Chapter Text
Fuck the system. It had done nothing to help her, even after she was discovered. There's just nothing we can do to help you with your particular problem- what a bullshit excuse, she could tell, sense the emotions that they hid behind the masks of professionalism and sympathy. Lies . It may not be an emotion, exactly, but that didn't matter.
Where does one go from here, carrying a life-long trauma, only to learn that the system meant to help cares not for those truly in need? If they didn't want to help her get on her feet and figure life out, then she would simply have to do it herself. To know what to do with her future, she would have to go back and discover her roots; apparently, getting started wouldn't be so hard.
“Deposit box J-17… Ah, I see you have everything that you need. Alright, Miss Riverspring, if you have a seat in the lobby, we'll call your name once we've retrieved the contents.” Sympathy. How ironic, that random people who might've heard of her show more empathy than those who claimed to want to help her. Still, she had been taught well in her hellish prison, and simply offered the clerk helping her a polite smile, before taking an empty seat.
What did her so-called ‘parents’ consider such a great importance, that they had to hide it away in a big bank of all places? Something about the name written in that old letter she found resonated with something deep within her mind, like a forgotten dream disappearing down a stream. Hopefully, whatever they had hidden away would shed some light through the fog of mystery, fill in the gaps in her memory, and give her an idea of where to search next.
Anticipation . But from whom? Casting a glance around under the guise of trying to make time pass faster, nothing seems out of the ordinary at first. Well-dressed people, regular everyday joes, some people clearly in a time crunch… Where did that come from? Excitement . What's to be excited about in a bank? Unless…
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!”
Panic . It filled the building in an instant as the first shots rang out, and she instinctively dove down onto the floor, hands flat against the surface. The security guards didn't stand a chance, her ears picking up the sounds of their bodies hitting the floor, somehow audible over the cries of voices.
This was just what she needed, she mentally mused for herself. She had finally decided to take the big step towards uncovering the truth about herself, and now she's stuck in a fucking robbery. As long as she plays it smart, perhaps she will at least get out of this mess with her life intact. Though, how long would she then have to wait before she can find out what's in that deposit box?
Strong hands grab her wrists and roughly maneuver them behind her back, before the feeling of what must be a cable tie close tight, effectively restraining her. She despised the sensation, but she held her tongue as whoever tied her up left her there, presumably to do the same to some other civilian. Turning her head to the side, she notices that four men are pulling the robbery, all donning masks in a somewhat similar theme. Odd, but it does cover up their faces, so does it matter how they look?
As they move into the nearby room, the one that leads to the vault, some movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention. It's the clerk, slowly crawling toward her, constantly casting peeks toward where the robbers went. Nervous, yet determined . She had to admit, the clerk was quite brave to move, considering that there was no guarantee that it would be safe.
“Don’t worry, Miss, help is on the way. Here, let me get you free…” A pocket knife? Likely for safety reasons, and certainly enough to get through the cable tie restraining her, but it's confusing. Why risk freeing her? Yeah, her story isn't exactly a secret, but it's not a well-known one either. Rage-
An emotion that could burn so fiercely that she could feel the heat of it, combined with the sight of the poor clerk's head nearly splitting in two. Seems like they had both been spotted, and the clerk had to pay the bill for it. Red and white, regular colors, and now they were right in her face while two black holes stared into her eyes. He sure was loud, though she couldn't quite focus on his words, not when he forcefully pulled her up onto her feet, and she found herself dragged along, right into what would become a warzone.
Maybe ‘dragged’ was the wrong term, more like she was pulled along, and she merely followed to the best of her ability. Surveying the area she noticed that the cameras were destroyed, likely to minimize evidence, and there were more dead security guards. Poor bastards really couldn't stand up to these prepared criminals, though she couldn't find it in her to feel sympathy for them.
“Sit down, and don't you fucking move, you hear me!?” Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she merely nodded instead and returned to the floor, gaze flitting between the four men. The loud one was wild and vicious, though he certainly knew how to use those explosives of his to devastating effects. The cops pouring in didn't know what hit them, and those who survived were picked off by the shotgun.
There was the flag one, unloading bullets into every single law enforcer that happened to cross his sight, though he also seemed to carry one or two extra bags of ammo. Makes sense, she supposed, gotta make sure that they don't run out and wind up getting shot down if they don't end up taken into custody, that is. Though from what she's seen so far, they don't seem to be the kind to accept custody.
