7 comments/ 7652 views/ 0 favorites My Payday By: scotjock1 (This is not a true account of anything, I have just written a piece of imaginary fantasy - based on television, films, and video games about armed robberies in banks, and such - particularly the video game Payday 2. I have added some of my own elements to spice up the story, no characters in this story are real and all characters are 18 or above in age) * The heat was unbearable, hell the mask was sticking to my face like wax. I tried to scratch at an itch under my nose, and I just ended up making it worse as the material of the balaclava rubbed against my nose and upper lip. Michael and Danny didn't seem to have any problems breathing through their masks, but then again they were used to the bigger jobs - this was my first, I was the rookie; I usually hit low-level jewelry shops and stores with lower-level crews. This was my first big job; and it was a stunner even to me, when I was chosen to run with Michael, Danny and Terry's crew on this bank in London. Terry was our driver, and he was waiting in a nearby mini-van we had acquired. This was a big haul for the crew, they were already notoriously known on the Network, a clandestine network of contacts - all involved in high and low-level bank robberies, and robberies of stores, and pretty much anything; even drug trafficking if that was what you wanted to do, to make a buck. Terry, Michael and Danny were known collectively on the street and on the network as the 'Marauders' as their brutal tactics would surprise the staff and any civilians in the venues, and they were lightning fast in grabbing the loot, and getting away before the Police showed up. They hadn't had a shootout with the Police, as of yet and I hoped not to fuck this job up and get us all caught. The score was big, believed to be at least £1,000,000 or maybe even more, see this wasn't a normal bank - it was a private bank, and it didn't just hold cash for it's clients. This was a wealthy bank in the city, close to Oxford Street - the Mecca of shopping for the Capital, London in the United Kingdom. To the ordinary member of the public who walked passed it's main doors, it just looked like an up-scale store, and most ignored it unless tempted to go inside for a look. Inside it was a simple, white painted hall with four guards in each corner around the single desk in the center of it. Unknown to the public, each of these four guards were armed with handguns - because this was a private bank owned by important investors, the British government gave them leeway to arm their guards. The reason for this leeway for the bank, was that most of it's clients were wealthy European, American, or Asian businesses and corporations. Some were involved in shady dealings ranging from alleged gun-running to serious level organised crime. This made whatever was inside the bank extra important, and for the several regular staff members of the bank, each was checked and vetted before being employed to work there. Extensively the normal staff not involved in the inner-workings of the bank, who manned the desks were Eastern Europeans, who applied for the jobs back home. This avoided any British, or non-Eastern European of knowing the truth that almost 90% of the bank's holdings were owned by Eastern European gangs, and criminals and the staff knew this; and this frightened them into not divulging the truth to anyone. This made the perfect outcome for this robbery, the owners wouldn't go the Police about it, we need only worry about the owners going after us personally. I gritted my teeth, breathing hard through the mask I looked at Michael and Danny; they were calm, gripping the guns in their hands. Being such a professional job, and with such a high score we came armed for a fight. I was carrying a Remington Pump-Action Shotgun, with enough ammunition to blow out every window of the bank. I was wearing a black hooded jumper, and black jogging bottoms. I wore blue latex gloves on my hand, to avoid leaving any fingerprints at the scene. Michael was carrying the AK47 between us all, and about half a dozen magazines of ammunition in his holdall. Danny was carrying Mac-10 Sub-Machine gun, with about five hundred rounds of ammunition for it, in his holdall also. I knew Terry who was waiting in the nearby van parked around the corner of the main street, was carrying a Glock 17 handgun, and an extra bit of firepower with a AR-15 Assault Rifle, purchased in America months earlier. I was shaking, paranoid something would go wrong; we planned to hit the bank dead on for 2:15PM, around the time we knew the local Police would be changing shifts from the Early shift to the Late shift, that also included firearm officers who would be switching with the new team. We had to be quick, we had a plan set out to be out of the bank by exactly 2:30PM, so we had fifteen minutes to get into the main holding area for the bank, where most of the valuables were stored and be out just as fast. We knew the clients of the bank stored everything from Gold Bullion, to Jewels and cold, hard cash as well. We knew what safety-deposit boxes to hit in the main holding area, which ones held the most valuable jewelry or gold, and the cash was in one main large vault in the same room. We would split up, I would take the deposit boxes marked out to us, and empty the contents into two duffel bags in the holdall I carried, as the other two with their own bags would work on getting inside the vault for the cash. We would surprise the guards in the main lobby first, forcing them to hand over their weapons and tie them up with plastic