Ashley always thought she would die in a blaze of glory. Maybe after a weeklong binge, surrounded by drugs that she hadn't yet ingested, hot girls she had spent the week having wild sex with then ignored and fake friends all too willing to take her leftovers in both categories. Being shot in some dirty convenience store in the middle of Los Angeles by what looked like a bunch of reject Mimes was not in the plan, not even a little bit. She refused to die in some shit hole, just another statistic in an already violent society, reduced to just a footnote in some study on urban decay instead of her rightful full 4 page spread in Rolling Stone.
These thoughts barely had time to fly through her mind as she saw the guns being drawn. Next to her, a small gasp escaped the blonde who was now pressed firmly into her side.
In the middle of the store, Glen continued trying to assess the situation, 5 men, one with a gun pressed to Madison's head and four more armed with heavy duty military grade automatics. This was not a good thing at all.
Two of the men moved forward, towards the register counter, where Aiden stood still in front of the two terrified girls behind him. One of the men motioned with his gun at the trio in the universal gesture to move. He aimed the long barrel at them then waved it towards the row of coolers on the side wall of the store.
Aiden felt his body shaking but ignored it, keeping himself between the girls and the gun. He protectively held his arms out, encircling the small bodies in front of him, keeping them shielded as much as possible while they walked over and lined up against the cold glass of the beverage cooler.
The other occupants where corralled as well, the large older black woman who had only came in for some Pampers and a scrubby looking guy, who looked to be in his mid to late 20's until only Glen was left standing in the middle of the store, his eyes never leaving Madison while watching over his sister in his peripheral vision.
Glen still refused to move until he felt a gun barrel pushing painfully into his back. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be forced to stand next to the others, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Madison.
The white masked man holding the gun to the Latina, suddenly let her go, pushing her towards the others that were now lined up a couple cooler doors down. He calmly stepped forward as if nothing was out of the ordinary and he had just stopped to pick up a gallon of milk.
While the two men had been getting everyone in the store lined up, the other two at the front of the store had started locking the store down. They careless pulled down the various neon beer signs and other lights crowding the window space then quickly pulled some type of black material out of their boxes and started covering the front windows with it, blocking out any view into or out of the store. They then chained the door handles together and then covered the doors with the same material.
The two men moved with quick, precise motions, leading Glen to surmise they'd had some type of military training, as if the guns hadn't been the first indication.
During the flurry of activity at the front of the store, the man who had been holding Madison began pulling other items out of some of the boxes. Items that made no sense to blonde guy at all.
There were video cameras and enough video equipment to run a small TV station. He'd seen all that before as well while in the military. It had been used by entrenched reporters during the Iraq war so that they could broadcast straight from the action. He was at a complete loss as to why they would have the need for any of that here though.
A few feet away Spencer stood completely still, feeling as if she was watching a bad movie, not something that was actually happening to her. She was barely aware that she was clutching onto the arm of a virtual stranger, or that the dark haired guy who had been flirting with her moments ago at the register was still standing in front of her and the girl with his back to them, still shielding them.
It wasn't until one of the men came over to them and waved the guy away from them that Spencer felt as if she had been awoken from a dream. It was all real, very very scarily real. She watched as he grabbed her protector and forcefully pushed him against the cooler doors, then pushed down on his shoulders until he got the hint and sat down.
The masked man waved his gun indicating the others to follow suit. No words had been spoken in what felt like forever to Spencer, they only noises heard were the humming of the coolers and the sound of heavy duct tape being ripped as the other men continued covering every inch of glass that looked outside.
The seven hostages sat there, watching the men. Two stood in front of them, their guns running up and down the row of people. Two more continued to fortify the front of the store, which didn't take much as Stan had spared no expense in making sure his store was secure, from bullet proof windows, to electronically secured locks on the doors. Stan's was a virtual fortress, meant to keep others out but just as effectively kept others in.
The last man was setting up the video equipment, using one of the dollies to move the broadcasting equipment into the backroom, while leaving the video cameras on top of the boxes. He ran the think cords to each camera and would disappear into the back, where they all assumed he was plugging them in.
Then, as quickly as the flurry of activity had started, it all stopped.
The two men who had been securing the windows and doors, guns still slung over their shoulders within easy reach, came over and picked up a video camera each.
"When the camera is pointed at you, you will state your name, age and occupation." The creepy electronic voice broke through the eerie silence, causing Spencer to jump at the sudden noise. She felt a reassuring hand on her knee and looked up into hazel eyes that burned with a defiance that still seemed to calm her down.
A light from the camera turned on, bathing the taller guy, who was the first, in its harsh light.
"Um, A-Aiden Dennison, 22, I-I go to UCLA." He got out, barely stumbling over his words, though the look on his face betrayed his false façade of bravery.
The camera then turned to the brunette to his left. She smirked at the camera, while glaring at the man holding it.
"Ashley Davies, 21, the next big thing."
Spencer could feel the heat of the light on the top of her head but couldn't make herself look up. A few beats passed and she still couldn't force herself to look up and face the fact that this was truly happening. She wanted to hold onto the sliver of hope that this was all just some nightmare. Any minute her obnoxious roommate would come bursting into their dorm room after a night of partying and wake her up.
"Hey, man, back off! That's my sister!" Glen's voice roared with anger, finally forcing the blonde girl to look up. She almost wished she hadn't.
