Mask

Chapter One

Blake Vallas

   Shifting my khaki-colored bag shoulder to shoulder, my eyes wandered around the perimeter of a small, brick building that looked in need of a retirement.

The brick walls didn't carry that defining, rich sense of bold colors of burgundy and burnt oranges, instead they were aging and carried rugged memories throughout the seems of rusted concrete.

The windows were cloudy and reflected dust that clearly has not been touched in some time. It couldn't have been any bigger than a small coffee shop which would prevent me from doing much work in this case.

The dusted cameras were turned off with ease, inside and outside, thanks to a programming software which made hacking other technological devices much easier.

Overall with the unchallenging techniques I'd have to preform, robbing this bank couldn't get any better.

Inside smelt of cardboard, and the air felt murky with a tinge of overcast from the windows poorly doing there job of bringing in sunlight.

There was a middle-aged woman, slouching in a plastic chair behind a computer, seemingly unaware of the opening and closing of the front door I had just encountered with. The lack of her surroundings made this too painless of a job.

"What do you need?" Without looking up, the woman coughed after her short sentence, catching me with a hint of surprise knowing somehow she had known someone walked in. For all she knew, someone could have walked in with a gun demanding money.

Wait a minute... what a pleasing surprise.

"I'd like to make a deposit." I asked benevolently. Giving a light reply, she looked up at me with honey-brown eyes giving a short smile.

"Sure honey, do you have a check with you or cash?" She asked, bringing her graying, dark hair behind her left ear. She took the time to turn around to the counter behind her and began rummaging through a few files. Taking that few seconds, I took in what I could to examine her desk and the things I'd further need.

An arrangement of keys were seated, desperately waiting my touch, next to the back door. An obvious and idiotic place to hang such valuable necessities.

When she turned back around, I swiftly hauled a glock 26 into my steady hands and with just enough force, pounded the side of her head.

She sunk onto her desk unconscious, and with the amount of exertion I applied would keep her out for a least two hours, giving me enough time to do my business.

I swiftly jumped over the counter and grabbed the golden keys that were once mentally torturing me to touch. Now having them in my hands, I felt assertive and kept my composure unfazed and steady.

Unlocking the back door, I held my gun out in front of me ready to be faced with the worst, but was only greeted with the best; stacks of cash.

It was an empty room, except for the manifest stacks of carefully toiled money right in the center. It's as if it was calling for someone to seize it and actually do something with it rather than letting it sit there in silence.

Compared to the countless of banks I've had the pleasure of going through, this one definitely holds the title for "most imbecile idea". Someone must have thought putting millions of dollars right in the core of a vacant room, would be most sufficient. If they didn't how else would people like me get their hands on it? Sometimes I consider my job too easy.

With inaudible movements, I gathered my bag and began to stuff as much money as possible. The easy part was finished, the getaway was more of a strenuous task.