Gunfight

Elyon raised his head just enough to survey the scene. A pair of robbers stood about ten yards away, watching over the hostages with revolvers at the ready, hammers cocked and eyes scanning the crowd.

It was impossible to discern the nature of the robbers through their thick hoods, but their fluid movements suggested this wasn't their first heist, except perhaps for the one who seemed a step behind the rest.

"What are you doing? Don't move, keep your hands where they are."

Suddenly, one of the robbers shouted at the group.

"Gentlemen, I was just checking the time. My family is waiting for me at home for dinner," a man with a top hat said.

"Thinking about dinner? I hate you posers acting like you're part of the upper crust. Don't move, and take off your hat. Put your watch in it. The rest of you, your watches, bracelets, necklaces too."

A tall robber directed his comment to a handful of well-dressed men and women who had just made withdrawals.

"Sir, I can't, this watch is all I have, please spare me," the man pleaded softly.

"When I say hand it over, you hand it over. No backtalk," the tall robber replied, slapping the man. The man shook as he removed his hat and took out a silver pocket watch from his inner coat pocket, placing it in the hat.

The other gentlemen and ladies, trembling, followed suit, depositing their valuables into the hat.

"Heh, every little bit adds up," the tall robber said, stuffing a fistful of valuables into his pocket before kicking the remaining items over to the shorter robber, who dumped them into his coat pocket, tossing the now-empty hat back to the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man picked up the hat, dusted it off, and put it back on his head, then pointed towards Elyon and the bank staff.

"Shouldn't they hand over their valuables as well?"

"We rob who I say we rob. These folks are just working stiffs. Can't you see their clothes aren't worth a dime? We're only after the rich or the pretend-rich," the tall robber retorted.

The middle-aged man hung his head and crouched back down. Elyon had planned to play along with the robbers' demands, pretending to reach for his pocket watch when he was, in fact, going for the revolver at his waist. This interference wrecked his plan to take advantage of the robbers' distraction to gun them down.

Now, making any move towards his pocket would only draw suspicion. His casual attire for school, normally inconspicuous, was now a saving grace.

Had he come straight from work in his uniform, he might have been riddled with bullets by now. With no other choice, he continued to sit quietly against the wall, the teller's quiet sobs beside him.

The clerk who had assisted him remained surprisingly composed, comforting her colleagues.

Another gunshot echoed from the vault, sending a fresh wave of tears from the tellers. A murmured conversation came from the formally dressed group.

"Gentlemen, you promised to cooperate and let us go."

"Shut it. We won't kill you. But if anyone else gives me lip, I won't mind breaking my promise," the tall robber threatened.

The hall soon fell silent, save for the soft weeping.

About five minutes after the gunshot, the lead robber, shotgun in his left hand and a small bag in his right, emerged from the vault, followed by another with a hefty sack dragging behind, clinking with the sound of gold and jewels.

Elyon noticed the man's struggle with every few steps he took, pausing to catch his breath, his body marked with red.

"We're leaving. Stay put and don't move, or you'll risk a taste of our blind bullets. Number Two, get the carriage. Number Three, watch them. We'll load the loot and be off."

The shotgun-wielding robber ordered the retreat. The tall one holstered his weapon and went outside, swiftly returning with a workhorse carriage common on the docks. The leader dumped the small parcel into the carriage's hold, then settled onto the driver's bench.

"Hurry up! Any slower and the cops will be on us."

The robber carrying the heavy sack struggled to bring it to the carriage, while the short one, still inside, covered them with his pistol.

A collective sigh of relief went through the crowd as the pressure lifted. Some slumped to the floor, while others no longer stifled their tears. Elyon quickly rose, stamping life back into his numb legs before dashing towards the exit, revolver in hand, and took cover behind one of the marble pillars flanking the doorway.

The evening hour meant the robbers heard the rush of footsteps but failed to spot Elyon's hiding spot.

"Number Three, help him with the loot. Number Two, keep watch. We're out of here."

