The Bank Job

The Bank Job

A Story by Christopher Mullen

Written as an exploration of a character's backstory from a longer story I am working on.


“Boss has this covered for now, get these people out of here before Praetorian destroys the place.” Damian said to the three crouched behind the counter with him, his voice calm yet urgent. No one moved, no one spoke; frozen somewhere between awe and fear as the gravity of the situation began to settle upon them. “Move now while there’s still time, or everyone here is dead. Now, ok!?”

“Are you f*****g kidding me? You know what he can do, we’re already dead!” replied one of his associates, his voice was low, cracked. The despair in his words was so heavy it could be felt. He was fairly short but still managed to appear lanky, his dark hair currently hung loose over his face, hiding a telltale expression of hopelessness. He was still fairly new and Damian now found himself regretting not having found the time to learn the kids name. Not so much out of sympathy but he figured it would have helped him connect and motivate the kid to keeps his eyes up and survive the day.

Grabbing the kid by the arm, Damian began making his way along the length of the counter towards the pair of closed doors, staying low and out of sight. “Look kid, I get it, he’s a big scary a*****e. None of us expected this to happen, but right now we gotta get these hostages out the back before anyone gets--” Suddenly a desk exploded over the counter, shattering the protective glass that usually separated the bank’s tellers from their customers. All at once the group became showered in broken glass, dust, and debris as the desk cleared the counter, impacted the wall, and landed on the floor about halfway between them and the doors. As the dust settled it revealed the makeshift projectile was in fact only half of an office desk, looking as though it had been physically torn in two.

Another thunderous crash sounded somewhere across the room followed by shouting Damian couldn't quite make out over the ringing in his ears. As the shouting stopped he could hear the distinct sound of his boss’s reply. Cypher spoke in a low deliberate manner, the words being heard only by the man they were intended for. Whatever his boss had just said clearly struck one of the Praetorians short, tightly wound chords. His booming voice responding only with angry threats as more furniture could be heard being rearranged. With a renewed sense of urgency Damian made his way around the shattered desk and to the doors, opening them just enough for the group to make their way in one at a time. 

“Ok folks it’s time to get the hell out of here, I’m going to need each of you to head out that back door and out the fire exit.” Damian’s words came out measured and level, something he hadn’t expected considering he knew how close they all were to getting crushed by rubble. The sounds of a fight going on in the next room continued to grow louder, and he knew they were running out of time; his boss was good but he was no match for the Praetorian. The twenty or so people cowering in the far corner made no move towards the door though. He saw in many of their faces the same look he had just seen on those of his associates. Fear, uncertainty, shock. That uncertainty was broken as the doors splintered and flew open, Cypher landed on the floor just inside the room, having been used as projectile. As he pulled himself back to his feet he grunted to his team to “Get out, now!.” 

As his team made their way out the back, Damian cast a glance around the room and warned its occupants that this was their last chance, if they didn’t flee now they would die; and with that he headed for the door himself. He took one last glance behind him as the door swung shut and caught the sight of a large imposing man enter the room. Dressed head to toe in silvered roman armor, a tall black mohawk atop his helmet, and a short, broad sword in hand; he took up the entire door frame. As the door clicked shut behind him Damian took off, not looking back. Not stopping til he was well out of danger, til he was back at the safehouse. Three of the others were there already, taking off gear and cleaning dust from their hair. Before he had a chance to clear his head, the new kid was upon in looking at him with desperate hope, “So what happened? Did everyone make it out?”

“What do you think f*****g happened?” Damian voiced with hints of both pity and remorse breaking into his voice. Without another word he kicked off his boots and collapsed onto a nearby couch, muttering more to himself than the other “God damn it, I hate superheros.”

© 2017 Christopher Mullen

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Added on June 27, 2017
Last Updated on October 27, 2017


Christopher Mullen
Christopher Mullen


Full time college student with a degree in Marine Science and pursuing a degree in Marine Biology. Full time nerd who loves all things fantasy, scifi, and horror. Part time writer exploring a passion .. more..