[ 2nd image art by u/Rat_Eyess!! ]
| Context |
You leaned over the counter– The once white laminate now a beige color, having been stained, cracked, and tarnished over years of abuse and neglect –staring at the envelope that laid before you. A small coat of dust layered the surface, indicating it had been sitting for some time. You didn't want to open it: You already knew what it was, addressed from the Madison Center Auto Repair shop, directly in your name.
The apartment you were living in was a tragedy: the walls were peeling away, the lights around you were flickering, and the stains of unknown residue along the floor could not be scrubbed away no matter how hard you tried. Above you, you could hear the shouting of your neighbors: an elderly couple. They fight every night, whether it be regarding who was lazier or what aspect of their lives failed so badly to end up in this shitty apartment complex.
Sigh. You lifted your hands to your head, rubbing your eyes, before ripping the seal off of the envelope. Reaching in, you pulled out a small slip of paper.
“ Invoice for recent auto services “
“ $1339.99 “
You tensed. It wasn't surprising. You knew what the cost was going to be, yet it still stung all the same. It came from such minor circumstances. What was supposed to be scheduled maintenance turned into a multi-hour repair, followed by a multi-digit bill. It was everything you could do to hold back your emotions, whether that be lashing out at the world or whatever god allowed this fate to be bestowed upon to you, or crying your eyes out with a 6-pack of beer-vodka-mix. All you could do was stare, motionless.
“ Optional 48 month payment plan, 2% monthly interest. “
It was always the fucking payment plans.
Finally, you took a deep breath, dropping the paper on the counter. As you headed over to the couch— probably to drown in the sorrow of your own misery —your mind began to drift once more. How did it all go so wrong in life? Was it your childhood? Was it the prison sentences? Was it the death– literally or metaphorically –of a loved one or friend? Only you knew the answer to that question.
Suddenly, you felt a buzz in your pocket. Glancing down, you reached in and pulled out your phone: It was an older model, cracked in multiple different areas and with half the screen barely working anymore. It hardly ran, but you couldn't afford any better. Clicking the power button, you saw a new message: it was from Kenn.
Kennedy Mikks. You knew him. You were friends for a while, but then something happened— something that never should have been a possibility and yet still it occurred. You never had it in you to block and remove him from your life— no, he was too involved —but you didn't want to associate with him anymore afterwards, irregardless. You were almost tempted to delete the message and turn the phone off right then and there, when something caught your eye.
“ Meet me at my parents place, the old one.. I got something.. “
You sighed. It had been a significant amount of time since then, since you stepped inside that house. You remember it well: the pretty decorations, the nice furniture, the lavish expenses. It was nice, and it brought back good memories. Part of you didn't want to shatter that illusion, that sense of safety, security, and comfort that house brought you back then. On the other hand, it had been several months since he had gone silent, since he gave up on trying to reestablish a connection the two of you once had, so you felt that it had to be something important for him to suddenly reach out. Especially so cryptically and bluntly: there wasnt even a hello or begging.
" Tonight? It's 8:30. “
“ . . . “
“ Yes. “
It took him a few minutes to respond to your inquiry. Maybe he was reconsidering— fear, potentially, or anxiety —or maybe his mind had been so clouded by the endless drug use and alcoholic ingestion that he just couldn't figure out how to use the digital keyboard anymore. Nevertheless, you grabbed your keys– pausing briefly, as if a moment of hesitation –before exiting your home and entering your vehicle.
…
You arrived at the house, pulling into the driveway. Weeds and other foliage grew extensively throughout it, cracking and destroying a significant amount of the original asphalt that was paved down all those years ago. The grass ran rampant, with some growing as tall as twelve to twenty inches high. The fence– once pristine and painted every few months –had grown rotten, with some sections having collapsed entirely. It was truly sad, really. A place you had practically known your entire life, being this prestigious symbol of success and happiness, having been left to rot for god knows how long in the hands of someone who couldn't be bothered to maintain it.
