Weeks later...
Slamming her hand down onto the telephone that sat on a small table situated beside her long, dark blue couch, she picked the phone up and pressed it to her ear.
"Hello?"
Once again, to Max's anger and disbelief, nobody answered. The line as usual remained silent with the soft sound of static lingering.
"Hello?" She bit out impatiently. How many times had it been now for the same pranksters to call her up without saying a single word? She couldn't count, it had been that many. Max knew that somebody was really on the other end of the line because she could just, just hear the sound of somebody breathing. Rolling her eyes, she slammed the phone down into it's cradle, muttering out a string of curse words as she stomped away to her bedroom.
At first the odd act frightened her after the first several calls. Was somebody about to walk through her apartment door and brutally murder her? She continued to ask that question to herself, frantically warning her friend Leah what was happening. Leah had even been there for when this had happened, several times in fact. Max's grandfather had been in her apartment too, confused about why Max wasn't answering the phone. She hadn't told him of course, thinking that it would just worry the poor man. She simply told him that she was receiving a bunch of cold callers.
As annoying as they were, she sometimes wished she had them instead, to ease the worry lingering in the back of her mind. The whole thing annoyed her now and had almost become second nature. The strange, silent phone calls had become a part of her every day life since they started around two or three years ago. Stupid pranksters.
Max tiredly began to tie her chestnut brown hair into a one-sided braid as she entered her bedroom, yawning as she made her way across the room to her small dresser. She fastened the hair tie that she picked up at the end of her braid, letting it rest on her shoulder. She turned and grabbed her thin black and white striped cardigan, pulling it on over her blue nurse uniform.
She hadn't been interning at Gotham General for very long, she'd been working there for five or six months after she graduated from med school. Her grandfather continued to regularly state how proud he was of her and how her grandmother would feel the same. The encouraging comments she received kept her going and made her work harder. Her ambition was to earn as much money as she possibly could so she could finally leave Gotham, bringing her grandfather with her. She didn't want to spend her future in the crime ridden city. She also hated how the elderly man who helped raised her had to spend each day in danger.
She wasn't being over-protective, it was a true statement that for every citizen in Gotham they faced the risks of being attacked by the many thugs and criminals swarming the streets. The forsaken city was one of the most crime infested cities of the United States, if not at the top of the list. Her grandfather had already been mugged several times in Gotham when she was younger, it wasn't a rare occurrence. He hadn't been mugged since the last time, when she was around nine or ten, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't happen again. And in his elderly age of seventy three it made him more vulnerable to the attackers.
After leaving her apartment, Max headed down the street on route towards the bank, peeking down at her purse that was zipped and clasped shut. She had time to drop into the bank and hand in the money that she had earned from baby-sitting and some money that she earned from occasionally waiting at a small restaurant down town. She hadn't worked as one of the waitresses a lot since she first started working at Gotham General, and it wasn't a huge sum of money that she had, but it all contributed to her small fund. She also started to give in a quarter of her paycheck that she got given monthly from her internship, starting this after her third month of working at the hospital.
It was a fairly nice day, she noted. The sun was peeking out amongst the clouds and there was only a slight, almost unnoticeable breeze. It was fairly early in the morning, and Max was sure that she would rather be in her bed rather than on then heading to work but it didn't seem to matter. She felt a smile tug on her lips as she walked among the other citizens, feeling a little positive towards her day so far. Everything seemed to be actually working, for once. It felt as if things were finally becoming a little easier. Not by much, not at all by much. But the small weight on her shoulders seemed to be lifting. She'd continue to work hard and to make her grandparents proud.
"Gah!"
She never saw him, she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. Max crashed straight into the man, into this stranger. She had thought at first that she'd walked straight into a telephone poll or maybe even a wall, but the grunt of another person corrected her. They both seemed to have not paid attention to their surroundings, but Max was certain in the back of her mind that it was far too typical for her to run straight into a random person on the street. She was sent flying backwards towards the sidewalk, but before she made impact with the concrete, a hand grabbed onto her left forearm and and arm was wound around her waist, preventing her fall.
