The sun rose on a normal Wednesday around the rich district. Gleaming through the clean streets, populated by Jags and Audis, In the west side of town the Firstborne Bank was opening smoothly, getting a new shipment of currency from the armored car rolling through town. A pair of barely armed weekend-security-guards put the cash in the vault, and then sped off with the car to the next bank. The parking lot was slightly filled with people coming in to do busy errands, but an old Astro, half rusted over. Sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd of sports cars and hummers.
"Alright..." He spoke, popping another motrin into his mouth, "You ready for this?"
The person in the passenger seat nodded, slapping the bolt back on his ingram.
The doors opened on the worn vehicle, and out emerged three figures in trench coats and balaclavas. Two were carrying hockey bags, and one carrying an empty briefcase.
Easing the glass door open, the leader walked up to the desk, pushing some people aside. Before the snooty clerk got a chance to comment ont his, he took a .45 out of his pocket and aimed it at the clerk's head.
Everything was still for a slight moment.
"You make a move, I shoot you. You look at anyone but me, I shoot you. Do anything funny, I shoot you. Now disconnect your phone line and empty the vault."
OOC
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Alright, kiddies, here's how it's going down.
This RP is of a bank robbery. Me, Zex, and Lum are the robbers. So if you want to join, you cant be a robber. You have to be a civie already in the building, a pig, or whatever. Be creative.
Also, it just started, so the pigs aint swarming yet. Maybe they should up because the clerk hit the security button before he got shot? Or maybe on some routine patrol a cop saw this happening through the window and called for backup?
Also, dieng. Deaths can be dealed out, just have some support and dont crap out "I R SNIPE U LOLZ". None of that. And it's possible to barely get up from a would-be fatal wound and dive for cover.
This also means if you're a civie, and you whisper plans of killing the bad guys, they could overhere and shoot you. If killed, you can still rejoin as someone else.
Your profile can be as logn and detailed as you wish, 'tis America! (Or UK. Anything else makes uncle sam frown.)
Name: Matt Daymon
Height: 5'10
Looks: Pale complextion, brown eyes, short/medium-lengthed black hair. Dressed with black pants, Black combat shoes, black ankle-length trench coat, black balaclava, and a kevlar vest. Entire body is very bulletproof'd. As is the other criminal's.
NAME Chuckie "Chuckles" Johanson
REASON FOR PARTICIPATION Chuckie hates his name. Hates it all kinds. He wanted to be Barachmed but God said "NO!" and he was named Chuckie as punishment. He goes by the nickname Chuckles and doesn't let anyone but trusted friends know his real name. Oh, wait, reason for participation? He can't pay his rent.
NAME: Ferrel McCracker
Reason: Ferrel lacks a self esteem and finds joy through pain of others. He decides to join Chuckles on this adventure.
Mickey carefully slid down behind a table, and hid. He was behind a small group of people, so the odds of him being seen were small. His heart was pounding, as the tight grip of fear clutched at his heart. "Oh gosh, I'm too young to die!"
Mickey B. Bone was a coward. The only reason he was a police officer was because his father had been, and his father before that. Sheer luck had filled his career. Somehow, he made it through the Academy. He'd been on the force for three years, assigned the same partner from day one. The only thing he had going for him was that he was a good driver.
His partner was the only reason he hadn't been kicked out of the force. Right now, Timothy Drive was in the restroom, oblivious to the situation. Tim was about as far on the opposite scale as he could be from Mick. Tim knew no fear. His career had been filled with many daring raids, and he had busted more criminals than most people could in twice the amount of time. Some might say he was stupid, though because pain or death did not slow him down. It was whispered, in quiet halls of the police station, that he actually wanted to die, which is why he was so reckless, but somehow, luck kept him out of harm's way.
Right now, they were both on a plainclothes assignment, getting information on a suspect's banking records.
Mick, now out of sight, slipped a hand into his jacket, reaching for his gun holster. Surprise mixed in with his fear-filled face, as he realized his gun wasn't there! He realized now it must have fallen out in the car! All he could do now was wait for his partner to do something, because even if he had a gun, he had no intention of confronting the robbers!
