(UNDERGOING REWRITE) Crime & Chaos [ ᴊᴏᴋᴇʀ ]

Chapter 1: Gotham City Bank

Crime & Chaos

" GOTHAM CITY BANK "

by alwaysgeia

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Juliet Evans was a first-year college student. She moved from the UK to the US with her mum and dad when she was around the age of 10. After the suicide of her dad, both Julie and her mum were left alone with little-to-no income. No matter how desperately they both wanted to leave the dreadful city, money was the biggest issue in the way of that. Her accent sounded British, but with a tinge of American. At ages 16–18, you'd think most students would find a part-time job or participate in a college club as most American teenagers did—well, not Julie. Even though she was 17, virtually 18, she remained unemployed and only had a few personal hobbies, her mum pestered about getting a job frequently. ("You won't be paid for taking pictures, hun.") Julie's only hobby was snapping photos of Gotham's malefactions and inscribing up her own interpretations of what it was homogeneous to, i.e. the difference in views between the victims and malefactors. Today was a little different in that aspect... She was yet to present her pictures to an official newsagent; this little hobby was hers, and hers only, for the time being.

At the moment, she had the Camcorder contrivance in her hands, a gift her father bought her a few months before his passing. Her finger was yare to press the capture button. Currently, Gotham's Bank was being purloined by a gang of men in frugal, plastic clown masks. Julie had captured them enter the bank with their weapons, something the media would not even get close to getting, even if it denoted staying in a single place all day—Monday was a college-free day—at the most popular magnetizations (for larcenies, of course) in Gotham.

Julie hopped down from the ledge she was laid across on as she heard gunshots. Something was going down. As she peered through one of the broken windows which had been shot through - probably to scare the bank employees - she whipped her camera in front of her face, capturing (most likely - and dolefully - blurred) photos from the scene of the malefaction. What she saw was... strange. There were fewer clowns, about 1 or 2 less, then her eyes wandered to the floor; a couple of bodies scattered around with their clown masks either thrown aside or crushed underneath their faces. Eyes wide and vigilant, they cast glances around the scene. Limpidly, these guys didn't trust anyone - even their own mob members.

Oh, man. She snapped more pictures, then switched to video mode. The red light switched on and recorded what was imminent. The men in clown masks handed grenades to the hostages and pulled the pins. Followed by a few chuckles, one of them threatened: "Obviously, we don't want you doing anything with your hands other than holding on for dear life." A gunshot was perceived from the office, followed by the Bank Manager, a shotgun held between both hands. One clown fell to the floor, killed by the shotgun's impact. Two clowns took cover behind a desk. This was certainly a surprise for them.

Another shot fired.

"You have any idea who you're stealing from? You and your friends are dead!"

One of the cowering clowns stood and orchestrated to shoot - but the Bank Manager fired quicker, buckshot clipping his shoulder. The clown had fallen rearwards and was out of Julie's vision. As the Manager moved in for the kill, fumbling for incipient shells to ram into his shotgun, the second cowering clown had time on his side and stood up, his gun pointed at the Bank Manager. A burly bullet had been astringently lodged in his thigh. As the first clown made his appearance known again, he huskily shouted: "Where did you learn to count?" The second clown turned to him, cocking his head to the side, a nebulous action that resembled a 'what?' expression, despite the mask enubilating his face.