Fidelity Fiduciary

chipper_icon.png gordon_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: A Bank

When: June 13, 2012

What: A bank robbery goes sideways thanks to a bit of unique heroics…

Banks near closing time are something of a hassle. Everyone trying to fit in that last errand after work, but before things close, everyone a little frustrated, and everyone ready to go home. The minutes couldn't tick away more slowly. People stand in lines, sit in comfy waiting area chairs, or take the elevators up to the more executive areas, but in every locale, someone is checking a watch or tapping a foot while they debate just how urgent their errand is. Couldn't they have gone to the ATM for this?

A security guard leans near the exits, no longer letting people in, even when he has to open the door to let someone out. And while the place is emptying, it is slowly emptying.

Indeed, one of those very foot-tapping people is a young Chinese man in a very fine suit, who looks quite impatient in line. He's now second to the front, checking his watch every few seconds and letting out a breath of annoyance. This is just ridiculous. They should /know him/ by now, with all those winnings he brings in. Hmph.

Definitely should have made this stop first. It's not the first time since getting in line that the thought has crossed Zan's mind. In boredom and vague annoyance, he stares up at the ceiling while he waits for his turn. His hands are jammed in his pockets, and as usual, a backpack hangs from his shoulders. Every so often his feet shuffle or a sigh escapes, the long suffer sort of fidgeting of someone inconvenienced only by themselves.

Gordon is one of those executive area type individuals. T no waiting in line for Gordon Crain. As if. No, he's one of those coming down off the elevator, briefcase in hand, pretty female assistant in an expensive and well tailored suit that is meant to reign in the attention to the derrier and maybe not so much what it is that you are signing away in her presence. Or maybe to make those long waits more bearable.

Either way, he's stepping off the elevator with a handful of others, head thrown back in a laugh and a gesture of his hand towards the closest one. Some joke that no one down here is privy to, even as his secretary is hastily plucking away at a phone and getting the rest of his afternoon in order. "-ver even knew what hit them. The look on his face was priceless and well worth it, every penny. Here they thought they were the only one, and then bam, it was over with"

His laugh carries across the lobby of the bank, filtering into the ears of those familiar even as he lifts a hand, thumb scratching at his forehead. "But you know how it is" It's not a question.

The really frustrating thing for Chipper, when he steps up to first in line, the man in front of him seems intent on arguing with the teller. At a time like this. When he's inches from being done and out the door.

Of course, it sinks in a moment too late that it has gone beyond a simple, disgruntled customer. A moment too late, because after a blink away, the man has pulled a gun out to point at a now panicked young woman behind the counter. She lifts her hands and tries not to cry after suddenly finding the view of a gun barrel in front of her.

Around the bank, other people stand up with much bigger guns. The security guard stands up to attempt to call for help, but one of the men knocks him out with the butt of his gun and steps over to chain the front door closed. And locked, of course.

"Alright," calls the man standing in front of the doors out, "Cell phones, out on the floor and everyone on their knees." Over by Gordon, a woman turns her gun their way to add, "You, too, Moneybags."

It's gone from toe-tapping irritation to utter startlement when that gun comes out. Chipper takes a step back, bumping into the guy behind him before he turns and makes a brief apologetic gesture. "Holy /shit/," he utters, staring. What do you do in a moment like this? You don't get shot, is what you do, and the order makes the floundering man sink down to his knees and pull out his phone, waving it to show he's done so, and setting it a foot or so away from him. "Hey, we don't want any trouble, kids," he says cautiously, because that smartass tongue of his never stops running.

A casual glance slides over to the elevator as Gordon's voice reaches Zan's ears. He begins to shake his head, but both the sudden outburst and Chipper's backward step into him draws his attention away and onto the more immediate turn of events. His hands come free of his pockets with some uncertainty as his gaze flicks from the first armed man to others as they materialize. He's slower to sink onto his knees, though he keeps his hands visible and eyes moving, never linger too long on one face.

Gordon just stares at what's going on, brows raising and a hint of an eye roll. The audacity of the situation, of this happening while he is here. It looks as if he might ask the robber to be excused, he doesn't have the time for this right now, he's very very busy but the woman with the gun - oh hoh hoh, a woman - has him raising his brows.