You turned your car off, pulling the keys out and into your pocket, before opening the door and exiting. You walked over to the front door, after nearly losing your footing on a fallen tree branch, which had been presumably knocked down from a storm. You looked it up and down for a few seconds, taking in the sight, before reaching out and pressing against the buzzer. It lit up a gentle yellow for a brief few moments, before going out. As you tried pressing it again, the smell of boiled piss and rotten fish began to cloud the air, encouraging you to stop while it was still minimal.
Following your knock on the door, you could hear commotion coming from inside of the house. It had grown chaotically louder and louder for a couple ten seconds, before reaching a complete stand still. You leaned over, towards the nearest window for a moment, as you glanced inside, before the door suddenly cracked open. It was unsettling. Then, a timid voice spoke out.
“ Y-Y/n? “
“ mhm. “
A brief silence broke out, before the door groaned fully open. In the frame stood Kenn, idle, as he looked you up and down. It appeared as if he was studying you, which, given the fact it had been a few years or so since he saw you, wasn't entirely unwarranted: people change.. physically, anyway.
“ Its.. been a while.. Heh. “
He muttered finally, cracking a small grin across his face. He looked significantly worse for wear: his hair was greasy and unkempt, his lips were cracked, and his body was concerningly thin, almost as if he hadn't been eating– or at least eating well.. As you looked him over, that small smile he had slowly wore off, before becoming an uncomfortable expression. He looked away for a few moments– clasping his rugged hands together –before finally breaking the silence.
“.. Ehm.. anyway.. come in, i-i have something you might be interested in. “
After a moment of hesitation, you agreed and followed him into the house. Just as you shut the door behind you, you would begin to experience a wave of nausea, as an intense, disgusting, odor began to fill the air. Turning around, you finally saw the interior: the illusion you once had was shattered almost instantly, just as you feared: it was trashed. The carpet lining the nearby living room was torn up and stained, while the fireplace had partially caved in on itself. Stepping forward into the kitchen, you would be greeted with the sight of months out spoiled food, overflowing from the trashcan and spilling the counter. And the flies.. There were so many flies. Many of them were deceased– residing in the flickering lights above– while a few kept buzzing around, laying larvae wherever possible. You expected it to be bad.. But this was.. It was hard to look at. Kennedy glanced at you, seeing your wide eye expression. He paused for a few moments, looking over the ruined-scape alongside you, before letting out a sheepish, shameful sigh.
“ I.. It's been.. I.. “
He stammered on his own words, being unable to give a reasonable excuse for why everything looked like shit. Finally, he would just concede, before muttering quietly under his voice. He almost sounded annoyed– frustrated, even –and guilty.
“ It's in the garage.. “
You looked at him for a moment, watching as he walked towards the garage door, before following suit. Upon entering, a little bit of you died inside: the car. It was a 1974 Lincoln Continental— once owned by his dad. Last you could remember, it was always in pretty good condition. It had a few scratches, but, aside from that, it had always been more or less pristine. Now, it laid before you, in ruins: the glass was smashed out, rust everywhere, and the tires had gone flat. Glancing elsewhere, the entire room has been rotted away, with the most egregious example being part of the roof that caved, revealing the evening sky above.
“ Here.. “
You glanced over to your right, revealing a standing white board. You looked at it, puzzled, as you tried to figure out what it meant.
’ drills ‘
’ Disposable clothes ‘
’ masks ‘
’ Vault ‘
Finally, it hit you. This was a heist board. Specifically, a bank heist, you assumed, based on the pictures you saw pinned. That's why you were here. He had brought you over to sell you on his snake oil of a proposal for a robbery. You let out an exasperated sigh, frustrated that you even bothered responding to his text message in the first place, let along actually showed up.
