Chapter X
PRELUDE
Commerzbank's grandiose double-entry doors open to an atmosphere exuding refined elegance and seamless efficiency. The interior space seamlessly melds classic design elements with modern conveniences, resulting in an environment that effortlessly emanates both tradition and innovation, capturing the essence of an era on the precipice of change.
The expansive lobby stretches out in grander, its lofty ceilings emphasizing a sense of prestige that hangs heavy in the air. Soft, warm lighting envelops the area, casting a gentle glow that creates a comforting ambiance, its soothing embrace contrasting against the gleaming marble floors and meticulously patterned rugs that lay beneath.
A Mason-crafted marble teller counter spans the distance from one wall to the opposing side. Safeguarded by ballistic glass that stretches from the counter's surface to the ceiling, it stands as a fortress, providing a secure haven for impeccably dressed professionals who toil diligently behind its formidable barrier. A backdrop of ornate wood paneling adorned with engraved insignias serves as a testament to the bank's illustrious history, a tangible reminder of its prestigious past.
Friendly and knowledgeable personnel stand poised, ready to assist those in need. Jory Wagner’s warm smile and attentive demeanor inspire trust, infusing a sense of security in every customer who crosses his path, as he stands ready to attend to the next customer in line. His Eastern European heritage is unmistakable in his features, exuding an air of mystery to his captivating countenance. His ambiguous face is framed by tousled dirty blond locks, intertwined with streaks of gray, bestowing upon him an alluring charm.
Jory defies the ordinary with his fashion choices, a flamboyant display of audacious corporate style that sets him apart from the mundane crowd of his conventional colleagues. While his fellow bank tellers meekly comply with the dress code, Jory stands out as a vibrant burst of individuality in this monotonous sea, while attentively tending to Martha's needs. "Will that be all today?" Jory asks, his voice polite and composed.
Martha is lost in Jory’s eyes. His allure stretches far beyond his physical appearance. Behind the safety glass, among his fellow tellers, he emanates an undeniable sense of distinction that demands attention and sparks curiosity.
Martha snaps out of her daze and smiles warmly at him. "You’re always so sweet. Plus, an English-speaking teller. That alone, makes me want to open an account here." Jory replies, "Thank you," his tone humble, "I do try my best to make your experience here a good one. Ich wünsche ihnen einen wunderbaren tag."
Martha offers a sheepish smile before turning to walk away. As Jory looks to the next customer, his attention is suddenly captivated by a figure emerging from the crowd. Clad in sleek, all-black military attire, Tommy Sizer demands notice, emanating a potent and ominous air. Tommy's charismatic façade bears an unsettling charm, a manipulative quality. His musclebound physique is a testament to years spent molding his body into instruments of measured annihilation. An unmistakable aura of malevolence envelops him, as though he were birthed in the fiery crucible of nightmarish realms.
Tommy's eyes, intense and penetrating, lay bare the profound depths of his sinister essence as he scans the lobby. They possess a chilling dominion, capable of ensnaring souls within their icy grasp — a haunting testament to the abyssal darkness that dwells within him.
Jory struggles to fathom the enigma that stands before him when a new presence materializes through the entryway. Robby Dee enters the stage, his mere arrival a narrative unto itself. His visage alone narrates the tale of a man steeped in the world of crime, a myth whose expertise in deceit and stealth reigns unrivaled. Dressed in sleek obsidian attire, he carries an undeniable sense of meticulous peril that demands careful recognition. His lithe and nimble form glides with a silence so deft, a testament to his ability to traverse treacherous landscapes without a whisper. He is a predator, seamlessly assimilating into the nocturne, honed to consummate perfection for the art of thievery. Under the shadowy brim of his hat, Robby conceals eyes that harbor a multitude of untold secrets, scanning the lobby with an intense and cunning flicker. They offer but a fleeting glance into the mind of a tactical virtuoso forever poised a step ahead. His charm, tinged with a perilous edge, exudes a presence so strong that other customers show unease as he joins them at the central deposit slip island, where he begins to fill out a withdrawal request.
The last man to enter is only known only as Tre. He is the embodiment of a master thief, clad in a meticulously tailored black trench coat and an all-black ensemble. There is an undeniable sense of danger surrounding Tre, hinting at his ruthless nature. It emanates from the way he carries himself, exuding concealed power and hidden intentions. Each movement he makes is deliberate and precise, as he sets down a briefcase, then retrieves a security brace, made of sturdy stainless steel, with a weathered texture that speaks of the many doors it's guaranteed, its formidable appearance conveying strength and reliability. At one end, a leather-wrapped handle provides a comfortable grip, worn smooth from countless uses. The other end boasted a powerful wedge, tapered and honed to perfection, ready to anchor itself firmly into the floor.