He reaches into his pockets plucking up his phone, transfer his briefcase to the floor so he can take the one from his assistant. down he leans - creases in his suit :| - putting them on the floor, calm and quiet as he may. There's a nod to his companion to do the same - even giving a hand to help her down in a way that doesn't flash everyone because of her outrageously high heels - before he too is easing down. Along the way there's a nod to Zan (he saw you, of course he saw you) and a smile.

The few remaining customers do likewise, phones sliding across tile as the first man comes to scoop them all up. The fourth accomplice gets the tellers to come out and join everyone else in the main floor, except that young woman who was the unfortunate with the gun in her face.

"We need in your vault. Get us in there and we all go home happy," the fourth man growls at her. She shakes her head, looking both scared and helpless, "I can't. I don't have the—" Her words are cut off with a gunshot, fired at the ceiling and eliciting screams here and there.

"HEY!" Oh, yep, time to be a dumbass again. Chipper glares up from his position on the floor, brow cocked. "Hey! Lady said she doesn't have the whatevers to get into the vault. No need to shoot at the fine … scaffolding or whatever the fuck in the ceiling." At a weird look from a nearby customer, he shrugs. "What? I'm not an architect."

Regardless, he turns attention back to the guy who shot the gun. "Now I'm sure we can all do this calmly and without giving half the people in here heart attacks. I know you're waving firearms around like it's the Fourth of July in Texas, but how many casualties do you /really/ want on your conscience, hmm?"

Zan's hands clamp over his ears, flinching at the echoing sound of the gun's report. He at least doesn't scream. Slowly, his hands lower again, catching enough of Chipper's talking to give the man a sidelong look. Well, as long as the man's talking and keeping them occupied… He, the mayor's son, takes the opportunity to glance around again, brows furrowing as he works his hands into his pockets and to his own phone. Again he passes a look toward Gordon and the gun wielders that way, then back around to the ones nearer the front of the lobby.

Gordon remains quiet, he following Zan's ocular motions and looking to the individuals who have decided that today was a good day to make some fast money the dangerous way. Spunky asian though. Foolish and even as he flinchs from the gunshot, reaching over to lay a hand protectively and sympathetically on the back of his assistant, he's remaining smart, and quiet.

While the Fourth's hand stays firmly around the woman's arm, the gun moves to point toward Chipper, "I think I could stand one. If you want to keep on talking."

But before he can fire, the first man reaches down to yank Zan up to his feet. "Hand out of the pockets," he says before helping himself to rummaging through the mayor's son's pockets himself. When he finds the phone, he lets out a sigh as he pulls it out. The other phones might have been kindly collected, but Zan's is flung to the floor before he crushes it under a boot heel. "We've got a hero here, boys," he says, not seeming to care that one of the 'boys' is actually a woman. Nor does he care about keeping the bank clean, because he slams Zan's head against a table that's normally used to sign checks and slips on. A hand keeps his head there while he addresses the room at large. "Anyone else wanna be a hero?"

"Whoa, there, sparky. No need to point fingers or firearms. I'm just making colorful commentary, is all! Important commentary. Think of me like your Jiminy Cricket." Chipper holds up his hands submissively, only to jump a little when Zan's slammed against a table. He looks in alarm to the kid, sweat breaking out on his brow a bit before he looks back to the robber pointing the gun at him. "So I guess what you're trying to say here is you've got blood on your hands, so what's another few dozen bodies? Cool. Great. I feel better already." Nngh.

Zan turns rather compliant as he's hauled to his feet, hands coming out again as instructed. "Sorry, sorry," is mumbled, for what it's worth, while his pockets are gone through and his phone is found. He flinches when it's summarily destroyed, the expression turning into a cringe at the little bits of glass and plastic left behind. Well, it was worth a shot. Maybe.

It might not be worth his head slamming into a table. The painful thud that accompanies it might be cause enough for onlookers to flinch as well, though Zan's legs threaten to buckle a half second later. They might, if he wasn't being held against the writing surface. His hands come up to rest beside his head, however no weight is put to them. Yet.

There's a raise of his hand, at the question of whether anyone else wants to be a hero or not. "If you're taking volunteers…" Hand removed from his assistant, Gordon is carefully and slowly rising to his feet. "May I talk a moment?"It's not a question, he will, and there's a lift of his fingers to silence Chipper before tossing a glance to the female of the robbers and a lavicious wink thrown at her, he keeps his hands up in the air, away from his body.