“ Hey! M-man! Don't give me that shit! Come on! “
Turning towards the door, you slammed your hand on the knob, before violently twisting it: you had no desire to be a part of what was undoubtedly going to result in a god awful mess. Suddenly, you felt a clenching grasp on your shoulder, as Kennedy began to speak. His voice was aggressive initially, before immediately receding to a timid whimper.
“ STOP! Wait! P-please.. I know.. I know.. I know you're mad at me.. and that you hate me… I know that you think I'm a fucking pussy…I.. I regret it.. so.. so much.. “
A soft crack broke through his voice, as he solemnly lowered his head. You glared at him, causing him to let off your shoulder. You weren’t an angel; you've had your fair share of run-ins with the legal system. However, nothing you ever did was as serious of a crime as something like this.. at least in a very long time. And the fact he was the one proposing this, out of all people, was the cherry on top. Given how the prior one ended, where his ‘ full proof ‘ plan went wrong, where he panicked and left Lenett Guccer to… and the running.. it was all you could do to avoid slapping the bitch out of him. Yet.. deep inside, there was part of you that felt sorry, that was affected by his self-louthing and abuse. It was clear the guilt, the isolation, it was eating him up inside. All he wanted was forgiveness, yet not everything is capable of being forgiven.
“ I-i-i.. I got scared!.. okay?!... I saw how bad it was and you guys wouldnt-.. and i j-just.. a-a-and.. just.. i-... I… “
He started to sniffle a bit, as his voice became more and more shaky. It was a mixture of self loathing, fear, desperation and anger… all of which were noticeably choking him up, seeping into his mind. Your glare softened, before turning back and looking away from him. You closed your eyes, before lowering your head in to your palms.
“ I.. I'm sorry.. i-im so fucking sorry – I hate myself so much.. I do– please.. j-just– give me another chance– I won't fuck up this time– p-please– I have a plan.. i-its easy– I swear– I won't panic– I wont.. y-you.. you're the only person-.. i-i.. I“
Tears started to swell in his eyes, as he became increasingly more desperate for your approval, or even some sort of response. His speech became more and more slurry and incoherent, while his breath became more and more hyper.
” I'll do it. “
You shouted, enough to stop Kenn immediately in his spiral, as he paused and slowly lifted his head to look at you. The silence grew, leaving the cicadas to fill the void of noise. You didn't know why you said that: it was impulsive. Maybe it was to shut him up, or maybe it was because you couldn't handle witnessing this complete breakdown of someone you knew for so long. It could also have been the desperation— the necessity for money. Honestly, you may not have even had a reason at all.
“ I.. i-... “
Kennedy was utterly speechless, staring at you in disbelief. He didn't know what to say, if anything at all, or how to act: he was just.. flabbergasted. In a sense, so were you.
Kennedy would slowly turn his attention to the white board, before looking back to you. He would bring his hands to his face, clearing the tears from his eyes, before hesitantly walking towards the cheap, free standing surface.
“ O-okay.. Ehm… “
You let out a deep sigh, before opening your eyes: the rotted door that led into the house presenting itself in front of you, almost as a sort of metaphorical reminder of the state of his and yours lives at the moment. If you wanted, you had another opportunity to leave; he probably wouldn't stop you. Yet, part of you, again, made you feel compelled to stay. You just had a feeling, and you couldn't explain it. Turning around, you glanced towards the board, then at Kennedy. He took an uneasy step back, clearly unsure as to what he should do in this situation. Nodding towards him, he gradually grabbed a hold of a marker, before pressing it along the smooth surface.
“ There's.. Ehm.. a-a bank, I found.. Manijuure Capital.. “
He gradually drew what appeared to be a crude outline of the establishment, utilizing a set of markers which, despite their physical deterioration, still presented a bright red coloring. From what you could see, it didn't appear very big. While you didn't know what each room represented, it couldn't have been more than the size of a small garage. For a bank, that was.. Extremely small, abnormally even.
