The Greatest Show on Earth [The Nekromonga, Jeannie Rose, The Grey]

It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon over downtown L.A., where workday traffic has been throttled to a crawl. Officers from the LAPD man barricades and direct drivers in a perimeter around Castle Savings & Loan, surrounding the building from all angles to stop anyone from getting in - or out. Cops on the ground visibly carry weapons while marksmen along nearby rooftops are on overwatch, keeping an eye on the scene through the lens of a high-powered rifle. News crews are broadcasting live coverage of the spectacle and - while it has not been confirmed yet - reports suggest some kind of bank robbery turned hostage situation.

The Los Angeles branch of Castle Savings & Loan is an old-school 3 storey bank building, with a row of stone pillars along the front of the place and a large glass skylight taking up most of the roof. The windows on the face of the building go from the ground floor all the way up, as the main room of the bank is a high-ceiling foyer with a walkway circling the walls of 2nd and 3rd floors.

The building is normally a very nice piece of architecture, but today some assholes crashed a jacked-up school bus through the front doors and poured into the place with weapons and demands. The windows have been hastily spraypainted over with bright fun colours, all doors have been barricaded (with the bus still lodged firmly in the front) and - for no known reason - the crooks are playing Entry of the Gladiators over a speaker system.

The situation is tense. All attempts by the LAPD to contact the people inside Castle Savings & Loan have failed. The current health of the hostages is unknown. SWAT are on site, coordinating a plan of attack to storm the building with maximum force. One bad call could be all it takes to turn this stand-off into a bloodbath...

so Jeannie on her adventures has mad her way back to Los angels last time she was here she caught some drug dealer guys. She wonders what bounties might present them selfs this time.

or maybe she'll have a normal day for once not likely. walking down a street looking for something to do,a familiar sound catches her ears.
circus music? Jeannie loves the circus hopefully, this one will be manic free . while in Florida her last trip to the circus was a little shaky as one of the clowns and a fortune teller where nutjobs kidnaping people.

Well, Jeannie with an assist from an old friend put a stop to that and the show got back to normal. daydreaming about cotton candy and other enjoyable things that come with the circus Jeannie heads to the sounds.

disappointed she finds a bank is the source of the music? Maybe there selling tickets to the show? no there's cops and stuff, great why does she always get the crazy ones most be clowns robbing the bank.
what is she batman all these evil clowns seem to find her?

looks like bank robberies are the bounty of the day well if they did this before could have a decent price on them. now how to get into straightening things out? Huh, they won't just let her in,she notices one of the swats vehicles abandoned as the cops were off putting their plan for dealing with it in motion.

She notices some swat gear left behind yay cosplay time. know in her disguises of a swat officer Jeannie is able to move freely and goes to get a better look at things. They crashed a bloody bus though the front door? not the most subtle fellows are they?

Jeannie looks around for a way in, in maybe the backdoor now she needs an excuse to break away from the group. noticing a can on the ground she kicks it down the alleyway beside the building. one of the cops notices it looking in the direction ,she motions to him she'll check it out and heads to the back.

once in the alley, she finds a backdoor after picking the lock she sneaks into the bank. listening to the radio she acquired with her costume she hears the cops talking about hostages,right cause dealing with catching the robbers wasn't enough now she has hostages to save. it's going to be along day.

The gray-clad thief had been casing the bank for three days.  A shipment of fresh cash had been expected on Friday and Jardin had been trying to figure out how to get a hold of some of it.  He had blueprints, ventilation plans, pictures of the vault, shift changes, a hundred other things worth knowing before a heist.  He had been forming is plans to get in and out.  A hundred different plans for a hundred different contingencies...

All of it was just shot to hell as the clock struck "amateur-hour."  A bunch of god damned ass-clowns were trying to knock over a bank in a yellow fu-  Wait, was that...?  No, yeah, circus music.  Of course.  Only actual clowns could screw up a robbery this bad.

Jardin was a professional.  Now clad in his body-obscuring gray coat, black pants and a black pair of jika-tabi, The Grey was ready to explain to these jerkoffs why, when a robbery went bad, the absolute worst option was to take hostages...