Quickly positioning himself at the front door, Tre promptly places the wedge against the floor, ensuring a solid fit. With a determined push, he extends the brace until it reaches the perfect angle, bracing it against the bottom edge of the doors. The mechanism engages with a satisfying click, securing the brace in place like a standing guard.
Tre looks over to Tommy, his eyes, sharp and perceptive, reveal the depths of his knowledge and experience as he nods. Standing with confidence, he makes his way over to Tommy, and together, they exude a subtle swagger and a perpetual awareness of their surroundings as they approach the island. Tre motives remain known until he reveals a Heckler & Koch MP5, hidden beneath his trench coat as he yells, “Geh runter, sonst ermorde ich dich, wo du stehst!“ Tommy barks, “Get down on the ground and put your hands where I can see them!”, as he brandishes a .45 APC MAC-10 with an extended clip, while Robby swiftly draws out a Heckler & Koch P7, “Get the fuck down, now!” Their movements are calculated and efficient as they take measures to secure the area.
With deft precision, Robby and Tommy skillfully incapacitate the security guards, ensuring no disruptions, while the bank transforms into a tumultuous symphony of wails and screams. Tre declares with an authoritative tone, "Wir sind wegen ihres Geldes hier, nicht wegen deines, also spielt niemand Helden!" his words, dripping with a venomous allure, dance upon the edge of deception, inviting both fascination and fear. In a display of boldness, Tommy leaps up onto the island. "Everyone to the ground, or you’ll be buried six feet underneath it," he demands, his voice carrying a chilling edge that compels the frightened crowd to cower and comply, seeking refuge on the floor. Tre’s voice laced with a sense of urgency, “Ich brauche den Manager. Wer zum Teufel ist der Manager?” Time hangs suspended for a brief moment, as the weight of the impending choice bears down upon the panic-stricken crowd. Tre’s voice fills with menace, "Der Manager steht oder jemand stirbt... in fünf, vier, drei, zwei, -".
As if from a bygone era of men, Rodger Parent, the aging bank manager, rises, standing as a relic amidst the chaos. His silver hair forms a wispy crown atop his head, a stark contrast to the deep lines etched upon his worn face. Behind the lenses of his spectacles, his eyes gleam with a piercing wisdom that defies his years. His robust figure adorned in a meticulously tailored suit, his mere presence commands reverence, a clear testament to the extensive time he has dedicated to his profession. Though outwardly stern, a glimmer of warmth dances in his eyes, offering a glimpse into the wellspring of compassion that resides within him.
Robby suddenly seizes Rodger, propelling him towards the secure door that leads back to the teller area. In a swift, forceful motion, Robby uses Rodger's head to knock on the door. "Knock, knock!" Robby taunts, his voice carrying a mix of menace and dark humor. Rodger fumbles for his keys, his aging hands trembling in fear and the instinct for self-preservation. The metallic jingle of keys fills the tense air as he unlocks the door. Fueled by a resolute purpose, Tre pushes through the now-open security door. In a tempest of aggression and intent, Robby follows closely behind.
Within the teller area, Tre strides purposefully, fueled by a singular mission to acquire the bank's wealth at any cost. His eyes, filled with a cold resolve, scan the room, searching for any resistance as he waves the MP5, forcing the tellers to cower in fear. All eyes are drawn to him, except for Jory, who stands at his drawer, assessing the unfolding situation with a discerning gaze, as Robbie screams, "Schublade... jitzt, jetzt geöffnet!" Even though he speaks worse than a first grader, his words are amplified by the presence of the gun he brandishes.
The tellers fight to maintain composure as they rapidly open a cash drawer. In an act of brute force, Robby shoves the teller aside, disregarding any semblance of gentleness. He whips out a cloth sack as his hand slams into their drawer, a thunderous echo of aggression, as he promptly grabs handfuls of cash. Drawer after drawer, Robby screams, "Schublade jetzt geöffnet!" before every teller opens their cash drawer and empties the contents into his sack. The stolen money accumulates rapidly, a testament to his efficiency and determination. As Robby moves from register to register his journey eventually leads him to Jory's station.
The air crackles with tension, a palpable energy that envelops Jory and Robby as they stand locked in a precarious standoff. Their eyes meet, each refusing to yield an inch in this battle of wills. Robbie’s voice slices through the charged atmosphere, carrying a dangerous edge, "Schublade jetzt geöffnet!" Yet, Jory remains steadfast, unyielding to fear or intimidation. Tre promptly moves to Robby's side, his voice slicing through the tension with impatience, "Als ich den Ort untersuchte, sprach dieses Arschloch Englisch. Is zheir money vorth your life?"