who tried anything, he made his way into the vault.
Three guys were shoving money into the bags. Four were dead.
"Hurry the fuck up," Grimmjow ordered without asking what the hell had happened.
He didn't give a shit.
When they left with the bags packed full of the money, Grimmjow used the heavy bag he was carrying to break through all the glass doors.
The bells blared.
"...Boss?"
"Don't fucking worry 'bout it. Get in the fucking truck."
The Joker had given them an ice cream truck. What the fuck was wrong with him? Before leaving, Grimmjow stood on the passenger seat, leaned across the roof of the car, and ripped the speakers from it. He tossed them in the back of the truck onto the bags of money and the asshole driving slammed down on the pedal.
Fucking asshole Joker had thought it would be funny to wire the damn music to play regardless of how fucking hard the OFF switch was hit. Too fucking bad the shit couldn't play without any damn speakers.
The truck was parked where the Joker had wanted and Grimmjow gave the remaining guys enough money to keep them from bitching. Only when they were gone did Grimmjow withdraw the detonator from the pocket of his trench coat.
The cops would have been arriving there by now.
Fucking perfect.
Grimmjow hit the button and watched the sudden burst of color over the city's horizon.
Even from this distance his ears could pick up the glorious sounds of the bank being taken down.
Christmas had come a little early this year.
WHAT: Joker hired Grimmjow to rob one of the main Monacello banks while he takes care of Vescovo.
WHERE: Monacello family bank.
WHEN: Tonight around midnight (Day 93/94)
There were four guards.
One walking this side of the bank's exterior.
One walking that side.
A snapped neck and bullet through the head later, the Monacello bank was down two guards.
Grimmjow tugged his gloves on a little more firmly. Blood from the guard he had gunned down was creeping dangerously close to his boots where he was crouching. The radio that the guard had been about to grab had been spattered with the shit, too. Grimmjow picked it up and pressed down on the button.
"One of you got a minute?"
"Mark?"
The nametag on the dead, bleeding pig said his name was Mark. "Yeah. Dropped my damn flashlight."
"You fucking idiot. Stay there."
Grimmjow tossed the radio onto the dead fucker's chest and rose swiftly. If the men he'd left at the door were where they needed to be, things would go smoothly.
The gun with the silencer slipped back into his pocket and he grabbed the shotgun from where he'd set it down. The panther inside him ached to rip out of the fucking disguise and tear into the building. Ached to blast through the walls and tear into the throat of the remaining guard with his fangs.
Lightly his tongue followed the sharp curve of one fang in his mouth. The animal living within him wanted out and he couldn't fucking let it. Not this time. Not if he wanted to remain free and out of a cage. Because if the Monacello motherfuckers found out it was him who had helped the Joker, he'd be captured.
When he stepped around the corner he saw a third dead guard and his men holding the door to the bank open.
No damn alarms here.
There were too many fucking men. Even with a job like this, you didn't need eleven guys total. They'd just get in the fucking way. Grimmjow looked them over as he passed by and stepped into the entry to the bank. All those fucking clown masks staring back at him were unnerving.
Grimmjow used one hand to load the cartridge into the chamber of the shotgun and he heard the loud click as it moved into place.
"Hey!"
There was the fourth guard.
"You can't be in here!"
A guy behind Grimmjow laughed. "We can now."
Grimmjow saw the move coming before it happened.
Instantly and fluidly he ducked and the guard's bullets went soaring over his head into one of the guy's behind him.
That helped slightly alleviate the problem of too many fucking men.
One-handed, Grimmjow lifted the shotgun and fired.
He didn't bother watching the guy fly into the wall behind him. And he didn't bother trying to identify which part of him had been his head.
"You got the keys from the other asshole," Grimmjow said as he turned to look at the remaining nine men. "Go."
The keys weren't going to be enough to get them into the vault entirely; Grimmjow knew they would only be useful for a door and a gate or two. They knew what they were doing beyond that. They were the type of criminals who knew how to get the money out of the vault.
Once he was alone in the main portion of the bank, he rested the shotgun over one shoulder and looked around. The trench coat with its raised collar and the hat with the wide brim helped conceal his face and bright blue hair. Those long and furred ears of his had been tucked uncomfortably into the hat as well.