The one with the doctor bag was intriguing, the way he held himself and moved about reminded her of the former vets she'd seen in the past, so a military background made sense. Did he too fall between the cracks of a non-functioning system? She wasn't sure, though something in her gut insisted that it was highly unlikely. He sure knew how to keep himself from getting unnecessarily hurt, so she figured that he'd be one of the least likely to get seriously injured.
And then there was the ponytail one. He stuck to the back, not firing as willy-nilly as his comrades, but he sure wasn't idle. Sharpshooter without a doubt, and the best spotter, considering how he consistently calls out when a special unit makes their presence known.
The sound of their drill coming to a halt snaps her out of her observations, and good thing too, as she notices a red dot moving swiftly over the floor and walls. Only a split second to decide on a course of action, and regardless of which one she picks, it will surely be life-changing. Well, to quote herself from earlier…
“Motherfu-!” The sound of a sniper rifle can be surprisingly loud, all things considered, though hearing the bullet impact against the marble wall was of far more importance, in her opinion. She couldn't say that she was surprised when the barrel of a gun blocked most of her view, but upon hearing words being exchanged between them, she began to listen.
“-down the shotgun, Wolf! She just saved you a load of pain from that sniper!”
Interesting name. It's likely a mask, much like the ones obscuring their faces. They must be experienced.
“Hoxton, Wolf, the drill’s done, let's get moving!”
They're likely after the money in the vault itself, and not the deposit boxes. Maybe she could have a chance at getting what she's looking for, after all.
“Chains, bring her along, she might be useful.”
Seems like luck just might be on her side after all, though it certainly seems to favor the chaotic approach. How long it'll hold, well, she'd just have to see.
“On it, Dallas!”
Pulled onto her feet again, though a tad more gentle compared to loudmouth, or Wolf as he appears to be called, she doesn't resist as she's led along deeper into the bank, towards their goal, and her own. More cops, through the elevator shafts, and if she thought that they'd show some hesitancy to shoot considering she's technically a hostage, she was proven wrong when a bullet whistled past inches from her head. They're ready to do anything to stop these heisters, aren't they?
She soon found herself shoved into the large security room above the vault, while the robbers lit some form of canisters in the other room, and the blaze looked like it was incredibly warm. What the fuck did they put in those? Whatever it is, it clearly must be strong enough if they're attempting to burn through the floor just to access the closed vault.
“They're retreating! Get your things together, it won't be long before they return!”
That was Dallas, apparently, and peeking out through the large windows she notes that the cops appear to be pulling back, probably to reform and change strategy now that they're so close to the vault. Ammo was handed out, serious injuries were hastily tended to; this was likely gonna be their only downtime on this heist of theirs before bullets would start flying again.
Explosives were set up, she didn't bother to check where it was for the cops to find out. Turning her attention to the various screens, she notes that most of them are black, most likely due to them shooting every single camera they could spot, aside from one. Located inside the vault itself, it slowly turned side to side, and even with the grainy quality, she spotted something. What were they called again?
“Is that a Bulldozer?”
She could feel the gaze of the four falling onto her, before one, Hoxton, steps closer to have a look. “Close to the top left corner, when it turns back around.” If the way his body language changed is any indication, he likely saw what she did.
“That sure is. Doubt it's the only one, for that matter.”
Not exactly good news, she could guess that much, but when they suddenly became alert again, she knew that time was up. At least she was somewhat protected by the wall she pressed her back to, laying down on the floor to make herself a smaller target, not keen on the idea of getting killed by a stray bullet or seven. The room is much too small for the heisters to huddle in together with her, though the ammo bag nearby did make a compelling point for them to return eventually, as no gun is impervious to running out of ammunition.
No sooner did she notice that Wolf came rushing in to grab more ammo for his shotgun than the window to the room suddenly shattered, a figure flying through, and she would've jumped from surprise if she could. Fear . She could understand that emotion, considering he did not only get a boot to the head but a severe beating as well. Sure, he's certainly a violent criminal who's not very caring for civilian life, if the clerk is any indication, but this?
He must be unconscious, or at least very dazed, not even putting up a fight as he's cuffed, likely to be hauled off into custody soon enough. Whoever this enforcer is, they clearly enjoy police brutality to a T. It was a small relief to feel the cable tie get removed from her wrists, but something in her mind comes into focus. She could leave now, and likely get brought to safety, assuming stray bullets don't get her first. She could always get the contents of that damn deposit box at a later time, once things have calmed down, and begin her journey.