cuffs, as well as the staff. The same would happen in the lower level to the staff and guards near the holding area. We were unsure how many guards would be in or near the main holding area, as they always changed the layout of their guards to avoid their plans being known and exploited by the likes of us. This made things difficult, as we knew the guards in the holding area were not armed with just handguns, they were carrying shotguns, and automatic weapons. We either got the loot, or we ended up dead on the floors of the bank. I checked my watch, just a minute to go before our planned moment came; then we'd move in. "We go in fast, if the guards give us trouble in the main lobby then knock them out, but don't shoot them. We need to try and keep our bullets for the Police if they show up." Michael told me and Danny, he was our leader. I nodded, and Danny like the professional he was with Michael simply used his hand to signify his understanding; these guys knew what to do. The clock moved slowly on my watch, but with just five seconds to go; Michael counted down for us all, with his fingers. As his last finger dropped, we moved from inside the van and slid open the door of the van as Terry watched us all from the driver's seat up in front. We moved fast, we were around the corner from the main doors of the bank and as we hit the pavement of the streets of Central London, we moved as triangle formation; I was at the back covering Michael and Danny ahead as they knew the routine by heart. It was going to happen; that the public would see us, this was the middle of the afternoon on a Friday morning, as people went about their shopping. They gawked, and screamed as they saw us with our menacing guns, and dressed all in black. To the public, this was either going to become a gangland murder, or an armed robbery. A young mother with her daughter in hand screamed, and other women nearby followed suit as I shouted at those nearby, a few yards away on the same side of the pavement we were on. A young woman carrying shopping bags in her hands, from D&G store screamed and so I aimed my shotgun at her. "Get fucking back ya' bitch, or yea' die!" I shouted in my rough, Glaswegian accent as I was from Scotland. She screamed like a banshee dropping her bags, and dropping to her knees with her hands in the air. I didn't have time to enjoy the fear I put into her heart, as I followed Michael and Danny as they approached the set of main doors of the bank. "Go, go go!" Michael shouted as he parted from our formation, and stood holding his AK47 waiting for us to enter first, at the sides of the main doors. We were the Vanguard, me and Danny were going in first to take prisoners and put down the first guards we came across. Michael would wait until we were half-way across the lobby, before entering behind us and going for the remaining guards ahead of us; as we cuffed the ones we were dealing with. We weren't meant to shoot the guards, we were to fire a warning shot in the air to stun the guards who quite frankly wouldn't expect a full-on assault of the bank, with the reputation of it to bear. We were through the main doors, me and Danny; we both turned in unison - Danny to his right, and me to my left. We both turned to the first two corners of the lobby where two of the guards were posted. They were smartly dressed in suits, but the bulge at the sides of their coats were indications of where their guns were holstered. "Get doon' on the fucking groond' now ya' bastards!" I shouted moving swiftly across the marble floor of the lobby towards the guard. He was stunned, but he was resisting and didn't move immediately - bad idea of his. I moved close, so fast on my feet there was barely any noise from my trainers (sneakers) as I moved within fifteen inches of him, and I brought back my shotgun and used the butt to crash into his face. He grunted, and I heard the crack of his nose; he fell to the floor clutching his face with his hands. I knelt down, and pulled the Glock 17 handgun from it's holster at his armpits. The man was too busy trying to stem the blood oozing from his nose, as I pulled from my pockets the plastic pairs of zip-lock cuffs, I forced him onto his side and brought his arms behind his back forcibly and cuffed them. Once they were secure, I stood to my feet and moved across the lobby floor to the back of the room; where Michael was advancing on clutching his AK47 to his shoulder, aimed directly at one of the final two guards at the far back of the lobby. The guard Danny had subdued was already cuffed, and he was getting to his feet to move along like me. "Don't get fucking smart, get on the floor now!" Michael shouted in his gruff, and rough Northern English accent - he was originally from Liverpool and had a Liverpudlian accent. The guard he was shouting at was a stocky, giant in the far right corner of the rear of the lobby, standing at the door to the staircase that led down to the holding area in the basement. The guard wasn't smart, and his hand inched towards the inside of his coat, to his armpit. Michael aimed down the iron sights of the AK47, and with single-shot mode on the gun fired just one bullet above the guard's head striking the marble wall behind him. "Get down or die!" He shouted once more, and the guard flustered - dropping to his knees on the floor. Michael moved in as he shoved his left hand into the inside of the guard's coat, and pulled free a 9mm Beretta from it's holster. As I was nearer to the final guard in the lobby, Michael took the opportunity to put the guard's gun into his holdall. I moved closer to the last guard, a blonde