No fucking way was he going to wear that Goddamn cat mask the Joker had left in the truck for him. The tell-tale jawbone on his face was gone for the job so that he could disguise himself properly without a damn mask.
Those Monacello bastards weren't going to be happy.
Not very fucking happy at all.
They'd fucking underestimated Grimmjow. Gin and Ulquiorra specifically. And he didn't give a shit if the former was missing now. That piece of shit had treated him like an animal. Treated him like some kind of pet to be caged and released when the House wanted something torn apart.
And Ulquiorra. That motherfucker had severely underestimated him. He had crossed a fucking line.
Why the fuck was Renji a Monacello? Christ, Grimmjow hated both Houses, but were he forced to choose, it would be Vescovo he would go to. And that fucking Renji had to be in Monacello. The only damn downfall of the redheaded asshole.
Fuck.
Grimmjow slammed his foot into a desk out of anger. The large paw within the boot gave the kick enough strength to send the piece of furniture flying into the bank tellers' windows and cause a good portion of damage.
Flipping the shotgun around so he was holding onto the barrel, Grimmjow slammed it into a light on a wall and shattered the glass. Any and all pictures were destroyed, too. As were potted plants.
When Grimmjow was done with the place it looked like a fucking tornado had hit it.
Bags of cards from the Joker had been left by the door and Grimmjow tossed them farther into the bank. Enough of them would survive well enough to be semi-recognizable by whatever fuckers came to the bank after they left.
Now this place needed an explosion.
The grin that slowly formed across his face was just shy of revealing the sharp fangs hiding behind his lips. The Monacello would lose a good portion of their money, and they'd lose an important bank.
Wouldn't it be fucking funny if they didn't have enough money leftover in their other banks to rebuild this one?
Hah.
The Joker had supplied plenty of bombs for Grimmjow to use if he felt the need for a fireworks display.
And he did.
It was easy work removing the bombs from the bags and setting them up over all over the bank.
One bomb.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Grimmjow started losing count.
It wasn't necessary to use them all, but he fucking wanted to. Wanted to blow this fucking place so damn sky high that they'd find pieces of it in the next country and in the damn ocean.
Gunshots were fired.
Grimmjow drew his smaller gun and moved toward the door leading to the vault. Motherfuckers were killing each other already? Not fucking surprising. No fucking sense of honor left in the city.
The first one that ran out of the vault lifted his gun for Grimmjow, but Grimmjow was faster. A bullet landed between the asshole's eyes and when he fell, his lack of body revealed another asshole there with a gun. This one had his aimed already and Grimmjow managed to dodge what would've been a real fucking painful bullet wound.
And Axel had told him not to fucking get shot.
Grimmjow placed the gun beneath the guy's chin, lowered his head, and pulled the trigger. Blood splashed across his hat and he grinned like a fucking lunatic. Did these motherfuckers really think they could take him on? What the fuck did the Joker do--advertise for the dumbest criminals Italy had to offer?
With his gun ready for the next son of a bitch who tried anything, he made his way into the vault.
Three guys were shoving money into the bags. Four were dead.
"Hurry the fuck up," Grimmjow ordered without asking what the hell had happened.
He didn't give a shit.
When they left with the bags packed full of the money, Grimmjow used the heavy bag he was carrying to break through all the glass doors.
The bells blared.
"...Boss?"
"Don't fucking worry 'bout it. Get in the fucking truck."
The Joker had given them an ice cream truck. What the fuck was wrong with him? Before leaving, Grimmjow stood on the passenger seat, leaned across the roof of the car, and ripped the speakers from it. He tossed them in the back of the truck onto the bags of money and the asshole driving slammed down on the pedal.
Fucking asshole Joker had thought it would be funny to wire the damn music to play regardless of how fucking hard the OFF switch was hit. Too fucking bad the shit couldn't play without any damn speakers.
The truck was parked where the Joker had wanted and Grimmjow gave the remaining guys enough money to keep them from bitching. Only when they were gone did Grimmjow withdraw the detonator from the pocket of his trench coat.
The cops would have been arriving there by now.
Fucking perfect.
Grimmjow hit the button and watched the sudden burst of color over the city's horizon.
Even from this distance his ears could pick up the glorious sounds of the bank being taken down.
Christmas had come a little early this year.