But she's already helped them twice now if spotting a Dozer in the vault could even count as helping, and they are currently her key to actually getting started on things as soon as possible. I've already started down this path, might as well keep going she mused to herself. The enforcer seems to be preoccupied with their continued beating of the already cuffed heister, so surely they won't notice… Her actions were more instinctive, driven by impulse, but she somehow managed to get the shotgun loaded and with a sense of almost giddiness-
The kickback somehow felt expected, as if she knew how it would feel, and compensated for it. Strange, considering she's never fired a gun before, at least not to her knowledge. But the enforcer was dead, and at least the cuff keys were still attached to their belt, that would make freeing Wolf far more easy. Judging by the slow reactions, however, that kick must've messed him up. Not surprisingly, that mask probably doesn't offer much physical protection.
“Hey- hey! Ge hit för fan!”
Staring into the dark hollows of his mask, she was confused. What language was that? When he held out his hands, however, she could make a good guess, though she felt a twinge of reluctance as she gave back his shotgun. Something about holding it made her feel a little more complete as if it was a missing puzzle piece of the cluster fuck that is her life, and it was as strange as it was alluring. Almost as if he could sense it, though that was highly unlikely, he held out a smaller firearm to her.
“If you're gonna help us any further, you can start by killing more cops.”
By all accounts, she should refuse. But she already has blood on her hands, from actions she chose for herself. So she accepted the gun, and after checking how much she had got to work with, it was as if a switch had flipped. She might not possess a mask, but that did nothing to deter her from her actions; aim and shoot. Should she give it any thought, she might’ve discovered how strange it is, that handling a firearm like this comes so naturally to her, despite her lack of memories when it comes to most of her past. Yet another reason to work with these heisters, then maybe she can figure these things out.
A tug at her sleeve jostles her from the strange combat haze that had overtaken her, yet no words needed to be exchanged, and she followed as they leaped down the freshly burnt hole leading down into the vault. Good thing they already knew about one Dozer waiting in the vault, so the other two didn’t come as much of a surprise as they could’ve been, though that didn’t mean that it was any easier to deal with them. However, it seemed that they hadn’t expected that the four robbers would have one civilian fighting by their side. A small advantage that they used without hesitation, and it allowed her to loot a better weapon from their bodies, along with some ammo. It might not carry her far, but she wasn’t alone.
“Bag the money quickly, the cops will be through any moment!”
That might’ve been their goal, but she had something else in mind. Quickly scanning the rows of deposit boxes, she finds the one the clerk mentioned, though she quickly realizes that she has a problem. How in the fuck is she going to get it open? She possessed no tools to pick it open, and there was no way that she’d be able to get the keys. Aside from not knowing which key would go to this specific box, the only way out was through the vault doors, and she knew that there would be way too many cops for her to get through just to get to the contents she was after.
“Step aside, sunshine, I’ll get it.”
Well, if he was offering, she’d be an idiot to decline. Letting Hoxton do his thing, she figures that she might as well help out in bagging what remains of the money, though she briefly wonders where she’ll go once all of this is over. The robbers most certainly have a safehouse of sorts or something along those lines, so chances are that they’d be headed there. But would they bring her along? She doubted it, but then again, maybe she’ll get another curveball thrown her way. They sure seem to have done that a lot today, though she wasn’t going to hold all her hope on that.
The wiring of large gears alerted her to the fact that the vault doors were beginning to open, meaning that they were running short on time. The money was bagged, and she somehow found herself with one of the said bags on her back, and if she were to judge by the now empty deposit box, Hoxton was done. She would have to wait before asking about the contents, they’d have to make their escape first. It felt as if a spring was wound up tightly within her, and as the doors opened, it snapped. Bolting along with her unlikely allies, she had to be tactical with her position as she didn’t have a ballistic vest to protect her, but that didn’t stop her from firing at any law enforcer that came into her field of view.
“Upstairs!”
Why? Her question was answered when she spotted the explosives getting taped to the wall, likely leading into a neighboring building. Well, the regular entrance was out of the question, it was simply too open, and they would likely get gunned down within moments. Armor can only protect them from so much, after all, and she had none to speak of. The blast may be deafening, but she still manages to follow the instructions they call out as they navigate the new building, making their way down toward the basement.
She barely breezed past a set of doors before one of them got blown off its hinges, and turning on her heels she spots the Dozer now blocking the path for the others. In a corridor as tight as this one, they wouldn’t have an easy time getting through, and more cops were gaining up on them from behind. An idea strikes her, and bolting on ahead, she sees not only the large garbage truck that looks out of place considering the situation, but also spots a jerry can partially hidden away behind some trash. Judging by the sloshing sounds and smell, there was gasoline left in it, perhaps enough to go through with her rather hasty plan.
