mother of sorrows
𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.
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Realistic or Modern 𝘿𝙊𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙍 𝘽𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙎 --
mother of sorrows
𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.
Abbi
;; Laszlo
He had no idea where he was going with his life.
This realization was not exactly new. Everybody, he thinks, has gone through this at one point; found themselves in a position where all they can do is stop and think, 'what the fuck am I doing?' He's not quite sure when it started, either. It might have been during the last year of high school, when he graduated only through forced tutoring and his teachers looking through their fingers - or maybe during entrance exams, the passing of which might as well be considered a whole miracle. Whether it was then or it sneaked on him somewhere in between, one thing was for sure.
Laszlo is lost.
It only really hit him recently - somewhere along the failed tests and bar dives and the bored half-reading of textbooks - that this isn't where he wants to be.
Even worse was the fact he didn't know where it was that he wanted to be at.
He knew he should be grateful for getting into college in the first place. It might not be the best - actually, fuck that, it was a long way from even being good, but with his grades? Laszlo should be singing praises. It was filled with drunk students, burnt out professors, and lackluster courses, but it was college. It could be worse. Even if his apartment is tiny with heating that barely works and he can barely scrape enough money for rent, at least he's in school - and has a job, thank you very much. It could be worse, and yet Laszlo is so terribly unsatisfied it made him want to cry. There was no outlet, nothing to put his energy to. Nothing except puzzles and the logic games he pours over. He had no passion for chemistry, no matter how much his mom insisted he should. Not to say he doesn't appreciate it - he is as fascinated by it as any other person. It is all around us, after all, with its many interconnected processes being the ones to build the world. Even him feeling so is chemistry on some level, neurons, and transmitters firing off.
It was mind-numbingly boring, too.
The textbooks falling apart at the seams and uninspired lectures might have something to do with it, but Laszlo really just didn't want to study it. It was mostly his mom who insisted on chemistry; she hoped that if he already wasted his potential, that at least he might land a job at a semi-respectable place with survivable pay. She never said it out loud - though with Debbie around she didn't have to. Hard to not feel compared when your sister is Debbie Abbi.
A good college. Honor roll. Her own house and car, great credit. Married to an equally educated man ('he's an engineer', their mom said once pointedly, as if Laszlo had any love or interest for engineering). Has a son together and even a horse. A horse.
How the fuck can Laszlo compare to somebody who owns a fucking horse?
Worse thing is, Debbie made it hard to be resentful.
They don't see each other much these past days. There never seemed to be a right moment for either of them - life always seemed to get in the way and before he knew it, months pass before he sees his sister again. She only drops into his apartment occasionally now, either to gawk at his steadily collecting laundry or to chat over microwaved Thai. They talk about random shit; about home, how their jobs are treating them, old memories. There was a considerable distance between them now, one that made itself known whenever one of them would talk. They were still close, but it was not the same. Life has changed them both in ways they can't reserve. He wasn't just her little brother now. They can't fight over the tv remote anymore, or cry over stupid things like they did before. Especially not her. Laszlo might get away with slacking off now and then, but Debbie is different. Always has been.
Hard to not be aware of it with her sitting right in front of him.
Her pressed suit was a stark contrast to his messy apartment, much too expensive to belong here. She had the strange effect of making Laszlo feel displaced in his own kitchen, only dressed in a plain shirt and the cleanest pair of sweatpants he could find. The Chinese take out places between them on the small table has long grown cold. Neither of them got up to heat it.
''I'm just saying. It's not too late to change majors. Look,'' she threw back a chug of equally cold coffee, a few strands escaping from the tight bun she insisted on wearing. ''I know mom won't like it, but she'll like it even less if you fail.''
''Mhm.'' Laszlo offered, moving a stray mushroom across his plate.
''So the last semester was bad. The next one might be better, right? You just have to -''
Actually. The mushroom... It was shaped like Arizona. Almost. Kind of?
''- and I know you hate me saying this, but you coud try harder, too. This is the third test you've failed, Lassie. You could -''
No, no. Actually. More like Arkansas. Laszlo scrunched up his face in consideration.
''- what about math? Or literature? I mean, the jobs might not be as good, but at least you'd be interested.. Right? Lassie?''
A light swat on the arm startled him from his mushroom-shape related thoughts, straightening in his seat (and not at all trying very hard to pretend he's been listening the whole time.) An exasperated expression stared back, not even slightly amused. His sister crossed her hands over the already cramped table, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
''Let me guess. You haven't listened to a word I said.''
Laszlo cleared his throat awkwardly, grimacing slightly. ''Uh, no. I mean - yeah, yeah. I listened. To everything you said.''
Debbie stared at him. Laszlo stared back, much more sheepishly. She looked thoroughly unconvinced.
After a heartbeat or so, she sighed - she looked much more tired, suddenly, in the weak lightning of his kitchen. The gloom outside didn't do much to help, nor did the streetlight pouring in. She always looked like that. Like she's carrying the world's burden on her shoulders and Laszlo is just one of them. It was a familiar feeling, one that's been following him since they've both grown up. It made him shuffle his gaze to the floor, unsure of what to say.
''I just want you to be happy, Laszlo. Okay?''
''I know.'' He looked up at the ceiling, playing with the hem of his shirt. He's never been good at this - this feels talk thing. Always was more Debbie's forte - or maybe it's just something that's always been expected of her as the eldest. For him? Not so easy. He knows Debbie meant well, as his sister; she knows all about his death of inspiration and interest, especially in the last years. And he gets where she is coming from, really. He already fucked up a good chunk of his future in high school and he's doing the same now. Getting into a college he's interested in is nothing but a pipe dream at this point - and this college, as trashy and low-brow as it is, is his best chance. He shouldn't fuck it up (for his mom, if nothing else.)
This isn't the first time they've talked about this. His answers are always the same. 'No, I don't know what I want. No, I don't love my job. No, chemistry is not my passion either.' And Debbie would always insist on the same things - that maybe he should just try harder, maybe look at it from a different angle, maybe consider tutoring. As if the problem was a lack of trying and not Laszlo feeling like he was just drifting through life. The nights out and picking up new books only does so much before the mundanity hits again, leaving him with the emptiness of not knowing what the fuck he wants. Well, that's not quite right - he knows he wants to put his brain to, something to push him. Something interesting or exciting.
Laszlo wanted a challenge.
He's not sure Debbie would understand even if he explained. She always was the safe type, prefering to stick on the straight and narrow. He says nothing, only sniffling in the calm quiet.
''I just want you to focus and stay out of trouble, okay? Can you do that?''
Laszlo couldn't stop the eyeroll even if he wanted to, but he nodded. ''You worry too much. I'll be fine.''
''You sure?''
''Yup.''
''Promise?'' Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow.
''Promise.'' He sighed, turning his head to giving her a reluctant smile. He knew she was just worried - he supposed he's given her enough reason to do so. Couldn't really blame her for asking.
A small smile broke out over Debbie's lips at that, painfully familiar. "Good. I trust you, Lassie."
He grimaced dramatically at the tone, leaning back go rub at his neck. He supposed she was right, in a way. The least he could do is stay out of trouble and try. The man sighed, half-turning in his chair to speak.
A crash outside made them both pause, words going unsaid.
"I told you to get me my fucking money, Abbi!"
Another crash.
Laszlo froze in his seat. Realization, cold and instant, rushed through him like a zap of lightning. He tried to stifle the recognition under a casual sniff, but he knew Debbie already caught it from the way her eyes widened. She rushed to the window before he could protest, leaving him no choice but to stumble after her. They crowded around the small window, staring at the dirty street below. He blinked against the darkness outside, unsure of what he was looking t for a good few moments - until a flash of action and a yelled curse made him stretch his neck. Laszlo stared for a second, two - before letting out an underwhelming 'ah', feeling like he just got dropped on his ass.
Oh. Oh, shit.
He... thought his landlord was joking about bringing a bat next time.
Timmy is, in Laszlo's humble opinion, a name that really didn't fit the 6'4'', tattooed mountain of a man. He looked in every way more like a hot-headed bouncer than the owner of Goodview Apartments (the name was misleading - about the best view Laszlo got from here was a dirty street and maybe a few crackheads fighting during wild hours of the night). Laszlo heard a rumor once, back when he first moved in, that Timmy was a part of a local gang back in his youth.
He suddenly thinks it's not just a rumor, with the way he was destroying the shit out of Laszlo's car.
Another hit of the bat made Laszlo physically cringe, screaming inside at the way the metal bent under the assault. The dark blue color scraped off with every new hit, chunks of it falling to the cement. Laszlo couldn't do much more than stare in shock as Timmy smashed the car's hood with an angry curse. Some distant part of his brain was contemplating how much it was going to cost to get that replaced - his car was barely drivable on most days. He silently mourned the loss of money he didn't even have, mouth hanging open.
The older man finally noticed the two gawking by the window, his thunderous glare settling on them. A few tense, silent moments passed - before Laszlo finally waved awkwardly at him, smiling like an idiot. Oh, fuck me. The wrong thing to do, if the way Timmy's face reddened with anger is anything to go by. He gave the ruined car one last kick, making a piece of metal fall off depressingly. Laszlo's heart sank to his ass, still staring with wide eyes.
''You better fucking get it by next week, or else!'' Timmy yelled, stomping back towards the entrance. A door slammed out of sight, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Him and Debbie stared outside, disbelieving. The car still stood there, beaten up and dejected-looking. A moment, two passed. Neither of them said anything.
''Why the fuck did Timmy ruin your car.'' Debbie said, voice strangely light. Her face was blank. it was phrased like a question, but the hint of tension behind her tone told otherwise. Laszlo cleared his throat.
''I, uh... Didn't pay my rent.'' He mumbled.
''How much.''
Laszlo stared at the ground. It suddenly seemed endlessly interesting - especially that one stain near the wall. Reminded him of a duck.
''Six month's worth.''
Debbie inhaled slowly through her nose. Said nothing for a good while. The expression on her face looked like she was seriously considering throwing him out this window.
''How the fuck do you miss six months of rent.'' She asked finally, slowly turning to look at him.
Laszlo didn't have an answer to that. The floor was still terribly fascinating, as was the duck-shaped stain.
The silence was heavy in the air, neither of them sure of how to break it. Finally, Debbie let out a stone-heavy sigh, rubbing her temples like there was a stress headache building. It probably was - he knew this was just another problem on a mountain of them for her. He wished she hadn't seen that. It was bad enough to explain his grades, much less his car getting trashed by his pissed off landlord. He couldn't bring himself to really look at her, rolling his lips sheepishly.
''Ask your job if they can pay you early. You're gonna have to take the bus, I guess.'' She shook her head tiredly, walking back to the table. She grabbed her neat coat, draping it over her arm with an expression of pure exasperation. ''Stay out of trouble. I'm serious, Lassie. You know we can't fall back on mom.''
Laszlo nodded silently. He glanced back at his car sitting in the car, features pinched. He knows that if he called, his mom would complain and fret and lecture; yet send him money, even if it meant scraping it together from late night shifts and extra hours. He knows, and that's exactly why he's not going to tell her. The number Nico gave him laid somewhere in the depths of his coat pocket, - 'remember that job I told you about, just call' - burning against his memory. His hand twitched to reach for his phone.
''It's time I get going.'' Another shake of her head and she walked towards the door, mumbling a quick goodbye. Lassie returned it absent-mindedly, pulling out the crumbled paper out the coat. He pressed in the numbers, putting his phone to the ear. It rang for a few long moments, almost too loud in the new silence of his apartment. Nico picked up after what seemed like an eternity, mumbling a sleepy 'what?' Laszlo was half-tempted to end the call right there and then, but he swallowed the nervousness down. It's not like he hasn't thought about it - he has, probably more than any normal, decent person should. But actually calling was something else entirely, the weight of what he's about to say settling in his stomach like lead.
''The job. I'm doing it.''
Now that was enough for Nico to wake up. Laszlo could practically hear the shift, the other man going all business mode.
''You sure?''' He said on the other line, voice losing all quality of sleep.
Laszlo stared outside into the gloom again. The ruined metal gleamed in the weak street light.
''Yeah,'' he breathed, ''tell me all about it.''
* * *
- his hands shook around the black duffel bag, the car lurching forward, down the dark street and oh God they did it, they actually did it, he did it and if they ever find out it was him he's going to, shit, they're all to prison, and the money was packed, a few bills falling to the car floor and Laszlo reached towarst them, hands grasping, eyes wild, vomit sticking to his dark hoodie, mask discarded and he couldn't stop hyperventilating, lungs hungry for air and Nico -
was holding his shoulder, shaking him into focus. Laszlo's eyes snapped to him, whole body shaking. It was comforting, gave him something to focus on beyond his flipping stomach.
''You're in it now, Lassie.'' Nico's smile was all blood and hunger. Samuel was bleeding out in the backseat and Laszlo wanted to reach towards him but Nico shook him into reality again. ''You did good.''
The money was heavy in his grasp. Laszlo stared at the dollar bills with wide eyes, adding up numbers. 1.000, 1.300, 1.500, 1.800, 2.600... His mind rushed a mile a minute, as fast as a hit of lightning. Samuel choked on something and Laszlo turned around and the blood dripped and he reached and reached and -
* * *
- burst through the doors, screaming and panic breaking out behind him as he sprinted.
Terrified people falling to the pristine marble floors. Alarm sirens screaming out, flashing red. Two heavy bags of money slung over his shoulder. The expensive walls of the bank passed him by, adrenaline rushing through his veins. The police scanner at his hip chattered on.
'- all units, robbery in progress at 8514 Poplar Court. Suspects are armed and dangerous. I repeat -'
Okay. Okay, alright. The police got here a bit earlier than Laszlo planned, but they were still in the game. He grit his teeth, hastening past manicured indoor plants and classical paintings, the clean floors squeaking under his boots. The alarmed shouts yelling out behind him made him turn sharply, crashing into an accent table. Forms and ads for plans flied into the air, scattering across the floor. A couple of people screamed, combined with the yelling of the security guards. Laszlo shook the slight pain off, bolting towards the door at the end of the hall.
Good. Okay. Everything was going according to plan, for now.
The floorplans and information him and Sunny have been musing over for weeks ran through his mind, moving around in his mind's eye. It was the perfect target, really; Phoenix Central Bank, one of those plushly, clean banks for the rich and famous. Filled with money and with even more complex security to keep the rich's pearls safe. They've been in it before, to scope the place out. Not a fucking joke - a brand new alarm system, security guards at every corner, cameras watching your every move. This place meant money, and lots of it. It was a challenge, something they would have to plan out over and over again before trying. A lesser robber might not try - the risk was simply too large, even if the payout would be huge. It was a big target, even for somebody experienced. You couldn't expect to step in and leave like you might at a smaller bank. No, this would demand a detailed plan and lots of skill to pull it off, too.
Good think Laszlo and Sunny aren't lesser robbers, then.
The plan was solid. They go inside, take the money, split up. The building had two entrances to the back - one on the east and one on the west. Laszlo would take east, Sunny would take west. They evade security, meet up and escape on their merry way. 6 guards on each of the wings, more on the upper floors. Cops probably not too far back, so they'd have to keep that in mind.
It was a lazy Wednesday, with everybody at work or at school - middle of the day, only a handful of finely dressed people at the bank. It seemed like just another day, filled with counting and withdrawing - until the two made it past the pale columns outside, shoving a gun at the workers' heads. Just like they planned - it worked (almost a little too well, his brain wanted to add. Laszlo barely noticed the thought in his adrenaline-fueled rush). His head felt light at the thought of how much money was stacked in each of the bags.
Now all that was left to do was to get away. Easier said than done with guards breathing down his neck.
A shot ringing out made Laszlo curse, too aware of them catching up. He kicked another table, the paper and pens crashing behind him. It was just enough of a distraction for him to throw open the door to the back, slamming it behind him. He leaned on it with as much weight as he could, the yelling and footsteps approaching making his stomach twist. He glanced around, kicking back the panic that threatened to overtake the longer it took. A stack of metal chairs, right by the wall. He dragged one with his free hand, slipping it under the door handle to wedge it shut. It won't hold and it sure as hell won't prevent them from looking for him. But it gave him just enough time to catch his breath for a few heartbeats. He resisted the urge to drag off his mask, the silicone sticking to his sweaty skin. The alarm rang high and shril through the building, echoing across the staircase he was in.
Laszlo considered only for a second. Down the stairs was one of the back entrances. From there he can go through an alley to reach an entrace to the mall - there was no way to get out of here without being noticed by police, not when they're closing in like a noose around a neck. But if they run from the mall to the wider area, they can get to the drop off point; all while trashing and disapeparing.
If. If they both get there safely.
He hurried down the stairs, clutching the bags like his life depended on it. One corridor rushed past the other, his heavy breathing and the siren's wailing the only sounds he was focused on. A crash and suddenly too-loud calls told him the door got broken in - ice flooded in his veins, blood singing in his ears. Just get to the door. Get to the door and you'll be fine. Get... to... the... door.
The stink of the alley was like a breath of fresh air (never thought he'd think that, but here it is) as he stumbled into the clear of day, slamming the door shut behind him. Trash bags, a couple of dumpsters - and flashing police cars, parked right by each mouth like a cat waiting for a rat to come out of hiding. He could hear officers rushing outside, a commotion of footsteps and commands. Laszlo dived behind one of the dumpsters, muscles tensing to run. He peeked slowly, observing for a few seconds. They didn't notice him - but he knows it's only a matter of time before they flush out the alleyways.
He's just going to have to be quicker than them.
The man bolted for the small alley in front of him, running past and dirty puddles. The alarm and police sirens quieted to a distant screech. He paused near an alley mouth leading to towards the mall, keeping low to the ground. He glanced at the street to seee a couple of police cars rushing by, their tires roaring down the street. Guess the party was all here.
Except for Sunny.
Laszlo looked at his wrist watch. Two minutes till their meeting time. For a quick, panicked second, he thought something went wrong on her end - but he kicked the thought back as quick as he had it, settling behind a half-wrecked dumpster. He knows Sunny is good. Has seen it first hand in the three years he's known her. They've dragged themselves out of tighter situations than this one and whatever it is that got her caught up, he knows she can manage it (never forget the Mantrias Bank accident- how they got off that roof without attracting all of the police force's fire is still beyond him.)
He trusted her. Had to, in this line of work. But even outside of a criminal's forced trust, he knew her to be one damn capable person. It's how they've pulled these stunts countless times before, and it's how they'll pull this one off too.
Laszlo forced his mind to calm, taking on the sharp focus he's cultivated over the past four years. He clutched the bags to his side, eyes looking around for any movement. Just a short burst from here and they'll be in the mall - getting out of the bank was the easy part. Now comes the actually difficulty.
All he had to do now was wait for that to happen.
This realization was not exactly new. Everybody, he thinks, has gone through this at one point; found themselves in a position where all they can do is stop and think, 'what the fuck am I doing?' He's not quite sure when it started, either. It might have been during the last year of high school, when he graduated only through forced tutoring and his teachers looking through their fingers - or maybe during entrance exams, the passing of which might as well be considered a whole miracle. Whether it was then or it sneaked on him somewhere in between, one thing was for sure.
Laszlo is lost.
It only really hit him recently - somewhere along the failed tests and bar dives and the bored half-reading of textbooks - that this isn't where he wants to be.
Even worse was the fact he didn't know where it was that he wanted to be at.
He knew he should be grateful for getting into college in the first place. It might not be the best - actually, fuck that, it was a long way from even being good, but with his grades? Laszlo should be singing praises. It was filled with drunk students, burnt out professors, and lackluster courses, but it was college. It could be worse. Even if his apartment is tiny with heating that barely works and he can barely scrape enough money for rent, at least he's in school - and has a job, thank you very much. It could be worse, and yet Laszlo is so terribly unsatisfied it made him want to cry. There was no outlet, nothing to put his energy to. Nothing except puzzles and the logic games he pours over. He had no passion for chemistry, no matter how much his mom insisted he should. Not to say he doesn't appreciate it - he is as fascinated by it as any other person. It is all around us, after all, with its many interconnected processes being the ones to build the world. Even him feeling so is chemistry on some level, neurons, and transmitters firing off.
