THREE MINUTES. The group was three minutes behind schedule and Astra Hart was beginning to grow nervous. Her leg bounced as she anxiously awaited the blaring of sirens, she could hear Kai Walker ( the groups notorious leader ) scolding them already.But it wasn't her fault they were late. Because really when was it ever? No, of course it was Enzo fucking Clarke's.
The forty-something man possessed an impressive knack for messing shit up, but this time he'd gone just a bit too far.
Like, seriously. Buying clown masks? How cliché could someone be?
But he just kept on pestering her, pulling out his Glock 17, pressing it's cool barrel to her forehead as a means of persuasion. It was safe to say she did a quick search for where to buy said masks and promptly drove the psychotic man to the gas station. But who would really blame her? It wasn't like he was adverse to shooting a team member, it certainly wouldn't be the first time.
"Fuck." Astra cursed as she checked the time; 10.07am and not a single person had set foot out of the building. With the amount of bullets Enzo sprayed into the marbled walls of the bank, the police were sure to be on sight within a minute or two. Anyone in a ten mile radius must have heard all that shit. He was always one for the theatrics.
One minute, twenty seven seconds.
Astra was ready. Foot on the gas pedal, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other flicked through her heist playlists ( she needed at least six, all depending on what mood she was in ), before deciding on Highway To Hell.
Then she noticed it.
The three men sprinting out of the bank, money crammed into three black duffel bags, clown masks still in tact and looking like a scene straight out of The Dark Knight.
The blonde unlocked the doors of her red Mercedes, the men sparing no more time in jumping in, firearms still in hand. Before they even had the chance to shut the doors, one of Kai's new recruits ( he certainly wouldn't last long ) signalled for her to drive.
Well, duh. It's not as if she was new to her job.
"Astra, what you listening to today?" Phoenix Carter, the most human ( though that truly wasn't saying a lot ) of the people she'd surrounded herself with, questioned. A curious look upon his undoubtedly handsome face, as he ran his hand through his golden hair that was shining in the reflection of the mid morning sunlight.
"Highway to Hell." Her voice was devoid of any real spirit, and though she tried her best to smile, she wasn't sure if it had pushed through or ended up looking close to an uncomfortable grimace. After all, her attention was focused on getting the group out of the centre of town, where the police had recently arrived, sirens blaring as they searched for the robbers.
YOU ARE READING
GETAWAY CAR
FanfictionIN WHICH astra hart is adamant that she has nothing to do with the infamous gang, the black wolves oc x derek morgan