model-type man; who looked more like a wanted War Criminal as I drew closer to see his face. It was pock-marked all over with scars, and cuts that I assumed he got from his home country, I moved in and yet he did not go for his gun like the guard Michael disarmed. I brought my shotgun down to waist-level with my own body, and brought the butt of the gun down and into the guard's gut, he grunted in pain and collapsed to the floor holding his ribs. I brought the gun back around, and rammed the butt of it into his face. This last blow sent the man down onto the floor quickly, I got down and pulled his own gun from it's holster inside his coat; another 9mm Beretta. I threw it across the floor with the gun from the first guard I took down earlier to Danny. He picked them up on instinct and threw them into his holdall, we didn't want the guards to get to them if we chose to put them behind the desk in the lobby. I turned the injured man onto his side, and brought his arms behind his back cuffing them with the zip-lock cuffs. He was grunting, as blood oozed from his nose and face. "To the staircase, let's go!" Michael ordered us, and we moved like a team to the stairwell. The guards were down, even if they got to their feet they were tied up, and couldn't get their guns back even if they tried. This whole incident took just two minutes to unfold, giving us thirteen minutes remaining to get the job done. We made it to the stairwell, no additional guards posted here. We mounted the staircase with Michael leading ahead of me and Danny. Michael was point-man, and we followed him. We made our way down the stairs to the ground floor, and there were a pair of main doors. They looked solid, and required a key card. Luckily for us a guard was standing on sentry, and Michael swept from the stairs to the guard in less than two seconds, using the butt of his gun to knock him to the floor. "Cuff him while I get the door." Michael told me, as I knelt down to remove the guard's handgun from inside his coat, and cuffed him with the zip-locks. Michael already had the key-card from around the man's neck off, and shoving it onto the scanner, the electronic lock made a weird noise and as Michael pulled on the handle of the doors they gave way. Inside the large holding area for the valuables of the bank's clients, were three staff members and two armed guards - as per our intelligence, the two guards were well armed carrying MP5 Sub-Machine guns, and they turned to face us. This wasn't planned, we hoped to get the drop on the guards inside before they could turn their guns on us, I grabbed Danny by the collar of his black hooded jumper, and pulled him back behind the steel doors of the room we had just come through. Michael was quicker with his gun naturally, and fired off several well placed shots at the two guards, before taking cover behind the same doors we had pulled back behind. Michael's shots hit one of the guards, about three times in the chest and he went down with a splatter of blood into the air, before laying still on the floor; dead. The other guard was too quick, and Michael's shots failed to hit the large, muscular man. He himself got behind one of the counters used to count cash, or the valuables for a client, and metal trays went high in the air used for jewels. The guard stayed behind the low-bearing counter, as three staff or civilians huddled around whatever cover they could to fend off the bullets once they flew. While me, and Danny laid down cover fire from the doorway; I was using one of the 9mm Beretta's we took from the guards upstairs, stray shots landed around the walls near the guard's position but none hit the staff. Michael almost on a spot of luck, leaned out behind the other door we were behind too, and the guard popped his head out from his cover briefly as Michael fired; landing a shot on the man's forehead, killing him instantly. The gunfire stopped, and Michael stepped forward into the room ahead of me and Danny. The three staff were two men, and one woman. The woman looked to be either Eastern or Western European, and now with the guard dead we moved towards the three staff members. The woman had dark auburn hair, almost red in color and wore a silk, blue blouse over a white vest or top beneath it, and a black, office issue skirt that was tight around her waist, and hips. She was wearing nylon; either stockings or pantyhose, and they were sheer yet black in color, with a seam running up the back of it, and her look was finished off with blue rimmed spectacles and matching blue heels. She looked to be about 5 feet, 1 inches in height, even though she was cowering with the male staff members, and she could only be about 121 lbs in weight, with what looked to be in her chosen attire; what I think were 34D sized breasts. She was beautiful, and clearly scared as we waved our guns at them all, and barked our orders. Michael was first. "Down on the fucking floor, and stay there or we'll kill all of you!" He shouted. The woman cried so loud, she collapsed to her feet and cowered covering her head with her hands. I wanted to tell him to relax around the woman, she was already scared shitless, and wouldn't make a move against us. We moved past the staff, and I went to the staff members. "Cuff them all, we'll hit the vault." Michael told me as I lowered my gun, and kneeled to begin handcuffing the two male staff members, I wanted to leave the woman until last so I could calm her, and reassure her that we weren't going to hurt her. The two men were quiet, too busy crying as I cuffed their wrists behind their backs. Then I turned to the woman, she