It was mind-numbingly boring, too.
The textbooks falling apart at the seams and uninspired lectures might have something to do with it, but Laszlo really just didn't want to study it. It was mostly his mom who insisted on chemistry; she hoped that if he already wasted his potential, that at least he might land a job at a semi-respectable place with survivable pay. She never said it out loud - though with Debbie around she didn't have to. Hard to not feel compared when your sister is Debbie Abbi.
A good college. Honor roll. Her own house and car, great credit. Married to an equally educated man ('he's an engineer', their mom said once pointedly, as if Laszlo had any love or interest for engineering). Has a son together and even a horse. A horse.
How the fuck can Laszlo compare to somebody who owns a fucking horse?
Worse thing is, Debbie made it hard to be resentful.
They don't see each other much these past days. There never seemed to be a right moment for either of them - life always seemed to get in the way and before he knew it, months pass before he sees his sister again. She only drops into his apartment occasionally now, either to gawk at his steadily collecting laundry or to chat over microwaved Thai. They talk about random shit; about home, how their jobs are treating them, old memories. There was a considerable distance between them now, one that made itself known whenever one of them would talk. They were still close, but it was not the same. Life has changed them both in ways they can't reserve. He wasn't just her little brother now. They can't fight over the tv remote anymore, or cry over stupid things like they did before. Especially not her. Laszlo might get away with slacking off now and then, but Debbie is different. Always has been.
Hard to not be aware of it with her sitting right in front of him.
Her pressed suit was a stark contrast to his messy apartment, much too expensive to belong here. She had the strange effect of making Laszlo feel displaced in his own kitchen, only dressed in a plain shirt and the cleanest pair of sweatpants he could find. The Chinese take out places between them on the small table has long grown cold. Neither of them got up to heat it.
''I'm just saying. It's not too late to change majors. Look,'' she threw back a chug of equally cold coffee, a few strands escaping from the tight bun she insisted on wearing. ''I know mom won't like it, but she'll like it even less if you fail.''
''Mhm.'' Laszlo offered, moving a stray mushroom across his plate.
''So the last semester was bad. The next one might be better, right? You just have to -''
Actually. The mushroom... It was shaped like Arizona. Almost. Kind of?
''- and I know you hate me saying this, but you coud try harder, too. This is the third test you've failed, Lassie. You could -''
No, no. Actually. More like Arkansas. Laszlo scrunched up his face in consideration.
''- what about math? Or literature? I mean, the jobs might not be as good, but at least you'd be interested.. Right? Lassie?''
A light swat on the arm startled him from his mushroom-shape related thoughts, straightening in his seat (and not at all trying very hard to pretend he's been listening the whole time.) An exasperated expression stared back, not even slightly amused. His sister crossed her hands over the already cramped table, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
''Let me guess. You haven't listened to a word I said.''
Laszlo cleared his throat awkwardly, grimacing slightly. ''Uh, no. I mean - yeah, yeah. I listened. To everything you said.''
Debbie stared at him. Laszlo stared back, much more sheepishly. She looked thoroughly unconvinced.
After a heartbeat or so, she sighed - she looked much more tired, suddenly, in the weak lightning of his kitchen. The gloom outside didn't do much to help, nor did the streetlight pouring in. She always looked like that. Like she's carrying the world's burden on her shoulders and Laszlo is just one of them. It was a familiar feeling, one that's been following him since they've both grown up. It made him shuffle his gaze to the floor, unsure of what to say.
''I just want you to be happy, Laszlo. Okay?''
''I know.'' He looked up at the ceiling, playing with the hem of his shirt. He's never been good at this - this feels talk thing. Always was more Debbie's forte - or maybe it's just something that's always been expected of her as the eldest. For him? Not so easy. He knows Debbie meant well, as his sister; she knows all about his death of inspiration and interest, especially in the last years. And he gets where she is coming from, really. He already fucked up a good chunk of his future in high school and he's doing the same now. Getting into a college he's interested in is nothing but a pipe dream at this point - and this college, as trashy and low-brow as it is, is his best chance. He shouldn't fuck it up (for his mom, if nothing else.)
This isn't the first time they've talked about this. His answers are always the same. 'No, I don't know what I want. No, I don't love my job. No, chemistry is not my passion either.' And Debbie would always insist on the same things - that maybe he should just try harder, maybe look at it from a different angle, maybe consider tutoring. As if the problem was a lack of trying and not Laszlo feeling like he was just drifting through life. The nights out and picking up new books only does so much before the mundanity hits again, leaving him with the emptiness of not knowing what the fuck he wants. Well, that's not quite right - he knows he wants to put his brain to, something to push him. Something interesting or exciting.
Laszlo wanted a challenge.
He's not sure Debbie would understand even if he explained. She always was the safe type, prefering to stick on the straight and narrow. He says nothing, only sniffling in the calm quiet.
''I just want you to focus and stay out of trouble, okay? Can you do that?''
Laszlo couldn't stop the eyeroll even if he wanted to, but he nodded. ''You worry too much. I'll be fine.''
''You sure?''
''Yup.''
''Promise?'' Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow.
''Promise.'' He sighed, turning his head to giving her a reluctant smile. He knew she was just worried - he supposed he's given her enough reason to do so. Couldn't really blame her for asking.
A small smile broke out over Debbie's lips at that, painfully familiar. "Good. I trust you, Lassie."
He grimaced dramatically at the tone, leaning back go rub at his neck. He supposed she was right, in a way. The least he could do is stay out of trouble and try. The man sighed, half-turning in his chair to speak.
A crash outside made them both pause, words going unsaid.
"I told you to get me my fucking money, Abbi!"
Another crash.
Laszlo froze in his seat. Realization, cold and instant, rushed through him like a zap of lightning. He tried to stifle the recognition under a casual sniff, but he knew Debbie already caught it from the way her eyes widened. She rushed to the window before he could protest, leaving him no choice but to stumble after her. They crowded around the small window, staring at the dirty street below. He blinked against the darkness outside, unsure of what he was looking t for a good few moments - until a flash of action and a yelled curse made him stretch his neck. Laszlo stared for a second, two - before letting out an underwhelming 'ah', feeling like he just got dropped on his ass.
Oh. Oh, shit.
He... thought his landlord was joking about bringing a bat next time.
Timmy is, in Laszlo's humble opinion, a name that really didn't fit the 6'4'', tattooed mountain of a man. He looked in every way more like a hot-headed bouncer than the owner of Goodview Apartments (the name was misleading - about the best view Laszlo got from here was a dirty street and maybe a few crackheads fighting during wild hours of the night). Laszlo heard a rumor once, back when he first moved in, that Timmy was a part of a local gang back in his youth.
He suddenly thinks it's not just a rumor, with the way he was destroying the shit out of Laszlo's car.
Another hit of the bat made Laszlo physically cringe, screaming inside at the way the metal bent under the assault. The dark blue color scraped off with every new hit, chunks of it falling to the cement. Laszlo couldn't do much more than stare in shock as Timmy smashed the car's hood with an angry curse. Some distant part of his brain was contemplating how much it was going to cost to get that replaced - his car was barely drivable on most days. He silently mourned the loss of money he didn't even have, mouth hanging open.
The older man finally noticed the two gawking by the window, his thunderous glare settling on them. A few tense, silent moments passed - before Laszlo finally waved awkwardly at him, smiling like an idiot. Oh, fuck me. The wrong thing to do, if the way Timmy's face reddened with anger is anything to go by. He gave the ruined car one last kick, making a piece of metal fall off depressingly. Laszlo's heart sank to his ass, still staring with wide eyes.
''You better fucking get it by next week, or else!'' Timmy yelled, stomping back towards the entrance. A door slammed out of sight, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Him and Debbie stared outside, disbelieving. The car still stood there, beaten up and dejected-looking. A moment, two passed. Neither of them said anything.
''Why the fuck did Timmy ruin your car.'' Debbie said, voice strangely light. Her face was blank. it was phrased like a question, but the hint of tension behind her tone told otherwise. Laszlo cleared his throat.
''I, uh... Didn't pay my rent.'' He mumbled.
''How much.''
Laszlo stared at the ground. It suddenly seemed endlessly interesting - especially that one stain near the wall. Reminded him of a duck.
''Six month's worth.''
Debbie inhaled slowly through her nose. Said nothing for a good while. The expression on her face looked like she was seriously considering throwing him out this window.
''How the fuck do you miss six months of rent.'' She asked finally, slowly turning to look at him.
Laszlo didn't have an answer to that. The floor was still terribly fascinating, as was the duck-shaped stain.
The silence was heavy in the air, neither of them sure of how to break it. Finally, Debbie let out a stone-heavy sigh, rubbing her temples like there was a stress headache building. It probably was - he knew this was just another problem on a mountain of them for her. He wished she hadn't seen that. It was bad enough to explain his grades, much less his car getting trashed by his pissed off landlord. He couldn't bring himself to really look at her, rolling his lips sheepishly.
''Ask your job if they can pay you early. You're gonna have to take the bus, I guess.'' She shook her head tiredly, walking back to the table. She grabbed her neat coat, draping it over her arm with an expression of pure exasperation. ''Stay out of trouble. I'm serious, Lassie. You know we can't fall back on mom.''
Laszlo nodded silently. He glanced back at his car sitting in the car, features pinched. He knows that if he called, his mom would complain and fret and lecture; yet send him money, even if it meant scraping it together from late night shifts and extra hours. He knows, and that's exactly why he's not going to tell her. The number Nico gave him laid somewhere in the depths of his coat pocket, - 'remember that job I told you about, just call' - burning against his memory. His hand twitched to reach for his phone.
''It's time I get going.'' Another shake of her head and she walked towards the door, mumbling a quick goodbye. Lassie returned it absent-mindedly, pulling out the crumbled paper out the coat. He pressed in the numbers, putting his phone to the ear. It rang for a few long moments, almost too loud in the new silence of his apartment. Nico picked up after what seemed like an eternity, mumbling a sleepy 'what?' Laszlo was half-tempted to end the call right there and then, but he swallowed the nervousness down. It's not like he hasn't thought about it - he has, probably more than any normal, decent person should. But actually calling was something else entirely, the weight of what he's about to say settling in his stomach like lead.
''The job. I'm doing it.''
Now that was enough for Nico to wake up. Laszlo could practically hear the shift, the other man going all business mode.
''You sure?''' He said on the other line, voice losing all quality of sleep.
Laszlo stared outside into the gloom again. The ruined metal gleamed in the weak street light.
''Yeah,'' he breathed, ''tell me all about it.''
* * *
- his hands shook around the black duffel bag, the car lurching forward, down the dark street and oh God they did it, they actually did it, he did it and if they ever find out it was him he's going to, shit, they're all to prison, and the money was packed, a few bills falling to the car floor and Laszlo reached towarst them, hands grasping, eyes wild, vomit sticking to his dark hoodie, mask discarded and he couldn't stop hyperventilating, lungs hungry for air and Nico -
was holding his shoulder, shaking him into focus. Laszlo's eyes snapped to him, whole body shaking. It was comforting, gave him something to focus on beyond his flipping stomach.
''You're in it now, Lassie.'' Nico's smile was all blood and hunger. Samuel was bleeding out in the backseat and Laszlo wanted to reach towards him but Nico shook him into reality again. ''You did good.''
The money was heavy in his grasp. Laszlo stared at the dollar bills with wide eyes, adding up numbers. 1.000, 1.300, 1.500, 1.800, 2.600... His mind rushed a mile a minute, as fast as a hit of lightning. Samuel choked on something and Laszlo turned around and the blood dripped and he reached and reached and -
* * *
- burst through the doors, screaming and panic breaking out behind him as he sprinted.
Terrified people falling to the pristine marble floors. Alarm sirens screaming out, flashing red. Two heavy bags of money slung over his shoulder. The expensive walls of the bank passed him by, adrenaline rushing through his veins. The police scanner at his hip chattered on.
'- all units, robbery in progress at 8514 Poplar Court. Suspects are armed and dangerous. I repeat -'
Okay. Okay, alright. The police got here a bit earlier than Laszlo planned, but they were still in the game. He grit his teeth, hastening past manicured indoor plants and classical paintings, the clean floors squeaking under his boots. The alarmed shouts yelling out behind him made him turn sharply, crashing into an accent table. Forms and ads for plans flied into the air, scattering across the floor. A couple of people screamed, combined with the yelling of the security guards. Laszlo shook the slight pain off, bolting towards the door at the end of the hall.
Good. Okay. Everything was going according to plan, for now.
The floorplans and information him and Sunny have been musing over for weeks ran through his mind, moving around in his mind's eye. It was the perfect target, really; Phoenix Central Bank, one of those plushly, clean banks for the rich and famous. Filled with money and with even more complex security to keep the rich's pearls safe. They've been in it before, to scope the place out. Not a fucking joke - a brand new alarm system, security guards at every corner, cameras watching your every move. This place meant money, and lots of it. It was a challenge, something they would have to plan out over and over again before trying. A lesser robber might not try - the risk was simply too large, even if the payout would be huge. It was a big target, even for somebody experienced. You couldn't expect to step in and leave like you might at a smaller bank. No, this would demand a detailed plan and lots of skill to pull it off, too.
Good think Laszlo and Sunny aren't lesser robbers, then.
The plan was solid. They go inside, take the money, split up. The building had two entrances to the back - one on the east and one on the west. Laszlo would take east, Sunny would take west. They evade security, meet up and escape on their merry way. 6 guards on each of the wings, more on the upper floors. Cops probably not too far back, so they'd have to keep that in mind.
It was a lazy Wednesday, with everybody at work or at school - middle of the day, only a handful of finely dressed people at the bank. It seemed like just another day, filled with counting and withdrawing - until the two made it past the pale columns outside, shoving a gun at the workers' heads. Just like they planned - it worked (almost a little too well, his brain wanted to add. Laszlo barely noticed the thought in his adrenaline-fueled rush). His head felt light at the thought of how much money was stacked in each of the bags.
Now all that was left to do was to get away. Easier said than done with guards breathing down his neck.
A shot ringing out made Laszlo curse, too aware of them catching up. He kicked another table, the paper and pens crashing behind him. It was just enough of a distraction for him to throw open the door to the back, slamming it behind him. He leaned on it with as much weight as he could, the yelling and footsteps approaching making his stomach twist. He glanced around, kicking back the panic that threatened to overtake the longer it took. A stack of metal chairs, right by the wall. He dragged one with his free hand, slipping it under the door handle to wedge it shut. It won't hold and it sure as hell won't prevent them from looking for him. But it gave him just enough time to catch his breath for a few heartbeats. He resisted the urge to drag off his mask, the silicone sticking to his sweaty skin. The alarm rang high and shril through the building, echoing across the staircase he was in.
Laszlo considered only for a second. Down the stairs was one of the back entrances. From there he can go through an alley to reach an entrace to the mall - there was no way to get out of here without being noticed by police, not when they're closing in like a noose around a neck. But if they run from the mall to the wider area, they can get to the drop off point; all while trashing and disapeparing.
If. If they both get there safely.
He hurried down the stairs, clutching the bags like his life depended on it. One corridor rushed past the other, his heavy breathing and the siren's wailing the only sounds he was focused on. A crash and suddenly too-loud calls told him the door got broken in - ice flooded in his veins, blood singing in his ears. Just get to the door. Get to the door and you'll be fine. Get... to... the... door.
The stink of the alley was like a breath of fresh air (never thought he'd think that, but here it is) as he stumbled into the clear of day, slamming the door shut behind him. Trash bags, a couple of dumpsters - and flashing police cars, parked right by each mouth like a cat waiting for a rat to come out of hiding. He could hear officers rushing outside, a commotion of footsteps and commands. Laszlo dived behind one of the dumpsters, muscles tensing to run. He peeked slowly, observing for a few seconds. They didn't notice him - but he knows it's only a matter of time before they flush out the alleyways.
He's just going to have to be quicker than them.
The man bolted for the small alley in front of him, running past and dirty puddles. The alarm and police sirens quieted to a distant screech. He paused near an alley mouth leading to towards the mall, keeping low to the ground. He glanced at the street to seee a couple of police cars rushing by, their tires roaring down the street. Guess the party was all here.
Except for Sunny.
Laszlo looked at his wrist watch. Two minutes till their meeting time. For a quick, panicked second, he thought something went wrong on her end - but he kicked the thought back as quick as he had it, settling behind a half-wrecked dumpster. He knows Sunny is good. Has seen it first hand in the three years he's known her. They've dragged themselves out of tighter situations than this one and whatever it is that got her caught up, he knows she can manage it (never forget the Mantrias Bank accident- how they got off that roof without attracting all of the police force's fire is still beyond him.)
He trusted her. Had to, in this line of work. But even outside of a criminal's forced trust, he knew her to be one damn capable person. It's how they've pulled these stunts countless times before, and it's how they'll pull this one off too.
Laszlo forced his mind to calm, taking on the sharp focus he's cultivated over the past four years. He clutched the bags to his side, eyes looking around for any movement. Just a short burst from here and they'll be in the mall - getting out of the bank was the easy part. Now comes the actually difficulty.
All he had to do now was wait for that to happen.
coded by reveriee.
Last edited:
Takuwan
moved to acc: 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.
&&Sunny Jeong
I feel numb, burn with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun.
mood: . damn... that's crazy. ahaha.
location: . big bank
outfit: . oogabooga
mentions: . pd, lassie
interactions: . me boi lassie
Eat, sleep, disappear into a bottomless pit of existential despair, repeat… or however that saying goes.
Was it really all that bad? Each day, repetitive, minute; Sunny hadn’t exactly anticipated for life to go this way, nor had she expected for this feeling to become so drawn out. With the looming feeling of emotional turmoil on one shoulder and the unfortunate continuous costs of having to take care of her sister in the other, it wasn’t easy being able to hold on. Unbeknownst to her, it had the capabilities of getting worse.
So it did.
She couldn’t handle the costs of having to take care of both her and her sister; one incapable of working while the other, Sunny herself, pulling two 9 to 5s day in and day out. The woman didn’t feel like a human—no, not in the least bit—she felt robotic; having to constantly work took a toll on her, her mental health, the once close-knit relationship she had with her sister, Olivia. As for her older sister? Not a single crumb of a relationship in sight; in fact, Sunny and her were practically strangers, the type that wouldn’t even glance at each other—passersby that deliberately avoided each other for fear of interaction.
It didn’t help that Sunny’s older sister looked down on both Sunny and Olivia. They weren’t like her, overachieving, ruthless, cold. They actually had hearts. Crazy, right? Instead of thinking of the next move, terrorizing others for her own personal gain and accomplishments, Sunny and Olivia actually gave a shit—by no means were they selfish, at least, not to their older sister's degree.
University hadn’t exactly been in her line of vision, either. Costs were too expensive, her brain had basically turned into dust, resulting her to become unmotivated to do whatever necessary for the application processes. Who needed college, anyways? Her parents showed little enthusiasm regarding it—or at least, regarding her attendance. It was a given, however. Her performance in school was always garbage, mainly due to the fact that she was the primary caregiver of her precious baby sister; her parents rarely offered her the help she needed. Even after seeing the efforts and how Sunny’s grades suffered throughout, they wouldn’t hesitate to berate her for her grades—”why can’t you be more like your sister? Do we not give you enough? Study harder! But take care of your sister, we’re too tired.”
A sad, melancholic middle child that didn’t get enough attention from mommy and daddy, the only time she ever did was when they wanted to yell at her for something; it only got worse after their divorce.
She was grateful, though; they weren’t fighting, but yet again, she faded into the shadows while her older sister did nothing to help. The woman never really cared much for the other sisters, not that she should’ve, but one would’ve expected some sort of overprotective dynamic and a support system like no other. Sunny and Olivia missed out on a lot of big sister advice—something that they could've used during the hard times. From the divorce, to barely being able to catch up with school, work, taking care of each other; a voice of reason was needed. But instead, the two received a turned up nose, a blind eye, and simple, yet effective, gawks. Their parents were the same, often disregarding the efforts while continuously praising the older sister—constantly putting her on a pedestal.
