[ WP ] A bank robber finds a girl he took hostage cute and shyly asks her out on a date .

I counted seven. Five in the lobby sucking at the tile, while two tellers trembled behind the counter. A frat boy was hesitant to comply, arms strained ready to spring. My foot planted pretty boy firmly to the ground, mud flaking onto his polo shirt. I cocked Ol ’ Shorty and pressed the barrel to his temple. Nothing snuffs the flame of heroism faster than cold steel. He went limp. 
 
 “ I said don ’ t fucking move! ” A blur of motion over the counter. Blondy was making a run for it. Tommy rattled off two shots. The kid landed with a thud and his momentum took him half across the lobby. A smear of blood, more than you ’ d expect, trailed behind him. 
 
 I turned slowly toward Tommy. “ You dumb fuck, ” I said, glancing briefly at the body, “ look at this mess! ” I whipped pretty boy ’ s head with the butt of my gun and stalked toward my shit-for-brains partner. I brought my free hand up to Tommy ’ s cheek. “ We ’ re supposed to be professionals, ” I angled his head toward the body. “ Look at what you did. ” 
 
 “ I-I… ” Tommy said, lips quivering. “ I ’ m sorry Skip, ” he wiped his nose on a dirty sleeve, “ I get s-scared and all, and he just started runnin ’ and— ” 
 
 “ Shut up, ” I slapped him, “ shut the fuck up! ” My ring caught his right eye with a backhand. Tommy cowered defensively. 
 
 I heard shuffling movement behind us. Whispers. I swung Ol ’ Shorty around and pulled the trigger. The sound of shattering glass filled the lobby. The remaining teller screamed. 
 
 Tommy hobbled to her side and patted her shoulder. Saying things like, “ there-there. ” She was rigid, hyperventilating, a goddamn mess. I ’ m sure he meant well, but Tommy wasn ’ t helping the situation. What a job. 
 
 “ Hey love-nuts, ” I said, prodding him with my gun. “ Help her up and let ’ s get this fucking cash already. ” I made my way toward the front door to stand watch. Ol ’ Shorty licked at five skulls as I passed. Five friendly reminders of just who was in charge. 
 
 Across the room Tommy nudged the brunette toward the safe. She sniffed loud, shoulders shaking with each turn of the dial. “ You ’ re very pretty, ” Tommy said, pawing the back of his neck. “ This is nothin ’ personal y ’ know. ” 
 
 “ Oh God, ” she moaned, her voice thick with mucus. 
 
 “ Maybe when this is all over we uh, ” Tommy cleared his throat, “ we uh, could y ’ know, maybe get some drinks? ” 
 
 She sobbed into her hands. 
 
 “ No, no shh, ” Tommy grabbed her hand and placed it back on the dial, “ not the drinking type? ” 
 
 A sniffle. 
 
 “ Maybe a cup of coffee? ” Tommy flashed a grin. A pained look. His cheeks flushed red. 
 
 I rolled my eyes. “ Tommy you dumb fuck, ” I blasted a hole in the ceiling, “ forget tits over there and get the fucking cash. ” 
 
 The brunette yelped and hit the deck. Tommy jumped with her, dropping his gun. “ Sorry Skip! ” He scrambled for the piece, disappearing behind the counter. “ Oh Christ, no… ” 
 
 A gunshot. 
 
 The bastards huddled on the ground twitched in unison. Then, silence. 
 
 “ Tommy? ” I tried to peer over the counter from the doorway. “ You alright buddy? ” 
 
 A shriek, wild and furious, was building slowly. A bloodcurdling cry rose from behind the counter. Tommy wasn ’ t getting up. 
 
 I wrapped Ol ’ Shorty in my coat and hugged my sides. I did what any reasonable friend would do, and made for the fucking exit. The glass doors shattered behind me as I high-tailed out of the building. She was shooting at me, at me! The bitch. I hung a left down the alley to the car. 
 
 The Cadillac cruised at a legal 45 mph down First. The tan seat sponged blood from the wound in my thigh. Burned like a bitch. I pulled a cigarette from the pack in the passenger seat. I lit the thing, a heavy pull filled my lungs. 
 
 What a fucking job. 