was beautiful. Even as she cowered, her auburn hair covered her face, as she cried; shaking with fear. "Hey, look at me. Now." I said, my voice controlled but not as aggressive as earlier on. She looked up, the auburn hair parted as she raised her head; her face wet, and moist from her tears. Whatever mascara or eye-shadow she wore, was running from the tears. "We're no' gona' hurt you, we're no' like that. What's yer' name?" I asked her quickly. "Katja, my name is Katja." She shivered as she spoke. "I'm James. Where yer' from, Katja?" I asked her, trying to be gentle with her, trying to calm her in order to cuff her wrists. "Germany, I am from Berlin." She gasped, her voice was breaking as she was frightened almost to death. I nodded, and forced a smile to comfort her. "I'm no' gonna hut' yer' Katja." I said gently. She nodded, and from her fear, and shock forced her own smile to me. "You promise?" She asked me. "Aye." I said and nodded, with my smile. "Thank you." She sobbed. I nodded, but showed her the plastic zip-lock cuffs in my hand. "But I need tae' put these on yer', I promise it won't hurt." I said simply. She nodded, regardless of how I tried to comfort her; she knew this was what I had to do. I gently took her hands, and as best as I could I was gentle in putting the zip-lock cuffs on her wrists; and against what Michael had told me to do, I chose to cuff her hands in front of her, I didn't want to hurt her. I think Katja knew I was trying to be gentle, and soft with her as I slid the cuffs onto her wrists, and tightened them slowly in front of her. She knew I was trying to make her feel calm, and comfort her - as her colleagues were cuffed behind their backs uncomfortably. "Thank You." She whispered under her breath to me, probably so her colleagues didn't hear her. I was breaking every rule in the book, including the cardinal one; not to get close with the civilians we took hostage, it could make the situation hard for us if we had to shoot our way out of the bank. I could hear behind me, that Michael and Danny had the machinery set up to force entry into the vault; they were practiced in this routine. They were known for having the industrial drill up and working within a minute, perhaps two minutes and they didn't disappoint. Once the zip-lock cuffs were on Katja's wrists, I gently squeezed her hand and stood to get started on the safety deposit-boxes. Boxes 47, 67, 96, and 102. The contents of all four boxes were more than enough for us, we knew their contents; the first 2 boxes were jewelry and the last two were gold bullion, and the last two were a mixture of small slabs of gold bullion, and other pieces of high-value jewelry. I swung my holdall around to my front, and unzipped it to pull out the two empty, folded dufel bags from inside. I dropped them to the floor and unzipped them both, inside one was a crowbar I was going to use to force open the selected deposit boxes. My Payday I knew Katja was watching us, what else do you do when you're held hostage and can't move around; you sit and watch, and enjoy the show. I forced the blunt, hooked end of the crowbar into the underside of the first box; no.47. I began to wedge it in tight, and then began to put leverage onto it pushing and pulling it, up an down to either destroy what was holding it in place or force it out of place. It began to become loose, and after one hard push down onto the handle of the crowbar, the tray came forward and bent. I moved the crowbar out, and then put it inside the open gap of the tray and with the hook pull it out of it's place. It came loose and I slid it's damaged shell out, inside was the jewelry, all in see-through plastic packaging, with stenciled numbers on them. There were about two dozen of the small to medium sized bags, I wasted no time tipping the tray over and into the first duffel bag I had open, and ready. I glanced behind me at Katja, and laying on her thighs on the marble floor, she watched with her cuffed wrists resting on her knee. I moved back to the boxes, and re positioned the balaclava over my face, so I could breath. I moved onto box 67 now, and did the same routine again with the crowbar. No problem there, as I slid out the tray; inside were small to large plastic bags of jewelry again, this time they looked to be diamonds, rubies, and cut stones. I tipped the tray over, and emptied what looked to be about two dozen of the bags into the same bag, I emptied the first tray into. The duffel bag filled up fast, and with just two boxes left I threw aside the tray, and knelt down to zip up the bag. Last two boxes to go, the ones with the gold bullion inside. Crowbar wedged in on box 96, up and down and out it came. I slid the tray out, and inside in similar bags as the jewelry before, were small slabs of gold that shone from the lights of the room. I shook the tray around a bit, to see how many bags of the gold slabs there were, I counted about a dozen of the bags. Each bag was well worth with the slab of gold inside, between £3,000 to £4,000 each and there were twelve in this tray. "Why do you do this?" A voice asked me. I glanced over my shoulder, and it was Katja. That was quite a question, could I answer it truthfully or should I lie. Why bother lying, it won't make any difference. "There are us, an' there's them; those who are born in tae' wealth an' those who hav' tae' take it if they want tae' to be some wun'." I said in my accent, stopping my routine, and just held the tray from box 96. "I was nae' born with a spoon up mae' arse, I was born with a boot up mae' arse from my da', so I take wut' I have tae' take." I