Sunny, as much as she'd hated to admit it, was envious of that. Her older sister was well-rounded, albeit selfish, but she had her shit together nonetheless.
Olivia never received a morsel of affection, only from Sunny—the parents didn't want much to do with her, mainly due to the fact that the youngest child had a mental handicap; the older sister, one who shall not be named, had no time to look after someone that already had someone. And once again, Sunny was responsible.
As of late? Sunny spent her days gnawing on dry lips, anxious about the oncoming days. Olivia needed meds, support, care—Sunny would’ve been able to provide all of that if she had a support system, too. But alas, that wasn’t the case. Slaving days on end, barely making ends meet. It took a toll on her, and unfortunately, her sister as well. They got kicked out of the house fairly quickly; the moment Olivia turned 18, it was bye-bye needy, hello nuisance free household. Nuisance is a harsh word, but that’s exactly how her mother saw Olivia.
Sunny had no choice but to take Olivia with her.
Once again she was living in the mundane. It was awful, not because of Olivia, but because of the fact that her life continued to go down the shitter and it looked like there was no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Bills racked up, no mercy for the helpless. It had only been a year, but it was the worst year of Sunny's life; and this girl's parents were consistent in forgetting her birthday—moreso her presence in general. There were a few phone calls exchanged within the same year, mainly between her and her mom (dad out of the picture doing fuck knows what. Hocked up on drugs, forgetting he even had a family), with the occasional one from their older sister; however, this never quite cleared up anything.
They, still, didn’t offer any help—even if they saw how much it was needed. Olivia and Sunny were apparently able to figure things out on their own; even if they had next to nothing and struggled in their finances. Olivia catches most of the sad shit; falling ill, mental disability rendering her basically incapable to work; Sunny had to continuously pick up the pieces and try her best much to the detriment of her mental health.
How much more could someone take?
A few failed jobs later and Sunny contemplated some dark shit. Not that she wanted to, but her brain couldn’t keep doing this. Living in the same fucked up sequence with little reward or gain, while being unable to properly take care of expenses; life went down the drain with every bit of motivation she had. “Shit, I can’t keep up,” her voice shuttered over the phone, eyes scanning over documents scattered around the small kitchen counter. “Via’s got meds, we still got living expenses to pay—I know, I know. C’mon, just… can’t you give us a little longer?” Sunny’s leg, subconsciously, bounced with anticipation. This was the 3rd time she had to plead with their landlord, not that she wanted to—she had no other choice but to do so.
“Nah. Suns, you’ve asked for way too many extensions. I give you a week, if I don’t get that payment soon, you and your sister get the boot. Sorry.” Without a single goodbye, the landlord hung up. Sunny couldn’t help but feel a knot in her chest, bile rising up to her throat, but she kept it in. Olivia was in the room with her, watching TV, ignorant to the phone call that stuck. What else could Sunny do? Pick up another job? Lozano wasn’t exactly as forgiving as he’d let on and she knew another job wouldn’t be able to do much for their situation.
She was stuck.
“Who was that?”
“Mom. She said hi,” Sunny couldn’t help but lie to her baby sister, she wouldn’t have been able to understand the extent of their situation. And she would’ve rather kept her in the dark, to Sunny, it was better that way.
For a moment, Olivia was silent; either she was processing what Sunny had said or she had nothing else to say, accepting Sunny’s lie. That was, until she spoke, calling her out, “you’re lying. She doesn’t call. She never calls.”
God, she was perceptive. Of course, Sunny—as much as she hated to admit it—sometimes undermined Olivia’s capabilities. She wasn’t as naive as before, definitely not, and she picked up on Sunny’s tells—able to catch them from a mile away. “It’s no biggie, Via. Trust me, alright? Just some work stuff,” another lie. Guilt. Overwhelming guilt. But what else was she supposed to do? Telling the truth could only do more harm than good. That was Sunny’s justification, at least. The short conversation was left at that, with Sunny collecting each mocking sheet of paper and placing them into a neat stack.
She chewed on the skin of her lips again, anxiously walking away to hide the complete despair that riddled her pale cheeks. Tired was an understatement; Sunny was exhausted, mind and body going through so much. She’d finally had it. Struggling to make ends meet, having no other way to make more money and keep up with bills, letting Olivia down with every single waking moment of her life. Sure, Olivia would let her know how proud she was of Sunny, but that could only do so much for her. Not even her words could help with the perpetual pain called life.
Dark brown eyes looked over at the time, nearly causing her to spit out her stale coffee.
Shit. She was going to be late for work. Again. “Hey, Via. I gotta go, alright? You stay put, you know what to do,” her departure was prompt, without any other exchange of words between the two. With that, the door shut. Olivia was used to it, but with every moment she was away, the more the guilt would suffocate Sunny. It would’ve been easier if she stayed at home, somehow having money appear out of the blue. But of course, the universe had a cruel way of treating people that weren’t born into privilege.
Her thoughts were cloudy, far too cloudy to really focus on anything else. Not even the words of an angry manager for, yet again, being late. There was, however, a point that she’d responded; but that had only been with a series of nods paired with an empty gaze. “You’re fired! Don’t you fucking get it? Get the fuck outta here!” That was it. The moment she stepped into the store, she already knew her fate, his words further solidifying it. What the hell was she going to do now?
Shit.
Shit was right. Getting a new job quickly didn’t seem likely, nor did getting paid on time in the case that she ever did. The realization began to set in, having nothing else to do other than be left to her thoughts as she walked down the sidewalk; it was caked with trash, pavement cracked, a few people still out doing whatever it was they were doing. Even if there weren’t any eyes on her, it sure felt like there were; judging her, wondering why her head was down, eyes focused on her own strides. Sunny couldn’t help but beat herself up over what had just happened: had she been more responsible, the situation could have been avoided. But instead, she’d gotten so caught up in her worries that she’d forgotten. She tried her best to shove the thought of her being the problem away, but she couldn’t—the thought gnawing at her much like everything else that went on in her head.
What was she going to tell Olivia? That her big sister was fired over her own irresponsibility? Or would Sunny have to lie again? The decision was hard, it only made it harder knowing that she was already so close to home. There was the sudden heavy scent of rain, paired with the sound of someone running up behind her, water beginning to pour down from the thick onslaught of clouds above her. And then it happened. It had happened so quickly, but she was aware of it; a man, attempting to pull her bag away from her person—yelling at her to let go. She desperately held on, not minding the loud yelling that should’ve attracted the gaze of onlookers, but much to her disappointment, no one had done anything. It must’ve been the bystander effect: people see there are others around and figure that someone else would intervene.
She thought it was obvious, though—that no one would come to her rescue, but no one else seemed to get that.
“Give me the fuckin’ bag and you won’t get hurt,” the man, clad in a soaking black hoodie yelled at her, continuously yanking at her near-empty bag. All she had was her ID, a few loose pieces of cash, and a debit card that barely had any money on it. But she couldn’t afford to lose these things; they were still needed, and as foolish as it might’ve been, Sunny didn’t let go. For all she knew, he could be armed and dangerous, and yet nothing stopped her from hanging on tighter.
The struggle had gone on for what seemed like an eternity, with Sunny struggling to hang onto her bag, yet fighting the urge to let go for the sake of ending the dispute. And that was when, finally, his fist—flying with a great deal of force—had collided with her person; he beat her, not mercilessly, but enough to leave her with bruises and a sore body for weeks.
An metallic taste coated her mouth, a grimace escaping her barely parted lips as she watched the perpetrator run off with what little she had left. Shuddering in pain, the young woman made an attempt at pushing herself up; much to her dismay, her arms had only wobbled from under her, body colliding with the pavement once again. A soft grunt escaped her person, the woman finally laying on the ground; energy drained from her with every pass of a second, chest rising and falling with every faltering breath. For a moment, she laid there in contemplation, whether or not she should get up or succumb to whatever was waiting for her; quickly reaching the conclusion that she had just enough fight in her. She had to get back, not for herself, but for her sister’s sake.
Every movement she made was painful, from the burn that shot up her abdomen to the sting in her face with the little expressions she made, but she made it. Of course, not without having to pause for a second, allowing for the feeling to settle—just like her thoughts.
Ring ring ring.
Olivia. Perfect fucking timing. Sunny let out a stifled sigh, pulling a cracked phone from her back pocket, screen illuminating her cheeks—for a split second, she saw her reflection. Damn, I look like shit. She cleared her throat, answering, only to hear Olivia’s calls in distress, “Sunny… Sunny there are some guys at the door. I’m scared.” It was one thing after the other, Sunny almost couldn’t believe it; however, it was believable. As much as she hated to admit it, her life was on a constant downward fucking spiral, this being the bitter icing on the cake. The universe could fuck with her if it wanted to, but with Olivia? No. She was too good, she didn’t deserve this shit.
“I—” Sunny paused, holding in a pain-filled groan before continuing, “I’ll be there. Don’t worry. Just—just don’t open the door, alright?”
The rest of the call was the least bit comforting—Sunny could hear the aggressive thumps against the door, deep voices of men who, undoubtedly, were there for business. They weren’t playing and Olivia could tell, she just didn’t exactly know why—Sunny figured that it would’ve been best if her baby sister was ignorant, but it seemed that it only made things worse. Every minute Sunny took getting back to their place, she could feel the hostility growing stronger; it must’ve been the people she owed money. If she had any other choices, she wouldn’t have had to have these run-ins, but desperation did that to a person. “Please, I think the door is—” Her sister’s voice was cut off, blood curdling screams emanating from the phone, with Sunny only being able to do so much. Shit. What were they going to do to her? They should' have left Olivia alone, with her having no part in their dealings, but bad guys had no sense of boundaries.
There was a sudden radio silence, one that was quickly interrupted with a gruff voice all too familiar. "Where the fuck are you?" His voice was commanding, intimidating even.
"Leave her the fuck out of this, I'll—I'll get you the fucking money. Just... leave Via alone, alright?" Sunny was pleading, finally approaching the decrepit apartment building, broken down door in her line of sight. "I'm here. I'm here, just... I need some time," eyes filled with anguish, Sunny watched as two men exited the apartment wordlessly, Via's crying heavily coating the atmosphere. She must have been traumatized, had it not been for Sunny's irresponsibility, the situation could've been better. But how much better could it have been?
*****
“Who were they?”
Sunny didn’t know how to answer, her only words being, “just some bad dudes, Via.” Of course, the answer entailed more questions, Why were they there? Why did they break the door down? What did they want? She couldn’t tell her the full truth; no, her brain wouldn’t allow her to, it would’ve made things messier. Maybe it was her own selfishness, but Sunny didn’t want to be alone either—had any family found out, they most likely would’ve taken Olivia away from her—even if they were the reason she was with Sunny in the first place. Olivia was the only reason Sunny wasn’t a wandering shell of a human. “I gotta make a call.”
In privacy, the line rang, Sunny—who now found herself in her room—peaked out of the small crack in her door, hoping that Olivia was still distracted by the show she’d turned on. And luckily, she was. The fact that Sunny had this number on speed dial was concerning, but she needed it; in times like this, maybe this was the only thing that could finally put shit to rest—solve her fucked up life problems. Or maybe she just wasn’t thinking right. “What?” The voice on the other end picked up, Sunny’s hand shaking both out of anxiety and pain, he didn’t sound welcoming—tired, even.
“Hey. I uh—I’m down. Shit got fucked up, I’ll do it,” her breath was shaky, but still with the tinge of determination; if he refused, she would’ve fought for it.
There was a laugh, not a mocking one, but in genuine amusement, “now ain’t that some shit? Alright, welcome to the team, then.” The answer was nonchalant, far too casual for her taste, but a relief. She didn’t feel like fighting, but was ready to. Sunny’s eyes flicked back over to Olivia, the young woman entranced with the show, mouth agape—default expression plastered on her face; not an ounce of emotion, none that Sunny could pick up on.
*****
She’d done this far too many times at this point, shrill screams of bystanders filling her ears, irritating her soul to no end. Of course they’d panic, it was human fucking nature, but she couldn’t think as clearly as she wanted to. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, rushing, body feeling tingly—nearly numb.
It was inevitable.
Bodies hit the floor in hysteria, hands over their heads, all shaking like leaves. And while it didn’t bother her much, the expressions on their faces were painted heavily in her mind; they were just like every other person she robbed, so why was this different? It was too late for her to have some sort of fucking moral compass, at least—that’s how she felt. The expression on her face fell, luckily, with no one able to see it under the mask tightly pulled onto her face. Dark brown orbs scanned the area, quick steps sounding out against the shining floors.
What the fuck? What kind of shit was this? The cops were too early on this; where did they go wrong?
Sunny shook the thoughts from her head; she needed to be in the game or she’d fuck it up for the both of them. Most of her escape was clean, she was agile enough, quick on her toes, but the overwhelming feeling of… something she couldn’t put her finger on filled every limb. God dammit. The woman jumped over a few desks, papers flying around, but she paid little regard to them. They weren’t important, what was important was hauling ass and getting herself out of there with the cash. Nothing more.
She had more faith in Laszlo than she had in others, he had a good head on his shoulders—prior robberies all going to plan, so who was she to think that this one would’ve fallen through? If they pulled this off, shit… they’d be rolling in dough, so much dough that they wouldn’t have to make a run like this in a long fucking while. And she was looking forward to that, having some semblance of normalcy before throwing herself back into the jaws of crime.
Security was tight, but it wasn’t something she worried much about—it was the cops; having them on their asses wasn’t ideal, but it was bound to happen.
Of course they had guns. The loud cracks from a gun rang in the air, the woman scrambling through the bank, throwing what she could around as a distraction. It worked, but only momentarily until they started going after her again, angry voices screaming after her. As if that was going to get her to stop in her tracks. She was never a good listener, anyways. Sunny mulled over her options, hanging on tightly to the money-filled bags, escaping wasn’t going to be easy. But she was sure of herself, her capabilities, plus—she was small enough to slip through.
Shit shit shit.
They definitely were on her ass, the yells after her making it obvious, as did the several gunshots towards her general direction. She was lucky they weren’t the best aims.
The bright sunlight made her squint, but she didn’t pause, Sunny needed to get away and quick. She ran like her life depended on it because, well, it did. Everything smelled, the air felt thick and damp, suffocating; her rushed, heavy breathing didn’t do her any favors either, taking in every bit of it. “Alright, alright. Think,” the woman whispered to herself, pressing her body against a barren wall, small enough to disappear without a trace. Anyone rushing by wouldn’t have been able to see her, at least, that’s what she thought—and she was correct. Several officers, all clad in their heavy uniforms, ran past the alleyway, car sirens speeding on the pavement, tires squealing as they hit corners. If they wanted to apprehend them, they should’ve been more thorough.
Was she getting cocky? Possibly.
A soft chuckle left her lips, relieved that she’d even been able to escape on such a close call. All there was left to do was to look for Laszlo, which wouldn’t have been easy. What if he wasn’t there? How far was she? Her head was fuzzy, almost unable to tell where exactly she was, until her eyes caught street signs. The waypoint was close, and thank god it was, all of that evasion nearly knocked all of the wind out of her—that and the looming feeling that she was about to get caught.
She laid low, waiting for the scene to clear, and once it did, she made a run for it. Her heavy docs slammed against the pavement, breath finally steadying, but her arms were burning. Damn, these bags were heavy. Sunny searched the vicinity, hoping to find her thieving companion, nearly late for their meeting—only 30 seconds shy of it. Finally pulling off her mask, she let the cool air fill her lungs, a refreshing change from the warm, condensation filled vizard. “Fuck’s sake,” eyes locked onto Laszlo, who was ducked behind a dumpster like a gremlin. She wanted to laugh, but Sunny could save it for later. When they got away and completed this.
Feeling safe enough, Sunny placed her hands on her knees, hunched over; with every breath, her chest rising and falling. “Sorry, sorry. They—damn, they got close,” she spoke in between breaths, a hand running through her messy blue hair, locks falling back into place. Being able to catch her breath was a godsend, the noticeable burn in her lungs dissipating, but not quickly enough. They needed to carry on with the rest, something that wasn’t smooth sailing, unfortunately. The two needed to be quick, so not to mess everything up; she couldn’t end up in the slammer, not with Olivia still around, and definitely not with her actually having some sort of outlook on life.
But she trusted Laszlo, knew what he could do—they worked together long enough for her to actually entrust in the power of her counterpart’s capabilities. If it wasn’t for him, most of their operations would’ve been a bust. “Let’s get this shit going, then,” Sunny finally picked her head up, heaving the bags back onto herself, feeling the weighted pressure on her once again. Sure, she felt like jello, but that wasn’t going to stop her. They’d gone this far, pulled it off, she wasn’t going to let a small inconvenience get the best of her. Her head turned towards the direction of the mall, awaiting for further instructions as if she needed them—she didn’t want to get ahead of herself, especially knowing the area was going to be teeming with law enforcement.
Was it really all that bad? Each day, repetitive, minute; Sunny hadn’t exactly anticipated for life to go this way, nor had she expected for this feeling to become so drawn out. With the looming feeling of emotional turmoil on one shoulder and the unfortunate continuous costs of having to take care of her sister in the other, it wasn’t easy being able to hold on. Unbeknownst to her, it had the capabilities of getting worse.
So it did.
She couldn’t handle the costs of having to take care of both her and her sister; one incapable of working while the other, Sunny herself, pulling two 9 to 5s day in and day out. The woman didn’t feel like a human—no, not in the least bit—she felt robotic; having to constantly work took a toll on her, her mental health, the once close-knit relationship she had with her sister, Olivia. As for her older sister? Not a single crumb of a relationship in sight; in fact, Sunny and her were practically strangers, the type that wouldn’t even glance at each other—passersby that deliberately avoided each other for fear of interaction.
It didn’t help that Sunny’s older sister looked down on both Sunny and Olivia. They weren’t like her, overachieving, ruthless, cold. They actually had hearts. Crazy, right? Instead of thinking of the next move, terrorizing others for her own personal gain and accomplishments, Sunny and Olivia actually gave a shit—by no means were they selfish, at least, not to their older sister's degree.
University hadn’t exactly been in her line of vision, either. Costs were too expensive, her brain had basically turned into dust, resulting her to become unmotivated to do whatever necessary for the application processes. Who needed college, anyways? Her parents showed little enthusiasm regarding it—or at least, regarding her attendance. It was a given, however. Her performance in school was always garbage, mainly due to the fact that she was the primary caregiver of her precious baby sister; her parents rarely offered her the help she needed. Even after seeing the efforts and how Sunny’s grades suffered throughout, they wouldn’t hesitate to berate her for her grades—”why can’t you be more like your sister? Do we not give you enough? Study harder! But take care of your sister, we’re too tired.”
A sad, melancholic middle child that didn’t get enough attention from mommy and daddy, the only time she ever did was when they wanted to yell at her for something; it only got worse after their divorce.
She was grateful, though; they weren’t fighting, but yet again, she faded into the shadows while her older sister did nothing to help. The woman never really cared much for the other sisters, not that she should’ve, but one would’ve expected some sort of overprotective dynamic and a support system like no other. Sunny and Olivia missed out on a lot of big sister advice—something that they could've used during the hard times. From the divorce, to barely being able to catch up with school, work, taking care of each other; a voice of reason was needed. But instead, the two received a turned up nose, a blind eye, and simple, yet effective, gawks. Their parents were the same, often disregarding the efforts while continuously praising the older sister—constantly putting her on a pedestal.
Sunny, as much as she'd hated to admit it, was envious of that. Her older sister was well-rounded, albeit selfish, but she had her shit together nonetheless.
Olivia never received a morsel of affection, only from Sunny—the parents didn't want much to do with her, mainly due to the fact that the youngest child had a mental handicap; the older sister, one who shall not be named, had no time to look after someone that already had someone. And once again, Sunny was responsible.
As of late? Sunny spent her days gnawing on dry lips, anxious about the oncoming days. Olivia needed meds, support, care—Sunny would’ve been able to provide all of that if she had a support system, too. But alas, that wasn’t the case. Slaving days on end, barely making ends meet. It took a toll on her, and unfortunately, her sister as well. They got kicked out of the house fairly quickly; the moment Olivia turned 18, it was bye-bye needy, hello nuisance free household. Nuisance is a harsh word, but that’s exactly how her mother saw Olivia.