Unwieldy, but that doesn’t matter as she returns to see the Dozer turning to face her, no doubt he had heard the scrape of the can against the wall, though her calling out “Hey fuckface!” likely did the trick as well. The visor was missing a chunk, a perfect opening. His spluttering as a good amount of gasoline was chucked into his face, probably got quite a bit in his mouth, was replaced by high-pitched screaming as her lighter flickered to life, and the man inside the suit promptly became engulfed in flames. That armor sure doesn’t do much protection when you’re burning inside of it.
With the way somewhat cleared, aside from the flailing of the Dozer vainly attempting to douse himself, the heisters could push their way past and leave the cops to deal with their burning comrade, while they made their way into the parking lot. Turns out the truck was indeed their getaway ride, and in a way it kinda made sense. There was no time to stand around, and she had to admit to herself that it was a bit of a surprise to get pulled up into the truck, but then again, she was likely not gonna be able to get away on her own. She’s a wanted woman now, and with no mask to cover her identity, it wasn’t going to be too hard for the cops to apprehend her if she were to show herself in public.
Yet she couldn’t find even a hint of regret within her mind. Oh sure, it was a shame about the poor clerk, but their blood wasn’t on her hands. As for the cops, however… They likely had friends and families waiting for them, and she had expected to feel something about it all. Nothing. No regret, no shame, but neither any sense of joy or content. As if this was just a normal occurrence for her. It should be concerning, but her thoughts quickly circle back to the deposit box.
“I don’t know why you were after this, but here. Maybe it has some use.”
Looking at the aged folder in Hoxton’s hand, she wasn’t sure what she had expected to find, but this at least was better than dust and fuck-all. Taking it, she doesn’t hesitate to start to flip through its contents, her focus sharp to absorb every bit of knowledge that, for some reason, warranted the protection of a deposit box in a bank vault. So absorbed, that she failed to notice the others taking the time to tend to their various injuries, only jostled out of her intense study by the sensation of a wet cloth swiping across her lower arms, along with the side of her face.
“Quite the war paint you managed to get on you, Miss.”
Quirking a brow at Chains’ comment, she was very much aware that she hadn’t exactly gotten out of the heist as squeaky clean as she had been this morning, though it was a little amusing to hear the blood referred to as ‘war paint’. In a way he was right, and she was simply lucky that none of it had been her own. Then Dallas spoke up.
“What’s your name?”
“Raven.”
Perhaps giving four criminals her real name like that isn’t very smart, but at this point, she had run out of fucks to give. The day wasn’t even over, and she’s already gone from a random person struggling to piece together the fractured remains of her life, to an associate of crime and a murderer. Giving out her name is the least questionable thing she’s done so far, though she finds herself briefly wondering where her life will go from here. There’s no way she can return to what used to be, that bridge has been burnt to the ground, and the future seems even more unclear now. Even with the new information from this folder, it was going to be hard to find more.
“You’re aware that we can’t let you walk away after this.”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement, and she would’ve found it funny if it wasn’t for the veiled undertone in Dallas’ words. Uncertainty . If it was his, or from one of the others, she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was very much present. Staring at his mask, Raven merely nodded. While she had no physical mask of her own, she knew how to school her expressions, though where the knowledge came from she couldn’t recall. Whether or not they’d appreciate her lack of obvious reactions, it seemed to not bother them at all.
“Way I see it, you got two choices. And I think you’re smart enough to know not only what those are, but also that you’ll pick the right one.”
Mulling over the words, she knew what he was getting at. They weren’t gonna let her walk away, though she suspected that it had less to do with them seeing her as a threat, and more as a potential asset. Even criminals had those, and only stupid ones would throw them away. So should she continue by herself, and most certainly wind up in prison? Or does she continue down this path that she’s trodden upon, and see where it takes her? There was only one answer, in all honesty. In the end, she gives a decisive nod, her mind made up. Perhaps they could even see it, with the way they were all focused on her.
“Then welcome to the crew. What should we call you on the field?”
Right, it would be highly unwise to use real names in future heists, even though it was already tarnished by now. But even a false name needs to have some meaning, and she would have to pick something that would be easy to call out, not to mention that she can’t have any regrets once it’s done. Fortunately for Raven, she already had one in mind, a fraction of a memory come to light, but in a way, it amused her. It would fit, no doubt.
“Tansy.”