said simply, and I tipped the tray and emptied it into the second duffel bag, and it slowly filled with the gold bullion. The last box to go, the one with gold and some jewelry inside; box no. 102. I wedged the crowbar end into the bottom side of the tray, and began the same routine. But something was wrong, it wouldn't come loose after the few tugs, and pulls like with the last three boxes. "Hurry up, we're in!" Michael said towards me, telling me that he and Danny had forced entry into the vault and were going inside to get the cash, and for me to hurry the fuck up with the boxes. I just wouldn't fucking budge, the tray was wedged in or maybe I damaged whatever the tray required to slide on to be opened. I began to yank the bar of the crowbar up and down, hoping the sheer force would force it open. "You can still go, leave the tray - you not have to die for jewelry." Katja said again, in her gentle tone. "Wae' here for dae' jewelry, cash an' gold. We've come too far tae' stop now, we need this." I said yanking on the bastard of a crowbar, trying to force it open. "You can still live, Police are not ones to fear. Those who own boxes, they will come after you all." She said again. "Fuck dae' Polis' and fuck dae' bosses!" I said, Polis meaning Police, I wondered if she understood me. I finally heard a crack, and the sound of twisting metal and felt the tray come loose. I slid it out, and tipped it over, not caring to look into the final tray, but to be finished with my task. I saw bags, about a dozen or more of gold bullion slabs, jewelry and diamonds fall into the duffel bag. I knelt down, putting the holdall inside the duffel bag and zipped it shut, before throwing aside the final tray. I stood shouldering both duffel bags now, both across my chest and shoulders, and either side of my hips, dangling there freely. Then we heard it, the sirens, the fucking Police sirens. "Polis'!" I shouted out loud enough for Danny and Michael to hear me inside the vault. I could hear running from the vault, and Michael appeared at the corner of the vault door with two duffel bags hanging from either shoulder, across his chest like my own two bags. Inside his however were piles of British Sterling Pound (£) bank notes, all high denominations; £100 notes and thousands of them. I assumed Danny had his own two bags, filled up with the cash inside as well as Michael's two bags were now bulky, and heavy looking. "Fuck it, they're supposed to be tucked up and busy with the shift change! Grab a hostage now! We'll grab the other two left, and we'll have to shoot our way out of here!" Michael told me loudly. I went for Katja, with Michael or Danny I feared she would take a stray bullet from either the Police or even Michael or Danny's guns. I leaned close to her, and whispered. "I've got yae', I won't hut' yer. Just dae' wut' I tell yer' and I'll get yer' oot' of here." I said gently to her as I took hold of her hands in front of her. "Please, Police will shoot you and I will get hit." She wept as she got onto her feet slowly on her heels. "Dae' won't shoot us, if wae' have yae' three with us." I said clearly to her, as her beautiful, petite yet voluptuous body stood next to me; I was taller in comparison to her as I was about 5'10 in height. "I die here, I will." She cried, as Michael and Danny frog-marched the two male staff members to the stairs, with their guns against their backs. "Yae' have tae' come wae' me, I won't point the gun at yae' back I'll keep it low, I promise yae'." I said slowly pulling her towards the stairs, getting behind her with my shotgun. She did as I told her, but cried as we mounted the stairs with Michael and Danny ahead of me with their own hostages. She moved slowly, with her large arse tightly encased in the office skirt which I knew to be a tight pencil skirt now. I don't know why I did it, but I took my right hand from the grip of the shotgun quickly and pressed my entire palm against the right side of her arse, through the skirt and pretended to push her on, wanting her to hurry up. I squeezed her ass quickly and spoke. "Move yer' arse, if we get up there too late, then dae' Polis' will kill us, and you three in dae' process." I said to encourage her to hurry up, when really I was just getting a grope from her; hell I was going to die maybe, best leave this world with a hard-on and some satisfaction. She grunted as my hand squeezed her arse, but when I spoke my words her pace sped up as she ran up the stairs ahead of us. We finally pushed through the doors of the staircase into the main lobby, the four guards we first disarmed were; still on the floor injured and tied up. They were screaming, shouting at us as we heard the sirens outside, even through the glass panes of the front doors we saw the sirens and what we knew to be armed Police vehicles. The Metropolitan Police had what is known as the Flying Squad; armed plain-clothes Police officers who are first on scene at armed robberies - where firearms are used. But they weren't alone, we could see them with their bullet-proof vests on over civilian clothing, behind their unmarked cars that were parked on the street, facing the main doors of the bank. The Flying Squad officers were flanked on either side by CO19 officers, fully armed, SWAT trained Police officers. These guys were kitted out with everything; tactical helmets, bullet-proof vests, BDU military clothing beneath and they were armed with Glock pistols, and Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine guns; all Police issue. This could become a siege, if the Police had enough time to position snipers on the nearby