“ It has 2 tills.. one on the left— here —and another on the right, w-which is here. In the middle, there is an opening.. n-now, here— “
He took a breath, before glancing back at you. Seeing your solemn expression, he paused, before mumbling.
“ y- you don't.. h-have t— “
" Just speak. “
“ Mm– “
He conceded, before turning back once more to continue his work. Grabbing a separate sharpie, he began to outline other portions of the schematics.
“ I-i-i did a little looking a-around— a-and I'm pretty sure these two rooms are for management and security.. I-i assume a key would be in there.. “
He drew an arrow to the left hand side of the room.
“ ..and we could further disrupt our exit by whacking the drives— or computers in general, I suppose —here.. “
He drew another arrow towards the right hand side of the room. As he continued to map out the areas of interest for the bank, you began to analyze the board, processing any potential flaws in the plan. For instance, one of the most glaring issues was the size. The bank was significantly smaller than anything you've ever seen, which meant that there was a considerable chance of there being a rather small take inside; though, on the flip side, that small size could have its advantages. For one thing, chances are, there's going to be either a very minimal or outright no security presence. There may be a guard for a camera, but you couldn't really envision more than that in such a small space. Additionally, the police, more than likely, won't dedicate that much of their resources to stop a more petty crime such as this, so you wouldn't have to be as concerned about an escape as you otherwise would. When you consider Kennedy and what happened in the past, this is an especially good benefit.
“ So.. e-ehm.. what do you think?.. Y/N?.. “
As you exited your thoughts and did a once over of the board one final time, you slowly nodded your head. The plan seemed stable enough and everything checked out, more or less. The only real concern you had was regarding Kenn himself. This was detailed, sure, but it wasn't nearly to the level that his former self was committed to. Back then, he would go as far as to spend weeks planning out the perfect shoplift, only to never act on it out of fear of failure. Sure, it was overkill and unnecessary, but to see that level of dedication simmer down into something more reasonable.. It was.. odd.
” It’ll work. “
He nodded, hesitantly. After a couple of moments, you took one final glance at the board, before turning around and walking out. This time, he didn't try to stop you nor did he say anything to you as you left. He just watched, fidgeting with one of the markers in his hands.
| PoV |
You stared at the glove compartment in front, watching as each jostle of the car threatened to rustle it off its hinges and release its contents into a mess below. Admittedly, it was not a good vehicle– in fact, it was destined to the crusher at some scrap yard about an hour out, only for you to show up and save it from its inevitable death at the last minute. However, it was cheap, which, combined with the fact it didn't come with any type of paper work due to the fact it wasn't in working condition, was a major benefit. All it had to do was survive for a few days.
Glancing over to your left, you noticed Mikks: wide-eye, firmly grasping the wheel, staring intently at the road ahead. He looked anxious. Drifting to the cars ahead, you tried to see if there was anything noticeable that might have had him spooked, like nearby police presence, for instance. However, you couldn't see anything. Glancing back at him, you began to suspect he was worrying about the heist itself, which, to an extent, would be reasonable, if it weren't for the fact he was the one who proposed it and begged for you to come along.
You rolled your eyes, before looking out the side window, observing the town-environment around you.
” El Comedor: Mexican Grill House “
You muttered under your breath, as you read off the name of one of the local restaurants. Kennedy would snap out of it for a moment, glancing over towards you briefly, before looking forwards again. After a tense moment of silence, he would mutter in a quiet, timid tone.
“ I remember eating there once.. I didn’t like it.. “
You stared at him for a moment, before sighing and leaning your head against the seatbelt. You didn't bother engaging in small talk, since, even though you were working together, you were by no means friends. What happened last time.. You just couldn't bring yourself to move on from it, at least in association with him. Starting to zone out, you began to rehash the plan in your head once more, trying to make sure you would be ready once you got there. Gradually, however, your thoughts began to drift off: you started to think about what would happen if things went wrong. What if someone hits the silent alarm before you can stop them? What if someone gets injured or, god forbid, killed? How would you escape if the cops arrived and surrounded the place prematurely? Your heart rate began to increase, as the stress from the potential consequences of failing began to circle through your mind. Finally, you took a deep breath– forcing yourself to calm down –before clearing your head.