Of course, he could not do that from inside the second floor man's restroom, where his metalic gear had been smuggled in.  Pressing an ear too the door, Jardin tried to get a feel for how things were outside...

5 minutes earlier...

Off away from the main tellers area, behind a privacy glass wall, a young lady in a private school uniform and vest sat in the bank's VIP lounge, helping herself to some complimentary tea and crumpets.

A well-dressed up bank teller lady approached the young school girl. "The safety deposit box will be here shortly."

"Thanks..." Diana said politely, though she was anxious. Since entering the bank she was keenly aware of it's influence.

"Are you returning to the business, miss Mendoza?" The teller lady asked in a cool voice. Though dressed like the other tellers in the bank, the lady had a subtle distinction- on the sleeve of her blazer was a sword styled cuff.

"No. I don't think so." Diana said briefly, feeling unwell as the box was approaching. The mere sight of it caused her unease. It had been months since she'd handled it. She stood up to excuse herself. "I... I need to use the bathroom."

"Of course, ma'am. Right there by the emergency exit." The lady politely pointed out.

Diana rushed in and turned on the sink on. She washes her face furiously, but she began only to see blood come from her hands, from the faucet, from her eyes. In the mirror it was not Diana the Ronin, but Diana the Blood Sword...

"Once a killer always a killer!" The reflection grinned at her.


CRAAASH!

Diana snapped out of her stupor when she heard the loud crash and commotion outside. She quickly returned to the lounge, only to see a group of harlequin dressed hooligans harassing her haute couture teller.  
"Hey! That's my box!" Diana blurted out, causing them men to switch their attention from the lady in the suit to the lady in the uniform.

"Reaaally? Damn, we got ourselves a rich girl here!"   They surround Diana, cornering her.

"Think we should take the box or the girl?" The clown robber held up the safety deposit box, asking his fellow felon.

"Tell the boss! Meantime, put her with the rest of these rich assholes!" The men grab Diana by the arm. The one who carried the safety deposit box goes to report to their field leader.

For the sake of the hostages, she does not resist, even playing along and pretending to be some spoiled rich kid. "Ow, you're hurting me... Wait till my mom hears about this!" She said, eliciting laughs from the goonies.

The grown-up hostages all look at Diana briefly, before the robbers tell them once more "EYES DOWN!", making them avert their gaze from the teenager. Diana assessed the situation worriedly,  counting off the number of robbers, while eyeing her schoolbag and art tube still in the lounge.

She might have to do this bare handed. But for now, she must wait...

Moments earlier...

It was business as usual inside Castle Savings & Loan, where a moderate crowd of 30 clients were making deposits, attending mortgage consultations and handling other vital financial affairs with the bank’s helpful staff, all under the watchful eye of 4 private guards. A shrill scream was the only warning everyone had before a hap-hazardly armoured school bus SMASHED through the glass and mortar of the bank’s front door, sending debris and a few witless bystanders tumbling across the smooth green-and-white checkered marble floor.

As if catapulted by the bus’ violent stop, a troupe of brightly-coloured blade-wielding harlequin jesters FLEW from the punched-out front of the vehicle, springing and twirling as they scampered across the floor! With inhuman agility they pounced upon the bank’s guards before anyone even knew what was happening, holding the now-disarmed security at knifepoint. One panicked guard managed to fumble his sidearm from its holder and snapped off a single amateur shot, only to have a tumbling clown flamboyantly swoop low under the weapon and then rise with a kick to the guard’s chest, knocking him to the ground.

With the troublemakers in their places, the show could begin. Pouring from the bus came a cavalcade of strange, amazing and downright dangerous misfits in all manner of carnival attire. Jugglers! Puppeteers! Sword-swallowers and fire-eaters! Magicians, fortune tellers and acrobats! Despite their colourful appearance, each carnie was armed and quite dangerous: Those swords and knives were honed to a lethal edge, those playing cards were razor-thin steel instead of folding paper and the less-specialized goons carried at least one automatic weapon - rifles, SMGs or otherwise. A crew of clowns were swiftly spray-painting over the bank’s windows, blocking anyone outside from looking in and those inside from looking out.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! Children of al- well actually I hope there are no children at a BANK of all places... But I digress!” A commanding voice addressed the terrified hostages as a round, meticulously dressed and well-groomed ringmaster stepped into view atop the crashed bus’ hood, carrying a fine oak cane and wearing a silver-etched revolver upon his belt. ”I am Cecil H. Macintyre! Ringmaster of ceremonies! And I welcome you all... To my CARNIVAL OF CRIME!” He proclaimed, throwing one hand to the air with flourish!