store roofs. We moved across the marble floor of the lobby, ignoring the swearing and shouting from the bound guards. "Move it, hit them hard; full whack of the shooters! Keep your hostage close, James! Don't leave your face, head or arms exposed in case there are snipers. Use her as your cover!" Michael told me ahead of me and Danny, knowing I was the newbie especially to shootouts with the Police. We all made it to the glass pane doors, we had to move fast so Michael led ahead and pushed through the large, glass pane doors into the street. The wind hit us in the faces, it was almost Autumn; we may have had balaclava's on but our eyes and mouth were exposed to the cold wind. The first thing we heard was a loudspeaker, probably one of the armed Police officers; a Sergeant speaking through it. "Armed Police! Put down your weapons, and release the hostages!" The voice boomed, probably a high rank who had authority to use the loudspeaker. We moved too fast, to look like we were surrendering; but to move fast and not shoot was to allow Police to think we weren't going to kill the hostages we had. Michael raised his AK47, with one hand just on the grip, and the stock pressed to his bicep for control, his other hand holding the hostage. "Fuck off!" He roared, and pulling on the trigger sent shots flying at the Police cars, and almost every officer hiding behind one dropped for cover. Danny followed suit, this was their routine if they ever had to have a backup plan should Police show up, then it was a hard and fast exit from the venue and pin Police down with heavy firepower; and get away. Danny unloaded with one hand only as well, with his Mac-10. These two were not stupid, even Danny's Mac-10 was upgraded with a heavier stock for control against his bicep, to allow use with just one hand as well as an extended magazine; holding more rounds than a normal clip would. Michael and Danny were professionals, and as Danny fired about two dozen well placed shots in a 'pray and spray' motion; almost every round hit the Police cars. "James hit the tires, and windscreens!" Danny told me, quickly over his shoulder like a passing word. My own shotgun was outfitted with a heavier stock, so I could use it with one hand; on Michael and Danny's expressed orders during planning of the job. I brought it up close to Katja's side, almost pressing into her waist in order to hide and protect my arms from Police gunfire. It didn't make Katja a target, British Police particularly in London are told not to put lives of innocents or hostages in danger; if they didn't have a shot then they didn't take it. Controlling the shotgun, I leveled it at the first two cars in the street, and fired off one shot. We weren't carrying regular ammunition for our guns either, I didn't know what kind of ammo Michael and Danny were carrying; but I was carrying shells designed to penetrate armor and metal car frames. I brought the gun up and fired at the front tires of the two nearby cars. The shot hit home, pellets landed all over the cars bodywork, and the tires bursting them; there were pock-marks all over the car frames. I literally saw two armed officers behind their cars dive for further cover, these officers were trained to know regular ammunition from special kinds, and they knew what we were packing would go through their armor like tissue paper. With the Police pinned down, looking for cover and no shots from above; I assumed snipers were not positioned yet. We moved along the street, and we all turned our hostages into the direction of the Police cars, and turned quickly around the corner of the street to the one our van was waiting on. We moved quickly to the van, I was even out of breath almost but we moved with our hostages facing the direction of the Police, so our backs were not exposed. We finally got to the van doors, and Michael threw his hostage aside like he was trash, and he fell to the floor bound. Michael got inside covering us, with his rifle aimed at the street corner. Danny was next to the door as Michael covered us, and threw his hostage aside; he hit the floor hard. "Get in and dump her!" Michael shouted at me, as I moved towards the van next; I didn't want to hurt her or even get rid of her. Out of nowhere shots came, and the Police were clearly sick of waiting for us to surrender, and began to fire at the van. Some rounds hit the bodywork of the van, as two Flying Squad officers were now crouched and prone at the street corner, firing at us with their Glock pistols. "They're shooting at us, we need a hostage noo'!" I said shoving Katja into the van, using it as reason not to throw her to the floor or get her hurt. "What are you doing? Fucking throw her out!" Michael barked at me, firing his rifle at the Police shooting back at us. "We need her noo', the Polis won't shoot us if dae' see a hostage wae' us!" I barked right back at him, shoving Katja to the back of the van, and she laid on the floor cowering. Michael was seething, but firing away at the Police again, as I got in next; luckily since a shot almost hit me, and struck the car ahead of us on it's rear right side. Once I was in, Michael fired off a few more rounds before slamming the door shut. "Drive Terry, now!" Michael shouted, slapping the back of the driver's seat where Terry sat. Terry stepped on the gas, and the car accelerated forwards, almost hitting the back of the car ahead, but narrowly missing and we were off driving down the street away from the bank. The Police shooting at us stopped, and sirens began to die away in the distance; we were took quick for the Police to mount back up in their