She swore softly as she scrambled upwards, trying to calm her jumbled, alarmed thoughts that seemed to race through her head. As she straightened her back and groaned slightly, checking to see that her purse was still hanging on her shoulder, she looked up at the stranger who she slammed straight into.
"Wow, I'm so-" She began, breathless, before she properly looked at him, or, at least tried to. Before she could fully look at the man's features, he quickly let go of her and veered around her slim frame. She of course didn't get to look at the face of the stranger, but she caught a flash of what appeared to be...the most impossibly white complexion that she has ever seen. So impossible, that she was certain that he was wearing makeup, or...war paint? And was that red over his face? She probably just imagined it, it was maybe just the trick of the light. Max watched the tall man, dressed in what appeared to be a casual suit and carrying a bulky blue bag, disappearing down the uncrowded street.
"...sorry?" She finished her sentence with uncertainty. Who the heck was that? He was obviously in a rush to be somewhere, she noted. Rolling her eyes she shook her head, turning and continuing down the street in the opposite direction from where he was headed. Whatever, she thought.
Max was soon walking up the stone steps of Gotham National Bank, small smile still intact as she pushed through the heavy wooden doors inside the building. The polished marble floor gleamed up at her as she turned right and made her way across it towards the waiting bank cashiers further along. She walked straight passed a security guard on her way, who politely smiled at her and gave her a nod. She returned the smile and continued on. As it was fairly early only a few people were around. She joined the very short queue, reaching inside of her purse and taking out the envelope of money to ready herself.
The ear-piercing sounds of bullets being fired inside the building very close by made Max's stomach drop. Her heart seemed to stop when she heard the screams and frightened cries of the people around her, all dropping to the floor in panic. Disbelief and horror came rushing over her in a exploding wave, sending her scrambling onto the ground, clutching onto her purse in fear.
This couldn't possibly be happening!
"All right, everybody! Hands up, heads down!"
The gruff, New York accent confirmed her fears as she pressed herself up against the second table to the far right of the bank, clutching at her ears in case any more bullets were to be fired. The heavy sound of running footsteps in her direction came louder. She watched with terror as a tall, thin man ran from her left straight in front of her, gun in his gloved hands. More screams erupted from around her as the armed man headed straight towards one of the bank tellers at the far end. The criminal appeared to be wearing a mask.
A quiet gasp escaped from her when she heard something drop onto the table above her and the sound of a bag zip being ripped open.
"I said hands up, heads down!" The criminal yelled, at least two meters away from the male bank teller. Shakily she raised her hands in the air, in clear view for the criminals to see, but didn't bow her head down as she was told. She defiantly watched the masked man as he continued to yell, gun aimed at whoever was in his way.
"Let's go, pal! I'm making a withdrawal here!" He growled out in his broad accent, leaning forwards and snatching hold of the bank teller who cried out a plea. The thug pulled him straight over the counter, making him fly over the wooden desk and onto the polished floor. He landed down with thud, grunting in pain from the impact of the slight fall. The masked thug stomped towards the left where a shaking woman stood, raising her hands up as he roared at her about having her hands up in the air. She cried out as he reached towards her.
Max watched, eyes wide as the man dragged her over the desk that she stood behind, but her attention veered onto a thug who ran around the table to her right, head snapping towards the right and then turning straight towards her where she hid silently. She tried to press herself further into the dark coloured wood as he stooped down in front of her, gun pointed directly at her head. Despite the screaming pleas of the female bank teller she managed to almost ignore her as she stared up at the masked criminal, studying the design of the mask. A frowning...clown?
She didn't see him reach into the blue shoulder bag that hung on him so when he grasped hold of her hands to place the object that he had taken from there, she of course struggled. He overpowered her though, making her clutch tightly onto the cold, metal that she'd been given. With the flick of his wrist, he pulled something out of the metal with a click. She couldn't stop shaking, watching the masked gun man as he tilted his head towards the right in almost interest. He gloved hand reached out towards her face, pressing against her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut.