"I know she's doing it because she so enjoys that rush that doing something dangerous gives you" He gestures a forefinger in the womans direction. "The euphoria that one can get from jumping out of a plane and leaving your parachute unopened till just that very last second. Or holding a gun on a person in a bank. I understand it. I get that way when I find a woman who just-" Gordon shivers in example, a hearty exhale. "Makes your body sing" He looks to The woman training the gun on his little group. "A night with me is far more better than this."

Gordon looks to the fourth guy. "You though. Oooh, you're a little sadist. I can just see it? Is it just physical pain you crave. No, can't be physical, you like the mental aspect. The fear. You're not the ring leader. It's him" There's a gesture towards Numero Uno, who's squishing Zan's face into the counter. "Oh, I can taste it. I can feel it. You're the one who's arranged this haven't you. I can taste the lust for money in you. You want it worse than I do. Just that I'm the one with it and you're stuck robbing a bank" He tch's thrice and sighs. "Asian man, there's no ladies here who will be impressed by you being shot for them. Well, except for her" A thumb jabbed once again in the direction of the one holding him hostage. "But I don't think you're her type. SO. Gentleman -" He looks behind. "Lady. You need the vault yes? With a little less violence, yes? And hopefully… before the cops descend and this becomes so very very complicated?"

"It's a little late for Jiminy," the female of the crew says, her tone dry. But her sarcasm has the gunman smirking instead of firing. When Gordon speaks up, though, her attention turns firmly in his direction. And her gun, too. Especially as he starts to stand up.

They let him speak his piece, the first man's weigh held up by that hand on Zan' head as he watches Gordon's movements. He seems unimpressed, but the man guarding the door whistles, eye brows lifting. Maybe he thinks the guy's got balls.

"Neither of you are my type, actually. Wrong parts," the woman says, "And I hate to point this out, since you're on a roll, but you're not the bank manager, either. But, if one of you knows where he's hiding, we can get this over with before his itchy trigger finger goes." There's a nod toward the fourth, who shifts the gun in his hand as if thinking about scratching that itch right now.

Chipper blinks over at Gordon, and then looks at the girl in question, waggling his brows suggestively. Only to droop as he's shot down. "I hear there's surgeries for that," he adds helpfully, but he leaves it to Gordon to handle. Because he certainly wouldn't be too impressed with getting shot today, nope.

"Well" Gordon sighs. "There's always one. Never the less" Can't always get one that doesn't swim with the lesbians. That would be too easy. "I say, that we take you" A gesture to the one holding down Zan. "You" This to the one at the door "THe young man he has pinned, because he's the Mayors son and that would make very good leverage, and the asian man, because he's just annoying enough that I wouldn't mind him being shot if shots need to be fired, and for good measure, the young woman here, up the elevator and I can show you to him. Or we could take the stairs if you so prefer. leave the others here to… tend to the flock as they say. Yes?" Palms open, inquiring withbody language if this is a good idea. "That is if they haven't already gone to ground and if so, well. We're all buggered"

There's not really any way to be subtle about tensing, but with luck the guy holding Zan's head to the table will think it's purely reactionary to the pressure and pain in his skull and his identity being outed. However, he does tense, one palm pressing against the table top, upper arms and shoulders bracing. And while everyone else is talking, he slides a hand along the work surface, fingers feeling along for one of the pens left for customer use.

"How about you and your pretty friend over there come over here and sit down and I start shooting people until someone manages to give me a healthy chunk of cash. You could volunteer yours, if you're really that worried about getting these people out of here in one piece." Gordon, as it turns out, has the man's full attention. If he notices Zan tensing, he must dismiss it. The pens are there, tosses to and fro where customers left them before getting in line.

"I can get you what's in the drawers," the bank teller says timidly, although she stops to whimper when the Fourth tightens his grip on her and gives her a little shake. But the ring leader gives the Fourth a nod, and he drags the woman behind the glass barriers to start going through the drawers. Slowly. Chipper and Gordon might notice her glance at them while the thug stands behind her.

"Such honeyed words," Chipper says wryly, rolling his eyes and looking away to the teller emptying drawers. As much as this all rubs him pretty firmly the wrong way, what the hell can he do about it? He's an accountant. Sort of. Mostly. Hrm. "Hey, anyone mind a tune while we're sitting here? Cause as long as they're getting their moolah, might as well lighten the mood… I've got sunshiiiine on a cloudy day o/` — Come on, everyone, sing along!"