cars to pursue us. Eventually we pulled onto a main road, and we began to take the side streets to avoid main roads, and we were quickly away from Central London. Our plan was to drive to a local garage, drop off the van and douse the whole thing in bleach to destroy any prints we could have left; yet since we got the vehicle we always wore gloves when using it. "What do we do with her?" Michael asked, in a raised voice. I saw why he was asking that now, Terry wasn't wearing a mask! She could see his face clearly in the mirror on the ceiling of the driver's seat. "She's seen Terry's face, she's got to fucking go!" Danny added his own voice in the moment, holding his Mac-10, as he put his duffel bags to the side of the inside of the van. Katja understood everything beind said, and cowered further into the back corner of the van, and her hands were covering her face; she was trembling. Michael and Danny were staring at me, waiting for me to say something. "Fuck it mate, if you can't do it then I will." Danny said taking from one of the duffel bags we had, one of the guard's 9mm Beretta handguns. He gripped it, and aimed it at Katja, he could have only be about nine inches from her as she cowered, crying. "Wait, we're driving tae' dae' garage. If we shoot her noo', in dae' van then some buudy' will hear it an' report it, plus they'll be blood splatter all over dae' fucking van. I'll dae' it when we get tae dae' garage, just let me dae' it." I said putting my hands out to encourage Danny to listen to me, and not to shoot Katja. Danny slowly lowered the handgun, and spoke. "You better, she's seen Terry's face and knows our accents. Either you put her down, or we will." He said putting the handgun back into the duffel bag it came from. She cowered in the corner of the van, I couldn't go over and comfort her without drawing suspicion to me actually freeing her and letting her live. I had to pretend my mind and focus was all on this job, on the payday. We drove in silence, as we entered parts of West London, where the garage was. We finally pulled in the garage, as Terry hit the mobile remote for opening it, the garage was underneath a large, notorious council estate or as it commonly known world wide; low-rent accommodation, effectively a ghetto. This would mean a burning, wreck of a van set aflame would look like any normal afternoon on the Local Council Estate. Inside the garage, Terry brought the van to a stop; and closed the garage doors behind the van. Danny and Michael opened the side doors of the van, both sides and stepped out holding their guns. They both then leaned in and began to lift out the heavy-laden duffel bags, with our loot out onto the floor of the garage. Terry was taking anything, and everything from inside the vehicle that belonged to us. We had to be careful, the Police could use anything to link us to the robbery. I looked at Katja, and called her over with my hand. "Come ere'." I said gently. Katja was reluctant, and didn't move immediately following my words. "I said come ere'." I repeated to her. She slowly slid across the floor of the van to me, like a frightened child would, her stockings or tights gently grazing along the carpeted floor. Her heels scraped along the material of the carpet, as she moved to me near the van door. Her hands were still bound as Terry, Danny and Michael began to sort through the duffel bags, they appeared to have just simply forgotten about Katja; as if she no longer existed or merited interest. I watched them, putting the duffel bags onto the nearby tables; with Danny and Michael now removing their masks. I was the last one still to be wearing my mask. She could see Danny, Terry and Michael as clear as day; making the reason for her death even longer, and more warranting. Terry with his short blonde hair, Danny with his short black hair and Michael with his dark, coal skin and brown hair. This made me nervous, removing my mask would make her death inevitable, if she saw my face. But it was inevitable, if I didn't remove my mask then the others would know it was because I didn't want to kill Katja. I slid my hand up my bearded throat, and took hold of the front of my balaclava. I slowly gripped it tightly in my hand, and pulled it upwards exposing the bottom half of my face, and then over my nose before reaching my forehead. As if our of a fucking woman's romantic film, I saw Katja's eyes go wide and continue to stare at me as I took off the mask; she knew the implications of my decision here. I wasn't much to look at; I stood at only 5'10 in height, and I had black hair and a thick matching beard with hazel eyes. "Please, not kill me; I beg you." She said in a whisper now, leaned over towards me; supporting herself with her hands flat out on the floor of the van. An innocent, pleading pose. "Do the fucking job, and shoot her." Michael told me, over his shoulder. Michael was testing me, to see if I was all business and a professional. If I didn't kill Katja, then they knew me myself to be a liability and would kill me themselves. I felt the beads of sweat on my forehead, and my fingers itch as I leaned down to take from my own duffel bags, one of the guard's handguns. "I beg sir, not kill me." She pleaded as I brought the handgun up and aimed it in her direction. I held the gun up, aimed at her chest and she began to breath hard, gasp and cry even more as she knew what was coming. "I'm so sorry, Hen." I said in my Scottish accent, and Hen affectionately means a woman or girl, and is a Scottish manner of speaking to women. All of a sudden, there was the noise of sirens; loud and blaring, I didn't