Sunny had no choice but to take Olivia with her.
Once again she was living in the mundane. It was awful, not because of Olivia, but because of the fact that her life continued to go down the shitter and it looked like there was no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Bills racked up, no mercy for the helpless. It had only been a year, but it was the worst year of Sunny's life; and this girl's parents were consistent in forgetting her birthday—moreso her presence in general. There were a few phone calls exchanged within the same year, mainly between her and her mom (dad out of the picture doing fuck knows what. Hocked up on drugs, forgetting he even had a family), with the occasional one from their older sister; however, this never quite cleared up anything.
They, still, didn’t offer any help—even if they saw how much it was needed. Olivia and Sunny were apparently able to figure things out on their own; even if they had next to nothing and struggled in their finances. Olivia catches most of the sad shit; falling ill, mental disability rendering her basically incapable to work; Sunny had to continuously pick up the pieces and try her best much to the detriment of her mental health.
How much more could someone take?
A few failed jobs later and Sunny contemplated some dark shit. Not that she wanted to, but her brain couldn’t keep doing this. Living in the same fucked up sequence with little reward or gain, while being unable to properly take care of expenses; life went down the drain with every bit of motivation she had. “Shit, I can’t keep up,” her voice shuttered over the phone, eyes scanning over documents scattered around the small kitchen counter. “Via’s got meds, we still got living expenses to pay—I know, I know. C’mon, just… can’t you give us a little longer?” Sunny’s leg, subconsciously, bounced with anticipation. This was the 3rd time she had to plead with their landlord, not that she wanted to—she had no other choice but to do so.
“Nah. Suns, you’ve asked for way too many extensions. I give you a week, if I don’t get that payment soon, you and your sister get the boot. Sorry.” Without a single goodbye, the landlord hung up. Sunny couldn’t help but feel a knot in her chest, bile rising up to her throat, but she kept it in. Olivia was in the room with her, watching TV, ignorant to the phone call that stuck. What else could Sunny do? Pick up another job? Lozano wasn’t exactly as forgiving as he’d let on and she knew another job wouldn’t be able to do much for their situation.
She was stuck.
“Who was that?”
“Mom. She said hi,” Sunny couldn’t help but lie to her baby sister, she wouldn’t have been able to understand the extent of their situation. And she would’ve rather kept her in the dark, to Sunny, it was better that way.
For a moment, Olivia was silent; either she was processing what Sunny had said or she had nothing else to say, accepting Sunny’s lie. That was, until she spoke, calling her out, “you’re lying. She doesn’t call. She never calls.”
God, she was perceptive. Of course, Sunny—as much as she hated to admit it—sometimes undermined Olivia’s capabilities. She wasn’t as naive as before, definitely not, and she picked up on Sunny’s tells—able to catch them from a mile away. “It’s no biggie, Via. Trust me, alright? Just some work stuff,” another lie. Guilt. Overwhelming guilt. But what else was she supposed to do? Telling the truth could only do more harm than good. That was Sunny’s justification, at least. The short conversation was left at that, with Sunny collecting each mocking sheet of paper and placing them into a neat stack.
She chewed on the skin of her lips again, anxiously walking away to hide the complete despair that riddled her pale cheeks. Tired was an understatement; Sunny was exhausted, mind and body going through so much. She’d finally had it. Struggling to make ends meet, having no other way to make more money and keep up with bills, letting Olivia down with every single waking moment of her life. Sure, Olivia would let her know how proud she was of Sunny, but that could only do so much for her. Not even her words could help with the perpetual pain called life.
Dark brown eyes looked over at the time, nearly causing her to spit out her stale coffee.
Shit. She was going to be late for work. Again. “Hey, Via. I gotta go, alright? You stay put, you know what to do,” her departure was prompt, without any other exchange of words between the two. With that, the door shut. Olivia was used to it, but with every moment she was away, the more the guilt would suffocate Sunny. It would’ve been easier if she stayed at home, somehow having money appear out of the blue. But of course, the universe had a cruel way of treating people that weren’t born into privilege.
Her thoughts were cloudy, far too cloudy to really focus on anything else. Not even the words of an angry manager for, yet again, being late. There was, however, a point that she’d responded; but that had only been with a series of nods paired with an empty gaze. “You’re fired! Don’t you fucking get it? Get the fuck outta here!” That was it. The moment she stepped into the store, she already knew her fate, his words further solidifying it. What the hell was she going to do now?
Shit.
Shit was right. Getting a new job quickly didn’t seem likely, nor did getting paid on time in the case that she ever did. The realization began to set in, having nothing else to do other than be left to her thoughts as she walked down the sidewalk; it was caked with trash, pavement cracked, a few people still out doing whatever it was they were doing. Even if there weren’t any eyes on her, it sure felt like there were; judging her, wondering why her head was down, eyes focused on her own strides. Sunny couldn’t help but beat herself up over what had just happened: had she been more responsible, the situation could have been avoided. But instead, she’d gotten so caught up in her worries that she’d forgotten. She tried her best to shove the thought of her being the problem away, but she couldn’t—the thought gnawing at her much like everything else that went on in her head.
What was she going to tell Olivia? That her big sister was fired over her own irresponsibility? Or would Sunny have to lie again? The decision was hard, it only made it harder knowing that she was already so close to home. There was the sudden heavy scent of rain, paired with the sound of someone running up behind her, water beginning to pour down from the thick onslaught of clouds above her. And then it happened. It had happened so quickly, but she was aware of it; a man, attempting to pull her bag away from her person—yelling at her to let go. She desperately held on, not minding the loud yelling that should’ve attracted the gaze of onlookers, but much to her disappointment, no one had done anything. It must’ve been the bystander effect: people see there are others around and figure that someone else would intervene.
She thought it was obvious, though—that no one would come to her rescue, but no one else seemed to get that.
“Give me the fuckin’ bag and you won’t get hurt,” the man, clad in a soaking black hoodie yelled at her, continuously yanking at her near-empty bag. All she had was her ID, a few loose pieces of cash, and a debit card that barely had any money on it. But she couldn’t afford to lose these things; they were still needed, and as foolish as it might’ve been, Sunny didn’t let go. For all she knew, he could be armed and dangerous, and yet nothing stopped her from hanging on tighter.
The struggle had gone on for what seemed like an eternity, with Sunny struggling to hang onto her bag, yet fighting the urge to let go for the sake of ending the dispute. And that was when, finally, his fist—flying with a great deal of force—had collided with her person; he beat her, not mercilessly, but enough to leave her with bruises and a sore body for weeks.
An metallic taste coated her mouth, a grimace escaping her barely parted lips as she watched the perpetrator run off with what little she had left. Shuddering in pain, the young woman made an attempt at pushing herself up; much to her dismay, her arms had only wobbled from under her, body colliding with the pavement once again. A soft grunt escaped her person, the woman finally laying on the ground; energy drained from her with every pass of a second, chest rising and falling with every faltering breath. For a moment, she laid there in contemplation, whether or not she should get up or succumb to whatever was waiting for her; quickly reaching the conclusion that she had just enough fight in her. She had to get back, not for herself, but for her sister’s sake.
Every movement she made was painful, from the burn that shot up her abdomen to the sting in her face with the little expressions she made, but she made it. Of course, not without having to pause for a second, allowing for the feeling to settle—just like her thoughts.
Ring ring ring.
Olivia. Perfect fucking timing. Sunny let out a stifled sigh, pulling a cracked phone from her back pocket, screen illuminating her cheeks—for a split second, she saw her reflection. Damn, I look like shit. She cleared her throat, answering, only to hear Olivia’s calls in distress, “Sunny… Sunny there are some guys at the door. I’m scared.” It was one thing after the other, Sunny almost couldn’t believe it; however, it was believable. As much as she hated to admit it, her life was on a constant downward fucking spiral, this being the bitter icing on the cake. The universe could fuck with her if it wanted to, but with Olivia? No. She was too good, she didn’t deserve this shit.
“I—” Sunny paused, holding in a pain-filled groan before continuing, “I’ll be there. Don’t worry. Just—just don’t open the door, alright?”
The rest of the call was the least bit comforting—Sunny could hear the aggressive thumps against the door, deep voices of men who, undoubtedly, were there for business. They weren’t playing and Olivia could tell, she just didn’t exactly know why—Sunny figured that it would’ve been best if her baby sister was ignorant, but it seemed that it only made things worse. Every minute Sunny took getting back to their place, she could feel the hostility growing stronger; it must’ve been the people she owed money. If she had any other choices, she wouldn’t have had to have these run-ins, but desperation did that to a person. “Please, I think the door is—” Her sister’s voice was cut off, blood curdling screams emanating from the phone, with Sunny only being able to do so much. Shit. What were they going to do to her? They should' have left Olivia alone, with her having no part in their dealings, but bad guys had no sense of boundaries.
There was a sudden radio silence, one that was quickly interrupted with a gruff voice all too familiar. "Where the fuck are you?" His voice was commanding, intimidating even.
"Leave her the fuck out of this, I'll—I'll get you the fucking money. Just... leave Via alone, alright?" Sunny was pleading, finally approaching the decrepit apartment building, broken down door in her line of sight. "I'm here. I'm here, just... I need some time," eyes filled with anguish, Sunny watched as two men exited the apartment wordlessly, Via's crying heavily coating the atmosphere. She must have been traumatized, had it not been for Sunny's irresponsibility, the situation could've been better. But how much better could it have been?
*****
“Who were they?”
Sunny didn’t know how to answer, her only words being, “just some bad dudes, Via.” Of course, the answer entailed more questions, Why were they there? Why did they break the door down? What did they want? She couldn’t tell her the full truth; no, her brain wouldn’t allow her to, it would’ve made things messier. Maybe it was her own selfishness, but Sunny didn’t want to be alone either—had any family found out, they most likely would’ve taken Olivia away from her—even if they were the reason she was with Sunny in the first place. Olivia was the only reason Sunny wasn’t a wandering shell of a human. “I gotta make a call.”
In privacy, the line rang, Sunny—who now found herself in her room—peaked out of the small crack in her door, hoping that Olivia was still distracted by the show she’d turned on. And luckily, she was. The fact that Sunny had this number on speed dial was concerning, but she needed it; in times like this, maybe this was the only thing that could finally put shit to rest—solve her fucked up life problems. Or maybe she just wasn’t thinking right. “What?” The voice on the other end picked up, Sunny’s hand shaking both out of anxiety and pain, he didn’t sound welcoming—tired, even.
“Hey. I uh—I’m down. Shit got fucked up, I’ll do it,” her breath was shaky, but still with the tinge of determination; if he refused, she would’ve fought for it.
There was a laugh, not a mocking one, but in genuine amusement, “now ain’t that some shit? Alright, welcome to the team, then.” The answer was nonchalant, far too casual for her taste, but a relief. She didn’t feel like fighting, but was ready to. Sunny’s eyes flicked back over to Olivia, the young woman entranced with the show, mouth agape—default expression plastered on her face; not an ounce of emotion, none that Sunny could pick up on.
*****
She’d done this far too many times at this point, shrill screams of bystanders filling her ears, irritating her soul to no end. Of course they’d panic, it was human fucking nature, but she couldn’t think as clearly as she wanted to. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, rushing, body feeling tingly—nearly numb.
It was inevitable.
Bodies hit the floor in hysteria, hands over their heads, all shaking like leaves. And while it didn’t bother her much, the expressions on their faces were painted heavily in her mind; they were just like every other person she robbed, so why was this different? It was too late for her to have some sort of fucking moral compass, at least—that’s how she felt. The expression on her face fell, luckily, with no one able to see it under the mask tightly pulled onto her face. Dark brown orbs scanned the area, quick steps sounding out against the shining floors.
What the fuck? What kind of shit was this? The cops were too early on this; where did they go wrong?
Sunny shook the thoughts from her head; she needed to be in the game or she’d fuck it up for the both of them. Most of her escape was clean, she was agile enough, quick on her toes, but the overwhelming feeling of… something she couldn’t put her finger on filled every limb. God dammit. The woman jumped over a few desks, papers flying around, but she paid little regard to them. They weren’t important, what was important was hauling ass and getting herself out of there with the cash. Nothing more.
She had more faith in Laszlo than she had in others, he had a good head on his shoulders—prior robberies all going to plan, so who was she to think that this one would’ve fallen through? If they pulled this off, shit… they’d be rolling in dough, so much dough that they wouldn’t have to make a run like this in a long fucking while. And she was looking forward to that, having some semblance of normalcy before throwing herself back into the jaws of crime.
Security was tight, but it wasn’t something she worried much about—it was the cops; having them on their asses wasn’t ideal, but it was bound to happen.
Of course they had guns. The loud cracks from a gun rang in the air, the woman scrambling through the bank, throwing what she could around as a distraction. It worked, but only momentarily until they started going after her again, angry voices screaming after her. As if that was going to get her to stop in her tracks. She was never a good listener, anyways. Sunny mulled over her options, hanging on tightly to the money-filled bags, escaping wasn’t going to be easy. But she was sure of herself, her capabilities, plus—she was small enough to slip through.
Shit shit shit.
They definitely were on her ass, the yells after her making it obvious, as did the several gunshots towards her general direction. She was lucky they weren’t the best aims.
The bright sunlight made her squint, but she didn’t pause, Sunny needed to get away and quick. She ran like her life depended on it because, well, it did. Everything smelled, the air felt thick and damp, suffocating; her rushed, heavy breathing didn’t do her any favors either, taking in every bit of it. “Alright, alright. Think,” the woman whispered to herself, pressing her body against a barren wall, small enough to disappear without a trace. Anyone rushing by wouldn’t have been able to see her, at least, that’s what she thought—and she was correct. Several officers, all clad in their heavy uniforms, ran past the alleyway, car sirens speeding on the pavement, tires squealing as they hit corners. If they wanted to apprehend them, they should’ve been more thorough.
Was she getting cocky? Possibly.
A soft chuckle left her lips, relieved that she’d even been able to escape on such a close call. All there was left to do was to look for Laszlo, which wouldn’t have been easy. What if he wasn’t there? How far was she? Her head was fuzzy, almost unable to tell where exactly she was, until her eyes caught street signs. The waypoint was close, and thank god it was, all of that evasion nearly knocked all of the wind out of her—that and the looming feeling that she was about to get caught.
She laid low, waiting for the scene to clear, and once it did, she made a run for it. Her heavy docs slammed against the pavement, breath finally steadying, but her arms were burning. Damn, these bags were heavy. Sunny searched the vicinity, hoping to find her thieving companion, nearly late for their meeting—only 30 seconds shy of it. Finally pulling off her mask, she let the cool air fill her lungs, a refreshing change from the warm, condensation filled vizard. “Fuck’s sake,” eyes locked onto Laszlo, who was ducked behind a dumpster like a gremlin. She wanted to laugh, but Sunny could save it for later. When they got away and completed this.
Feeling safe enough, Sunny placed her hands on her knees, hunched over; with every breath, her chest rising and falling. “Sorry, sorry. They—damn, they got close,” she spoke in between breaths, a hand running through her messy blue hair, locks falling back into place. Being able to catch her breath was a godsend, the noticeable burn in her lungs dissipating, but not quickly enough. They needed to carry on with the rest, something that wasn’t smooth sailing, unfortunately. The two needed to be quick, so not to mess everything up; she couldn’t end up in the slammer, not with Olivia still around, and definitely not with her actually having some sort of outlook on life.
But she trusted Laszlo, knew what he could do—they worked together long enough for her to actually entrust in the power of her counterpart’s capabilities. If it wasn’t for him, most of their operations would’ve been a bust. “Let’s get this shit going, then,” Sunny finally picked her head up, heaving the bags back onto herself, feeling the weighted pressure on her once again. Sure, she felt like jello, but that wasn’t going to stop her. They’d gone this far, pulled it off, she wasn’t going to let a small inconvenience get the best of her. Her head turned towards the direction of the mall, awaiting for further instructions as if she needed them—she didn’t want to get ahead of herself, especially knowing the area was going to be teeming with law enforcement.
code by valen t.
mother of sorrows
𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.
-- And satisfaction feels like a distant memory
laszlo abbi.
The longer Sunny took to appear, the closer he could feel the police drawing.
Each second passed by like an eternity, his breath coming out in short bursts. It was getting difficult to breathe, the worry and rising agitation clamping down on his lungs. He resisted the urge to tear down his mask, even as desperate for air as he was. he couldn't help his mind racing, even in the coldness of his focus; what if she didn't make it out? Or got stuck somewhere? Or, if bad became worse, got caught? The worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind's eye like a picture film, jumping from one to the other. Sunny laying in a puddle of blood, the money gone, her being caged in by guards - they resurfaced even as he desperately tried to hold them down. It wasn't enough to make him panic, not yet. But the flashing of sirens grew louder and the footsteps grew nearer the longer Sunny was missing and Lassie's mind got stuck on what to do if she doesn't come on time.
Laszlo chewed on his lip as his eyes glanced for any sight of the woman, pulling himself closer to the wall as another set of tires squealed down the street. He knows that, in theory, he could go by himself. It's a dog-eat-dog world, especially when it comes to crime. 'The money always comes first,' Nico's voice cooed in the back of his memories, 'never put another person above it. Not even a partner.' He's, technically, not under any obligation to wait. Not if there's so much at stake. Even in teams, there's always the unspoken belief of putting yourself first if it comes to it; cutting away the limb to save the body. He could do just that. Leave right now, cut his losses while he still had the chance. The cops will start swarming soon and then there will be hell to pay if he gets caught in that.
The thing is, Laszlo doesn't want to.
They've made it out of tighter situations. Stupid as it may be to stick around, Laszlo wasn't going to throw Sunny to the wolves - she wasn't just another partner in crime, but also somebody he considers a friend. He trusted her to get here - there was no other option. Laszlo grit his teeth, ready to wait it out if he needs to. His hand instinctively rested on the gun holstered to his hip, his breath quieting. The tension laced around him like cold water, paired with nearing shouts and sirens. Closer, ever closer.
And then she appeared.
Out of breath, disheveled - but there and alive and Laszlo couldn't hold back the breath of relief even if he wanted to. A quick glance over her told him she appeared uninjured, if in need of rest, and with the money intact too. A fucking close call, but she's here and so is the money. As always. There's a reason they've been successful so far. Sunny is as smart as they come. Seems like no matter how tight the situation grips, she manages to find her way out with police nipping at her heels (a well-meaning part of his brain whispered that there might come a time where they won't be able to make it out. It went unheard in the rush of blood and heavy bags.) ''There you are,'' he breathed, shifting as she struggled for air. He wiped some of the sweat gathering on his forehead with his arm, grimacing. Burning clung to his lungs with an iron grip. The heat gripping from every side did little to help.
He waited as Sunny caught her air as best as she could, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. There was no time to rest. The situation reminded him, almost terrifyingly, of rats stuck in a corner; the keyword being almost.
Laszlo wouldn't be in this business if he was so easily scared off. A rat, no matter how cornered, can still find a way to get out.
'Let’s get this shit going, then.'
Laszlo followed Sunny's gaze towards the direction of the mall, their ticket for getting out of here - a long, straight alleyway filled with overpilled trash. It forked to the left and right at the very end, running into the main road.
''If my calculations are correct,'' he started, resisting the urge to put on a pretentious British accent. There's plently of time for joking around later. ''The mall's streets should be filled with cops.''
There's no way they weren't. It was far too close for the bank; and even if by some miracle the police had not gathered around it yet, they would still notice them. You'd have to be an idiot not to consider a building so close to an active crime scene, and if Laszlo's experience is worth anything, the cops he encounters certainly don't lack enthusiasm to catch them. They'll draw fire regardless.
On his hip, the scanner droned on. 'All units, the suspects have been lost. Proceed with search of area. Repeating, all units - '
Aw, fuck.
