The Wanted (NOT A FAN FIC)

PROLOUGE

A nineteen year old boy with light brown spiked hair and electric blue eyes, walks into the Fernandez bank. He takes a spot on line until the next available accountant is available.

"Next," A lady, who must be in her late forties, whose hair is in a tight bun,and has gray roots showing through her obviously dyed red hair, calls.

He walks calmly to the front desk and looks at the lady's name tag. "Excuse me Hilga, can I please withdraw $200 from my account?" He asks.

"Name." Hilga says in a monotone with a blank facial expression.

"Jay Parker." Jay says politely.

"James Max Parker?" She asks annoyed.

"Yes," He replies, rubbing his lips together.

She scrolls down on her computer silently.

"I'm sorry there is no Jay Max Parker in our system anymore. It looks like your account has been cancelled." She says.

"No?" Jay asks surprised.

"Although," Hilga adds. "There is a Nathan Siva Parker."

"Nathan." Jay says soundlessly under his breath aggressively.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you. Have a nice rest of your day." Jay says distracted, rushing out of the bank.

****

He waits on line like a everyday banker, waiting his turn, like a lion stalking his prey.

"Next," An old horrific looking woman calls out. Her hair was gray and dyed red.

I look at her name tag. "Hello Hilga," I say politely.

"I already told you I can't do anything James--" She starts.

"James?" I question.

"You are James, aren't you?" She asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, I am James." I say.

People are so oblivious.

Then I suddenly burst; "Put your hands up and no one gets hurt!" And I pull out a gun from my jacket pocket and aim straight for Hilga's head.

The lady gasps and clutches her heart. She falls to the ground. Everyone around us stay duck down low, staring worriedly at Hilga.

It's about time that old lady die before the diabetes get to her first.

Someone pulls the fire alarm and I already hear the sirens of cop cars speeding towards the bank.

Bars of metal come down over the walls, doors, and windows. I look around frantically and think quickly. i slide under the bars as they close, and smash the window with my body weight, dropping my empty duffel bag meant for the money to the floor.

Empty handed.

****

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

I go over to answer the door to find a cop standing there with his thumb hooked into his belt.

"Hi, um," I say surprised. "May I help you?"

"Yes, you may. If you don't mind answering a few questions. Can I come in?" The cop says, with an expectant raised eyebrow.

It is obvious that the "question" was rhetorical. I have to let him in.

"Sure?" I say a little baffled. I open the door wide for him to come in. I motion towards the living room as if to say 'be my guest'.

He walks into the house like he owns the world. Alright? He takes a seat on the couch and motions to the seat across from him. I take a seat cautiously.

"What is this about officer?" I ask nervously.

"I ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE!" He roars.

Whoa…anger management!

I clear my throat apologetically.

"I, we, the entire police department, have an understanding you were at the Fernandez bank at approximately nine PM to nine O' eight yesterday." The cop says, all business.

"Yeah," I say slowly.

Wait, was I there then?

"And today there was an unsuccessful attempt to rob the bank. We saw the security footage and the robber looked a little like you."

The cop pulled out several images of "Jay", one waiting in line scratching his chin, another of him checking his pocket for something (a gun, Jay presumed), one talking to Hilga (as Jay remembered), one of him holding out a gun pointed towards Hilga, one of them of him looking like he was going to shoot and kill Hilga (although she already looks dead), one looking like she is having a heart attack, and one of him jumping through the window.

Was I wearing that?

I look through all of these pictures thoughtfully. "Why are you showing these to me?" I ask.

He lifts up his eyebrows as in 'the answer is obvious' look.

Wow. He is accusing me.

"Are you trying to imply something?"I snap rudely.

"Are you trying to confess?" The police officer snaps.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I wasn't there today. I wasn't wearing that. It wasn't me.

"No." I say flatly.

"Well then I guess you're just going to confess in front of the judge." The officer says, taking out a pair of hand cuffs.

Is he serious?

I didn't do anything! It wasn't ME!" I exclaim as he roughly yanks my hands behind my back, clicking the handcuffs locked.

"Mhm, sure buddy. Tell that to the judge."

"No! Really! It wasn't me! It was my twin brother, Nathan!" I plead.

"Come on," He says, pushing me roughly out the front door, like a helpless bird being sent off to it's slaughtering.