Ollie leans back in his desk chair as he inspects his work; he'd been disassembling and reassembling a rifle that he'd requested from Coil for a few hours now in preparation for the bank job. It reminded Ollie of a FAMAS: it was a boxy, bullpup assault rifle chambered in 5.56, a gunmetal black rectangle that looked more like a child's drawing of a gun than the genuine article. Once he'd taken it apart, he'd found that the comically large barrel had an integrated laser and battery pack underneath the rifle barrel proper. Reverse-engineered Tinker tech had to be.
He stood and checked the time; his phone's screen was offensively bright in the otherwise dark room. It was 9:13 AM. Roughly three hours till the bank job; no better time to get dressed up.
Ollie never got gussied up for normal hits, but jobs like this called for anonymity. Unlike the rest of these jackoffs, he wasn't partial to spandex and goofy names. His costume consisted of a black Kevlar-lined T-shirt, khaki cargo pants bloused over combat boots, and assorted protective gear: knee pads, tactical gloves, and a bulletproof vest—form fitting thanks to some Tinker shenanigans, or so he'd been told—something about spatial manipulation and compacting a couple dozen ceramic plates into a small space. It was a bitch to upkeep, but those Toybox Tinkers were fair when it came to prices. And, finally, a black cotton balaclava.
He tucked his shirt into his pants and the balaclava into his shirt before filling his pockets with spare magazines—.45 for his pistol and 5.56 for the rifle Coil had provided. Ollie scanned the room for his pistol. The room was simple; half was dedicated to the twin-sized bed with a dresser integrated into its frame, and the other half was dedicated to Ollie's equipment. Guns, mostly. It had been surprisingly easy to smuggle most of this into Brockton, but Ollie guessed that was to be expected from such a shithole.
Ollie found his pistol on the nightstand, holstering it at his waist, and unloaded the bullpup before putting it into a rifle scabbard and strapping it onto his back. A knock came from the door.
"Open." Ollie called. Brian leaned into the room, in costume but unmasked—Ollie appreciated that Brian actually wore some body armor, unlike a lot of Capes.
"Oh, you're already prepped." Brian eyed the pistol on Ollie's waist. "Remember what we talked about?"
"No killing or maiming if I can help it."
"Good." Brian's relieved tone betrayed his appreciation. Ollie liked Brian; he seemed like a good person, just in the wrong line of work. He got the sense that this guy was a bit too busy being a friend to his team to be a proper leader, though. "The rest of us are waiting in the lobby."
Ollie nodded, and Brian turned away, making his way back to the team. Ollie followed. The team was huddled around the dining table. Heads turned at the sound of boots on hardwood, and he whistled when he saw Ollie.
"Hey there, GI Joe." The scrawny kid snarked, shooting Ollie a smirk. Alec was aloof, far too much for Ollie's liking considering their line of work, but he almost found it endearing.
"Shut it." Ollie shot back with no real heat. He stood next to Brian and folded his arms as his eyes fell on the map of Brockton Bank's layout on the table.
"Alright. Now that we're all here," Brian said, "let's get down to business. The boss provided a truck and driver to get us to Brockton Bank. Rachel's dogs will be our getaway."
Bitch nodded, idly petting the dog sitting next to her chair. Judas, Ollie thought.
"Once we're in," Brian continued, "Rachel and I will watch the doors. Taylor and Lynch, you two are responsible for crowd control. Alec and Lisa will get into the vault and grab the money. Any questions?"
"What about the Cape response?" Taylor asked. Her voice was a bit quiet, but Taylor struck Ollie as reserved anyway. He hadn't heard her speak much, especially not to him, in the short time he'd been with the Undersiders. She wasn't in Coil's lineup; the Undersiders had recruited her the day before Ollie made it onto their team. He liked her. She was serious and treated every word she said like hot coal—carefully. Taylor was also one of the only two here—sans himself—wearing some body armor, even if it wasn't proper armor.
"Like Lisa said yesterday, we shouldn't expect much resistance. Rachel, and I'll handle it. Alec." Brian barked. "When you're done in the vault, I want you to help with any heroes."
Alec nodded.
"It's a decent plan, but not very flexible. What's your plan when something goes wrong?" Ollie asked, his voice coming clearly through the balaclava.
"So long as everyone plays their part, nothing will go wrong." Brian was far too confident, in Ollie's opinion. He was trusting Lisa's word far too easily and not leaving room for when something would inevitably go south—even if it didn't, better safe than sorry. But Brian was the team leader, and Ollie wasn't getting paid to give constructive criticism.
The screech of brakes outside echoed the arrival of their driver.
"Masks on." Brian ordered, pulling on his motorcycle helmet. He patted Ollie's shoulder as he walked by, followed closely by Lisa, Rachel, and Alec. Taylor's mask wasn't something you just slid on, so she was fumbling with her hair for a moment before rising from her seat.
"Hey." Ollie stopped Taylor, walking around the table to meet her. He unholstered his pistol and checked to make sure it was loaded before racking the slide—chambering a round. Taylor jumped at the sound. Ollie closed his fingers around the barrel and held the grip out to her. "Have you ever used one of these before?"
"No. I—I can't take this." She protested weakly.
"I'm not asking you to shoot anybody. Just think of it like insurance." In Ollie's mind, Taylor was the most vulnerable teammate; sure, she had an extendable baton and a knife, but that wasn't going to cut it when the other guy could throw cars or shoot lasers from his hands.