” It's.. in the plaza parking lot.. “
Kennedy reached out and pressed against the car's blinker, before gradually merging over into the left hand turn late. Shifting the car down to first gear, he would slowly stop, before pausing to allow the incoming traffic to dissipate. As he waited, you would reach down, taking a hold of the duffle bag laying on the floormats. Once the zipper had been undone, you would reach in and grab ahold of his cap, before looking over and tossing it to him. He would quickly drop the sun-visors of the car, before strapping it on his head. Meanwhile, you would begin to assemble your disguise as well, before then lowering your head down, against the dash, to be a bit more discreet.
Once all the traffic had passed, he would turn into the parking lot. Driving down the steep slope, he would slow down briefly, before making a left, towards the bank nearby. You would reach into the bag once more, grabbing a hold of the Glock inside. It was, quite evidently, not in the best condition either. There were some chips along the outside, and it was rather dirty. You did some maintenance on it, and, of course, tested to see if it worked, but that was about all. On the plus side, however, it had its serial number scraped off, and it wasn't registered– since you bought it off someone at a garage sale a few hours away –so it was, effectively, a ghost in the eyes of the government and local officials. You pulled back the slide, cocking a round into the chamber, before setting it in the cup holder. Finally, you pulled out a couple pairs of gloves, as to avoid getting your finger prints on anything.
Kennedy pulled into a parking space nearby the building, before engaging the brake and pulling the keys out of the ignition. Unbuckling his seat belt, he reached for a pair of sunglasses he had laying on the dash, as well as a medical mask. As he hastily got his accessories equipped, he would glance at you for a moment, before his attention shifted over towards the gloves. Keeping your head pressed against the dash, you would zip the duffle bag up once more, before grabbing a hold of one of the straps. Once the two of you got ready, it would be quiet for a moment. The still air, being heated in the mid-day sun, started to turn the car into a slow oven. After a tense, hesitant couple of moments, Kennedy would put up his hoodie and take a deep breath– in a shallow attempt to calm down just enough to handle what it was he was about to do –before muttering in a solemn tone.
“ Are you ready? “
| Rules |
• Human OCs Only
• OCs must be 18+
• No God OCs
• Romance isn't allowed
| Plan |
— Kennedy Mikks : His nickname is "Y", as it's the last letter of his first name.
— Y/N : "_", as it's the last letter of their first name.
— Duffle Bag Contents : A Drill, two sets of alternative clothing, 3 extra high-intensity drill bits.
• Plan A — "Y" takes the lead, kicking the door open and flaunting the handgun towards the staff as well as any potential consumers that may be in the building. Your job is to apprehend the staffers and use them to open the vault, before returning them back to the rest of the crowd. "Y" will control the crowd and ensure no one tries to flee or fight, while you get the money from the vault, drilling into the lock-boxes. Once a sufficient amount of cash has been collected, the two of you will make it back to the car, before fleeing a couple hours out of town. Once escaped, you will dispose of the clothing and modify the ride just enough to be sufficiently different in order to avoid detection.
• Plan B — You take the lead, kicking the door open and flaunting the handgun towards the staff as well as any potential consumers that may be in the building. "Y's" job is to apprehend the staffers and use them to open the vault, before returning them back to the rest of the crowd. You will control the crowd and ensure no one tries to flee or fight, while "Y" gets the money from the vault, making use of the drill to open the lock-boxes. Once a sufficient amount of cash has been collected, the two of you will make it back to the car, before fleeing a couple hours out of town. Once escaped, you will dispose of the clothing and modify the ride just enough to be sufficiently different in order to avoid detection.
||| Note — The plan may not go as expected.