On queue the carnival’s music began playing and Cecil continued his address, walking down from the wreck with the confident gait of a veteran madman. ”Do not let your amazement at my charming entourage lead you to any false conclusions! We are but a simple circus of misfits and maniacs, eager to line our pockets with riches. BEHAVE yourselves, COMPLY with my EVERY COMMAND, and this will aaaaall be over before you know it!”

A startled cry drew the ringmaster’s attention: A woman teller from the bank had attempted to run, only to be caught by a watchful robber. ”But if you feel the need to MISBEHAVE, to ruin the FUN for the REST OF US...” The woman, along with the disarmed guards and 2 other hostages were forced into the middle of the open floor, where they were surrounded on all sides by the knife-toting harlequins. ”Then we simply CANNOT guarantee your SAFETY!” On the ringmaster’s command, the harlequins quickly and expertly tossed their throwing knives to each-other in a circle of flashing steel, every so often lobbing a dagger through the encircled hostages and coming perilously close to striking someone. The ringmaster and his cronies laughed at the spectacle of the hostages clumsily dodging and ducking for their lives, the knives always coming just within a hair of drawing blood.

”Now then, let’s get on with it.” Cecil said to the rest of the gathered hostages.

-----

Now...

The inside of Castle Savings & Loan is thoroughly under the Carnival of Crime’s control. Gun-toting clowns have all complying hostages at gunpoint, while the 4 guards and 3 other hostages are being forced to dodge and dance around thrown knives in the middle of the ground floor. A pair of top-hatted men atop 10ft. stilts are keeping a careful eye on the walkways of the upper floors, each carrying an assault rifle. A sinister organ grinder is moving between people one at a time as his troupe of trained monkeys lift all valuable rings, watches and wallets from hostages, depositing them all in a waiting sack.

Away from the fanfare, Cecil H. Macintyre was quietly conversing with 2 of his lieutenants - one a “strongman” type in a leopard-print leotard and bald head, the other a magician with curling moustache, black suit, velvet cape and royal purple turban. Both lieutenants nod in understanding to the ringmaster, who step away and gather a small gang of carnies to follow them deeper into the bank.

Moments after Cecil speaks with his lieutenants, the two gun-toting clown-masked goons who had seized Diana approach the ringmaster. Though they’re too far away to be heard, one plainly points Diana out of the crowd and then points to her locked box still at the teller’s desk. Cecil looks to Diana, smiling enough to make the sides of his fantastic poofy moustache rise, and then he nods to both goons.

“Alright girlie,” one of the clown-masked gunmen says to Diana, while the other one is carrying her still-closed lockbox under his arm ”Time to speak with the bossman.” As Diana is moved, a weird-looking clown with a oversized glob of cotton candy (?) approaches the hostages whose belongings have already been picked clean. The clown blows on the billowy pink sweet and, strangely, it flitters and splays outwards like a tangling web of pink filaments. Not a moment after it settles on the hostages the stuff coalesces into an incredibly tough and durable rubber-like goo, bonding the hostages hopelessly to the floor where they stand!

Diana is taken at gunpoint away from the other hostages and brought face-to-face with the Carnival’s sharply-dressed Ringmaster. ”Good afternoon to YOU, my raven-haired mademoiselle. Cecil H. Macintyre, in the person! Charmed, I am sure.” Cecil says with an exaggerated bow, removing his tophat as he makes her acquaintance. “My colleagues here inform me they found you with a safety deposit box, and as it just so happens I am in the market for interesting and rare relics being stored INSIDE safe boxes at this very place! The coincidence is astounding, wouldn’t you agree?” he says to Diana with a wide grin. ”Would you please, please do me the kindness of unlocking your little box so that we may peruse the contents within?”

-----

The second floor of Castle Savings & Loan is mainly an open walkway, one side guarded by railings which peer down into the middle of the ground floor and the other side having doors leading into singular offices, a boardroom and, naturally, a restroom.