The pressure of the bags seemed heavier than before as he pulled them up, giving Sunny a comradely hit on the shoulder. ''Just remember where the entrances are and we'll be home free, yeah?'' His grin was far too bold for somebody in his position - too reckless, when at any time either of them could get shot or arrested or fail. But even with the fear, the nervous energy coiling in him like lightning about to strike, a part of him was excited. As excited as he always got when one of his plans was about to jumpstart. If this one sinks, it's going to put the fucking Titanic to shame; his mind froze at the prospect of what would happen then.
But if it swims?
He gets to have bragging rights for at least a few years and fuck anybody who tells him to shut up about it.
Laszlo shifted off his crouch, pulling his mask down. It plastered to his sweaty skin as he moved into the alley in front of them, moving as fast as he could without compromising silence. Each slam of his boots against pavement sounded unbearably loud, like a shot of gunfire going off by his ear. He stuck close to the wall as he neared the end, not daring to stick his head out too far. The mall's side entrance was only a short burst from the mouth; only a few steps and boom, they'd be in and running. He sneaked a peek out the corner, jumping back into hiding at what he saw. Police cruises, packed by the mall's sides like crocodiles waiting for prey to come drink. About what he expected, but the sight of guns and watchful gazes made his stomach flip.
No going back now. Not that that option ever existed.
''Whoever gets to the drop off last has to buy boba.''
That was all he said before jumping out.
'They're here!'
Laszlo burted for the doors, heart beating in time with the shot of bullets after him. The shiny glass threw open under his weight, making him stumble into the mall. The clean floors squaked under his boots as he pushed past confused shoppers, alarmed shouts and nameless stores passing him by. He almost knocked down a couple as he turned right, sprinting with all the speed his sluggish knees would allow him. Shouts and closely following footsteps told him there were people on his trail - he didn't dare look back to figure out how many. Just running wouldn't be enough to throw them off. He needs a distraction and fast.
His eyes settled on a bridal shop before his brain could really catch up.
The soon-to-be's and their proud families stumbled like bowling pins as he ran, kicking back finely dressed mannequins and displays that probably costed more than what he had in this bag. Frilly dresses and snow white fabric flapped in the air, paired with the nasty sound of heavy plastic hitting bodies. Muffled curses told him he took some down - but not quite enough. Faster than they could aim at his heart, Laszlo slammed on the sprinkler alarm on the wall - before aiming a kick at another long display.
The effect was exactly what he was hoping for.
Water rained from above, sliding down the silicone mask; it dripped on the manicured floors like another layer of sweat, making the display slide like butter across toast. There was not enough time to avoid - not enough time to jump away when the display fell on a few cops, making them curse. Laszlo didn't wait to celebrate in the safety of his own mind, diving behind the register. The ring of a bullet right where he stood a second ago made his lungs freeze, choking on his own breath.
Well, I'll be damned.
Three cops left. All closing in his position. Laszlo peeked past the register, heart beating in his throat. He isn't trapped. Not yet - but the closest escape route would be through the entrance to the right, a straight run into the mall. He'd have to be fast to pull that off, and not the average fast either. Water, to it's credit, makes it harder to aim - but another shot right above his head made him reconsider just how much it would help. Gritting his teeth, Laszlo got ready.
The tension was thick under his skin. Like a dog about to snarl, a storm seconds from striking. The moment of resistance before a bullet is shot from it's chamber. It gathered arund him, holding it's breath - any second now and he'll run. Just a second and then it's just him against his speed. He took a deep breath.
Breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out. Lowered his knee.
And just like that, the tension broke.
Fast as whisplash, Laszlo bolted from behind his cover. Bullets hissed behind him, hitting walls. Go, go, fucking go, his mind screamed at him, sprinting like a fox from hounds. Angry yells and footsteps thundered behind him as he made for another store. Clothes, shoes, anything he could get his hands on flew behind him - all while the cops breathed on his neck like particularily insistent (and maybe a little bit more dangerous) salesmen. He bursted through on the other end, breathing heavily as the water dripped into his eyes. Wiping it off with the back of his arm, he stumbled from the parting, gawking crowd towards the other hallway - towards the exit. His golden ticket.
It was so close.
Except, well. Things are never so easy.
A bullet whizzed right past him, taking a piece of his shirt. Laszlo's heart froze.
There was no way they'd just let him run off. No, he's going to get shot this way - robbing banks has given him a fair amount of athleticism, but you can't outrun a bullet. Laszlo didn't think before reacting.
'All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong.'
Sophocles said that, in Antigone. Laszlo read that quote once, in between coughing his lung out in the school bathroom after taking a hit from a blunt too quick. A fair thought; what truly separates evil from a mistake is the ability to realize your wrong-doing and try to do better. And if that's true, well. He thinks this proves he's not a good man - he knew this is wrong, and yet he did it anyway.
He unholstered his gun with a quick draw and grabbed the nearest person to him, pressing it to their head.
''Don't move, or I'll shoot!''
The cops halted in place.
Panicked screams erupted around him. The young woman he grabbed shook in his grasp, face pale as if barely holding herself from yelling out in fear. Cold sweat poured down her forehead as he put his arm around her throat, gun digging into her temples. Maybe only a couple of years older than him, if that - his stomach twisted unpleasantly in a way he didn't want to analyze right now. It made him cringe to realise how familiar she looked to Debbie; same big eyes, sharp eyebrows. Not tall enough though, or cursed with a near-permanent tiredness. This girl seemed more like young woman out on a shopping trip with her friends than the stressed, overworked person his sister is. It made his throat cold like just noticing a detail that changes everything.
He inched towards the entrance behind him, tugging the woman along by the throat. The cops didn't follow; they stuck in their place like fearful statues, watching every twitch of Laszlo's hand fearfully. The tension was so thick it hummed, electricty on his tongue. Both parties waited for the other to break it, to make a move. Laszlo's lips thinned, pausing by the exit. Just a step and he'd be out. Water soaked through his hoodie and his lungs hurt.
''Sorry about this, man,'' He mumbled to the terrified woman, ''Nice makeup, though. You did it yourself?'' She stumbled when he finally let go, as if her knees finally gave out. The look she gave him was as horrified as if he had just handed her a knife and told her to kill her entire family with it. Probably won't be quite the same after this. Laszlo gave her some awkward finger guns (which made her grow even paler), grabbing the doors - and bursting through them.
He had a fair headstart from the cops, but he dared not celebrate yet. The drop off point was near, yet further than ever. Sirens and the heavoc faded as he ran through the allies, avoiding main roads and people alike. His lungs fought for air, his brain felt overworked like a machine turned on too long. And fuck, he could really use some water and rest right about now. But he still felt like he was being chased, felt too exposed to think about anything else.
The drop-off point was an old building, tucked in between alleys and chic apartments. A club at one point, before it got pushed out by the richer folk swooping in. Got a back entrance that's easy to sneak in to. Easy to sneak some clothes and supplies in. It wasn't hard to gain access to it with money that wasn't theirs - a few quick words and careless shrugs is all they got from the owner. 'Ain't my business,' she said airly, handing them the keys. This city was crawling with crime - one more bank robbery was nothing out of the ordinary.
Stumbling into it, Laszlo slammed the door shut behind him. Leaned against it. Breathed.
His hands shook. His shoulder screamed for release, the handstrap digging in painfully. And with the adrenaline slowly leaving him, he really needed a fucking break - but not with his mind still running, the fact that he's safe not yet settling in it's crevices.
He needs to get changed. Put the money somewhere safe. Wait for Sunny, however along she is. There's plently of other things he ought to be doing that standing there, breathing slowly.
And yet, all he could do was stare at how his hands shook around the bag. Laszlo felt sick.
'We did it,' he thought almost deliriously, still half-disbelieving. 'We fucking did it.'
A part of him was screaming. Screaming for attention, banging on the door. But it was not loud enough to drown out the way the bag fit into his hands perfectly. He was grinning - ready to throw up and jump all at once.
'We fucking DID IT.'
Each second passed by like an eternity, his breath coming out in short bursts. It was getting difficult to breathe, the worry and rising agitation clamping down on his lungs. He resisted the urge to tear down his mask, even as desperate for air as he was. he couldn't help his mind racing, even in the coldness of his focus; what if she didn't make it out? Or got stuck somewhere? Or, if bad became worse, got caught? The worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind's eye like a picture film, jumping from one to the other. Sunny laying in a puddle of blood, the money gone, her being caged in by guards - they resurfaced even as he desperately tried to hold them down. It wasn't enough to make him panic, not yet. But the flashing of sirens grew louder and the footsteps grew nearer the longer Sunny was missing and Lassie's mind got stuck on what to do if she doesn't come on time.
Laszlo chewed on his lip as his eyes glanced for any sight of the woman, pulling himself closer to the wall as another set of tires squealed down the street. He knows that, in theory, he could go by himself. It's a dog-eat-dog world, especially when it comes to crime. 'The money always comes first,' Nico's voice cooed in the back of his memories, 'never put another person above it. Not even a partner.' He's, technically, not under any obligation to wait. Not if there's so much at stake. Even in teams, there's always the unspoken belief of putting yourself first if it comes to it; cutting away the limb to save the body. He could do just that. Leave right now, cut his losses while he still had the chance. The cops will start swarming soon and then there will be hell to pay if he gets caught in that.
The thing is, Laszlo doesn't want to.
They've made it out of tighter situations. Stupid as it may be to stick around, Laszlo wasn't going to throw Sunny to the wolves - she wasn't just another partner in crime, but also somebody he considers a friend. He trusted her to get here - there was no other option. Laszlo grit his teeth, ready to wait it out if he needs to. His hand instinctively rested on the gun holstered to his hip, his breath quieting. The tension laced around him like cold water, paired with nearing shouts and sirens. Closer, ever closer.
And then she appeared.
Out of breath, disheveled - but there and alive and Laszlo couldn't hold back the breath of relief even if he wanted to. A quick glance over her told him she appeared uninjured, if in need of rest, and with the money intact too. A fucking close call, but she's here and so is the money. As always. There's a reason they've been successful so far. Sunny is as smart as they come. Seems like no matter how tight the situation grips, she manages to find her way out with police nipping at her heels (a well-meaning part of his brain whispered that there might come a time where they won't be able to make it out. It went unheard in the rush of blood and heavy bags.) ''There you are,'' he breathed, shifting as she struggled for air. He wiped some of the sweat gathering on his forehead with his arm, grimacing. Burning clung to his lungs with an iron grip. The heat gripping from every side did little to help.
He waited as Sunny caught her air as best as she could, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. There was no time to rest. The situation reminded him, almost terrifyingly, of rats stuck in a corner; the keyword being almost.
Laszlo wouldn't be in this business if he was so easily scared off. A rat, no matter how cornered, can still find a way to get out.
'Let’s get this shit going, then.'
Laszlo followed Sunny's gaze towards the direction of the mall, their ticket for getting out of here - a long, straight alleyway filled with overpilled trash. It forked to the left and right at the very end, running into the main road.
''If my calculations are correct,'' he started, resisting the urge to put on a pretentious British accent. There's plently of time for joking around later. ''The mall's streets should be filled with cops.''
There's no way they weren't. It was far too close for the bank; and even if by some miracle the police had not gathered around it yet, they would still notice them. You'd have to be an idiot not to consider a building so close to an active crime scene, and if Laszlo's experience is worth anything, the cops he encounters certainly don't lack enthusiasm to catch them. They'll draw fire regardless.
On his hip, the scanner droned on. 'All units, the suspects have been lost. Proceed with search of area. Repeating, all units - '
Aw, fuck.
The pressure of the bags seemed heavier than before as he pulled them up, giving Sunny a comradely hit on the shoulder. ''Just remember where the entrances are and we'll be home free, yeah?'' His grin was far too bold for somebody in his position - too reckless, when at any time either of them could get shot or arrested or fail. But even with the fear, the nervous energy coiling in him like lightning about to strike, a part of him was excited. As excited as he always got when one of his plans was about to jumpstart. If this one sinks, it's going to put the fucking Titanic to shame; his mind froze at the prospect of what would happen then.
But if it swims?
He gets to have bragging rights for at least a few years and fuck anybody who tells him to shut up about it.
Laszlo shifted off his crouch, pulling his mask down. It plastered to his sweaty skin as he moved into the alley in front of them, moving as fast as he could without compromising silence. Each slam of his boots against pavement sounded unbearably loud, like a shot of gunfire going off by his ear. He stuck close to the wall as he neared the end, not daring to stick his head out too far. The mall's side entrance was only a short burst from the mouth; only a few steps and boom, they'd be in and running. He sneaked a peek out the corner, jumping back into hiding at what he saw. Police cruises, packed by the mall's sides like crocodiles waiting for prey to come drink. About what he expected, but the sight of guns and watchful gazes made his stomach flip.
No going back now. Not that that option ever existed.
''Whoever gets to the drop off last has to buy boba.''
That was all he said before jumping out.
'They're here!'
Laszlo burted for the doors, heart beating in time with the shot of bullets after him. The shiny glass threw open under his weight, making him stumble into the mall. The clean floors squaked under his boots as he pushed past confused shoppers, alarmed shouts and nameless stores passing him by. He almost knocked down a couple as he turned right, sprinting with all the speed his sluggish knees would allow him. Shouts and closely following footsteps told him there were people on his trail - he didn't dare look back to figure out how many. Just running wouldn't be enough to throw them off. He needs a distraction and fast.
His eyes settled on a bridal shop before his brain could really catch up.
The soon-to-be's and their proud families stumbled like bowling pins as he ran, kicking back finely dressed mannequins and displays that probably costed more than what he had in this bag. Frilly dresses and snow white fabric flapped in the air, paired with the nasty sound of heavy plastic hitting bodies. Muffled curses told him he took some down - but not quite enough. Faster than they could aim at his heart, Laszlo slammed on the sprinkler alarm on the wall - before aiming a kick at another long display.
The effect was exactly what he was hoping for.
Water rained from above, sliding down the silicone mask; it dripped on the manicured floors like another layer of sweat, making the display slide like butter across toast. There was not enough time to avoid - not enough time to jump away when the display fell on a few cops, making them curse. Laszlo didn't wait to celebrate in the safety of his own mind, diving behind the register. The ring of a bullet right where he stood a second ago made his lungs freeze, choking on his own breath.
Well, I'll be damned.
Three cops left. All closing in his position. Laszlo peeked past the register, heart beating in his throat. He isn't trapped. Not yet - but the closest escape route would be through the entrance to the right, a straight run into the mall. He'd have to be fast to pull that off, and not the average fast either. Water, to it's credit, makes it harder to aim - but another shot right above his head made him reconsider just how much it would help. Gritting his teeth, Laszlo got ready.
The tension was thick under his skin. Like a dog about to snarl, a storm seconds from striking. The moment of resistance before a bullet is shot from it's chamber. It gathered arund him, holding it's breath - any second now and he'll run. Just a second and then it's just him against his speed. He took a deep breath.
Breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out. Lowered his knee.
And just like that, the tension broke.
Fast as whisplash, Laszlo bolted from behind his cover. Bullets hissed behind him, hitting walls. Go, go, fucking go, his mind screamed at him, sprinting like a fox from hounds. Angry yells and footsteps thundered behind him as he made for another store. Clothes, shoes, anything he could get his hands on flew behind him - all while the cops breathed on his neck like particularily insistent (and maybe a little bit more dangerous) salesmen. He bursted through on the other end, breathing heavily as the water dripped into his eyes. Wiping it off with the back of his arm, he stumbled from the parting, gawking crowd towards the other hallway - towards the exit. His golden ticket.
It was so close.
Except, well. Things are never so easy.
A bullet whizzed right past him, taking a piece of his shirt. Laszlo's heart froze.
There was no way they'd just let him run off. No, he's going to get shot this way - robbing banks has given him a fair amount of athleticism, but you can't outrun a bullet. Laszlo didn't think before reacting.
'All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong.'
Sophocles said that, in Antigone. Laszlo read that quote once, in between coughing his lung out in the school bathroom after taking a hit from a blunt too quick. A fair thought; what truly separates evil from a mistake is the ability to realize your wrong-doing and try to do better. And if that's true, well. He thinks this proves he's not a good man - he knew this is wrong, and yet he did it anyway.
He unholstered his gun with a quick draw and grabbed the nearest person to him, pressing it to their head.
''Don't move, or I'll shoot!''
The cops halted in place.
Panicked screams erupted around him. The young woman he grabbed shook in his grasp, face pale as if barely holding herself from yelling out in fear. Cold sweat poured down her forehead as he put his arm around her throat, gun digging into her temples. Maybe only a couple of years older than him, if that - his stomach twisted unpleasantly in a way he didn't want to analyze right now. It made him cringe to realise how familiar she looked to Debbie; same big eyes, sharp eyebrows. Not tall enough though, or cursed with a near-permanent tiredness. This girl seemed more like young woman out on a shopping trip with her friends than the stressed, overworked person his sister is. It made his throat cold like just noticing a detail that changes everything.
He inched towards the entrance behind him, tugging the woman along by the throat. The cops didn't follow; they stuck in their place like fearful statues, watching every twitch of Laszlo's hand fearfully. The tension was so thick it hummed, electricty on his tongue. Both parties waited for the other to break it, to make a move. Laszlo's lips thinned, pausing by the exit. Just a step and he'd be out. Water soaked through his hoodie and his lungs hurt.
''Sorry about this, man,'' He mumbled to the terrified woman, ''Nice makeup, though. You did it yourself?'' She stumbled when he finally let go, as if her knees finally gave out. The look she gave him was as horrified as if he had just handed her a knife and told her to kill her entire family with it. Probably won't be quite the same after this. Laszlo gave her some awkward finger guns (which made her grow even paler), grabbing the doors - and bursting through them.
He had a fair headstart from the cops, but he dared not celebrate yet. The drop off point was near, yet further than ever. Sirens and the heavoc faded as he ran through the allies, avoiding main roads and people alike. His lungs fought for air, his brain felt overworked like a machine turned on too long. And fuck, he could really use some water and rest right about now. But he still felt like he was being chased, felt too exposed to think about anything else.
The drop-off point was an old building, tucked in between alleys and chic apartments. A club at one point, before it got pushed out by the richer folk swooping in. Got a back entrance that's easy to sneak in to. Easy to sneak some clothes and supplies in. It wasn't hard to gain access to it with money that wasn't theirs - a few quick words and careless shrugs is all they got from the owner. 'Ain't my business,' she said airly, handing them the keys. This city was crawling with crime - one more bank robbery was nothing out of the ordinary.
Stumbling into it, Laszlo slammed the door shut behind him. Leaned against it. Breathed.
His hands shook. His shoulder screamed for release, the handstrap digging in painfully. And with the adrenaline slowly leaving him, he really needed a fucking break - but not with his mind still running, the fact that he's safe not yet settling in it's crevices.
He needs to get changed. Put the money somewhere safe. Wait for Sunny, however along she is. There's plently of other things he ought to be doing that standing there, breathing slowly.
And yet, all he could do was stare at how his hands shook around the bag. Laszlo felt sick.
'We did it,' he thought almost deliriously, still half-disbelieving. 'We fucking did it.'
A part of him was screaming. Screaming for attention, banging on the door. But it was not loud enough to drown out the way the bag fit into his hands perfectly. He was grinning - ready to throw up and jump all at once.
'We fucking DID IT.'
coded by reveriee.
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miyabi
𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
&&Sunny Jeong
I feel numb, burn with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun.
mood: . damn... that's crazy. ahaha.
location: . big bank
outfit: . oogabooga
mentions: . pd, lassie
interactions: . me boi lassie
tags: .
mother of sorrows
mother of sorrows
With the split in at the end of the alleyway and a gaze into the main road before them, Sunny couldn’t help but observe it. Yet again, another flurry of police cars, paired with sirens that, unfortunately, were loud enough to cover the whole block; they made their presence known as Sunny and Laszlo did their best to delve into the shadows -- clear avoidance towards the obvious imagery of illegal deeds. They shouldn’t look suspicious, nor should they draw more attention to themselves than necessary. And most importantly, they needed to haul ass.
