September of 1801
It all started with a rock. Yes, a rock. The rock was thrown through a pane of glass. The pane of glass shattered into a million tiny pieces. The short figure dressed in all black crouched through the open hole of the pane of glass. He took out his prop gun and aimed it at the cashier.
"Sir, please give me all the Benjamin's out of your vault."
Ugh... Why would I call him sir? And why would I say please? I'm such a twat.
The cashier, who appeared to be an old man with snowy white hair from the dim light of the moon, was in a dilemma between fight, flight, or freeze. He chose freeze. The old man just stared at the dark figure in front of him with big wide bug-eyes.
"I'll repeat again. Give me all the Benjamin's NOW!" The robber commanded.
Alright, I'll admit—That was way better.
Immediately, the cashier nodded his head, and signaled the dark figure to follow him. The old man walked over to the vault with the gun right at his back. Surprisingly, the old man wasn't scared. The old man wasn't frightened. The old man was just calm. Unusually calm. He unlocked the vault, and opened it wide for the robber. It was filled with a ton of green Washington's. Not what he was expecting. His smile turned to a frown. His bright gray eyes darkened.
The robber turned to the old man and asked, "Where's all the Benjamin's?"
"We already got robbed of all our hundred bills the other day. This is all we got! You missed the chance, fella."
Welp, it's better than nothing...
The figure sighed, and took out his bag. He stuffed as many one dollar bills as he could. Only seven. Seven dollar bills. Would that be enough for his father's medicine? Would it be enough to survive? To survive in the depths of a living nightmare? Before he could run out the back door, the robber stopped himself. Feeling the need to thank the old man, he said, "Thank you for helping me, sir."
"Sure... You seem very unprofessional, based on my past experience with robbers."
"What makes you say that?" The figure frowned, scrunching his red ginger eyebrows.
"First, you break the glass, which will attract a ton of them bobbies."
Bobbies? I've never heard of that slang before. Who is this old man?
"What does bobbies mean, sir?"
"Police," The old man answered, "Then, you bring in a dummy gun..."
"How'd you know that!"
"Lastly— you're just too damn nice. You gotta be more mean, kid!"
The kid chuckled. He shook his head and said, "Cheerio, it was nice meeting you!"
"Cheerio..."
As he ran into the starry night, the robber had a strange feeling about this old man. A strange, strange feeling. Most of the cashiers of the stores he had robbed didn't react like this. They weren't friendly to him, who would be friendly to a robber? What an unusual old man.
**********
The boy ran to the bottom of a nearby bridge. It was infested with dirty brown sewer water. It was infested with a bunch of hobos and tramps. And worst of all, it was infested with rats. Disease-carrying rats.
He ran to the tiny dark blue tent. There was an orange glowing light shining out of its opening. The boy opened it to find his father, resting on the ground. His father didn't look so well. There were blood stains on his shirt. His poor lungs were wheezing rapidly, desperately trying to catch a breath every second of the day. His entire body was covered in a blanket of cold sweat.
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The Legend of Barry {Guts & Blackpowder}
FanfictionWe all know how Barry died. He died a hero. A legend. He saved many lives on that fateful day... But we never got to know him. Who is Barry? Was he a good man, or a bad man? A soldier or a coward? Aren't you curious to find out the backstory of Barr...