know where it was coming from but it was heavenly. I couldn't shoot Katja. "Fuck! How did they follow us?" Michael shouted out, turning to face me, Katja and the van. My Payday Danny and Terry were quick to react, grabbing their guns and their duffel bags. The sirens weren't close but they were nearby, and regardless it put the fear of god into all three of them. The all scrambled, I looked inside the van. There were two of my duffel bags, and the others were scrambling for the remaining four bags. Michael took one, Danny took two and Terry took the last one. They were leaving me with the two bags of my own, it was clear 'every man for himself' was the name of the game now. "We'll contact you once the heat dies away, do her now and get out of here." Michael said shouldering the duffel bag over one shoulder and with his free hand shoved his rifle into the bag, before running towards the garage door. Danny and Terry were shouldering their own bags, and already pouring from two cans of petrol onto the van's bonnet, and as much of the body work as they could cover in it. "They burn me alive." Katja wept clutching her hands to her wet face, in fear of the fire coming. "No I won't let them dae' that a' swear tae' yer'." I said to her, low enough so that the guys couldn't hear me. I turned to Danny, Terry and Michael; all were pouring fuel onto the van, collecting their weapons and the duffel bags they'd come out with from the robbery. "I'll torch dae' van, you lads get oot' of ere' and I'll finish her off." I said to them all, as they turned to listen to me. Michael as the leader, who was near the garage doors sighed hard, looking around the interior of the garage once more. "You better finish the job, or you'll get no more work with us, or anyone else on the Network." Michael growled at me, before turning to the garage doors dropping his now empty can of petrol. Danny and Terry didn't award me another look, as they threw down their cans of fuel and ran following behind Michael, leaving me to finish off torching the van and garage, as well as killing Katja. I looked around, and as the garage door opened the trio ran out, with four duffel bags split between them, and their weapons now hidden inside them. "You kill me now, I will not beg no more." Katja gasped, and simply lay on her thighs with her arms supporting her weight. That cold hard, stainless steel tool of murder was heavy in my hand, even the grip melt like it weighed a tonne. It was too much for me, I had killed before but I had never killed a woman; and definitely not an innocent. Everyone I had killed had somehow deserved it, or had it coming to them; either gangsters or fellow criminals at best. I sighed, and lowered my gun, craning it to my left I pulled the trigger firing off a single shot into the left wall of the van. Katja jumped, like a bag of nails frightened at the sound of the gun going off, but then looked up at me. In a low whisper I spoke to her again. "They'll think I shot you, noo' we torch dae' van an' we get oot' of ere'." I said to her. I took from my pocket, a lock-knife and opening it I brought it down to her bound wrists; cutting the zip-lock apart on her wrists. "You free me?" She asked me, rubbing her wrists where the cuffs bit into her skin. "Aye, but you need to come with me; they cannae' know you're still alive. I'll take yer' to ma' place." I said sliding out of the van onto my feet in the garage. "I do as you tell me, you save my life." Katja said struggling with her English, as she slid out with me from the van. "I've got two of dem' duffel bags tae' carry to ma' place. There is a hoodie in dat' box over near the wall, take it out and put it on." I said to her. Katja nodding, and slowly moved over to the box positioned next to the garage wall; it was an old, metal trunk and she knelt down to get it out of the box. I remember we put a baggy hooded top in the box in case one of us needed to hide our faces from CCTV or cameras on the estate. It wasn't much, we all agreed it couldn't have any identifying symbols or anything the Police could link back to us via CCTV footage. It was a simple, black hoodie in a XL size. I came back to the van, and opened one of the two duffel bags - shoving my shotgun inside it. Katja followed me, now with the hoodie on and baggy, over her petite chest. We moved out of the garage together, and as we stood a few yards from the garage door now in the open, I pulled Katja's hood down over her face, in case CCTV saw her; she was probably believed by the Police to still be a hostage. "My hoose' is about half an hour from here, stay close." I told her, taking from my bag a box of matches, I removed one and ignited it on the box, it lit up into a blue flame, I moved closer towards the van inside and threw it at the bodywork of the van. The side of the van, including the bodywork and tires set alight from the match, and a wall of fire etched across the van's bodywork within less than a few seconds. The entire garage eventually came alight as well, from the nearby petrol on the floor. I turned to Katja, holding both duffel bags either side of my hips. "Come on then, yer' better follow me." I said, and we set off towards my place, it wasn't much as I was always on the move accordingly for work and jobs. * Hope you guys enjoyed this story, I know it's a bit of a new type of story in regards to my previous works, but I hope it hit the right notes for everyone. All comments and feedback is appreciated, in fact I insist for some from readers if they can leave a comment. Next installment is on the way, following feedback and comments from you guys.