Although a bit lost in thought, her attention snapped back to Laszlo, if my calculations are correct…
A snort, quick and short, left her lips -- may it have been the panic or the fact that she could never take things seriously. A habit, if one could call it that. The man wasn’t wrong, it didn’t take much critical thinking to know the amount of police presence swarming the area, but how the fuck were they gonna pull this off? Increased players made it harder, loads more, near comparable to a video game -- except, this was real life, and god dammit, their lives were on the fucking line. Trigger happy cops, mass hysteria, this was a recipe for disaster, but the only thing they could do was push on. They got this far, there was no way Sunny was going to let both of them sink that easily. The words from the scanner did little for comfort, blaring on the words that tingled at her eardrums -- sure, they lost the suspects. But that was, in fact, just for the moment. They wouldn’t be able to evade that easily, only an idiot would think that. She felt the pat on her shoulder, there was a short burst of ease at her side knowing that she -- at least -- wouldn’t be left alone. They were in deep shit, but they were in deep shit together. Bestie vibez only.
Before she knew it, heavy boots crashed against the pavement with quick strides, her ears quickly catching onto the word ‘boba’ which, evidently, was enough for her to start running mad. Of course, with movements like that, there was no way that they wouldn’t get noticed -- the thought completely right as officers yelled aloud for them, an unfortunate flurry of bullets flying their way with a quickness that no human could rival. Luckily enough, though, these assholes were terrible aims.
Splitting off from Lassie, the woman took in the reflections of her persuants behind her, mindful of direction -- actions weren’t shoved to the back of her mind. In fact, with every second consumed by incessant running, Sunny wasn’t being exceptionally calculative. Her small frame wound around corners, with the energy of 20 crackheads, it was no surprise she was easily outrunning them. That was, until she met the sales racks at Macy’s. Soccer moms, grannies, teens straight out of suburbia crowded the racks -- walkways filled to the brim with the bodies of strangers eagerly searching for the next best find in a sea of mediocre, mass produced clothing.
Stay cool, cool, cool. Gotta find another way. Or lose these Paul Blart fucks behind me.
Sunny patted the top of her mask, preparing herself for impact. Was this a stupid idea? Possibly, but even momentarily, it seemed like the most genius thing in the world. If you had a hard head, why not use it to your advantage? After a quick moment, bouncing in place, Sunny charged. Engulfed by retail store perfumes, floral print tops, and khakis, the blue haired woman readily rammed her way through. Literally. Using her body as a battering ram, Sunny shoved her way through. A series of “watch it!”s and “what happened to excuse me?”s filled the air, paired with the sound of police officers and security alike running into the store, following the commotion.
“Oop, yeah, I’m just gonna slip past you real quick. Cute top. Eh. Nevermind,” Sunny couldn’t help in but slip a bit of banter with the strangers, most of them averting their gaze, assuming that she was just another local crackhead.
With their bigger frames, it made it harder for them to navigate through the crowd, it was until an officer pulled out a gun when the crowd began to disperse.
You would’ve thought that some person pushing through a crowd would be enough to move, but it had to get to the degree of a gun to take some sort of effect.
Shit, shit, shit.
Hopping over countless sales counters, Sunny caught a glimpse of the group behind her. Men and women alike running as if their life depended on it -- well, it did. At least, their livelihoods. They were far enough, though. Running past a counter with a sunglass display and quickly running back, the young woman grabbed a pair, pulled them on, and admired them before running off with the pair on. If she was gonna be on the run, at least make it count. And a pair of glasses added to the ensemble -- call it Bank Robber chic. Did the short detour cost her a bit of time? Sure, but she damn well got something out of it. However, the threat of having to pay for boba threw another wave of speed through her veins; quick and light on her feet, the young woman made it out of the Macy’s with only just a bit of time left.
There was no way she was gonna get to the drop off in time for free boba. And dammit that was all she could think about. Forget the cops, both the boba and her wallet were at risk now.
From afar, she could hear the panicked screams of bystanders; this being a heavy indication of Lassie’s location. It made it easier knowing where he was, but god dammit, he must’ve been in some shit if he had to resort to that. Using the gun? On this holy day? Sunny shook her head, joking with her internal thoughts as she caught sight of the group she once thought she’d lost; running full speed at her, guns pointed, little regard towards her surroundings and the children and innocents standing within her vicinity, it was obvious that catching her was the only thing on their minds.
“Stop right there or we’ll shoot!” One of them called out to her, menacingly holding a gun -- at least, they tried to look the part. Their rounded features made it harder for her to take them seriously, which may have prompted the following response that left her bitten lips.
For a moment, she stopped, hands up in the air with the heavy bags weighing her shoulders down; gravity was a crazy thing. She turned on her feet, facing their direction as she tilted her head, staving off a laugh that was too painful to hold in, “no balls, you won’t.” This wasn’t the time to play any games, but she couldn’t help it. They were too serious -- granted, it was a serious occasion, but it wouldn’t have hurt to have some light hearted buffoonery. As if caught off guard by her response, for a split second, the officer put their gun down, scratching at their temple in inquisition.
What the fuck was she on? And why was she feeling ballsier than usual? Was it the adrenaline or the fact that she was, in fact, a bit of an idiot?
She ran. Fast.
Before they knew it, they were left in the dust, disappearing into yet another crowd of people that all, fortunately, were clustered up together so tightly that the group of pigs behind her wouldn’t be able to get through; yet another successful escape from the grasp of the law’s sticky, strong fingers that waited to claw at her existence -- that prison cell was calling out to her and god dammit, she was keen on ignoring it. Not today, not ever -- Sunny had no intention of getting caught, no matter what her actions said during the pursuit that felt like an eternity. She could feel her lungs burn, screaming out for a morsel of rest, heart racing -- it felt like it was going to leap right out of her chest if she didn’t take a break at that very moment.
But the woman had to keep fighting onward to catch a damn break if she needed. The drop off point was close, all she needed was a bit more time.
Dark brown eyes surveyed the area, brain coming up with a flurry of ideas; quickly shoving off each and every one that, although sounding good, were too theatrical. So, like in the movies she watched, Sunny’s eyes landed on a mascot. A giant bear advertising one of the mall’s many toy shops, its owner on break evidently, with the head of it sat on the bench next to them. They looked miserable, thus convincing them to give her the costume shouldn’t have taken much effort, and it didn’t. With the now empty surroundings in the section of the mall, break and all, Sunny pointed her gun to the man that, unfortunately, nearly choked at the sight of it.
“I know. I know, but listen. I need that, you don’t. Swear I'll give it back though,” Sunny furrowed her brows, nearly forgetting the mask concealed her identity as well as her expressions. She must’ve looked like a maniac, which was exactly what she was. The stranger couldn't even get a word in before Sunny began peeling the mascot suit off of him, little struggle in the mix as he complied with every movement -- who would've with a gun pointed right at them, though?
Moments passed, they were quick, but the ongoing pursuit made it feel like she was pulling on the suit for minutes on end. Wordlessly, with the bags on her back, heavily clad in the mascot costume, Sunny walked off. Calmly, even.
And for some reason, nobody seemed to question it.
The exit was just a ways away, not a body in sight -- not even a Lassie -- which would have meant either: he got caught, she's getting free boba, or he was already in and hiding. There was only one way to find out, and that was to make her way through. As calm as she appeared, relaxed shoulders, all of it seemed to be a façade in order to escape the watchful eyes of authority that would've questioned why the hell someone in a bear suit was casually walking around with large bags of money.
A metallic click echoed through the air as she walked through the exit, averting her gaze from the paths that would've been filled to the brim with bystanders and reinforcements alike.
Walking did her a favor, although, she was still shaking; adrenaline, plus... what the fuck was that smell? Whatever it was made her grimace in the suit, its pungent scent was enough to make her gag but she had to hold it in. Now she understood why the guy hated it in there so much. Vomit mixed with the smell of B.O. was never a pretty smell, nor would it ever be. Her small body stuck close to the walls, eyes hypervigilant of her surroundings.
Did she actually make it? Holy. Shit.
She wanted to dance, sing, hop around like a child hocked up on candy and soda; excited, exhilarated, and feral beyond belief-- she couldn't believe it. One of their bigger jobs to date was successful, a monumental occasion for the wall. The bags plopped onto the ground, a muffled and soft thump as Sunny experienced a wave of relief -- her shoulders were sore, but she didn't have to worry about that much, especially not now as she succumbed to the embrace of safety she longed for the moment the job started. Pulling her arm from the sleeve of the costume, Sunny looked at the watch and surprisingly enough, she had more time than she thought.
And not a Laszlo in sight.
The smug look on her face said it all as she took off both the mask and the mascot's head: free boba. One of the many things she looked forward to.
Time, however, still moved slow as a tortoise. It felt like an eternity as she waited to Laszlo at the drop off point, body still engulfed in the oversized mascot costume. A tune filled the air, making up for the boredom she sat in, humming whatever she could to pass time -- waiting was the worst part. Left to her own devices, the thoughts of whether or not Lassie actually did make it out started invading the crevices of her brain as she tried to peel back the negativity. No, he was good. He can make it, she knew he could -- or that may have been the hope she had concealed by a persistent thought of sureness on her part; she didn't like thinking her friend could be hurt. That did nothing for either of them.
Her head propped back up at the sound of the doors opening, heavy footsteps entering. Sunny's body looped around a corner, head peeking outward to take a look at whoever entered the building -- hoping that was a tired Lassie rather than authoritative figures that, somehow, could've followed her there.
A silent sigh of relief. It was Lassie in all his disheveled glory, shaking.
"Oogabooga!" Sunny jumped from behind the wall, the mascot head back on her head. There was no explanation for this action, especially given both of their states; she could hear his breathing, the way his heart beat was strong enough to raise concern, but the look on his face said it all. She didn't have to worry, not anymore. Practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, the woman was obviously excited -- mascot head flopping side to side before rolling off and exposing a sweaty, wide-eyed, blue haired girl. "I think this calls for a celebration," she leaned against a window sill, fingers widening the space between the blinds as she stared through them. Red and blue sirens whirred past and then nothing -- no other sounds. Just street chatter, cars driving past, normal city ambiance finally drowning out the heavy police presence.
With an outreached, opened hand, palm out, Sunny wiggled her brows as she paired it with a wide and toothy grin that went ear to ear. "Free. Boba." Another smug look on her face, and her mom's words almost struck the fear of God in her -- if she kept making these faces, she'd get stuck like that; of course, she knew it wasn't true but dammit she wasn't gonna risk that. The expression dropped, hand opening and closing as if trying to summon a cup of golden brown liquid, sickly sweet. "Pretty sure they're gonna call the search off soon. Smell my fuzzy hand."
Although a bit lost in thought, her attention snapped back to Laszlo, if my calculations are correct…
A snort, quick and short, left her lips -- may it have been the panic or the fact that she could never take things seriously. A habit, if one could call it that. The man wasn’t wrong, it didn’t take much critical thinking to know the amount of police presence swarming the area, but how the fuck were they gonna pull this off? Increased players made it harder, loads more, near comparable to a video game -- except, this was real life, and god dammit, their lives were on the fucking line. Trigger happy cops, mass hysteria, this was a recipe for disaster, but the only thing they could do was push on. They got this far, there was no way Sunny was going to let both of them sink that easily. The words from the scanner did little for comfort, blaring on the words that tingled at her eardrums -- sure, they lost the suspects. But that was, in fact, just for the moment. They wouldn’t be able to evade that easily, only an idiot would think that. She felt the pat on her shoulder, there was a short burst of ease at her side knowing that she -- at least -- wouldn’t be left alone. They were in deep shit, but they were in deep shit together. Bestie vibez only.
Before she knew it, heavy boots crashed against the pavement with quick strides, her ears quickly catching onto the word ‘boba’ which, evidently, was enough for her to start running mad. Of course, with movements like that, there was no way that they wouldn’t get noticed -- the thought completely right as officers yelled aloud for them, an unfortunate flurry of bullets flying their way with a quickness that no human could rival. Luckily enough, though, these assholes were terrible aims.
Splitting off from Lassie, the woman took in the reflections of her persuants behind her, mindful of direction -- actions weren’t shoved to the back of her mind. In fact, with every second consumed by incessant running, Sunny wasn’t being exceptionally calculative. Her small frame wound around corners, with the energy of 20 crackheads, it was no surprise she was easily outrunning them. That was, until she met the sales racks at Macy’s. Soccer moms, grannies, teens straight out of suburbia crowded the racks -- walkways filled to the brim with the bodies of strangers eagerly searching for the next best find in a sea of mediocre, mass produced clothing.
Stay cool, cool, cool. Gotta find another way. Or lose these Paul Blart fucks behind me.
Sunny patted the top of her mask, preparing herself for impact. Was this a stupid idea? Possibly, but even momentarily, it seemed like the most genius thing in the world. If you had a hard head, why not use it to your advantage? After a quick moment, bouncing in place, Sunny charged. Engulfed by retail store perfumes, floral print tops, and khakis, the blue haired woman readily rammed her way through. Literally. Using her body as a battering ram, Sunny shoved her way through. A series of “watch it!”s and “what happened to excuse me?”s filled the air, paired with the sound of police officers and security alike running into the store, following the commotion.
“Oop, yeah, I’m just gonna slip past you real quick. Cute top. Eh. Nevermind,” Sunny couldn’t help in but slip a bit of banter with the strangers, most of them averting their gaze, assuming that she was just another local crackhead.
With their bigger frames, it made it harder for them to navigate through the crowd, it was until an officer pulled out a gun when the crowd began to disperse.
You would’ve thought that some person pushing through a crowd would be enough to move, but it had to get to the degree of a gun to take some sort of effect.
Shit, shit, shit.
Hopping over countless sales counters, Sunny caught a glimpse of the group behind her. Men and women alike running as if their life depended on it -- well, it did. At least, their livelihoods. They were far enough, though. Running past a counter with a sunglass display and quickly running back, the young woman grabbed a pair, pulled them on, and admired them before running off with the pair on. If she was gonna be on the run, at least make it count. And a pair of glasses added to the ensemble -- call it Bank Robber chic. Did the short detour cost her a bit of time? Sure, but she damn well got something out of it. However, the threat of having to pay for boba threw another wave of speed through her veins; quick and light on her feet, the young woman made it out of the Macy’s with only just a bit of time left.
There was no way she was gonna get to the drop off in time for free boba. And dammit that was all she could think about. Forget the cops, both the boba and her wallet were at risk now.
From afar, she could hear the panicked screams of bystanders; this being a heavy indication of Lassie’s location. It made it easier knowing where he was, but god dammit, he must’ve been in some shit if he had to resort to that. Using the gun? On this holy day? Sunny shook her head, joking with her internal thoughts as she caught sight of the group she once thought she’d lost; running full speed at her, guns pointed, little regard towards her surroundings and the children and innocents standing within her vicinity, it was obvious that catching her was the only thing on their minds.
“Stop right there or we’ll shoot!” One of them called out to her, menacingly holding a gun -- at least, they tried to look the part. Their rounded features made it harder for her to take them seriously, which may have prompted the following response that left her bitten lips.
For a moment, she stopped, hands up in the air with the heavy bags weighing her shoulders down; gravity was a crazy thing. She turned on her feet, facing their direction as she tilted her head, staving off a laugh that was too painful to hold in, “no balls, you won’t.” This wasn’t the time to play any games, but she couldn’t help it. They were too serious -- granted, it was a serious occasion, but it wouldn’t have hurt to have some light hearted buffoonery. As if caught off guard by her response, for a split second, the officer put their gun down, scratching at their temple in inquisition.
What the fuck was she on? And why was she feeling ballsier than usual? Was it the adrenaline or the fact that she was, in fact, a bit of an idiot?
She ran. Fast.
Before they knew it, they were left in the dust, disappearing into yet another crowd of people that all, fortunately, were clustered up together so tightly that the group of pigs behind her wouldn’t be able to get through; yet another successful escape from the grasp of the law’s sticky, strong fingers that waited to claw at her existence -- that prison cell was calling out to her and god dammit, she was keen on ignoring it. Not today, not ever -- Sunny had no intention of getting caught, no matter what her actions said during the pursuit that felt like an eternity. She could feel her lungs burn, screaming out for a morsel of rest, heart racing -- it felt like it was going to leap right out of her chest if she didn’t take a break at that very moment.
But the woman had to keep fighting onward to catch a damn break if she needed. The drop off point was close, all she needed was a bit more time.
Dark brown eyes surveyed the area, brain coming up with a flurry of ideas; quickly shoving off each and every one that, although sounding good, were too theatrical. So, like in the movies she watched, Sunny’s eyes landed on a mascot. A giant bear advertising one of the mall’s many toy shops, its owner on break evidently, with the head of it sat on the bench next to them. They looked miserable, thus convincing them to give her the costume shouldn’t have taken much effort, and it didn’t. With the now empty surroundings in the section of the mall, break and all, Sunny pointed her gun to the man that, unfortunately, nearly choked at the sight of it.
“I know. I know, but listen. I need that, you don’t. Swear I'll give it back though,” Sunny furrowed her brows, nearly forgetting the mask concealed her identity as well as her expressions. She must’ve looked like a maniac, which was exactly what she was. The stranger couldn't even get a word in before Sunny began peeling the mascot suit off of him, little struggle in the mix as he complied with every movement -- who would've with a gun pointed right at them, though?
Moments passed, they were quick, but the ongoing pursuit made it feel like she was pulling on the suit for minutes on end. Wordlessly, with the bags on her back, heavily clad in the mascot costume, Sunny walked off. Calmly, even.
And for some reason, nobody seemed to question it.
The exit was just a ways away, not a body in sight -- not even a Lassie -- which would have meant either: he got caught, she's getting free boba, or he was already in and hiding. There was only one way to find out, and that was to make her way through. As calm as she appeared, relaxed shoulders, all of it seemed to be a façade in order to escape the watchful eyes of authority that would've questioned why the hell someone in a bear suit was casually walking around with large bags of money.
A metallic click echoed through the air as she walked through the exit, averting her gaze from the paths that would've been filled to the brim with bystanders and reinforcements alike.
Walking did her a favor, although, she was still shaking; adrenaline, plus... what the fuck was that smell? Whatever it was made her grimace in the suit, its pungent scent was enough to make her gag but she had to hold it in. Now she understood why the guy hated it in there so much. Vomit mixed with the smell of B.O. was never a pretty smell, nor would it ever be. Her small body stuck close to the walls, eyes hypervigilant of her surroundings.
Did she actually make it? Holy. Shit.
She wanted to dance, sing, hop around like a child hocked up on candy and soda; excited, exhilarated, and feral beyond belief-- she couldn't believe it. One of their bigger jobs to date was successful, a monumental occasion for the wall. The bags plopped onto the ground, a muffled and soft thump as Sunny experienced a wave of relief -- her shoulders were sore, but she didn't have to worry about that much, especially not now as she succumbed to the embrace of safety she longed for the moment the job started. Pulling her arm from the sleeve of the costume, Sunny looked at the watch and surprisingly enough, she had more time than she thought.
And not a Laszlo in sight.
The smug look on her face said it all as she took off both the mask and the mascot's head: free boba. One of the many things she looked forward to.
Time, however, still moved slow as a tortoise. It felt like an eternity as she waited to Laszlo at the drop off point, body still engulfed in the oversized mascot costume. A tune filled the air, making up for the boredom she sat in, humming whatever she could to pass time -- waiting was the worst part. Left to her own devices, the thoughts of whether or not Lassie actually did make it out started invading the crevices of her brain as she tried to peel back the negativity. No, he was good. He can make it, she knew he could -- or that may have been the hope she had concealed by a persistent thought of sureness on her part; she didn't like thinking her friend could be hurt. That did nothing for either of them.
Her head propped back up at the sound of the doors opening, heavy footsteps entering. Sunny's body looped around a corner, head peeking outward to take a look at whoever entered the building -- hoping that was a tired Lassie rather than authoritative figures that, somehow, could've followed her there.
A silent sigh of relief. It was Lassie in all his disheveled glory, shaking.
