An incessant tapping thrums throughout the '67 Impala, the erratic beat marring the serenity of the surrounding small town. Sultry air crushes the two occupants of the stationary Chevy, however they hardly notice as they sit in an almost hypnotic state.
One glances at the dashboard while his fingers continue to drum methodically, until the clock finally reshapes into 4:30pm. An abrupt silence strikes the car, and in seconds the duo mechanically make their way towards the bank. Adrenaline only begins to run when he makes the first shot.
…
In case you didn't know, we're the bad guys.
…
A scarlet lake unfurls across the linoleum as the security guard struggles against the slick tiles. The assailant regards the portly man with a cool gaze, as he frantically wraps an arm around his abdomen where blood surges past his dam of fingers. With a pained groan he brings his eyes to the masked gunman. A tremulous gasp slithers past his lips as he stares at the eerily placid cherub mask. He swallows down a whimper and questions "Wh-" In seconds another bullet buries itself in the victim's skull.
"Everybody get to the fucking ground!" The second thief roars while waving his Beretta in the air. He dons a sickeningly sinister devils mask that truly belonged in a nightmare. He scans the area, until his eyes lock on a teller who fumbles under the desk for the panic button. Without a moment of hesitation a crack of the gun hurls her to the ground.
…
When I was younger my grandfather used to tell us his old war stories. My brother was never a fan of them, but there was something about the gore and glory that always had me on the edge of my seat.
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"You." The angel growls towards another teller. "The money." His piercing eyes leave her paralyzed until he jerks the gun at her. With a horrified squeak, she rushes towards the vault while he closely follows.
The remaining gunman returns his attention to the cowering civilians.A bone-chilling silence smothers the room, only disturbed by the occasional stifled sob. However, a shrill siren soon wails from outside until it finally stops in front of the bank.
"Hey, we got company." He calls to his partner, tightening his grip on the pistol.
…
I guess that's why I like to see myself as the monstrous mercenary. It's a lot easier that way.
…
Having already heard of the two casualties, the small police force storms through the front doors, obviously inexperienced in such a dire situation. They hesitate at the sight of the horrid mask, but quickly recover and make to rescue the hostages.
Amidst the chaos, the devil tries to slink towards where his partner disappeared to. Although before he can escape a bullet charges past him, grazing his side. He lets out a low grunt and angrily looks back to see his attacker, a young officer with determined eyes. The criminal launches a bullet that actually hits it target in the cop's gut.
Fellow officers' attention shift from the hostages to their wounded comrade. Though before they can retaliate, the offender is already barreling down the hallway out of sight.
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I'm Dean Winchester.
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His shoes slap against the ground and he's having trouble distinguishing his heavy plods from his hammering heart beat. As the last of the hostages escape, an unnerving silence falls over the bank. Though it's quickly broken as a bullet races a few inches away from his thigh.
"Fuck." he growls, now running in a zig-zag as more shots are fired. At last, his partner joins him in his getaway, with a grimy yet full duffle bag in hand. "About time."
"Sorry." The angel mutters, easily catching up with his cohort.
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That's Castiel.
…
An alarm screeches in the building as the duo plow through the emergency door opens, adding to the chaotic symphony that ensued. They make a hard turn, and come into view of the Impala. Dean clambers into the front seat, starting the car up with the keys he had left in the ignition; which in hindsight was a careless move, but nonetheless paid off.
As the engine roars in anticipation, Castiel hops into the car with a loud thump. Without hesitation, Dean flattens the acceleration pedal, and careens through the town streets. Passing cars honk angrily as he weaves through traffic, while tires squeal in protest.
Red and blue lights dance against the inky metal of the car, and Dean curses colorfully as he sees a team of cops behind. Up ahead he spots a lurking officer ready to throw a line of spike strips in the road. The Chevy swerves to the left, nearly avoiding the barbs, however one of the back wheels pass over the belt of spikes and it deflates with a pop. The two occupants lurch with the force, causing Dean to wince at the sudden movement, but nevertheless the car continues it's chase.
However, the police cruisers stop with a screech at the strip.
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Because even the bad guys get lucky sometimes.
…
And then they were gone.
So what'd you guys think? Like it, hate it, eat it? Let me know if it's worth continuing in a review.
IMPORTANT QUESTION! If you guys do like the story, do you think I should add some more characters to their little gang, or just keep it with Dean and Cas keeping it Bonnie and Clyde style?