"Yang, really, it's just a little rain." Blake held open the large glass door with one arm, waiting patiently for her partner.
"No, rain is like this." Yang said, making little sprinkling movements with her fingers to imitate a drizzle. "That," she pointed out to the street, "is a monstrosity."
Blake looked out at the downpour. It pounded the street relentlessly. Gutters overflowed onto the sidewalk and the unceasing roar of rain chilled her even inside the building. She had to admit, the storm was hardly appealing, and Blake didn't fancy the idea of riding on the back of Yang's motorcycle through such weather any more than she.
She pulled the door shut as a pair of black cars sped past, blasting great waves of water from the flooded gutters. Blake stepped back agilely when the water crashed against the glass with a drumroll-like sound. A small puddle seeped through beneath the threshold as Blake moved out of the way.
"Trust me Blake." Yang grinned, sauntering over to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You made the right decision. You do not want to see what I have to do to dry my hair."
Blake gave a wry smile. "It couldn't be as bad as when Ruby convinced Weiss to dry out washing with fire." The edge of her mouth tugged up as Yang rubbed the bridge of her nose at the memory, "But, if you'd rather wait it out in a Bank…" Blake added with a shrug.
She followed Yang's gaze up the long grooves of one of the support pillars to the dancing ripples of water on the skylight. Yang's shoulders dropped, pressing her weight down on Blake.
"You couldn't have picked the arcade, could you?" Yang sighed wistfully, purposefully leaning more of her weight onto Blake. "Banks are so boring."
Blake chuckled, pushing Yang off onto her own feet again. "Arcades don't exactly have safety deposit boxes, Yang." She said, pulling at where her bag had caught on Gambol Shroud as she walked towards the empty waiting area.
She sat down gently, crossing her legs and picking up a magazine from the assortment on the end table as she slowly sunk into the soft seat. Yang plopped down beside her with a cushioned thump, kicking her feet up on the table and spreading her arms across the back of the seat. She let out a deep, overdrawn sigh, slipping her phone out of her pocket and idly fiddling with it.
The doors to the back opened and the rushing rain punctuated the entry of several men is dark suits – some baring umbrellas, others briefcases. One swept the beaked hat from his head, flicking it free of water and placing an instrument case on the ground to straighten his startlingly red tie.
"Hey sis!" Yang's voice echoed through the otherwise quiet space, earning an irritable glance from one of the tellers. "What's up?" Yang asked cheerily, oblivious to the irritation of those around her.
Blake turned to her magazine. There wasn't much of interest within; the articles were bland in topic and tone alike, and occassional fashion advertisements only iqued her interest for so long as the thumbed the pages, skimming the writing for something worthwhile.
"Oooh, nice boots!" Yang cooed, leaning across as several of the suited men walked towards the tellers, prodding Blake's page with a finger. "Huh?" She said, diverting her attention back to the phone call with the grace of an Ox, "Nah, Blake just needed a ride down to the bank."
Blake met the eye of one of the new patrons as she looked up, placing the magazine back on the table. He averted his gaze immediately, wringing his hands as he paced back to one of his friends. They spoke in hushed tones, and the visible muscles on the second man's neck tensed harshly as he spoke. Blake could have heard what they said, were it not for her bow muffling her hearing.
"Shut up!" Yang's yell dispelled any chance of eavesdropping anyway, "It's legal for me to drive people. Blake shook her head with a wry smirk as she listened to Yang's conversation. She watched some of the men as they wandered to various places in the bank, eyeing one who stopped next to their table.
She released a soft breath as she looked at the heavy rain outside, and pulled her bag and blade from her back, dumping them beside her seat before sinking further into the comfortabe backrest with a second magazine. "Alright, alright, I'll take you to the arcade next time." Yang muttered.
Something red glinted in the corner of her eye. Yang had stopped her figeting movements, and fell silent. Blake's gaze travelled up, and her magazine fell to the side as she met again the steely gaze of one of the suited men.
A single-edged red sword rested beside her shoulder, with Yang's fizzling cellphone impaled upon its tip. "Don't do anything stupid." The man warned, pushing Blake's bag away from her with his foot as the girls sat in stunned silence.
Shots and shrieks of terror rang out as another of the men – the one who brought an instrument case eariler – leapt atop a table, firing a burst of bullets from a submachine gun with a drum magazine. His accomplices, scattered about the room, drew blades and pistols of various shapes from their false umbrellas and briefcases, rounding up the patrons and workers like cattle.
"My apologies, Ladies and Gentlement." The ringleader said is suave, soothing manner to the corralled people. "Just follow along and you can all go about your day very soon." A touch of foreign accent dipped on his words, and he pinted his gun at one of the bank workers with his gun, resting the stock casually against his hip once he had the man's attention. "You're going to show me where your vault is. The rest of you," he yelled, turning in a slow circle, "please empty your pockets, and don't try anything heroic."
Blake turned to Yang as the spell of confusion faded from her startled mind. "Are these guys really robbing the bank?" Yang asked in bewilderment. Blake rolled her eyes.
"Shut up." The man before them hissed, whipping his sword to the side of Yang's neck.
Yang shot to her feet in an instant. "Hey, fuck you man, you broke my phone!" She yelled. Rage built in her cheeks and her hands curled into fists. Blake grabbed Yang's wrist, yanking her back into her seat when she saw the fires welling in her eyes.
"Yang!" She hissed, digging her fingernails into Yang's pale skin.
The man grit his teeth, and Blake saw his knuckles bale around the hilt of the sword. But he simply pushed her shoulder with the flat of the blade until Yang sat back in her seat. Then he picked up Blade's bag, and with it, Gambol Shroud, and quickly moved to the larger group of people as another woman stood up, defiant against the criminals.
"What the hell?" Yang asked accusatorly, turning to Blake. Her fists were still clenched and her muscles tight. Blake gently released her grip on her wrist.
"That was a foolish move, Yang." Blake said.
"What, you don't think I could've taken him?"
"Please tell me you're not serious right now." Blake squeezed Yang's hand gently, giving her a forced smile. Yang turned, looking over at the crooks as some of them began to move around, shifting everybody to a space in the middle of the room where they could watch them.
"We have to do something though, right?" She whispered, still watching the men. Blake faltered, uncertain. "Who else here is going to fight back?"
"Leave it to the police." Blake replied, "It's their job, Yang, not yours." The words felt somewhat hollow in her mouth. She knew what Yang would be thinking; they were trained to fight, they were skilled and strong, that meant they should do something, didn't it?
This isn't a story. This isn't training. Her mind argued back at her. This is real; and this is dangerous.
"The police aren't going to do anything." Yang mumbled, clenching her fists again.
"You could get hurt." Blake said softly, laying her hand atop Yang's fist. She stood up as one of the men waved a gun at them, beckening them to move. "It's your call." She decided, walking slowly to prolong their conversation. Yang turned to her with wide eyes, and then she settled with resolve and nodded.
Blake flicked her gaze across the room, trying to memorise the positions of the gang before they made a move. She caught sight of which one had her bag, and with it, her weapon. She moved closer.
This is a terrible idea.