Necromancer For Hire- Arc 8

Arc 8, Chapter 3

The Strike

Blood roared in Victor’s ears as he fell against Umbra's arm, pushing his face into the soft down of Umbra's coat. Seconds seemed to crawl as everyone in the bank froze, all eyes on the man with the gun. His comrades clenched their fists, elemental magic coursing around their fingers. It was obvious that they were experienced mages.

The room seemed to spin in circles around Victor as he clung to Umbra for support, nearly toppling over. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. A weak cry broke through Victor’s blank expression, and he began to sob.

“Shut up, brat!” the man snapped, making Victor flinch, “I said for everyone to get against the wall!”

Victor covered his face, sobbing harder and more frantically. Umbra brought a steady arm in front of him, and Victor felt the rumble of a growl in his chest. His violet eyes were narrowed, needle-like teeth bared at the man.

“Down, Umbra,” Matthew hissed between clenched teeth, grabbing him by the collar, “Just listen to him for now.”

Keeping solid eye contact, Umbra lowered himself to the floor, pulling Victor into his lap. Victor buried his face into Umbra's chest, quivering as he tried to stifle his cries.

“You're seriously just going to let this happen?” Umbra growled in Matthew's ear, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Matthew kept his eyes on their captors. “They haven't hurt anyone yet. I don't want to start a fight with Victor so close to the melee. I'm not risking his or anyone else’s in this room safety,” he adjusted his glasses, “They don't know we're mercenaries. We have the upper hand.”

“You two,” the man with the gun snapped, gesturing at two of his companions, “Stand guard at the doors.” He directed his attention around the room, the wrinkles around his mouth making his scowl more severe, “Empty out your wallets and purses. If you try to hide anything, you're dead.”

Slowly, the contents of bags and wallets were dumped onto the floor, both change and makeup clattering onto the marble. Umbra drew out his wallet, giving Matthew a questioning look.

“Just wait,” Matthew murmured, moving his hand into the inside pocket of his coat, “We have Alcorith Horizons on our ID. If they see that, it's all over.”

“Hey, lady,” the man's voice broke through Matthew and Umbra's hushed whispers, “Are you deaf or somethin’? Show me what's in the purse.”

Matthew recognized her as the woman he had been standing behind in line. Short, dark hair bounced across the tops of her shoulders, bright blue eyes blazing up at the man. She stood up, balling her fist, the powerful muscle in her arm flexing. She threw a punch, leaving the man gasping for breath.

Blood dripping from his mouth, the man pointed his gun. Umbra instinctively clamped his hand over Victor’s eyes. He fired, but the woman was quick, shoving him away with firm hands. The bullet grazed her side, scarlet staining her shirt. She sank to her knees, panting.

“If you move again, it'll be your head,” he muttered, kicking her in the ribs.

Umbra lessened his grip on Victor’s face, simply turning his head away from the injured woman. He settled against Matthew's side, feeling that his body was tense. Matthew's eyes were indistinguishable behind his glasses, but his teeth were gritted.

The man stopped in front of Matthew, hitting him with his foot. “You heard me, throw out your wallet. And take that coat off too. It's too bulky.”

Matthew sat up, meeting eyes with Umbra. He nodded, a very slightly jerk of the head that only Umbra noticed. Umbra understood the cue, and scooted away from him and hugged Victor tight.

“I don't have much money with me,” Matthew said calmly with sly smile, “I'm a small business owner, what do you expect?”

“Stop stalling!”

“Alright, hold on,” Matthew murmured, “There's no need to be rash.”

In one solid jerk, Matthew threw off his coat, revealing a loaded gun in his hand. He raised it to eye level, lip curling in a snarl.

“Now, how about we stop this whole silly thing and let everyone go home?”

Author's Note- thank goodness matthew "always packing heat" heckin mortis is crazy enough to bring a gun to the bank as well