Elyon peeked out to see the two robbers hefting the sack into the carriage, and without time to aim properly, he fired a shot at the unarmed robber, about twenty or thirty yards away.

The gunshot rang out, echoing down the street and sending any remaining pedestrians diving for cover behind bins or into corners.

The unarmed robber's grip loosened, the bag's contents spilling out onto the street.

"I've been shot! Just when we had it in hand. Let's get out of here before we're all caught and hanged."

Clutching his left shoulder, where Elyon had presumably hit him, the man scrambled onto the carriage.

"Damn it! Number Three, get on. Number Two, suppress him."

As the leader spurred the horses, the short man leaped aboard. The tall one popped out of the carriage, pistol blazing in Elyon's direction. Elyon ducked, then returned fire.

Accuracy was all but a prayer at thirty yards, especially against a moving target. Elyon fired four shots, three hitting the pavement, one the carriage body. The return fire shattered the bank's left glass door, leaving it in pieces.

As the carriage receded into the distance, Elyon realized pursuit was futile—outnumbered by experienced desperados, he'd only be delivering himself up.

Walking back into the bank, Elyon's revolver still smoking, he nudged the security guard on the floor.

"Stop playing possum; I'm a cop, and you're safe now," he stated, showing his badge.

"Everyone, get up. You ladies from the counters, come with me. Male clerk, guard the vault and prevent any tampering. Let's collect the valuables outside; otherwise, the neighborhood might help themselves to them. Ladies and gentlemen, please wait to give your statements. We'll have someone escort you home. And you, security guard—if you don't get up, I might have to put you out of your misery, saying you got caught in the crossfire."

The threat did its job; the guard leapt to his feet, all smiles at Elyon.

"Chief, how did you know I was faking it? Anything I can do to help, just say the word."

"You only took a hit from a baton; no way you'd be out this long. Get to a carriage and report to the port precinct. And inform your superiors at the branch."

"Of course, sir. But I don't have enough cash for a carriage. Maybe...?" The guard rubbed his fingers together, indicating he was short on funds.

Elyon, on the brink of frustration, pulled out a shilling and handed it over. The guard scampered out, and Elyon, with the three tellers, stepped outside.

The street was clearing; passersby peeked out to witness the scattered gold and gems at the bank's entrance. People started moving towards the loot.

Elyon felt the greedy eyes of the entire street on the jewels, the burning gaze cutting through the air. The closest onlookers were barely twenty yards away, poised to dash for the treasure.

With another shot, Elyon fired into the empty space near the parcel, the bullet chipping the cobblestone and sending fragments flying.

"I am Chief Elyon from the Port Precinct. Anyone approaching the parcel within thirty yards or the bank without my permission will be treated as an accomplice to the robbers and shot on sight. Think about your families waiting at home—is it worth losing your life over this? I'll say it again, approach and you're dead. You there, back away now, unless you want to find out if my gun misfires."

The tellers hurriedly stuffed the strewn valuables into their pockets, dragging the heavy sack back into the lobby.

Inside, several men and women were already seated, whispering amongst themselves. The male clerk, having recovered his nerve, stood guard at the vault door.

"Leave it in the lobby; that's fine. You ladies can take a break now. And turn on the gas lights—it's too dark in here," Elyon directed, pointing to the floor for them to place the sack. The clerk who had assisted him went to light the lobby's lamps before joining her colleagues behind the counter.

"Nothing happened at the vault while I was gone, right?" Elyon asked the clerk guarding the door.

"No, sir. May I take a break now?"

"Of course. Just sit over there; the precinct's officers should be here within ten minutes."

Elyon stood in the lobby, his strained nerves feeling the onset of fatigue. He wondered how many officers were still at the precinct and if any more support would come. After the robbery and shootout, he wasn't sure he could keep standing.

The sound of a carriage approached from outside. Two black precinct carriages arrived, spilling out policemen onto the street.

"Elyon, are you alright? What's the situation?" Captain Kappa led the officers into the lobby, greeting Elyon as he entered.