Nameless - Chapter 1 - A Job Gone Wrong

Aug 14th, 2013
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  1. It was strange how relaxing you found the low, harsh rumble of the vans engine. It was like the thunder signaling an oncoming storm, but you knew that you were warm and safe in your bed. The van ran over a speed bump and jogged you out of your relaxed state.
  2. It smelled odd yet familiar, waiting in the back for your arival. The smell of leather, kevlar, gunpowder and nervous sweat was all to familiar, but it calmed your senses, like how the smell of home made you feel. You'd spent so much time in situations like these that it might as well be home too.
  3. In front of you, a clammy, pale faced kid sat, gripping his rifle close to his chest. This was the newbie.
  4. A few months before, Jackson got injured escaping from a job gone wrong and wanted out. He deserved it too, the old shit. He was never one for the silent approach, it always had to be as loud as possible and as violent as possible. The worst thing about it was that it worked. In the ten years you'd spent with him, never once had you lost a job. Crude but effective, that was Jackson.
  5. You hadn't cried when you heard the news, though. The Blues found him a few weeks later and he got shoved all the way to death row. That's what you get for killing every single cop that ever showed his face, you suppose.
  6. That's why you liked being silent. Even if you did get caught, you'd never be put on death row because you never killed anyone. You hadd never gotten the cops attention, and never had to kill a civilian. It wasn't that you particularly cared about the lives of any fuckin' cops, but blood was particularly hard to get out of a suit.
  7. The kid in front of you wiped his forehead with a cloth and with jittery hands, checked the clips on his gun. What was this guys name again, Shane? Seamus? You tapped his knee, causing him to jump a bit.
  8. "Hey kid, what's your name?"
  9. His eyes darted back and forth "S- S- Sw- Sweets."
  11. Sweets, huh? Fruity, but what did it matter. You never told eachother your real names, it risked getting you all arrested. If one shithead squealed when they got caught, it would fuck everything up. When you first joined up, you had been asked to come up with a name too. Scooter was the name you had picked all those years ago, and Scooter was the name you kept. The kid fiddled with his magazine a repetedly and almost dropped it a couple of times.
  13. "Chill, Sweets. If you just keep calm, follow my lead and don't be an idiot, you won't even need to fire your gun."
  14. He wasn't convinced, but you didn't care. If he didn't shoot anyone, this would be fine. Unfortunately, ever since Jackson got arrested, the police had quadrupled their efforts to get all of you behind bars as well. You didn't murder anyone, but mass robbery was still frowned upon. The other two men in the van sat silently, staring at eachother intently. The other two guys were Jersey and Buck.
  15. Jersey was your typical, loudmouthed New Yorker. Thought he was some kind of big time mobster, but we all knew better. He was just like us. A lowlife who at one point in their life decided that it would be a great idea to go around, shooting up stores and stealing peoples shit. If it wasn't for the fact that he had gotten particularly good at it, he wouldn't even be here right now. Across from him was his brother, Buck.
  16. Buck had grown up in the south, a real gun toting redneck. Despite his appearance though, he was a skilled computer hacker, one of the best you'd ever seen, and definitely not what you'd expect from an inbred redneck. Unlike his brother, he was a lot more open and less dick-headed about his beginings. He and Jersey never knew eachother growing up, lived worlds apart until both parents of theirs had been killed when they were both eighteen. The two of them had met when they had gone to collect what their parents had left them in their wills only to find out that all of it had been left to their new spouses. With no money and nothing but hatred for their step parents, they left for a life of petty crime.
  17. What about you? Nope. Nothing. No-one knew anything about you, and you liked it that was. One day, you were going to quit, just like Jackson and get out of here forever. Unlike Jackson, you hadn't left thirty years of bodies behind you, so once you did quit, you could go away to some exotic island and be surrounded by naked chicks all day long.
  18. But you know what, who the fuck cares. In the end, you're just three more shitheads with nothing left to do with their lives but steal other peoples money and then drink it all away.
  19. Suddenly, Buck groaned in anger and sat back in his seat while Jersey laughed at him.
  20. "I told ya, ya knob!"
  21. "Yeah, yeah, ah'll make you eat those words, dickback." Buck said with a grin on his face as he slapped a fifty into Jersey's hand.
  22. "What was that about?" You ask.
  24. "Douchebag here thought he could beat me in a starin' contest. ME! HA!" Jersey shouted and smacked his knee.
  25. "Well shut the fuck up guys, and get ready. We're almost there."
  27. The van stopped and instantly, the four of you piled out of the van, concealing your weapons and walking hurridly towards the jewlery store. It was a simple hit, one you had done hundreds of times before. One that you would be damned if you were gonna fuck it up this time.
  28. "OK guys, just follow my lead."
  29. You pull your mask down over your face and fire two rounds from your silenced M9 into the roof of the store, causing everone to duck and scream.
  30. "Alright people!" You shout. "This is a robbery! We don't want any trouble and hell, we don't want any of your stuff, only the jewels. Line up at the side of the store, we'll confiscate your phones and then we'll leave, OK? If you all comply, no-one gets hurt and you can all live your lives like nothing happened."
  31. As you say this, the other three start smashing the glass cases and bagging the jewelery. You estimated this to take around four minutes, plenty of time to get in and get out, as long as there weren't any-
  32. BANG. You turn around and see the new kid, Sweets, holding out his gun in front of a civilian who had now crumpled to the floor.
  33. "What the FUCK is wrong with you, kid!?"
  35. "I- I- T- Thought he w- was gonna-"
  37. "I don't give a FUCK what he was gonna do! You didn't have a silencer on, now the cops are gonna-"
  38. You heard the sirens in the distance begin to wail.
  40. "Fuuuck, OK people, let's get out of here NOW!" You command and Jersey ties up his haul. Buck finished bagging the jewels he had grabbed and started for the entrance when suddenly, he jerked backwards. Oh shit.
  41. You ran towards him and turned his head towards you only for your heart to drop and your stomache begins to feel empty. There was large bullet wound, centered on his forehead and leaking cerebral fluid all over the floor. The cops must have already gotten a sniper out there! How the hell did they get here that fast! You grunt and stand up, facing the other two. A few cop cars had already pulled up outside the store and a few heavily armoured policemen ran out, brandishing smg's.
  42. "We're leaving. Now."
  43. Jersey brought his hand up to say something but never got the chance as another shot hit him in the throat, spraying blood over you and a crying Sweets's mask.
  44. Shitshitshitshitshit! You dove down behind the counter as a few more shots slammed into the store around you, catching Sweets in the leg and leaving him out in the open, bleeding all over the floor. Poor kid, this was his first gig too. Too bad this was all of your last.
  45. "Sc... Scooter..."
  46. You looked to your side and saw Jersey, his throat ravaged and gasping for air.
  48. "I'm sorry, man..." He coughed and dotted the floor in front of him with specks of blood. "See you in the next life." His head slumped down and he died.
  49. You were surrounded, there was no way out, and all of your companions were either dead or close to it. Your mind raced with ideas, but absolutely nothing crossed your mind. Well, maybe one thing.
  50. You gripped your rifle as tight as possible as you stood up, spraying bullets out into the crowd of cops waiting for you outside. You saw a couple of them go down just before a strange pressure hit you in the head, robbing you of feeling. Your mind span and as you fell to the floor, your memories leaving you, only one thought remaining until the lights went out completely.
  52. Damn, now I'm never going to be surrounded by naked girls until die.
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