Her brother was standing up and being held against the cooler door with a gun pressed into his chest while another man was only a few steps away from her, his gun pointed directly at her head. Ashley was being held down by Aiden as she made an attempt to get up and move in front of Spencer.
"There's no need for this. Look directly into the camera, state your name, age and occupation, if you have one. This is your only warning." The robotic voice broke in, ceasing all movement from the hostages.
Spencer took a deep breath and felt Ashley take her hand, giving it a light squeeze. She looked up into the camera, her eyes filled with terror and her lower lip trembling
"Sp-Sp-Spencer Car-C-Carlin…" She fearfully stuttered out, her entire body shaking with the realization that a man only a few feet away had a gun pointed at her head. "…21…U-UCLA stu-student."
She let out the breath she had been holding as she felt the burning light move from her to the woman on her left. Tears welled up in her eyes and slowly over spilled, sliding down her flushed cheeks. A comforting arm found itself around her shoulders and pulled her close as she silently cried into Ashley's shoulder.
"Rhonda Peterson, 52, Registered Nurse." Came clearly from the larger woman.
Next came the scruffy looking guy, who was still clutching the roll of Charmin he had found hidden behind the rolls of the inferior single ply Scots toilet paper.
"Darius Trokovic, 31, network engineer." He said with a Russian accent.
The light then move onto Madison, who despite having had a gun against her head minutes beforehand, seemed completely unfazed by the events happening. She glared into the camera.
"Madison Duarte, 24, Manager of this fine establishment you seemed to have taken over."
Lastly, the camera zeroed in on Glen, was who was sitting back down.
"Glen Carlin, 24, Assistant Manager…"
"In training."
Glen shot an annoyed look at the feisty brunette next to him, "…in training, here at Stan's."
"Well done." The robotic voice said as the camera ran up and down the line of hostages. "Now it's time to explain to you what is expected of you if you wish to live…"
May 16, 2008 5:27pm Los Angeles – Carlin Family Home.
Paula Carlin set the carrots down on the cutting board, and then flipped on the small television that sat on the kitchen counter.
The television provided background noise as she continued with washing the rest of the vegetables and placing them on the cutting board next to the well scrubbed carrots.
"…Police Commissioner Bradley will be holding a conference in a few minutes to give us more information about this highly unusual situation. Again, it hasn't been confirmed but according to eye witnesses, there is a hostage situation taking place at a convenience store on the eastside. We do not know how many hostages there are or what their captors demands are but the windows and doors to the store have been completely blacked out. Calls to Stan's Swifty Mart from Channel 12 News have gone unanswered and police are on the scene…"
The knife that had been cutting the vegetables with the speed of a professional chef fell on the thick wooden butchers block with a dull thud.
Paula Carlin stood there, staring at the television, on the screen was an aerial view of the store her son worked at. She could make out what she prayed wasn't her daughter's light blue, Volkswagen Beetle in the parking lot between a beat up Honda and a Porsche. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it was.
The house phone started ringing, a sense of dread over took her as she knew that whoever was calling her was not calling with good news. She hesitantly reached out for the phone, her eyes still not moving from the images on the screen as Commissioner Bradley came on screen.
"Hello?" She asked briskly, steeling herself for the inevitable news.
"At approximately 3:45 this afternoon we were called about a possible robbery taking place at Stan's Swifty Mart. The caller stated that men with white masks and dressed in what looked like white jumpsuits where covering all the windows of the store in blackout film." Commissioner Bradley said into the dozens of microphones attached to the podium he was standing at, not wasting anytime in getting to the details of the situation.
"Oh, please, God, no…" Paula Carlin cried in reaction to the news she was hearing from whoever was speaking on the other end of the phone.
"Police were immediately called to the scene where the caller's information was confirmed. The windows and doors had all been completely covered in blackout film. It was impossible to assess what was going on in the store due to this.
Calls to the store have gone unanswered and we had no indication of what was going on inside the store until 20 minutes ago when we received a message via a video sent to us through email." He continued, ignoring that flashing bulb going off around him. "A person claiming to represent the group holding the hostages in the store, identified himself only as Adam was the contact person. He was dressed completely in white, including a white nylon mask, which matches the eyewitness accounts we have already received. He demanded that we air the footage they will be showing from within the store on at least one network, continuously."
"I have to call my husband and we'll be right there." Paula replied to the person on the other end of the phone, her voice filled with maternal panic. Paula hung up the phone and rushed out of the house, dinner forgotten and the television still on.
"If we do not follow these instructions, they say they will kill all the hostages being held in the store. They also sent us a video showing all the hostages stating their names, ages and other identifying information. We are withholding that information until all their families can be notified. There are seven people that we know of being held currently. CNBC has offered the use of their station for the broadcast until we can come to a resolution in this situation. The feed that we will be showing will be on a two hour delay according to the leader, Adam. We have no reason to believe at this time that this is not real and are treating it as such. The feed will start at approximately 6pm once we have set up the proper frequencies for the airing. That is all that we have at this time. My office will keep you updated as we receive and process more information. That is all." The Commissioner quickly left the podium and went back to the makeshift command post that had been set up on the far side of the parking lot.
He had been the Police Commissioner for Los Angeles for over 15 years and never in his life had he ever heard of anything like this. He had been adamant about not giving into the demands of who he considered terrorist but once the video of who the hostages actually were was released, the FBI had stepped in and demanded they follow through with whatever the captors wanted.
He didn't agree but he couldn't very well argue when the order had come directly from the office of the President himself.