The Hell Heist

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

-Dedicated to LightningSpark1-

Are you sure? I don't know how long the offer stands; we've been getting picked off pretty quickly.

its a last ditch option. im not that desperate ethan, not yet.

If you change your mind let me know. We'll be getting to work tomorrow and need all hands on deck.

"Mute! Break time's over, get off your phone and get your scrawny ass back to the kitchen!" A large man calls to him before stomping back to where he came.

my break is over i gotta go

I know it's a big decision but think it over.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and got up, trudging back into the hot kitchen and resuming his work, rushing around trying to fulfill orders of customers while his coworkers talked amongst themselves and did nothing to help. As the clock ticked on more people left with few coming to trade places with them, yet he remained, working long past dark until finally leaving the kitchen well past his scheduled time. He approached his manager and tapped him on the shoulder as he pulled something from his pocket. The manager turned to glare down at him.

"Whaddaya want, mouth?"

He raised the object from his pocket and pressed one of the buttons, causing a garbled rewinding sound to emit from it before he pressed another button, this time a cheery voice coming from the speaker.

"I require your assistance."

The manager rolled his eyes as he answered. "With what?"

He simply pointed towards the manager office with his free hand.

"What, you want your paycheck or somethin'?"

He nodded, growing impatient. The manager grumbled as he stalked off into the office, coming back out with a thin envelope and shoving it into his chest. The manager walks back to his post, resuming his conversation. "So yeah, this author dude went missin', his apartment was a mess and blood was all over..."

He looks down at the envelope addressed to his name and walks over to a nearby counter, leaning against it as he tears the envelope open. He scanned over the numbers hoping for something to finally change, but it remained the same; he was still getting underpaid. He walked over to the manager once again, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to face him.

"Get your damn hands off me, you little shit! The hell is your problem?!" He showed him the paper, pointing at the number tallying his total pay.

"Oh, don't tell me you're on about this shit again, it ain't my fault you decided to start working night and day! You got your weekly pay, the overtime was your decision, so quit complaining about not getting money that ain't yours! Now take what ya got and leave before I take it back and make you leave!" He glared at the manager, balling his fists tightly.

"What, ya got somethin' to say?! Speak up!" The manager said, practically spitting in his face.

He grits his teeth and swings his fist, hitting the manager squarely in the temple and sending him to the floor. The manager attempts to sit up, only to be punched again in the nose and sent right back to the ground. He stands over him and grabs his collar, punching him four more times. He considers continuing, but hesitates to see the gazes of his coworkers, some confused, some excited, some angry. He turns around, walking to the cash register and quickly typing in some numbers to open it, emptying the contents into his pocket along with his crumpled paycheck. His coworkers watch in silence as he walks out of the door into the night.