What? She thought to herself. The black leather felt odd against the soft skin of her cheek as he caressed it, but it was suddenly gone in mere seconds. When she tentatively opened her eyes after a few moments, she saw him now hurrying over to a cowering man not far away.
"Obviously we don't want 'ya doing anything with your hands, other than holding on for dear life," The New York accented thug drawled out in his gruff voice. Max stared down at the metal item in her hands that she hadn't let go of yet, her eyes widening when she realized what she was holding. A grenade!
Her head snapped up towards the man who had made her hold the explosive weapon, her fearful gaze turning into a glare. His demeanour and apparel looked familiar, but where had she seen him? Her mind raced through the people who she knew in Gotham, trying to match the armed thug with a face. Who?
A loud thud, followed with a grunt from her left was heard. "On the ground! Stay on the ground, nobody make a move! Nobody!" A different man yelled, his voice much gruffer than the New Yorker guy. "Stay down!"
A loud boom erupted after the thug finished yelling, the sound of glass shattering and falling to the ground towards her left. The criminal with the frowning clown mask dropped to the ground, scrambling across the marble floors towards the table that she sat hidden. She glared at him as he hid at the side of the wooden desk around the corner from her, his gun raised, ready to shoot. Another shot was fired above them both, and she let out another gasp, the second sound that she'd made since the arrival of the masked thugs.
Footsteps were approaching as the armed man pushed himself up from the floor slightly, hurrying forwards in a crouched run. The desk was his only cover and he was remarkably lucky that he hadn't been hit since the latest gunman had fired a few more times at hm. He retreated down towards the right end of the bank where the final dark wooden table was situated and hid behind it.
"Do 'ya have any idea who you're stealing from? You and your friends are dead!"
Max recognised the latest gunman by his voice; he was the the manager of Gotham National Bank. Further down from where she hid, clutching her own grenade, she heard one of the criminals question on whether or not he had ran out of ammunition. After a few seconds of silence, Max watched a thug shoot upwards from his hiding spot, but was immediately shot at. He dropped to the ground, leaving Max unsure on whether or not the manager had successfully hit him. Not followed long after several clicks were heard from behind her, indicated that the manager was out.
A different masked man, the one that had caressed her cheek, jumped up from where he was covered behind the table, shooting directly at the manager. The hits were confirmed after she heard a soft grunt and the sound of something heavy collapsing to the floor. She peeked out from around the table to see the masked gunman, almost breathless as he cocked his head to the side, staring down towards the presumably dead or injured bank manager. His head slowly turned slightly towards her.
"Where did you learn to count?"
The heavily accented thug who she wasn't sure was dead was in fact alive, standing there and questioning the other criminal in an growl of disbelief. The man with the frowning clown mask turned his head towards him. The New Yorker shook his head, stalking off towards another area of the bank, leaving the other masked man here.
Max wondered when the police were going to arrive. Wasn't a silent alarm pressed by a member of staff? She was sure that one of the employees would have pressed it, if not the manager. She was brought out of her own thoughts when she saw the lone thug slowly making his way towards her, glancing around at the other fearful citizens. His gaze wasn't on Max it seemed, but right beside her, onto the ground. Her gaze quickly trailed down onto the ground for a brief second, making her remember that she hadn't been holding onto the envelope of money since she dropped to the ground earlier.
He stooped down briefly, snatching up the brown envelope and it into a pocket on the inside of his suit, casting one last glance at her as he went off, presumably following the other thug. Max wanted to yell after the criminal for taking her envelope of money which she desperately needed, that she'd earned. It was meant to contribute to her and her grandfather's ticket out of Gotham! She stayed silent though despite the growing anger inside of her. Now wasn't the time to start screeching about her money being taken, the main goal now was survival.
Both criminals appeared, carrying and dragging several, bulky bags across the gleaming floor, passed her and the other citizens towards the far right of the bank. The deposited them in a heap, leaving two behind close to her.
"That's a lot'a money. If this Joker guy was so smart, he'd of had us bring a bigger car."
The New Yorker cocked his hand gun and raised it in the air towards the silent thug who had began to turn away from him to grab the rest which were located directly in front of Max. The man wearing the frowning clown mask froze for a few seconds and slowly turned towards his fellow crook, speaking once again.