"Oogabooga!" Sunny jumped from behind the wall, the mascot head back on her head. There was no explanation for this action, especially given both of their states; she could hear his breathing, the way his heart beat was strong enough to raise concern, but the look on his face said it all. She didn't have to worry, not anymore. Practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, the woman was obviously excited -- mascot head flopping side to side before rolling off and exposing a sweaty, wide-eyed, blue haired girl. "I think this calls for a celebration," she leaned against a window sill, fingers widening the space between the blinds as she stared through them. Red and blue sirens whirred past and then nothing -- no other sounds. Just street chatter, cars driving past, normal city ambiance finally drowning out the heavy police presence.
With an outreached, opened hand, palm out, Sunny wiggled her brows as she paired it with a wide and toothy grin that went ear to ear. "Free. Boba." Another smug look on her face, and her mom's words almost struck the fear of God in her -- if she kept making these faces, she'd get stuck like that; of course, she knew it wasn't true but dammit she wasn't gonna risk that. The expression dropped, hand opening and closing as if trying to summon a cup of golden brown liquid, sickly sweet. "Pretty sure they're gonna call the search off soon. Smell my fuzzy hand."
code by valen t.
mother of sorrows
𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.
-- And satisfaction feels like a distant memory
laszlo abbi.
In all seriousness, Laszlo should have been paying more attention.
There is a very fine line between not paying attention and tragedy; an intimate common sense when your entire job relies on split-second decisions. A stupid, beginner mistake. He should know better than to let down his guard, even in the safety of his own head. There is no shedding the cool, crystal focus, not until he's back home in his favorite pajamas and bunny slippers, the scream of sirens long gone. He slipped up, caught up in money and song of adrenaline.
In his defense. Giant mascots don't usually jump out from behind walls, yelling 'ooga booga' at you.
For one too-long, terrifying second (remember that. It's a theme of Laszlo's everyday life), there existed a world where it was reasonable to expect bear mascots to be alive and a dangerous threat, making him startle heavily. He grabbed for his gun, fear clinging to the burst of energy - until reality caught up, along with shining blue hair and eyes that spoke of too much smugness than was safe. Sunny. There she stood. Suitably disheveled and wild, as if she had run a mile to get here. Probably not too far off the mark, if the underlying exhaustion was anything to go by. Questions rushed through his mind - where the hell did she get the costume? - but they were overwashed by relief and bubbling energy alike, hands shaking like leaves on water. She bounded from her place of vicious attack to the window, staring outside; Laszlo saw flashes of red and blue, the sounds of the chase dying out. He steadied his weakening legs, the weight of being out of danger hitting him like a wave - it was harder and harder to stand up straight as if his body now realized there was no need to be on alert, and should promptly fall to the ground.
Sunny wiggled her hand in front of him, as if Laszlo had boba in his bag and was unjustly keeping it from her; the mischievous, comfortably familiar expression on her face added to the heavy weight of post-adrenaline rush. He still felt half-dream-like, as if time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Sunny said something - something about the search being called off soon and smelling her, the comment of free boba, the words sticking in his head but not fully settling (except the threat of having to pay for boba. Leave it to him to hear the least important part of what somebody said).
For a moment, everything seemed too still. Even the loud throbbing of blood in his ears quieted to dull background noise. And then he finally fucking got it.
Laszlo was only half-aware of reaching out, squeezing his friend into a tight hug that no doubt stole what little breath she had left; he really needed to shower, everything started to hurt with the loss of adrenaline and he definitively wasn't doing Sunny any favors by crushing her, but God, they did it. They fucking did it. It was like the first time they pulled a job together, escaping the police at the last second; all emotion of a person that's plunged themselves headfirst into danger and danced their way out to tell the tale. ''Holy fucking shit,'' voice as shaky as he felt. ''We're geniuses.'' Take that, Einstein. Bet he's real jealous right now. Laszlo let go a moment after, partly in concern for Sunny's ribs and partly because of a drive to run, yell, do a handstand in the middle of the room. He dropped her back down, grinning so wide it made his face hurt.
He wasn't quite sure what kind of face he was making, but he assumed it was a mix of bright, bubbling relief and something that made him look like the crackheads down his street.
It was only then that he noticed the offered paw, leaning down to smell it - only to step back with an exaggerated look of horror, nose scrunching up. His expectations for mascots were already below the ground, but this dug them better. It smelled like it hasn't been washed since it's been made. ''How'd you even get that?'' It was a smart idea, he wasn't going to lie. Another moment to add to the wall. His hands slung to his sides as he ushered towards the sink tucked in the corner, plastic bins and sealed boxes filled with God knows what. A thick layer of dust collected on it, telling that nobody has used it in a while. Even the mirror was smudged, having long lost its shine - it did him no favors. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, hair sticking to his skin. He never knew a person could be both pale and red from exertion, but he somehow managed it. There was a wild shine in his eyes, one he's grown far too familiar with than a normal person should.
( -- the crash of a body against glass, hands gripping white on the bag, Samuel yelling something in the back, a gunshot ringing out -- )
He looked thoroughly insane. Laszlo turned on the pipe, splashing the thought away with cold water.
Not quite daring to let go off the bag yet, as if dropping it would make it gone, Laszlo dropped on the small couch squeezed inbetween old bar machines. It was tiny and anything but comfortable, but he barely noticed it in the moment. He glanced back up at Sunny, a drop of water sliding down his cheek. Self-assured, despite the utter ridiculousness of the bear outfit. It fit her, in some odd way. ''Free boba. You beat me to it this time.'' He offered a familiar grin, not even having it in him to complain about the injustice he's being subjected to. He searched around his jacket pocket, fishing out a phone - a small, cheap thing, only bought for jobs and not much else. It had a good enough camera though, and that's all that matters. Laszlo switched it on, still holding on to the heavy bag like a lifeline. He'll get to it in a second, promise.
''Another one for the wall. Pose, man.''
There is a very fine line between not paying attention and tragedy; an intimate common sense when your entire job relies on split-second decisions. A stupid, beginner mistake. He should know better than to let down his guard, even in the safety of his own head. There is no shedding the cool, crystal focus, not until he's back home in his favorite pajamas and bunny slippers, the scream of sirens long gone. He slipped up, caught up in money and song of adrenaline.
In his defense. Giant mascots don't usually jump out from behind walls, yelling 'ooga booga' at you.
For one too-long, terrifying second (remember that. It's a theme of Laszlo's everyday life), there existed a world where it was reasonable to expect bear mascots to be alive and a dangerous threat, making him startle heavily. He grabbed for his gun, fear clinging to the burst of energy - until reality caught up, along with shining blue hair and eyes that spoke of too much smugness than was safe. Sunny. There she stood. Suitably disheveled and wild, as if she had run a mile to get here. Probably not too far off the mark, if the underlying exhaustion was anything to go by. Questions rushed through his mind - where the hell did she get the costume? - but they were overwashed by relief and bubbling energy alike, hands shaking like leaves on water. She bounded from her place of vicious attack to the window, staring outside; Laszlo saw flashes of red and blue, the sounds of the chase dying out. He steadied his weakening legs, the weight of being out of danger hitting him like a wave - it was harder and harder to stand up straight as if his body now realized there was no need to be on alert, and should promptly fall to the ground.
Sunny wiggled her hand in front of him, as if Laszlo had boba in his bag and was unjustly keeping it from her; the mischievous, comfortably familiar expression on her face added to the heavy weight of post-adrenaline rush. He still felt half-dream-like, as if time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Sunny said something - something about the search being called off soon and smelling her, the comment of free boba, the words sticking in his head but not fully settling (except the threat of having to pay for boba. Leave it to him to hear the least important part of what somebody said).
For a moment, everything seemed too still. Even the loud throbbing of blood in his ears quieted to dull background noise. And then he finally fucking got it.
Laszlo was only half-aware of reaching out, squeezing his friend into a tight hug that no doubt stole what little breath she had left; he really needed to shower, everything started to hurt with the loss of adrenaline and he definitively wasn't doing Sunny any favors by crushing her, but God, they did it. They fucking did it. It was like the first time they pulled a job together, escaping the police at the last second; all emotion of a person that's plunged themselves headfirst into danger and danced their way out to tell the tale. ''Holy fucking shit,'' voice as shaky as he felt. ''We're geniuses.'' Take that, Einstein. Bet he's real jealous right now. Laszlo let go a moment after, partly in concern for Sunny's ribs and partly because of a drive to run, yell, do a handstand in the middle of the room. He dropped her back down, grinning so wide it made his face hurt.
He wasn't quite sure what kind of face he was making, but he assumed it was a mix of bright, bubbling relief and something that made him look like the crackheads down his street.
It was only then that he noticed the offered paw, leaning down to smell it - only to step back with an exaggerated look of horror, nose scrunching up. His expectations for mascots were already below the ground, but this dug them better. It smelled like it hasn't been washed since it's been made. ''How'd you even get that?'' It was a smart idea, he wasn't going to lie. Another moment to add to the wall. His hands slung to his sides as he ushered towards the sink tucked in the corner, plastic bins and sealed boxes filled with God knows what. A thick layer of dust collected on it, telling that nobody has used it in a while. Even the mirror was smudged, having long lost its shine - it did him no favors. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, hair sticking to his skin. He never knew a person could be both pale and red from exertion, but he somehow managed it. There was a wild shine in his eyes, one he's grown far too familiar with than a normal person should.
( -- the crash of a body against glass, hands gripping white on the bag, Samuel yelling something in the back, a gunshot ringing out -- )
He looked thoroughly insane. Laszlo turned on the pipe, splashing the thought away with cold water.
Not quite daring to let go off the bag yet, as if dropping it would make it gone, Laszlo dropped on the small couch squeezed inbetween old bar machines. It was tiny and anything but comfortable, but he barely noticed it in the moment. He glanced back up at Sunny, a drop of water sliding down his cheek. Self-assured, despite the utter ridiculousness of the bear outfit. It fit her, in some odd way. ''Free boba. You beat me to it this time.'' He offered a familiar grin, not even having it in him to complain about the injustice he's being subjected to. He searched around his jacket pocket, fishing out a phone - a small, cheap thing, only bought for jobs and not much else. It had a good enough camera though, and that's all that matters. Laszlo switched it on, still holding on to the heavy bag like a lifeline. He'll get to it in a second, promise.
''Another one for the wall. Pose, man.''
coded by reveriee.
mother of sorrows
𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑚.
how he's feeling...
please kill me.
where he's at...
a state of disbelief.
in the conversation...
open.
leksei
the member
Don't laugh. Don't laugh, but.
Leksei thinks he's doing okay.
No, really. Things have been going pretty well this past year, all hiccups considered - there was the occasional fire now and then, or a monthly hitman gone off the rails trying to kill everybody, but that's all part of the job. From a bird's persective, an outsider looking in, that absolutely doesn't sound 'okay', but here on the ground? Where you might get shot or executed or thrown into prison to hide sins not even your own? It was calm. Were Leksei braver than he is, he'd might even say that everything was going good (the pure scandal of using that word, the horror). But being the man that he is and being reasonably terrified of jinxing himself in this line of work, Leksei will only dare use 'okay' and nothing more, lest he draw the scorn of the irony-loving deities that rule over daily life. Doing okay is blood in the water filled with sharp-toothed sharks, hungry to taste shock and lines of 'told you so.'
So, no. Things were not good, but they were more okay than they have been in a long time and Leksei could breathe after what felt like a harrowing few months.
Sure, all the late-night coffee shops are on first name basis with him and he hasn't had any proper sleep in a proper bed for... well, he's not even sure how long - but money is pouring in like rain during monsoon season and despite the shootouts breaking out on the frontier borders between them and the other power-hungry crime, nothing got drawn out in the destructive gang wars they've dealt with in the past.
It wasn't easy, picking up the pieces. Putting tape on the corners of his life, cringing at the damage you didn't even know until you looked close. Not unlike inheriting an old house from your parents only to realise they were terrible and unresponsible housekeepers.
But Leksei never liked walking over shards, and so he didn't leave any other option than to sweep them up and deal with it.
Except. Except.
Life thought he was too optimistic, anyhow.
Things stopped being okay at exactly 3:50 AM, Tuesday, somewhere in a devouring city of America, when the phone rang.
Phones do that, of course. They ring. It's kind of what they're meant to do, really, even if they ring at the worst of times; especially so when you're suffering from an insomnia related headache. Not that he stops having those, ever. Days when his head wasn't breaking into itself are now only a dream Leksei fondly remembers with finality of a dying old man looking out to the fading sunset. The Saints demand a lot, and then some, but haven't the emperors of old done the same? Surely Nero's servants had to work through bone and blood, though with vastly less money than drugs give you. It's worth it, for a piece of the pie; and he's no luck-born man in times before saviors were even thoughts. He's a modern one, though he kills all the same and has a human greed like any else.
It was this greed that made him pick up the phone, fingers digging deep into his throbbing temples.
"Uh." A familiar voice - Ricardo. He sounded nervous as ever. In the background, Leksei heard a commotion. "Leksei? Something just happened, okay. We need you down at -"
Voice devoured by shouts in the back. Ricardo was stuttering, as if the anxiety vomited out by itself. Leksei had to strain to hear a single word.
Arguing on the other line. A shout of 'I don't know!' before Ricardo's fast blabbering returned.
"Listen, just - it's better if you come here. Uh." Another distracted conversation out of Leksei's earshot, making him frown
He could practically see the other man's hesitation, even without seeing him; it waited on the other line like a hangman's noose.
"We've just been robbed."
---
The marble floor shone in the gleam of moonlight, stray rays of neon catching onto the reflective surface. Like a great big lake, the floor stood beneath their feet; a black body of water holding its breath, throwing back the loud echoes of their feet.
Outside, a pack of police cars. Blue-red climbed up the ceiling-high windows like pillars of light.
Paper, everywhere. File cabinets, laying like corpses on their sides. Boxes - thrown, broken, scattered. Leksei walks through the hall like a ghost going through its own crime scene, telling the nearest ruffled worker to 'get Ricardo, quickly'. He lined a finger across the jagged end of a broken withdrawal window; it was dripping with blood, startlingly red.
His gloves came back sticky with it.
Ricardo came in a flurry of loud workers, their voices mixing in with footsteps and sirens; he's a man only a little bit shorter than Leksei, in his mid-thirties and stuffy in a bank manager uniform. The gel in his pre-failing hairline shined, worried face dusted by days-old facial hair. He looks as tired as anybody in this fucking place, all washed-up bureaucracy, and cheap instant coffee, but somehow Leksei couldn't summon the least bit of sympathy. Hard to for a man that gets paid for the hour and still can't do his one job.
''Hey.'' Leksei threw up his arm at the absolute - mess doesn't even begin to describe it, no, not the stray pieces of cash sticking to blood on floors. Somebody tried to quiet down a police officer outside. ''Care to explain this bullshit?''
A flicker of worry, doubt, hesitation shone off Ricardo's big, round, stupid face, the physical show of the thought 'I wonder if I should say this.' And then he says;
''I wonder if I should say this.''
Leksei puts down a paper labeled IMP RT T, kindly deciding to not smack Ricardo in the face with it. He thinks of what his yoga instructor told him to do every time he feels like enacting violence; deep breath in, deep breath out. It helped only marginally. He must have had a look on, because the other man paled with the speed at which he talked.
''These two guys, uh, came in and. And. We lost a lot of money. We're still looking through the footage and talking to police and -''
''Ric. Ric, Ric.'' Leksei puts two hands up, snapping the man's voice closed. ''How much money?''
Ricardo's hands writhed like two cloths caught up in a stormy sea, turning and turning into themselves. ''I think we should go to the back.''
The back, of course, turned out to be a plastic table squeezed uselessly between overarching file cabinets and a coffee machine that looks so depressed that Leksei would take it for a Walmart cashier; you'd think with all the money that pours into this place they could afford something more comfortable, but that's probably reserved for the equally fancy bosses. And not, you know, the people actually making sure this place isn't falling apart. Cough. Cough. They could at least offer him a goddamn cushion to sit on, and not ancient office chairs that dug into his back like the teeth of a very angry retired woman. The poor interns idling around left without a word the second they saw Ricardo, flying off to prettier break rooms.
''Look, man,'' Leksei draws a tired hand over an even worse off face, the chair taking a chomp out of his neck. It came down to rest on the table then, elbows digging in. ''Just cut the crap. Tell me a number.''
There it was, that look again; Ricardo sat opposite of him like a whore asked to say grace in church, looking there now here and trying to pull an answer out of his ass. He looked as if he might lie, but whatever was in the stare Leksei pinned him with made him reconsider. Still his hands spun like an endless cycle on the washing machine. ''Between four and five million.''
Leksei blinks. ''Funny. So, what's the real damage?''
The other man's lip twist, shaking his head. ''I - that's. How much we lost.''
They're both quiet, then. Silence cleared it's throat, twiddled it's thumbs. Leksei notes, thankfully, that the shock didn't settle in yet; it is with great calmness that he says.
''How the fuck do you lose between four and - five million.''
His head burns with the weight of it all, even as Ricardo rambles on security measures and glass and systems going awry; ears fought against pressure of a great wave crashing down on him. We had the cameras, but. Four million. No, five million, maybe. And then it rang, but. Numbers crawled in front of his eyes, dancing their little dance. They got chased, but. 5,000,000. Jesus, Leksei's entire life isn't worth that much. Five million, six zeroes. People have bleed for less.
We had the guards, but.
When Leksei's voice jumps in, it's the sound of a bullet casing clicking into a gun.
''But what?'''
Ricardo goes very, very still. Leksei thinks, almost hysterically, about killing him - but if Leksei's isnt worth five million, six zeroes, then Ricardo's is not even fifty cents. The pale-faced man's words stutter over their own legs at their speed to run out;
''But. But you guys called them back.''
Leksei stares again. He's been doing that a lot lately. ''Ric,'' He starts, slowly as if approaching a scared animal. ''We didn't call anybody back.''
Realisation walks in through the door, uninvited and cold and sitting right by next them like it had any place to be here. Ricardo gapes, blabbers that they heard a call, he heard it, some person Ace and the guys knew and that you two needed them back and. And, and, and. Leksei taps a single finger with every stumble.
''I didn't call anybody. Matteo didn't call.'' His voice drifted, walked up and down the room, eyes going distant to avoid realisation's gaze. ''None of the kids called.'' It didn't work, no; it's ugly little face placed itself right in front of his, grinning and leering. Leksei stood up (more like scrambled), hand sliding into the depths of his pocket.
''Excuse me. Got a call to make. A real one, this time.''
---
The alley turns and twists with every breath he takes in tatters, shit and piss and vomit all background noise to the steadily rising urge to scream. He doesn't of course, because for all of the panic digging fingers into his throat, Leksei is still a dad - and so he only vaguely sends a trash can flying. It rattled as if shocked at his unnecessary display of violence, laying down quite sadly. Leksei spared it no sympathy as he dragged out his phone, sirens still wailing in the street like a fucking army approaching. Which it might as well be; no way the cops are gonna let an armed robbery in the middle of Rich Town, Elite City go. So much for how fancy it is. Paint chipped at secret places and it's alleys still smelled like something dead and dying.
Leksei does laugh at that, a touch nervous. The other line rings, rings -
goes to voicemail.
''Oh, fuck you. I know you're awake, you bastard.'' Or, maybe he isn't. Far it be for Leksei to know every single of Matteo's moves; hell, they don't even work in the same branch. Leksei is literally the guy keeping their financial crimes under wraps and Matteo is, well. Not his friend. A colleague, though they've only talked a few times and even then strictly for business. Which is fine, because they both liked business and they both liked money and that's why the boss made them work together to protect the places around town. Which, they've been doing pretty well, until -
Voicemail again.
''I hope your wake up and your dog ate all of your fucking socks, you fucker.''
The phone sinks into his jacket again, a rock sinking down a body; he takes a cigarette, a lighter, and his hand shakes only the tiniest bit as he lights it. A door opens behind him and he turns to hear a quiet approach. A girl, no more than twenty-one, casting red eyes to the ground in her cheap intern uniform and bitten nails.
''Uh, sir - I'm. I think, I, uh. Know who did it.''
Leksei lowers the smoking hand. Outside, the city continues to lose it's mind - but for a pocket of a second, it listens.
