Scattered Dreams & Dragonflies

The looping heist

Faint, desperate voices filled the room. Muffled echoes, charged with intensity and fear, surrounded me as I opened my eyes. I found myself among a group of people. The constant shaking slowly brought me to reality as I attempted to fix my vision, scratching my eyes intensely. I realized I was lying against the side of a car door. From that angle, I could see three people inside the car. A man, with a desperate look, sat focused on the driver's seat with both hands on the steering wheel. Next to him, a redhead with black highlights sat in the front passenger seat, looking in every direction. One hand was on the dash in front of her, while the other used the back of her seat as leverage.

"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead," she said, glancing at me for less than a fraction of a second. "'Bout time you woke up," her voice stretched as if gasping for air. She continued to look in every direction as the car noticeably kept us moving at an alarming speed.

Staring outside, the environment was barely visible, mere afterimages, as my eyes attempted to follow the terrain we continuously left behind with every passing second. Before I could even gather my bearings, my perspective somehow shifted to a third-person view. I could see the car we were in, as well as the cars closely following behind. The image I saw was more like a simulation of a helicopter recording a chase. I could see the image portrayed as that of a man watching from the comfort of his own home on the news. For brief seconds, as that image persisted, so did the immersion of the experience, as the sound emitted resembled that of a TV as well.

The recorded image suddenly moved, as the magnification of the third-person view steadily zoomed into what seemed like my shoulder, riding in the back of the car. It lasted for about a moment, as the car quickly got lost in a tunnel, managing to escape with ease.

The next thing I remember was seeing the group, as the car stopped, waiting for us in a brief celebration. This was a team of six. Apparently, I was one of them; however, my role seemed more like that of an observer, as the only time I was addressed was at the start, waking up. I noticed that the more the team talked, the more confident they seemed. They had managed to steal from a major bank in the area. In their demeanor and their talking, I could feel an air of confidence mixed with delusional arrogance. So much so, that the team, without asking for my input, planned an infiltration to the same place once more.

Regardless of my interaction in the plan, without discussion of any kind, I remember jumping into the fray with the team. The plan was in my mind, and I knew instinctively where to go. I remember the nervousness, the air of tension of the team, as all six of us attempted to enter the building through the front door. The man I remembered as the driver stood at the point, leading the group inside. Walking closely behind him was the redhead, the only one who had spoken to me during the time I had been here. Another from the group I could just remember as the man wearing a very long coat. Walking closely behind him, I could see something extending from his coat. It was a type of timed explosive, supposedly strong enough to break a lock without making any noticeable sound. He continued to walk, with both hands in his pockets, his face blocked from the outside as the coat covered it. I followed close behind as the four of us infiltrated the building rather easily. Two of the group, whom I never got to see, waited outside.

Our entrance to the building was rather swift and effortless. Seeing as the ones chasing us before never managed to get a clear view of our faces, no one recognized us, so we entered without being bothered much. In that allotted time, I remember reaching a room, this time with the driver and the coat man. Both entered the room and started conversing with an older gentleman that sat before them. They seemed to be in a room that looked like a fancy leather-coated room. The redhead, however, was nowhere to be found. In that time, I instinctively sat near the entrance, almost like a guard, as the men conversed with the older gentleman. I had enough vision to see that they were inside, however, not close enough to hear clearly; murmurs of their indiscernible conversations were the best I could do at the time.

Everything looked as if it was going smoothly until a man with a mustache came running frantically into the room. Without missing a beat, he started to yell at the team that was talking to the older gentleman. I remember him yelling things along the lines of recognizing us as the team that had robbed them prior. The only line of reasoning for this was the fact that in the TV-like recording of us, my shoulder had been shown in the frame for a few moments.

Even in scenarios like this, as far-fetched as they sound, the man continued to unrelentingly accuse us as the authors of the last infiltration. I remained voiceless as the men in the room pleaded our case, arguing that seeing someone's covered shoulder was not evidence enough. The man with the mustache could not prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that we were in fact the ones who did it. Regardless, all the attention at that time was on the man, leaving enough time for the redhead to show herself suddenly. Without attracting much attention to herself, she proceeded to leave a rather big silver bag in front of me. Opening my hand in the same motion, she left a key in it, giving me a rather swift wink before disappearing behind a corner at the very end of an adjacent corridor. It seemed like it was part of the plan, as I quickly understood the importance of the bag. However, I would never get to experience the end, as a sudden alarm, drawing everyone's attention, briefly caused my eyes to open that Saturday morning.