Debut Link
Gus walked inside the bank, tried to keep his anger in check and if he pressed the pen a little harder against the paper, he didn't feel too guilty. Walking to the teller line and waiting for his turn, he looked around the bank and caught sight of a chin, a beautiful chin. A chin attached to one foxy lady dressed in an auburn cardigan. He'd found the future Mrs. Guster waiting for him. Gus fussed with his shirt and placed his hands down the seams of his jacket. Yes, he looked good.
Taking another step, he was already picking out china patterns in his head when a woman screamed, "Gun!" Gus looked to his right, saw the man with the 9 mm and dropped to the floor. He propelled himself under the metallic line guard, ducking under the deposit slip desk in the center of the room. Taking deep breaths, he tried to keep from passing out all the while plastered against the only thing keeping him upright.
Gus closed his eyes, fortifying himself. His body managed a slight quiver before opening them but he wasn't in the bank anymore. Everything had changed. It was dark and he was now under what looked like a desk instead of a deposit table. It was definitely shorter since he had to crane his neck to the side. There was also a chair pushed up firm against him, he fought to keep his balance to keep from accidentally pushing against it and drawing attention.
Okay, focus.Where the hell was he? Did he black out? He could've swore he heard Shawn's voice and frowned. Yea, definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Shaking himself out of it, Gus slowly pushed the chair back. It rattled as it moved away from him. Gus grimaced at the sound but he looked out around him and saw no one in the immediate area. Definitely no sight of the crazed man with the less than steady grip on the loaded weapon. Wherever crazy man was, Gus had to make the decision fast, it was either stay here cowering making a strategic retreat under a desk or find Shawn and throttle him. Placing his hand up against the front of the desk and hoisting himself up, please don't shoot me. Please don't shoot me, he repeated to himself over and over again.
Gus turned around slowly. His hands up, palms up, in a classic surrender posture and in a choked off voice, he spoke. "Please don't shoot me."
Anyone passing the IPD office will find Gus cowering inside - anyone feel free to comment on the fact that he looks like he's about to puke.
Taking another step, he was already picking out china patterns in his head when a woman screamed, "Gun!" Gus looked to his right, saw the man with the 9 mm and dropped to the floor. He propelled himself under the metallic line guard, ducking under the deposit slip desk in the center of the room. Taking deep breaths, he tried to keep from passing out all the while plastered against the only thing keeping him upright.
Gus closed his eyes, fortifying himself. His body managed a slight quiver before opening them but he wasn't in the bank anymore. Everything had changed. It was dark and he was now under what looked like a desk instead of a deposit table. It was definitely shorter since he had to crane his neck to the side. There was also a chair pushed up firm against him, he fought to keep his balance to keep from accidentally pushing against it and drawing attention.
Okay, focus.Where the hell was he? Did he black out? He could've swore he heard Shawn's voice and frowned. Yea, definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Shaking himself out of it, Gus slowly pushed the chair back. It rattled as it moved away from him. Gus grimaced at the sound but he looked out around him and saw no one in the immediate area. Definitely no sight of the crazed man with the less than steady grip on the loaded weapon. Wherever crazy man was, Gus had to make the decision fast, it was either stay here cowering making a strategic retreat under a desk or find Shawn and throttle him. Placing his hand up against the front of the desk and hoisting himself up, please don't shoot me. Please don't shoot me, he repeated to himself over and over again.
Gus turned around slowly. His hands up, palms up, in a classic surrender posture and in a choked off voice, he spoke. "Please don't shoot me."
Anyone passing the IPD office will find Gus cowering inside - anyone feel free to comment on the fact that he looks like he's about to puke.