Zan's fingers curl tightly around one of the pens left so conveniently around, thumb pressing against the non-tipped end. His gaze flicks toward the counter and those of the gunman he can see from his supposed vantage point. He makes no attempt to actually turn to see what he does next, the effort is entirely blind, going off feel alone. While attention is directed elsewhere, the hand holding the pen is thrust backward and driven with intent to stab into the arm holding his head so firmly to the table.

Gordon breaks out then, throwing his hands up, putting his hips into it. Maybe it's because out of the corner of his eye, he can see what Zan is planning and knows the value of a distraction, hide what the left hand is doing by waggling the right.

"When it's cold outsiiiide, In the month of maaaaaaay" The man can't sing. For all that he can croon into the ear of multiple beautiful women and send them swooning, the man cannot. Hold. A. Tune. Cats sing better. He swings around, hip swiveling side to side as he advances on the woman with the gun, as opposed to actually coughing up his own money - which is in the till with everyone elses don't you know stupid?.

The hostages are singing. Some of the others even pick up the tune and none of them any better than Gordon is, sadly. It's no University Barber Shop Quartet, but it serves as a puzzling distraction, at least. The Fourth leans out of the back to stare, One and Two just sort of glance around like someone might be playing a prank on them, but the woman, noticing that Gordon is dancing in her direction, lifts her gun to point his way.

Unfortunately, this distraction serves a little too well, because the pen stabs into the ringleader's arm before anyone realizes what's happening. The man releases Zan as he gives a surprised and pained yell, which seems to spook the others. The Fourth fires his gun, without really aiming, and the man by the door follows suit and, unfortunately, so does the woman with them. Hers is the only gun actually aimed anywhere, though, and Gordon can feel the bullet rip through his Canali suit first, but his shoulder not long after. At least it exits out the back, instead of lodging somewhere inside, but it's a small consolation, at the moment.

Unlike the other two, Chipper has no idea that this was supposed to be a distraction. He was really just trying to… I dunno. Make it through the whole deal, for certain values of make it. "I guess, you'd s—WHOA!" The gunshots get Chipper to fling himself face-first onto the ground. "Holy hell, you all have itchy trigger fingers!" Is it time to run yet? He wants to run.

There's little time for thought or considering repercussions if he wants to keep the element of surprise. And while he's not trained exactly, Zan knows enough to keep moving forward to press that advantage, however slim it might be. In the instant he's freed of that pinning grip, he both flinches at the the gunshots and turns around to face the ringleader. One movement leads into the next, from turning to tackling, hands grabbing and grappling for the man's firearm.

Son of a bitch.

This is admittedly the first time he got shot and it will be the last time that he does anything ever remotely heroic like to aide in the bringing down of theives not in his employ. This as he's going a little wide in the eyes at the predicament - and his suit! - as Gordon shockily sits down, his assistant screaming and crying,frozen in spot.

"Well, you could have just said you didn't like my singing"

Zan's tackle may not have finesse, but it gets the job done. The gun slips out of the ringleader's hand, sliding across the floor while the man, with a pen in his arm still, wrestle with the blonde. The second man is the one that trundles over to pull Zan off the leader, but the Fourth is mostly focused on yelling. Yelling that he wants the money, yelling for everyone to get on the floor, yelling that he's going to shoot some guy's balls off if he moves another inch.

So. It's the teller that makes her way over to where Gordon is, crying as well, but still functional enough to be able to see about stopping his bleeding. The woman who shot him allows this, mostly because she's looking a little shocked herself.

Outside, the sound of sirens seem to distract almost everyone. They planned to be gone by now. The sirens were not part of the plan.

Chipper cringes as his boss goes down, and with a clatter, he sees an opportunity: he bellycrawls swiftly forward and slings a suited arm out to grab the ringleader's gun and drag it back. He's not about to use it, but he's going to try and keep it away at least. One fewer gun: fewer shot people. That'd be nice. He scoots back to his former place, but as he hears the sirens, he pipes up, "I think I hear one of those silent alarms!"

As he's being pulled off, Zan half turns to confront the next man. It's a bit awkward, twisting around while being dragged off and lacking the leverage of feet. But with one gun gone, distractions abound, why not try? He goes for the second's shirtfront to use as that missing leverage, reaching up to grab it or whatever is most convenient and in reach within one fist, the other balling up and swinging for the guy's face.

