Chapter 1 - Fresh
Klaxon sounds of alarms roared with ferocity as smoke poured from the entrance of a white marbled two story building. Police cars had swarmed the area, blocking off the sidewalks and streets, their sirens sounding off in accompaniment to the building's wailing. The police had their weapons Un-holstered and pointed at the entrance, keeping the police vehicles in between them and the smoking bank, the dashboards and open car doors becoming makeshift shields.
Another marked police car pulled up as the passenger side door swung open. A tall, balding man wearing a neatly decorated blue police uniform emerged from the passenger's side, standing tall beside the car door. He surveyed the scene.
The white marble slabbed steps leading up to the bank's main entrance was clear, but the smoke around the glass entrance doors concealed any view of the inside. Three marked police cars encircled the foot of the steps, which several uniformed officers hid behind.
"We can't approach the bank, chief," a patrolman informed as he trotted over towards the new arrival, "they've got hostages in there."
The gray mustached man, known to Metrotown as Chief Barkley, nodded curtly and then started to give orders.
"Expand this blockade. Get those onlookers cleared from the streets," he ordered as he pointed at the crowd of people standing on the opposite sidewalk and then flickered his attention to some of the other buildings sharing the block," I want SWAT dispatched. And get some snipers on the rooftops!"
The patrolmen set about their tasks as a dark skinned man wearing a charcoal gray suit approached the Chief.
"What do we have Jerry?" asked Barkley, motioning to the approaching man.
Lieutenant Jerry explained the situation. Three men and a woman, all wearing combat fatigues, had entered the Second Metrotown Bank and promptly began holding the place up, with no disregard for stealth. The bank alarms had alerted the police within minutes. As the officers approached the entrance however, a very large muscular man with a chain gun appeared at the doorway and pockmarked the sidewalk, forcing the police to retreat back to their cars.
"Between their firepower and the hostages inside, we have no room to advance right now," Jerry informed.
It was then that very large rhythmic sounds was heard overhead. The police diverted their attention up at the sky, watching as a green military chopper darted from the skyline of several rooftops and cruised into view. As it started to circle around the back of the bank, a large rail-gun mounted on it's side was aimed down at the officers by yet another man in military camouflage fatigues.
"Get down!" yelled Barkley as reached out, grabbing hold of his lieutenant's shoulders to pull him to the ground with him.
A great hail of bullets rained down onto the sidewalk, chewing up chunks of concrete while pounding at the metallic sides of the police vehicles. Glass from the windshields exploded, the plastic lights on top of the cars shredded, while some of the police sirens were cut off. A great deal of yelling emanated from the street as some of the officers were hit by the hail of bullets, while their colleagues worked to pull them out of the line of fire.
The chopper aligned itself over top of the bank, then began to descend to the rooftop all while the gun turret kept firing. Then as the chained gunfire ceased, the chopper's rails touched down. As the police regrouped behind their cars, they could only watch helplessly as a small explosion of fire rang out from atop the building, emitting a dark black smoke that enveloped around the chopper and obscured it from view. Hollering and shouts, caused by several people on the roof continued on into the next minute. Then as the smoke started to clear, the bird began to ascend, it's heavy rotating blades blowing the smoke outward over the rooftop edge, the green metal frame emerging from the clouded ball.
"No! We can't let them escape," yelled Jerry as he lay on the ground.
He pointed his handgun as the helicopter, but it had already traveled over the skyline of the neighboring redbrick building.
"Follow it!," yelled the Chief, "Where is OUR chopper?"
"Sir. Look!" a patrolman pointed at the sky.
They all craned their necks upwards to where the officer's finger was pointing, watching as a blue and gold blur streaked across the sky. It swerved into a large arching curve toward the direction of the military chopper and like a torpedo, rushed to meet it. The Chief felt a small grin tug at the points of his mouth.
"Hah. That was flawless," yelled a big muscular blonde man as he took a seat on a green bench anchored to the inside wall of the helicopter. He took a look outside of the wide open platform door next to him, observing as the landscape of streets, rooftops and cars moved beneath.
"We're not clear yet," warned a tan skinned man with a black mustache and goatee. He spoke with a Spanish accent.
He was gripping a very frightened young man by his wrist. Pulling him toward a seat on the chopper, he then pushed him down onto the bench, ordering the man to stay still and keep quiet. Then he scanned about the inside of the helicopter, pausing to grin at each his comrades.
They had just netted a huge haul. Millions; Maybe even a billion in cash money sat in huge burlap sacks at his feet. Even between the six of them, there would be more then enough for all of them to be sitting pretty after this daring theft.
"We need to get this bird on the ground. How long to the strip Nico?," the Spaniard man questioned, his head turning toward the chopper pilot.
"Not long Escobar," called the gruff looking Serbian pilot," We just need to clear the harbor and we should be home free."
Several silent seconds passed, giving Escobar time to glance at the slender short haired brunette woman. She gave him an intense squared smile. Knowingly smiling back with grungy teeth, he pulled his attention toward the hostage seated on the bench next to his knee. The hostage was neatly dressed, wearing navy blue khakis and a buttoned down dress shirt. The hostage's short brown hair was a bit disheveled and he looked down at his dress shoes through his gold framed round spectacles.
"That looks expensive," smirked Escobar as his hand wrapped around the man's glasses and lifted them from his nose.
The young hostage jerked and instinctively tried to grab back his property, but Escobar pushed him back down by his shoulder and threatened for him not to move.
There was a sudden bit of turbulence and then the chopper gave a sharp jerk. Everyone who had been standing was thrown onto the chopper's metal floor, the hostage being tossed forward from from the bench. The vehicle complained with a great whining noise as the thieves braced themselves, struggling to get back on their feet.
"What the hell," yelled the big muscular man, pulling himself to his knees.
"We've... stopped... we're... not moving!," shouted the Serbian pilot, his instruments giving off beeping warnings.
One of the robbers, a dark skinned man with dreadlocks and a gold tooth, steadily leaned out of the chopper's opening to look about the outside. As he turned his head to inspect the tail, he was startled when he realized that an athletic looking blonde girl, wearing blue skin forming tights, a gold skirt and white boots hovering in midair mere inches from his face. Her right hand was embedded in the metal of the chopper and it was her hand that unbelievably kept the vehicle from moving.
"Going down?," She smiled at him, wrapping her free hand onto his military vest to casually pull him from the chopper.
He yelled as he front flipped outward, fell through the air and landed with a great splash into the bay waters underneath.
"Charles!," called out Escobar as everyone inside the chopper snapped their attention to the chopper opening.
The muscle bound man, slid his chain gun from his back and readied it. Escobar drew his own pistol as a shaggy white haired man did the same and the thin hard looking woman took a few steps backward toward the rear bay of the chopper. The hostage gripped the side of the bench to steady himself and as he scanned about the area. Noticing that Escobar had dropped his glasses, he reached over to pick them up off the floor. While lifting himself back up to the bench, he replaced them back over his eyes.
The engine whirred and complained as Nico flipped switches and moved the stick, but the chopper refused to react. In fact, it was moving completely sideways!
"Check outside!," Escobar shouted orders.
The thin older gentleman ran thick greasy fingers through his shaggy white hair and full bearded face as he stepped over to the other side entrance of the chopper and hopped into the seat of the mounted rail-gun. He aimed the rail-gun in every direction but only saw the water of the bay pushing slowly underneath them and a pier for a warehouse along the coast.
"There's nothing out here!" he barked as his gun swiveled to and fro," Check the other side Hans!"