"I don't even know how to use a gun!" She almost sounded desperate not to take the gun from him, and as confused as he wanted to be, he set the feeling aside and pressed on.
"Look, there's already a bullet in the chamber. Just point it and pull the trigger. Shoot twice." Ollie pushed the gun into Taylor's hands. She held it carefully, the dull gray metal contrasting with the black, reflective silk of her costume. Ollie turned away and was walking towards the door before Taylor could protest further, calling out to her as he left. "Better safe than sorry."
————————————————————————
The ride to the bank was uneventful. Though Ollie struggled not to swat at the bugs that flew in Taylor's immediate space, He couldn't see them in the dim light of the truck, but what light did reflect off of their exoskeletons gave the impression that her costume was moving, and it was deeply unsettling. A shiver raced up his spine as he felt the fly Taylor had placed on the back of his neck move. He wanted to move, but she was right next to him on the bench, and he knew Jack all about her power; for all he knew, if he broke her concentration, all these bugs would frenzy, and that was worse than anything he could imagine.
Ollie jerked forward a bit when the truck came to a stop, and he had to stop himself from shooting out of his seat. Almost an hour in the trailer with no AC and surrounded by bugs would make just about anyone eager to leave. When the driver opened the trailer, Brian was the first one out, followed closely by Lisa, Rachel, and her dogs, Alec, Taylor, and Ollie. He pulled his bullpup from its scabbard and chambered it before patting down his pockets to make sure he had the surplus mags.
Taylor and Ollie were the first ones through the door. He let a round fly into the ceiling and shouted louder than he needed to to be heard.
"On the floor!"
Taylor's swarm flowed from beneath her armor into the lobby after everyone had hit the deck; waves of spiders crawled from beneath her shin guards onto the floor and onto the poor bastards lying face down on it. Taylor found herself an elevated spot on an end table tucked away in a waiting area, while Ollie stood at the center of the lobby. Alec and Lisa, blue duffel bags thrown over their shoulders, raced behind the line of teller stations and grabbed a portly, middle-aged woman. Lisa was saying something about the manager, but that wasn't his concern right now.
"Listen closely." Taylor said this from her perch on the end table. "Right now, there are at least three Black Widow spiders on each and every one of you. Some of you might know that a black widow's bite isn't all that deadly, but that's only one bite. If you're willing to test your luck with three, please try something. Move, and I'll know, and all three of those black widows will bite. So, for your safety, I suggest you stay where you are."
Ollie was impressed. For how timid she was back at the Loft, Taylor delivered quite the threat, and even if these guys didn't buy her speech, Ollie wasn't shy about putting a bullet in any wannabe heroes.
"You heard her. Keep your heads down." Ollie barked. He spared a glance at the teller stations, and Lisa and Alec weren't there. They must be in the vault, then. The front? Ollie turned to look over his shoulder, and Brian and Rachel were keeping watch, just like they were supposed to. If Ollie didn't know any better, he'd think they were going to be in and out with no trouble, but these jobs rarely panned out like you wanted them. Especially when Capes were involved—all those costumes brought attention, whether you liked it or not.
Taylor stepped down from her end table and made her way to the center of the opposite end of the lobby. They shared a brief nod, and Ollie turned his attention back to the teller stations. Lisa sat behind one, spinning lazily in the desk chair with her full duffel bag thrown onto the desk.
"Tattletale." He said.
"Hitman." She replied.
"What're you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
"Got bored." Lisa shot up from her seat and leaned on the desk. "Can I ask you something?"
Ollie sighed, not believing how Lisa wasn't treating the job with the severity it deserved, but it wasn't like he had anything else to do. These people weren't getting back up, whether he was watching them or not, thanks to Taylor.
"Shoot."
"Why're you here?"
"I'm checking up on my credit deposit. What the fuck do you think?"
"No, I mean—" Lisa huffs and leans closer to the glass; her next words are whispered. "Why're you here? The boss isn't holding anything over you. What's your endgame?"
This again.
"I told you. It's just a job. It's decent pay, and I've got access to resources and equipment I don't normally have." Ollie brandishes his bullpup to reinforce his point. "Can't you get that through your thick skull?"
"There's got to be something else." Lisa's eyes wander to the lobby floor behind him, and Ollie notices her eyes go wide. He spins around and sees what's spooked her. Taylor had braced herself against a pillar, a hand cradling her head, and a young brunette was prowling up behind her, ready to bring a fire extinguisher down on Taylor's head.
"Hey!" Ollie barked and fired a shot into the girl's thigh. She fell to the floor with a cry, clutching her leg, and a few of the other civilians on the floor shrieked—Ollie could hear a child quietly sobbing somewhere to his left. He didn't even get to enjoy the moment before the wall opposite him—on the other side of the lobby—exploded. Bits of debris and dust filled the lobby, and something slammed into Ollie like a truck, and his rifle had been thrown from his grip. It closed around his throat and held him off his feet, against the bulletproof glass of the teller station. A migraine was splitting his head in two, and whatever had hit him had knocked the air out of his lungs. He choked, trying his damndest to breathe, and as the dust settled, he saw the light shine on a stark white dress accented with gold.
Glory Girl glared into Ollie's eyes, and his migraine roared. When their eyes met, a wave of pure terror washed over him like cold water. His arms trembled as his vision filled with spots, and he clawed futilely at Glory Girl's arm, choking desperately for any breath of air.
