Posted by Skrape on July 26, 2007 at 16:54:39:
What's up everyone, this is the first story I've posted on here. I'd really like some feedback to see what you guys all think. Too violent? Not enough? Thanks a lot!
- The Botched Bank Robbery -
Disclaimer: The following work is purely fiction and based on fantasies, the author absolutely does not condone the following situations, blah blah blah etc.
Two men stood in line at the Constitution Bank in a city in Texas on a Tuesday afternoon. They both wore dark suits and carried large briefcases, and waited as the line slowly approached the desks at one end of the bank.
The bank was not especially crowded, populated by a reasonable assortment of people going about their daily business, as well as the bank tellers and three guards. If the two men in suits stood out because of their formal attire, it was certainly nothing to be concerned about.
The two men reached the front of the line and the next available teller called them up. They walked up to the desk together, faces expressionless.
The female teller behind the desk flashed them a professional smile. “Hi there, welcome to casual Tuesday at Constitution Bank. I’m Ashley, how can I be of service?” She was a cute girl, blonde and young, probably a recent high school graduate. It clearly was “casual Tuesday”—instead of the standard drab uniform, the girl was clad in a tight feminine gray hoodie over a white tanktop that exposed the upper curve of her perky cleavage.
The first man placed his briefcase on the counter. “We’d like to make a withdrawal,” he said dryly. “The information is in the briefcase.”
“Okay, sure, go ahead and open it,” the teller chirped perkily.
The man flicked open the latches, as his compatriot set his briefcase on the counter as well and did the same. Then, on accord, they both flung open their cases.
A submachine gun was in each case. The men pulled the guns out. One of them leveled the gun out at the crowd in the bank. The other man pointed it straight at the teller, whose mascaraed eyes flew open wide with fear.
“Alright, nobody move, this is a robbery!” shouted the man who was pointing his weapon at the crowd, which was suddenly swept by a wave of panic. People screamed, dove behind furniture.
The other man spoke to the teller. “I need you to give me the codes,” he said calmly. The teller nodded mutely, licking her lips, plainly terrified.
The two men moved behind the desk, keeping their weapons trained on the crowd and on the other tellers, who were cowering at their desks.
“Keep working,” one of the men told their teller. The pretty girl nodded soberly, navigating through the computerized database of codes and trying to keep her cool. The girl knew if she kept calm, she might get out of this all right….
But one of the bank’s door guards was not able to keep her cool.
She was a short brunette, in her thirties, and had a vaguely trailer-trashy appearance that was furthered by her white blouse, which was very low-cut and exposed much of her clearly enhanced breasts. She looked like she might once have been quite attractive, but had lost most of her looks at an early age.
Irrationally, the woman guard pulled out her pistol and aimed it at the robbers across the bank. “Get the hell outta here, ya damn crooks!” she shouted.
Then she began blasting away.
The two robbers ducked back, returning fire. “Shit!” one of them shouted. “She’s shooting! Kill the bitch!”
They fell back, letting loose their automatic weapons in the direction of the guard. Phhrrrrr!
Naturally, the cute teller was caught right in the line of fire. The slender blonde girl screamed as she was raked by the robbers’ bullets from behind. To make matters worse, the woman guard was firing wildly as well; two of her bullets actually plugged the pretty teller in her right breast, sending sprays of the girl’s blood across the desk. The poor girl twitched violently from the gunfire and then crumpled into a bloody heap on the floor.
“Kill her!” the robber repeated. His companion responded by loosing a volley of bullets at the wildly firing guard that finally struck home. The brunette caught the bullets right in her fake tits; the enhanced mammaries reeled wildly and sprayed geysers of hot blood all over their owner’s face. At last, the foolish guard collapsed ungracefully onto the floor tiles.
But when the firing had begun, the other two door guards had quickly joined in out of obligation. Now the two guards, both men, were moving in across the bank, taking opposite sides in an effort to outflank the robbers. They were ducking behind couches and tables, popping up and exchanging wild bursts of gunfire with the robbers as they advanced.
The robbers were becoming cornered, falling back to the second row of desks where the remaining tellers had tried to congregate for safety. The robbers were spraying bullets through the building as fast as their automatic weapons could pump them.
At this moment, one of the bank’s patrons stood up and tried to make a desperate dash to the doors for safety. It was a luckless blonde girl, quite young and slender, wearing hip-hugging green lowrise sweatpants and a maroon tanktop. The unfortunate girl dashed desperately, her perky boobs bouncing as she ran, but she never stood a chance of making it through the torrents of bullets that came from all directions. The slender girl convulsed wildly as her toned body was raked by hot lead from both sides and gore sprayed from her slender midriff as her mad dash was cut short, her shredded body sent sprawling to the tiles in a bloody heap.
The robbers were returning fire for all they were worth. They paused to reload, then opened up fire again, spraying the building’s interior. They weren’t even sure where they were shooting.
One of the robbers ducked behind a desk—and found himself face to face with a dimpled teller crouched on the ground. The girl was a dirty blonde, fair complexioned-—and the bitch was on the phone, talking to the police in a hushed voice!
The teller’s voice failed her when she was confronted by the robber. She knew she was caught in the act. Her pretty hazel puppy-dog eyes went wide with terror and she raised one hand in supplication, her fine knockers dangling down and spilling nearly out of her white tied-off blouse.
“Please!” the poor girl gasped.
The robber snarled with rage. For some reason, the teller’s good looks only enraged him further. He sprayed the pretty girl point-blank with his submachine gun. The helpless girl was shredded by the bullets, her fine lush bosoms joggling wildly and frothing with gore, her well-formed face obliterated and her brains blown all across the side of her desk.
But this would be the robber’s last kill. Several moments before the last teller had been killed, in fact, the guards had outflanked the robbers; they had just been waiting to reload and confirm each others’ positions. Now, they rolled out of their hiding places and rushed in for the kill.
The robbers stood no chance. Cornered, the guard’s trained pistols took them out with just a few shots.
Silence swept across the ravaged bank.
The story of the failed bank robbery was all over the news that evening. The guards were awarded medals of bravery and commended for not allowing the robbers to escape. Of course, in addition to the robbers, there had been casualties—-one guard and three female bystanders—-but considering the circumstances, this collateral damage was quite acceptable.