Through the door Jardin could hear the noise and commotion of the world’s sloppiest bank robbery in progress, and - if he’s subtle enough to evade the scanning glances of the two stilt-walking gunmen who are tall enough to see onto the second floor - he can get a peek at the action below by cracking the restroom door open just a bit. Clowns terrorizing hostages, monkeys robbing people, hostages getting tied up in cotton candy goo and the ringmaster seems to have singled out one unfortunate rich schoolgirl for reasons yet unknown. What a gong show.

Considerations on what to do in the long run will have to wait for the gray-clad thief, however: A team of gun-toting goons in clown masks and tactical vests are sweeping the second floor offices one at a time, checking for hiding victims or other items of interest. A startled yelp is heard when the goons find a fat, middle-aged man in a suit cowering under a desk: The Los Angeles branch manager for Castle Savings & Loan.

”Well HELLOOOOO there, tons o’ fun!” the goons snicker and mock the older man, ruffling his comb-over and bumping him in the belly with the tip of a shotgun. ”Mister Macintyre is, heh, DYING to meet you face to face!”

Some of the masked gunmen push the branch manager towards the stairs, escorting him to the lobby, while the remaining two gunmen on the second floor continue sweeping the rooms. They’re only one door away from entering The Grey’s restroom now, and from here the thief can see one is carrying a SMG, the other has a shotgun and there’s a live, trained monkey with a switchblade (!) on one of the goon’s shoulders.

-----

Jeannie’s infiltration into the back of Castle Savings & Loan goes undetected by the Carnival - so far. Once inside, the police radio in the bounty hunter’s ear crackles with the sound of orders and plans being mobilized: Looks like the LAPD SWAT has gotten tired of playing the waiting game and are getting ready to storm the bank. With her knowledge of police procedures, Jeannie knows she can count on about 10 police-free minutes before the SWAT team kicks in the door - less if the bullets start flying.

From the looks of things inside, Jeannie seems to have walked through an emergency fire exit (with the alarm handily disabled by her thieving expertise!) at the back of a boiler room in the basement. Up ahead through a metal door Jeannie’s enhanced senses could hear a trio of voices speaking, clear as crystal.

“I don’t like all this waiting around. Makes me nervous, like we’re just standing around waiting to get our asses kicked.” One voice says, fidgeting with the safety on an assault rifle.

”Quit your bitching. SOMEone needs to watch the exits in case the cops do something stupid.” Says a second, chambering a shell into a pump-action shotgun.

”Oh great, and THEN what? We get to be the first clowns to eat lead once the LAPD decides to shoot the place up?” groans the first.

”You worry too much.” a third voice adds. ”As long as we’ve got hostages the cops have gotta play the guessing game, and by the time they’re ready to roll? We’ll be loooong gone. Trust me, the boss has got this ALL figured out. He may be, uhh, kooky, but he didn’t get this far without knowing what he’s doing.”

Occupied amongst each-other, the gunmen outside the boiler room have no idea that they’ve been compromised.

so Jeannie has to get the hostages before things get messy luckily she's got ten minutes to play with before the cops get in the way. well, she found an exit on her way in.

but there are bad guys between them and her getting them out. at the moment the three guards she hears ahead of her. have to deal with them. got be sneaky don't want everybody to know she's here just let.

luckily the cop stuff she borrowed came with some fun toys. she screws a silencer onto the SMG she found then looking through the gear in the pockets of the vest finds a flash bang. perfect she sneakily cracks the door open and tosses it in their direction.

as goes off sending a blinding light through the dark boiler room. as the flash dies down Jeannie quickly rolls through the door taking aim and firing on the stunned gunmen hoping to take them out quickly as she's on the clock and has no idea how many clowns she's got go though so can't waste too much time.

Jardin is by his very nature, always careful.  He scans the second floor as the floor below is mostly blocked by the walkway.  But he could see enough.  Two were stilt wearing riflemen: they reminded him of Tallboys from Dishonored.  Then there was the patrol, two clowns and a monkey.  Jardin hated clowns.  And monkeys.  He did, however, love plans...

