Will They Remember Me #ONC2020

Chapter One - Paper Or Lead?

Basthor almost won. The plan went without a hitch, as it turned out tear gas in the ventilation was a great way to clear a room. And a few magnum rounds turned out to be plenty enough to open the glass case, the alarms had been blaring the entire time just as he'd planned, the shitty NYC emergency response times giving him just enough of an opportunity to load the exhibit into his van, but just as he loaded the last piece disaster struck.

"NY P.D. freeze and step away from the vehicle, we have the place surrounded!" said a commanding voice behind him.

"God fucking Damn it I was so close." Basthor turned around accusingly, "you assholes made me lose a bet. Couldn't you have been 10 seconds slower? Is that so much to ask? Isn't there a drugged up homeless guy stabbing people somewhere you need to deal with? This is New York, I count on you guys. You ALWAYS have bigger things to deal with than me."

Basthors appearance was enough to startle even the most hardened cop so it was no surprise the 30 officers with guns trained on him only stood in shock while he finished his sardonic monologue, but the man in the lead finally came to his senses.

"If I don't see your hands in three fucking seconds you're gonna be holier than that exhibit you just stole."

"See, I'd love to help you officer but I'm having a hard time lifting my arms with all of these guns and explosives weighing me down."

A volley of 30 bullets collided with his body, almost enough to make him stagger back. He took the brunt of the impact but a handful hit the van behind him. He jumped to the side.

"Woah, woah. Gentlemen, settle down. Old Tutankhamun is resting in there. Have a little respect."

The police stared dumbfounded as Basthor brushed two dozen or so bullets out of his front. "Now their must be some way we can resolve this peacefully."

"What the fuck are you…" The cop wondered in shock.

"I've been called a lot of things over the years. I believe the most popular term here is asshole. Now here's my proposition, you don't worry yourself with who or what I am, let me leave with my corpse you've decided is so valuable and important because he owned a bunch of sand three thousand years ago, cut your losses and continue down your self important little life where you'll most likely die saving another self important asshole thinking you're a hero as the cycle continues on and on. Forget about me, let the people make their conspiracy theories, and wait for all of this to disappear with the next big story. That way no one gets hurt and I don't have the inconvenience of having to pay off cops and politicians all the way up the line until the manhunt finally ends. Deal?"

The officers face more closely resembled a tomato the longer Basthor talked. It was so cute how angry humans got at things they didn't understand. "You stole an international sacred treasure that's 3,000 years old and a king's remains."

"He was a Pharaoh actually and in my defence it's very shiny."

"You endangered hundreds of lives gassing a ventilation system."

"Oh come on, it's a museum. I only endangered old people."

"You insulted and threatened the police."

"Hey you guys shot first. Look, we can point fingers all damn day but if we're assigning blame then you shouldn't have left me alone with all the explosives."

"What fucking explosives?!" The cop shouted his limited brain clearly about to snap from the rage of its own incompetence.

"Oh you know, breech charges, old gunpowder from the museum, pretty much anything I could find in your cars or the building that goes boom. You should really learn to guard your shit better. Now this is your last chance to let me walk away. Otherwise you might want to check with your friends upstairs."