Sunday, February 8, 2004

   Coming Soon . . . . .
"Ladies and gentlemen, do remain calm, we're robbing this bank!" the man shouted as he drew a pistol and walked towards the nearest teller. His accomplice, likewise, was quick to aim his sawed-down rifle at the small branch's only security guard as he passed through the already beeping metal detector. Upon relieving the guard of his sidearm, he immediately had him join the other customers in the middle of the bank. Though all were complying as best they could, some were retaining their composures better than others. The first robber pulled a sports bag out from under his long coat and tossed it to the teller, ordering her to fill it up. The second with the rifle just swept his vision back and forth over the now sitting hostages in the middle of the floor and the kneeling hostages lining the bottom of the teller desk. He hid a smile under his wide-brimmed hat; everything was going smoother than they could have ever possibly imagined . . . . .

The sports bag was full, and the robber with the pistol hastily zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder. As he turned around to leave, he caught sight of his partner's gaze: it was firmly affixed to a police car parked directly in front of the bank's entrance.
"You hit the silent alarm!" the robber shouted, pointing the gun back at the teller.
"I didn't, I swear!" the teller shouted back, her voice shaking heavily. The robber began swearing loud and hard, easily bothering many of the already discomforted hostages. A young boy had had enough, and his tears were soon followed with his frightened crying. His mother tried to quiet him as best she could when the robber with the rifle came over to them, shouting for them to be quiet. Such logic was of no interested to the hysterical child, of course . . . the robber began leveling his rifle . . . . .

A man interposed himself between the robber and the mother and son, throwing his arms around them in a shielding position. The robber shouted for him to get back down. The man slowly raised his hands and turned himself around from his crouched position. The robber could only imagine that this man was recklessly brave. He looked him over; he was a rather large man in a dark jacket. Nevertheless, it wasn't the clothes that the robber noticed: it was the man's eyes, almost defiant despite the obvious predicament he was in. He told him to sit down, to which the man complied . . . the eyes never turning away . . . . .

The robber with the pistol called for his partner to hurry up, and they both backed up towards the rear entrance of the bank - it was all in vain.
"The door's locked or something!" one robber said to the other, who swore hard again. "We're gonna have to go out the front . . . we need a hostage . . . . ."

The one with the rifle scanned the kneeling and sitting people. Everyone was either looking at the ground or out to the exit; no one dared to make eye-contact with the armed men. All the same, the robber locked eyes with one; he didn't seem at all surprised when the one man who dared to look directly at him was none other than the previous man with the jacket.
"You're the one with a free hand," he said to the other, "grab the hero." The robber with the money stepped over and roughly pulled up the man by the collar of his jacket, put his arm around the man's neck, and made his way to the bank's door, alternating between pressing his pistol into the side of the man's head and pointing it towards the police officers outside; the officers could only point their weapons back in kind.

The robber with the rifle was about to catch up when there was a quiet but lengthy rattle coming from below him. Both robbers turned around to a hostage who was along the bottom of the desk - he was a slender man in a casual blue suit, who had apparently spilt an entire container's worth of breath mints. The man crouched over to pick up the mints. The closer robber pointed his rifle at the man, telling him to stop moving; the farther one told his partner to stop screwing around . . .

In that very moment, the man in the jacket decided to turn the tables on his captor; he scraped his boot down along the robber's shin. Before the robber had a chance to vocalise any response to that, the man then thrusted his head back as hard as he could, cracking the back of his skull against the robber's nose. The robber dropped his gun and staggered backwards . . .

The other robber quickly raised his rifle at the man in the jacket and took aim. Before he could fire, the other man - the on in the suit - sprung forward from his crouched position and swung his forearm at the side of the robber's head. He then proceeded to step down on the back of the off-balanced robber's knee, dash around the crumbled gunman, and twist the shortened rifle away from his hands. The man in the suit pointed the rifle back at the prone would-be bank robber and looked towards the man in the jacket. The other robber was pinned face-down, with the man in the jacket gripping his arm hard from above. The police poured into the bank . . .

"Too bad payday isn't always this interesting, huh Noug'?" the man in the suit said. Nougat grinned as he looked back towards his off-duty partner.
"Well, Whip', if it was I would've retired a long time ago." Cream grinned back as he began unloading the rifle in his hands.
"Ah, so that's why you've lasted this long, is it?" Nougat replied,
"Well, I never was an easy one to swallow . . . but yeah, that too . . . . ."


Coming, 2004 . . . . .
Cream Filling & Nougat: Second Coating!
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