"I'm bettin' the Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash..."
Almost seeming to be exasperated, the criminal in front of him raised his left arm in the air, appearing to be checking the time on his wrist with an annoyed sigh. For the first time since he had run into the bank and been a part of the robbery, it was the first time that he had spoken.
"No, no, no no. I kill the bus driver." He muttered, looking back and taking a step towards the right.
His voice seemed a lot softer compared to the other thug who was pointing the gun at him, almost nasally perhaps. His cryptic response even made Max question it silently, furrowing her brow in confusion. The bus driver? They surely weren't going to run outside with all of those heavy, money filled bags and catch a damn bus?
The other became quiet for a few moments. "Bus driver?"
He followed the other thug with his gun raised, watching him with apparent confusion as he kept side stepping towards the right in a circle- away from where had stood before.
"What bus driver?" The other criminal demanded. And then with absolute perfect timing, the bus driver made his shocking entrance.
The signature yellow school bus crashed through the line of doors on the far right wall of the bank, directly behind the two armed thugs. The one who questioned the other on the bus driver spun his head around but the reversing bus was too quick for him to react in time to save himself. The masked man was knocked down by the large vehicle, plummeting down to the ground amongst the debris Max couldn't believe it...she wouldn't believe it. A getaway on a school bus?
The remaining masked man swayed slightly, staring down at the mess on the ground and the now deceased man, taking a step forward. As he did so, the exit door at the rear of the school bus was thrown open, and out climbed a short, bulky man.
"School's out, time to go."
He continued to speak to the other masked guy who he'd just crashed in on, catching the bags of cash that were thrown at him. He threw each of them inside of the empty bus, breathlessly stating about the amount of money. From that small pile of money filled bags, the taller criminal began to head away to the few bags that were left in front of her.
"What happened to the rest of the guys?" The shorter man wondered out loud. As a response, he received several bullets shot directly at him. He collapsed to the ground.
Max bit the inside of her cheek as she glared at the last standing masked gunman who swaggered over to the remaining cash in front of her. He stooped down to pick it up, inclining his head in her direction as he did so. She pressed herself harder against the side of the table, but he didn't linger.
As he threw the two bulky bags into the back of the school bus, she had a choked out grunt from behind her.
"Think you're smart, huh?" The bank manager was not in fact dead, but grasping onto his life, of little of it that he had left. He made a sort of gurgling noise as he continued. "Well this guy who hired you's just do the same to you..."
The remaining crook who had about to climb up into the reer of the bus had turned as the bank manager choked out his sentences, now strolling towards the injured man. He removed something from his back pocket.
The manager continued. "Oh, criminals in this town used to believe in things..." He trailed off, each of his words coming out in what sounded to be a struggle. "Honour. Respect! Look at you, what do you believe in, huh? What do you believe i-"
Max watched from behind the table in terror as the masked man crouched down and slides a grenade into the injured man's mouth. For the second time now, the masked man spoke.
"I believe, whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you..." He began in his odd, soft voice. Max's eyes widened as he removed his clown mask, revealing a gruesomely painted face underneath. Chalk-white face, the area around his eyes smudged with black paint and a disturbing blood red smile twisting upwards, carved up wards to his cheeks. He looked up, as if to think, and continued.
"...Stranger." He finished. Not moments later, a wild, satisfied grin appeared on his face and he was suddenly up, swaggering back over towards the bus. That was when she noticed the coloured thread unraveling from his suit jacket as he walked, still attached to the grenade. He climbed up into the bus, but not before casting one last glance in Max's direction. She held tightly onto the grenade still in her hands, watching as he slammed the yellow exit door shut, trapping the thread.
The bus roared to life, and not moments later he was driving off, out of the side of the bank. With a click she heard the grenade being set off, the metal clattering to the marble floor behind her. Seconds later the sound of gas being released made her stomach plummet. Gas grenades? A gurgle from behind her confirmed her suspicions.
"Shit." She cursed under her breath.
