Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Everything happened so extremely fast. One moment Ash was telling his mother how very impractical and unreasonable it was to insist on always paying in cash, the next he was lying face down on the marble tiles of the bank's entrance hall.
"Don't worry, normal heists are a grab-and-run thing, they'll be in and out in less than five minutes", Philippa, lying right next to her son, whispered. "Just stay calm, breathe even, everything will be alright."
BAM!
One of the masked robbers had shot at the ceiling, hit the overhead lighting and made it go out with a hiss. A shower of broken glass came raining down on them. One woman cried out in terror. A collective shiver ran through the group of hostages.
Using fear to keep the people in check, Ash thought. Makes sense. What was strange, though, was the fact that the robbers were heavily armed, with assault rifles and automatic small arms. That was almost overkill, and a lot of ballast for a grab-and-run thing.
"Pat them down!", the apparent leader told one of his three minions. The underlings all wore hamster masks, he wore a raccoon mask. Dark blond hair was sticking out at the sides.
Ash watched them from the corners of his eyes, making sure not to turn his head and thus raise suspicion. He was afraid, yes, but his mother was right, heists were speed-oriented, unless someone blundered and tried to be a hero this nightmare would be over soon. That was probably why they were frisking them; they wanted to be sure nobody with a permit to carry a concealed weapon would try his hands at heroism and get in the way.
He could almost hear his father inside his head: Remaining level-headed has top priority. Observe before you act. Know your enemy. Don't blindly flail around. Often playing along is the best strategy to keep everyone safe. Keep your ego in check. Humiliation is survivable, a bullet in your brain isn't. They had practiced tai chi together… meditation exercises, too. Back then Ash had found them boring… now he saw what they were good for.
The robber was now patting his mother down. He'd be next. Ash took a deep breath and prepared himself for a stranger's hands on his body. He hated the thought of having to tolerate the thug's touch. Inside of him a small flame flared up. Somebody was going to invade his personal territory, against his will… Keep your ego in check.
"Now what do we have here?"
The robber's surprised yell startled Ash from his thoughts. He looked up and saw the man standing over his mother, who was lying face down just like him. The back of her blouse had been rucked up, revealing part of her bare back… and a holster.
A holster for a gun. A .45 automatic, to be precise. The thug was holding it in his hand, showing it to the leader.
"Lady, that's a badass gun!" He tucked it away behind the waistband of his pants and continued patting Philippa down. When he reached her right ankle he stopped again, made a tsk-tsk sound, rucked up the pant leg, too, and produced a knife.
"Boss!"
His military boots resounding heavily on the marble floor, the leader came walking over to them.
"What is this about?", he snarled at Philippa, weighing the knife in his hands, pointing his gun at the back of her head.
"Second amendment", she replied, her voice muffled from still having to face the floor. "Just executing my constitutional rights, that's all. I like to be prepared."
Not an uncommon attitude…
"Keep an eye on her", the leader told his minion and returned to the center of the room.
After carefully checking Philippa's shoes, the thug moved on to Ash, patted him down. Ash hardly noticed. His thoughts were racing. His mother had a gun? And not just some "fits perfectly in your purse with pretty rosewood grips" – crap. A .45 meant business. His dad carried one. And Guerrero. Winston. His grandfather.
What was even more upsetting, though, was the knife. The thing the thug had found attached to her ankle was no Swiss Army knife that came with screwdrivers and can openers. It was a large combat knife, at least nine inches all in all, the blade 4 ½, possibly more.
Guerrero had sat him and Isamu down about a year ago and showed them his collection of knives. He had demonstrated how easily even the smaller ones could cut through things. Using oranges as substitutes for human flesh, he had made it very clear that knives, just like firearms, were not for fooling around. "Throw a knife into the game and somebody is bound to get hurt", he had told them. "One stab can be enough to kill. You don't want to see anyone bleed to death, trust me."
Why in the world was his mother carrying such a dangerous weapon?
He tried to get a glimpse of her face, but she was stoically looking at the marble tiles.
… … …
Outside police sirens could be heard.
Police sirens?
Still not daring to look at her son, Philippa strained her ears.
Oh no… tires screeched, right in front of the building.
She closed her eyes.
Things had just gotten a lot more complicated, in more than one way.
… … …
Joubert had just finished reducing the clothes he had worn during his last job to ashes in his fireplace when his cell signaled. It was a special ringtone, reserved for one person and one person only.
Frowning, he took the call. Junior never made social calls. When his number appeared on the display, something was up.
Junior's message was short. He didn't have much information yet. But it was enough to make him sit down.
No. This couldn't be true. Not Ash.
Grabbing a crystal tumbler from his liquor cabinet, he smashed it against the wall.
Whoever was responsible for that was going to pay.
… … …
There were very few pleasures Innokentij allowed himself to indulge in. Reading the newspaper while having a good, strong cup of English Breakfast tea was one of them.
One of the first lessons every new recruit learned was to NEVER disturb the boss' teatime unless it was REALLY important. Contraventions could result in severe repercussions.
So when Lee, one of his most loyal soldiers, entered the room only seconds after he had taken his first sip of tea, Innokentij knew he wasn't going to talk about the weather.
"News from Devo", Lee said and placed a note on Innokentij's table. Then he quickly disappeared.
Devo, that was the eye he had put on the boy.
Innokentij read the note.
The next thing Lee heard was the crashing of a porcelain tea set.
A second later his boss was yelling to get him a flight to San Francisco.