The clowns soon found their way into the restroom.  They found nothing.  Only an empty room and five stalls.  A glance under the stalls proved fruitless; no feet were visible but anyone inside could well be standing on the toilets.

However, the clowns soon found that all the stalls had been locked.  Someone was obviously in here.  So, predictably, the submachine gun toting goon kicked in the first stall with Shotgun McNumbNuts checking inside.  Nothing.

Jardin had to hold in his laughter.  Rather than pick an obvious hiding place, the thief had attempted off a feat only someone with his particular talents could pull off.  He had wedged himself up, perched between the door frame and the ceiling.  The two...three...fools had walked right under him.  Now he just had to launch his ambush.

As the trio of villains moved to their next stall, Jardin let himself down, creeping up silently behind Mr. Shotgun.  His plan: slam the man's temple against the corner of the stall as Stupid Monkey Goon (SMG) kicked the door in.  Once that one went down, he could pull his tanto, throwing it at the monkey, killing it silently.  Once those two were down, a flick of his wrist could free his push dagger.  Block the gun with the left hand, press the right blade to the clown's neck.

He needed one of them alive and conscious for a brief Q-and-A.  That was the plan anyway.  But everyone knows about "the best laid plans of mice and men..."

Diana watched and studied every goon that came cavalcading out of the bus and noted their particular body language, skills and armaments. They were nothing particularly special, nothing Diana couldn't handle, but their numbers and the presence of hostages meant she couldn't act yet. She took interest in the swords and knives; if she couldn't get to her own sword she could use those to improvise.

One of Cecil's fine, competent goons took the initiative (or complied with the an order) to fetch Diana's box. It was brought before the maestro, and his fair guest. Diana was tense and anxious, but not for the clowns.

”Good afternoon to YOU, my raven-haired mademoiselle. Cecil H. Macintyre, in the person! Charmed, I am sure.” Cecil says with an exaggerated bow, removing his tophat as he makes her acquaintance. “My colleagues here inform me they found you with a safety deposit box, and as it just so happens I am in the market for interesting and rare relics being stored INSIDE safe boxes at this very place! The coincidence is astounding, wouldn’t you agree?” he says to Diana with a wide grin. ”Would you please, please do me the kindness of unlocking your little box so that we may peruse the contents within?”

"It's... it's just junk, nothing valuable in there at all." Diana tried to bluff, but knew that wouldn't work. She let out a sigh. Surrounded by enemies, her only option was to wait this out and comply. She produced her key, while the goon used the teller's key. Into the lock they go, Cecil's elite goons all look at the box excitedly, waiting to see the treat inside.

"What is it? what is it?" One goon couldn't wait and tried to take a look.

"Gold? Jewels? Gold jewels?" Another suggested, redundantly.

"Wait your turn, you'll get a share!" One of the lieutenants shouted, telling people off and cooling it.

The goon opens the box and brings out the contents. Wrapped in a fairly expensive silk scarf was the remains of the broken Blood Sword. Its hilt, guard and less than four inches of its cursed black blade remaining. A puzzled, disappointed silence fell over the clowns.

"Hey what gives! It's just a broken sword!" One goon derided the find, dismissing it and returning to watching the hostages.

"What a piece of junk. I wanted gold, or jewels. or golden jewels." Said mister redundant. The rest of the goons also voiced disappointment, a few threatening Diana. "What kinda joke you trying to pull kid?"

The common thugs, not knowing the value of the broken sword, simply discard it to the floor along with the silk scarf and box.

"Told ya. It's just a second rate Japanese antique, and broken too. you'll get a few hundred bucks for it at most."

Mr. Exposition, one of the regular goons who knew a bit more than your average thug, decided to speak up to his boss, exclusively. "Boss... I think... I think that's the Blood Sword. It's on 'The List'. Real big leagues... Just thought you wanted to know..." He said, in a loyal, suck-up way, being the suck-up he was.

Diana did not look at the sword, and she dared not pick it up. The one who eventually would though, would find themselves haunted by its wicked nature.

"(Kill them all) Toten Sie... Toten Sie... Toten Sie..." in a low, insidious, ephemeral voice, it would whisper to whoever picked it up and held it. A mind not prepared would not even notice; but feel an urge to commit violence, anything could trigger them.