---
Two names. Two names worth between four and five million US dollars.
Sunny Jeong and Laszlo Abbi. 4 words, 24 characters, so much debt that it would send a family on the street. No, not send - kick, hand over, wave out. There's people who would be willing to kill for a bottle, much less millions; and even if it's not a blow that would send their organisation howling, cluthing a bleeding wound, it's still a small scar in their paw that bites with every step. They aren't a billion-worth company that can wave off any check like it's your round-cheeked, angel eyed little cousin asking for a dollar to get a lemonade. They make money through actual blood, not through uncountable branches and ads. A million goes missing and the boss will notice, not because she's hard for cash but because she keeps track of money like an obsessive mother-in-law breathing over the new bride's shoulder, checking how much she buys for Thanksgiving dinner.
The boss just happened to be a relative that can't fit in her old wedding dress anymore - and Leksei and Matteo ripped it before she could insist and try again. Except, instead of a very dramatic domestic affair, their boss happens to behead people when she's feeling put out.
Maybe he's exaggerating. She wouldn't behead them over something they can fix, but she's still their boss and she made her message clear;
Find the robbers.
No 'or else' needed.
The cheap computer screen's light licked at the inside of his skull, eyes heavy with strain they'd been carrying for hours on end now. Dawn banged on the windows outside, but still the darkness stood in every corner of his kitchen like a guest waiting for the host to dismiss them. The city line lived on in the distance, his apartment only one of a thousand eyes watching Eden die and be born again in the morning light. At least five people have died tonight; not all of them on their side. Leksei's phone would buzz with a new death now and then, the sound gentle in the early silence. Coffee went cold by his laptop and he's going to need to eat eventually, but that is still an hour away. Milo slept away on the couch, an army of plushies standing guard. The sound of clicking and soft breathing were his only company.
'I couldn't sleep,' Milo had said, trodding up with feet bare against shining floors. Leksei let him stay.
Two faces watch his catalogue-standard kitchen, eye the chandelier hanging above his head like an executioner's sword. A college drop-out, a man that looked like an art student losing faith in humanity. A girl that never even got to uni, her stare from snapshots lined with exhaustion. Bank robbers, and good ones - he's surprised he hasn't come across them before. News reports filled his browser and his phone clicked with information; family, history. Current address. They've been ransacking Eden like the burning of Constantinople, numbers going up to the thousands in damages and the police being helpless to stop them.
On one side, a photo of masked robbers, bags heavy with cash. On the other side, two people whose faces were worth more than Leksei's life.
Behind him, Milo stirred.
''Dad?'' His voice was tiny with sleep. A pale face stared over the couch.
Leksei closed the laptop with something that felt like a final sentence - a file sent to Matteo and the phone was off. ''Yeah. I'll be right there.''
He closed his eyes. His brain hummed and his neck ached.
Outside, dawn crashed in and Leksei wished for death - or sleep. Whichever came first.
---
Sun burned the pavement with a vengeance they haven't seen in weeks, eating away the soles of sandals and sending everybody who could afford a shadow into the cool dark. Cars panted in the blistering highway, birds hid from the sun's ever-reaching sight and even the elite didn't step a foot away from the nearest pool if they could help it. Dogs laid lazily behind chain-link fences, too hot to even bother a bark as Leksei passed by. Eden wasn't always devoured by heat; but when it is, it makes sure even mob bosses and criminals take a day off. Only the ones that can't afford to miss work braved their way outside, the skyscrapers twisting like snakes.
Leksei would be one of those people; you'd think the life of a career criminal would give you some glamor, but all Leksei got for it was a neck dripping with sweat and sunglasses sitting before an unimpressed glare.
He regretted now, that his own car sat parked just down the road - even this little walk was enough to have him burning up. But he couldn't afford to have people remember his details, not really, and - for all of it's dust and screaming temperatures and stench of oil, it was nice to be out and about sometimes. Even if the circumstances were less than ideal; anxiety gnawed at his bones every breath he took, but that was nothing new. He knew what he had to do.
Five million, six zeroes.
Under the bare-bone stairs a woman yells. Leksei ignores her. Under his feet, broken glass splits like a bullet through a skull.
Paint slides away at his fingers, smell of alcohol and cigarettes and pure giving up lapping at his heels. There was something - unclean about this place. Gritty. Like a sad drunk that's lost hope years ago and now still stands on the same corner as always. A losing point of a building. Leksei didn't expect better, but he didn't expect worse either. Eden was filled with little holes such as these, apartment complexes the city forgets about and leaves to rot.
Leksei puts his hand to a door. Pauses.
Numbers flash in front of his vision and he knocks.
The sound of feet, mumbling voices, life rustling behind cheap wood and plastic. A moment passes and it flies open, the sun's eye beating away at the figure that stood in the doorway. A girl, younger than the one he's looking for - he recognises her. The sister.
Leksei's smile burns light white in the near-shadow of a too bright day. His eyes do not.
''You must be Olivia? Hi.'' A hand rests on the doorway, keeping it open. ''Is Sunny home?''
Leksei thinks he's doing okay.
No, really. Things have been going pretty well this past year, all hiccups considered - there was the occasional fire now and then, or a monthly hitman gone off the rails trying to kill everybody, but that's all part of the job. From a bird's persective, an outsider looking in, that absolutely doesn't sound 'okay', but here on the ground? Where you might get shot or executed or thrown into prison to hide sins not even your own? It was calm. Were Leksei braver than he is, he'd might even say that everything was going good (the pure scandal of using that word, the horror). But being the man that he is and being reasonably terrified of jinxing himself in this line of work, Leksei will only dare use 'okay' and nothing more, lest he draw the scorn of the irony-loving deities that rule over daily life. Doing okay is blood in the water filled with sharp-toothed sharks, hungry to taste shock and lines of 'told you so.'
So, no. Things were not good, but they were more okay than they have been in a long time and Leksei could breathe after what felt like a harrowing few months.
Sure, all the late-night coffee shops are on first name basis with him and he hasn't had any proper sleep in a proper bed for... well, he's not even sure how long - but money is pouring in like rain during monsoon season and despite the shootouts breaking out on the frontier borders between them and the other power-hungry crime, nothing got drawn out in the destructive gang wars they've dealt with in the past.
It wasn't easy, picking up the pieces. Putting tape on the corners of his life, cringing at the damage you didn't even know until you looked close. Not unlike inheriting an old house from your parents only to realise they were terrible and unresponsible housekeepers.
But Leksei never liked walking over shards, and so he didn't leave any other option than to sweep them up and deal with it.
Except. Except.
Life thought he was too optimistic, anyhow.
Things stopped being okay at exactly 3:50 AM, Tuesday, somewhere in a devouring city of America, when the phone rang.
Phones do that, of course. They ring. It's kind of what they're meant to do, really, even if they ring at the worst of times; especially so when you're suffering from an insomnia related headache. Not that he stops having those, ever. Days when his head wasn't breaking into itself are now only a dream Leksei fondly remembers with finality of a dying old man looking out to the fading sunset. The Saints demand a lot, and then some, but haven't the emperors of old done the same? Surely Nero's servants had to work through bone and blood, though with vastly less money than drugs give you. It's worth it, for a piece of the pie; and he's no luck-born man in times before saviors were even thoughts. He's a modern one, though he kills all the same and has a human greed like any else.
It was this greed that made him pick up the phone, fingers digging deep into his throbbing temples.
"Connor here."
Leksei drawled, counting each beat in his skull. One, two - one, two. Behind his eyelids, light sparkled bright. It's been hours since he has left his desk, the computer monitor like the light at the end of a tunnel and his coffee cold like death."Uh." A familiar voice - Ricardo. He sounded nervous as ever. In the background, Leksei heard a commotion. "Leksei? Something just happened, okay. We need you down at -"
Voice devoured by shouts in the back. Ricardo was stuttering, as if the anxiety vomited out by itself. Leksei had to strain to hear a single word.
"Hey."
He interjected, making Ricardo's mumbling fall short. A stray thought made him pick up a pen, ready to write on one of the notepads that kept him company. "Calm down for a minute. What happened?"
Arguing on the other line. A shout of 'I don't know!' before Ricardo's fast blabbering returned.
"Listen, just - it's better if you come here. Uh." Another distracted conversation out of Leksei's earshot, making him frown
He could practically see the other man's hesitation, even without seeing him; it waited on the other line like a hangman's noose.
"We've just been robbed."
---
The marble floor shone in the gleam of moonlight, stray rays of neon catching onto the reflective surface. Like a great big lake, the floor stood beneath their feet; a black body of water holding its breath, throwing back the loud echoes of their feet.
Outside, a pack of police cars. Blue-red climbed up the ceiling-high windows like pillars of light.
Paper, everywhere. File cabinets, laying like corpses on their sides. Boxes - thrown, broken, scattered. Leksei walks through the hall like a ghost going through its own crime scene, telling the nearest ruffled worker to 'get Ricardo, quickly'. He lined a finger across the jagged end of a broken withdrawal window; it was dripping with blood, startlingly red.
His gloves came back sticky with it.
Ricardo came in a flurry of loud workers, their voices mixing in with footsteps and sirens; he's a man only a little bit shorter than Leksei, in his mid-thirties and stuffy in a bank manager uniform. The gel in his pre-failing hairline shined, worried face dusted by days-old facial hair. He looks as tired as anybody in this fucking place, all washed-up bureaucracy, and cheap instant coffee, but somehow Leksei couldn't summon the least bit of sympathy. Hard to for a man that gets paid for the hour and still can't do his one job.
''Hey.'' Leksei threw up his arm at the absolute - mess doesn't even begin to describe it, no, not the stray pieces of cash sticking to blood on floors. Somebody tried to quiet down a police officer outside. ''Care to explain this bullshit?''
A flicker of worry, doubt, hesitation shone off Ricardo's big, round, stupid face, the physical show of the thought 'I wonder if I should say this.' And then he says;
''I wonder if I should say this.''
Leksei puts down a paper labeled IMP RT T, kindly deciding to not smack Ricardo in the face with it. He thinks of what his yoga instructor told him to do every time he feels like enacting violence; deep breath in, deep breath out. It helped only marginally. He must have had a look on, because the other man paled with the speed at which he talked.
''These two guys, uh, came in and. And. We lost a lot of money. We're still looking through the footage and talking to police and -''
''Ric. Ric, Ric.'' Leksei puts two hands up, snapping the man's voice closed. ''How much money?''
Ricardo's hands writhed like two cloths caught up in a stormy sea, turning and turning into themselves. ''I think we should go to the back.''
The back, of course, turned out to be a plastic table squeezed uselessly between overarching file cabinets and a coffee machine that looks so depressed that Leksei would take it for a Walmart cashier; you'd think with all the money that pours into this place they could afford something more comfortable, but that's probably reserved for the equally fancy bosses. And not, you know, the people actually making sure this place isn't falling apart. Cough. Cough. They could at least offer him a goddamn cushion to sit on, and not ancient office chairs that dug into his back like the teeth of a very angry retired woman. The poor interns idling around left without a word the second they saw Ricardo, flying off to prettier break rooms.
''Look, man,'' Leksei draws a tired hand over an even worse off face, the chair taking a chomp out of his neck. It came down to rest on the table then, elbows digging in. ''Just cut the crap. Tell me a number.''
There it was, that look again; Ricardo sat opposite of him like a whore asked to say grace in church, looking there now here and trying to pull an answer out of his ass. He looked as if he might lie, but whatever was in the stare Leksei pinned him with made him reconsider. Still his hands spun like an endless cycle on the washing machine. ''Between four and five million.''
Leksei blinks. ''Funny. So, what's the real damage?''
The other man's lip twist, shaking his head. ''I - that's. How much we lost.''
They're both quiet, then. Silence cleared it's throat, twiddled it's thumbs. Leksei notes, thankfully, that the shock didn't settle in yet; it is with great calmness that he says.
''How the fuck do you lose between four and - five million.''
His head burns with the weight of it all, even as Ricardo rambles on security measures and glass and systems going awry; ears fought against pressure of a great wave crashing down on him. We had the cameras, but. Four million. No, five million, maybe. And then it rang, but. Numbers crawled in front of his eyes, dancing their little dance. They got chased, but. 5,000,000. Jesus, Leksei's entire life isn't worth that much. Five million, six zeroes. People have bleed for less.
We had the guards, but.
When Leksei's voice jumps in, it's the sound of a bullet casing clicking into a gun.
''But what?'''
Ricardo goes very, very still. Leksei thinks, almost hysterically, about killing him - but if Leksei's isnt worth five million, six zeroes, then Ricardo's is not even fifty cents. The pale-faced man's words stutter over their own legs at their speed to run out;
''But. But you guys called them back.''
Leksei stares again. He's been doing that a lot lately. ''Ric,'' He starts, slowly as if approaching a scared animal. ''We didn't call anybody back.''
Realisation walks in through the door, uninvited and cold and sitting right by next them like it had any place to be here. Ricardo gapes, blabbers that they heard a call, he heard it, some person Ace and the guys knew and that you two needed them back and. And, and, and. Leksei taps a single finger with every stumble.
''I didn't call anybody. Matteo didn't call.'' His voice drifted, walked up and down the room, eyes going distant to avoid realisation's gaze. ''None of the kids called.'' It didn't work, no; it's ugly little face placed itself right in front of his, grinning and leering. Leksei stood up (more like scrambled), hand sliding into the depths of his pocket.
''Excuse me. Got a call to make. A real one, this time.''
---
The alley turns and twists with every breath he takes in tatters, shit and piss and vomit all background noise to the steadily rising urge to scream. He doesn't of course, because for all of the panic digging fingers into his throat, Leksei is still a dad - and so he only vaguely sends a trash can flying. It rattled as if shocked at his unnecessary display of violence, laying down quite sadly. Leksei spared it no sympathy as he dragged out his phone, sirens still wailing in the street like a fucking army approaching. Which it might as well be; no way the cops are gonna let an armed robbery in the middle of Rich Town, Elite City go. So much for how fancy it is. Paint chipped at secret places and it's alleys still smelled like something dead and dying.
Leksei does laugh at that, a touch nervous. The other line rings, rings -
goes to voicemail.
''Oh, fuck you. I know you're awake, you bastard.'' Or, maybe he isn't. Far it be for Leksei to know every single of Matteo's moves; hell, they don't even work in the same branch. Leksei is literally the guy keeping their financial crimes under wraps and Matteo is, well. Not his friend. A colleague, though they've only talked a few times and even then strictly for business. Which is fine, because they both liked business and they both liked money and that's why the boss made them work together to protect the places around town. Which, they've been doing pretty well, until -
Voicemail again.
''I hope your wake up and your dog ate all of your fucking socks, you fucker.''
The phone sinks into his jacket again, a rock sinking down a body; he takes a cigarette, a lighter, and his hand shakes only the tiniest bit as he lights it. A door opens behind him and he turns to hear a quiet approach. A girl, no more than twenty-one, casting red eyes to the ground in her cheap intern uniform and bitten nails.
''Uh, sir - I'm. I think, I, uh. Know who did it.''
Leksei lowers the smoking hand. Outside, the city continues to lose it's mind - but for a pocket of a second, it listens.
---
Two names. Two names worth between four and five million US dollars.
Sunny Jeong and Laszlo Abbi. 4 words, 24 characters, so much debt that it would send a family on the street. No, not send - kick, hand over, wave out. There's people who would be willing to kill for a bottle, much less millions; and even if it's not a blow that would send their organisation howling, cluthing a bleeding wound, it's still a small scar in their paw that bites with every step. They aren't a billion-worth company that can wave off any check like it's your round-cheeked, angel eyed little cousin asking for a dollar to get a lemonade. They make money through actual blood, not through uncountable branches and ads. A million goes missing and the boss will notice, not because she's hard for cash but because she keeps track of money like an obsessive mother-in-law breathing over the new bride's shoulder, checking how much she buys for Thanksgiving dinner.
The boss just happened to be a relative that can't fit in her old wedding dress anymore - and Leksei and Matteo ripped it before she could insist and try again. Except, instead of a very dramatic domestic affair, their boss happens to behead people when she's feeling put out.
Maybe he's exaggerating. She wouldn't behead them over something they can fix, but she's still their boss and she made her message clear;
Find the robbers.
No 'or else' needed.
The cheap computer screen's light licked at the inside of his skull, eyes heavy with strain they'd been carrying for hours on end now. Dawn banged on the windows outside, but still the darkness stood in every corner of his kitchen like a guest waiting for the host to dismiss them. The city line lived on in the distance, his apartment only one of a thousand eyes watching Eden die and be born again in the morning light. At least five people have died tonight; not all of them on their side. Leksei's phone would buzz with a new death now and then, the sound gentle in the early silence. Coffee went cold by his laptop and he's going to need to eat eventually, but that is still an hour away. Milo slept away on the couch, an army of plushies standing guard. The sound of clicking and soft breathing were his only company.
'I couldn't sleep,' Milo had said, trodding up with feet bare against shining floors. Leksei let him stay.
Two faces watch his catalogue-standard kitchen, eye the chandelier hanging above his head like an executioner's sword. A college drop-out, a man that looked like an art student losing faith in humanity. A girl that never even got to uni, her stare from snapshots lined with exhaustion. Bank robbers, and good ones - he's surprised he hasn't come across them before. News reports filled his browser and his phone clicked with information; family, history. Current address. They've been ransacking Eden like the burning of Constantinople, numbers going up to the thousands in damages and the police being helpless to stop them.
On one side, a photo of masked robbers, bags heavy with cash. On the other side, two people whose faces were worth more than Leksei's life.
Behind him, Milo stirred.
''Dad?'' His voice was tiny with sleep. A pale face stared over the couch.
Leksei closed the laptop with something that felt like a final sentence - a file sent to Matteo and the phone was off. ''Yeah. I'll be right there.''
He closed his eyes. His brain hummed and his neck ached.
Outside, dawn crashed in and Leksei wished for death - or sleep. Whichever came first.
---
Sun burned the pavement with a vengeance they haven't seen in weeks, eating away the soles of sandals and sending everybody who could afford a shadow into the cool dark. Cars panted in the blistering highway, birds hid from the sun's ever-reaching sight and even the elite didn't step a foot away from the nearest pool if they could help it. Dogs laid lazily behind chain-link fences, too hot to even bother a bark as Leksei passed by. Eden wasn't always devoured by heat; but when it is, it makes sure even mob bosses and criminals take a day off. Only the ones that can't afford to miss work braved their way outside, the skyscrapers twisting like snakes.
Leksei would be one of those people; you'd think the life of a career criminal would give you some glamor, but all Leksei got for it was a neck dripping with sweat and sunglasses sitting before an unimpressed glare.
He regretted now, that his own car sat parked just down the road - even this little walk was enough to have him burning up. But he couldn't afford to have people remember his details, not really, and - for all of it's dust and screaming temperatures and stench of oil, it was nice to be out and about sometimes. Even if the circumstances were less than ideal; anxiety gnawed at his bones every breath he took, but that was nothing new. He knew what he had to do.
Five million, six zeroes.
Under the bare-bone stairs a woman yells. Leksei ignores her. Under his feet, broken glass splits like a bullet through a skull.
Paint slides away at his fingers, smell of alcohol and cigarettes and pure giving up lapping at his heels. There was something - unclean about this place. Gritty. Like a sad drunk that's lost hope years ago and now still stands on the same corner as always. A losing point of a building. Leksei didn't expect better, but he didn't expect worse either. Eden was filled with little holes such as these, apartment complexes the city forgets about and leaves to rot.
Leksei puts his hand to a door. Pauses.
Numbers flash in front of his vision and he knocks.
The sound of feet, mumbling voices, life rustling behind cheap wood and plastic. A moment passes and it flies open, the sun's eye beating away at the figure that stood in the doorway. A girl, younger than the one he's looking for - he recognises her. The sister.
Leksei's smile burns light white in the near-shadow of a too bright day. His eyes do not.
''You must be Olivia? Hi.'' A hand rests on the doorway, keeping it open. ''Is Sunny home?''
♡coded by uxie♡
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