Gordon allows the teller to tend his shoulder and her tears, if only so that he can maneuver himself to keep himself between her and those with gun. Her and his assistant. The mayors son seems to be in full hero mode, and as he goes for another, he's looking to the woman who shot him. Focus intently on her, so much that the beads of sweat at his hairline aren't just from the shock.

"Run" He tells the woman. "Give in to it. Run, get the hell out of here. This wasn't what you bargained for" His voice gravelly. "Go out the front door, put your gun on the ground and put your hands in the air and turn yourself into the cops. Plead a deal with the DA. Be the first to turn, and you'll be the only one to make it out of here, with a slap on your wrist or damned fucking close" His own hand clamping over the hole on his shoulder, red with his own blood. "I won't even press charges"

The second grapples with Zan, taking a fist here and there, but giving back as well. It's a fist exchange, right until Chipper's shout. He ends up taking a solid punch to the face and stumbling back into the very table Zan was so recently slammed down on.

But it doesn't take much convincing before the girl bolts. She'll take Gordon's words as an excuse to do what she was wanting to in the first place. But she doesn't go for the front, but slings the gun over her shoulder as she disappears out of sight. And seeing her going, the second takes a look at Zan and opts to follow her out.

Whether they make it or not is anyone's guess, because the police start to flow in moments later. A few too late for Gordon, perhaps, but before the Fourth guy can actually kill anyone.

Well, distractions a good tactic! Chipper scrambles up and has his shining moment as the police stream in, pointing dramatically in the direction the other two thugs vanished to: "They went /that way/, officers!" Because cheesy movies lines are apparently the order of the day, for Chip.

He hadn't intended to go all out hero mode, but once the ball is started rolling it's hard to stop. However Zan holds his own against the second man, trading punches until he gets a lucky shot in. And, left alone, he moves to sit on the floor with his back against a table leg. As the cops finally begin arriving, he looks at Chipper, a faint yet somewhat amused grin finally forming for the man's one-liners.

Gordon has his other ways of finding out who the woman with the gun was. WIth her bolting, and the others, police flowing in, the fortune 500 man sags in spot, his assistant reduced to tears and no help to the man who beams a weak smile at the teller who is. "Thank you. Do you think perhaps, you could reach for the other phone in my bag please" Gesturing with non-bloody hand. There's no way he's going to a normal hospital. Or at least not jsut any old hospital.

The police follow after that way, some of them, at least. Other linger here, cuffing the other two, talking to the victims and, of course, calling for ambulances, considering. On top of the gun shot wound and Zan's bludgeoning, there's a man that's fainted and several people stuck in hysterics.

But the teller visibly calms at the sight of the police, and she even manages a smile in Gordon's direction for the thanks. "Of course," she says to the request, picking up his hand to pres against the front of his wound while she reaches for his phone. Her own bloody hand gets wiped against her own skirt before touching the very rich man's very expensive case.

Heroic line delivered, Chipper's knees shake and he sort of melts down into a collapsed pile of Chip. But he looks over at the equally dashed Zan and smiles wanly. "Good job there, kid. Stupid, but heroic, and that's probably what we needed, hey?" He looks back at Gordon, and calls, "Doing okay, Boss?"

"Stupid," Zan agrees, expression sinking into something more neutral. Not that it has far to go. He glances around as cops filter in, looking at the others who'd been in the ordeal, pausing on Gordon. He stands as he looks away, to take his turn in giving an account of the situation and filing out of the bank.

"It could have been worse" Gordon looks to the Tellers ass as she reaches for his case. "Stop taking the afternoon off. Go into work, call my secretary-" Because the sniveling mess beside him that will eventually likely be re-assigned to somewhere other than at his side is useless at the moment. "And have her cancel things for a few days. I think I will be indisposed" Unlike Chip.

There's no congratulations for Zan forthcoming from the Crain Corp head, though it will come, from others in the bank, who applaud the Mayor's sun for his likely foolish antics, that saved them. In a day though, there will be no blood on the floor, marks will be repaired and the staff from today will be out on stress leave or filling out witness forms at the police station.

Either way, tomorrow, today will be a memory for most and a blurb in the newspaper for the rest of Vegas, way down at the bottom of page three.

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