Late Night Withdrawl

I remember when I was a kid, there used to be this little crawl space in the attic where you could crawl into the unfinished parts of the roof. The whole thing was covered in pink insulation and you could see your breath when the winter came, but it had its own cozy charm. My sister and I used to go up there when we were younger and play games.  It was our own little hideaway.

But the real charm of the place was that, if you knew the trick, you could move some of the boards just a hair and peek down into the living room. It was our own secret little spy nook. There wasn't a thing that went on in that living room that we didn't see. We thought we were so clever. In hindsight, I'm almost certain my parents knew about our trick, but let us have our fun anyway. I'm grateful for that, now that I look back.

Turns out things really don't change.

There are a few ways to get into a locked mall if you don't have meta-natural characteristics. You can use some good pliers, a lockpicking kit, and a way to knock out security. But that gets expensive. I prefer to pack a good meal, bring some reading material, waltz right in during business hours, and simply never leave. The Rent-A-Cops do checks before leaving, of course, but no one ever checks the ceiling. Turns out it's pretty easy to get up into a ceiling nook if you can find a toilet to stand on and some privacy. After that, it's cake to find a place to lay low.

You do end up getting locked into a mall for a night, but every plan has its pros and cons. There wasn't much else going on tonight anyhow.

No, tonight I had my sights set on a very particular case. A string of ATM robberies had been plaguing the downtown area for some time. I'd done some homework and realized that the thefts were all localized to a small area. Most likely near the perp's home. Stupid, but most of them usually are.  The catch is that there are never any signs of breaking and entering. So, I figure to myself, "Guy's gotta be a super."

So here I am, sitting on a small balcony, sharing space with some fake potted plants, right across from ATM  #15 on my list. This is the third night I've spent on this particular machine. The tuna salad sandwich I made is sufficient. A thermos of cappuccino helps me stay awake. Nothing to do but wait.

That's the part they never report about in the papers. Most supers get big flashy headlines. Some mook in a suit happens to stumble on a bank robbery, creams a few low-lives who barely had a plan to begin with, and badda-bing badda-boom: Cover page story. Smile for the kids.

No finesse whatsoever.

Flick slipped into the mall easily enough. He had yet to find a building that he couldn't breach. At his most miniscule size, even the smallest hole was the grandest of entrances. In this case, he'd simply climbed through a gap in the shutters before making it through the space underneath the main door.

The thief stood up, wiping himself clear of some gunk that he had waded through to get passed the brush at the base of the door. Flick smirked as he looked around, eyeing the shiny expanse of the polished floor. Maybe he'd stop by here tomorrow and spend some of his newfound cash in the multitude of shops lining this veritable desert.

Remaining at his lowly height, the Fly On The Wall sprinted through the mall at a pace only possible due to the maintenance of his strength even when shrunk. He leapt up onto benches, sprung off of dustbins and eventually reached his target. The ATM.

Flick stood before the titanic structure, currently undetectable. His armour absorbed light, making him invisible to the ordinary eye. The mercenary reached into his pocket and withdrew his miniature iPhone, before pressing a few buttons and connecting his headphone adapter.

With a quick press of a few buttons Flick was suddenly full sized, at 6'1". There was no flash of light, his armoured suit being designed for stealth, but there was no missing him to any observer.
Unaware of Shade's presence, the robber laid down an empty back pack onto the ground in front of the ATM and opened it up.

"Do ye ever feel, like a plastic bag... drifting through the wind... wanting tae start agaaiin," Flick sang along with the music playing in his helmet, before turning to the machine. Shrinking once more, the mercenary leapt through the card slot and began the withdrawal process.

I hear movement. Halfway through my Sudoku book, and something finally happens. Good thing too. I was really stumped on this page.

Putting the book back in a coat pocket, I look over to see someone standing in front of the ATM. They were definitley nowhere near there just a few seconds ago. I hope to heaven that this isn't some teletransportation super. Astral, quantum, wormhole, or whatever, that power is always a handfull.

Then, I could swear the man shrinks. Its fast, damn near inperceptible, but it's there. It is definitely there. My luck is holding out.

Alright. Game time.

Check my piece over one last time. Safety is off, bullets in the chamber. Green to go. Slide down off the balcony, quietly as I can. The mall is dead quiet though. My shoes tap on the linoleum floor as I land. Have to hope he's distracted enough.

Slink over to the ATM. Five meters to the right. Have to surprise him. Close enough that I can grab him if needed, far enough that I have time to react if he tries anything.

Shrinking isn't the most combat effective ability. He'll likely make a break for it. Have to be ready for that. Unless he can get bigger too. Shit, I hope he can't get bigger.

Oh well, no turning back now. Both hands on the handle. Sights trained on the ATM. I slow my breathing. Can't get nervous. I hate waiting like this. Nothing for it. Just breathe.

I plant my feet.

Your move, punk.

Flick doesn't hear Shade at all. He presses his hands against a small mechanism inside the machine, his helmet full  of the sounds of Katy Perry, and waits for the right moment in the song. Eventually it arrives, the mercenary singing the entire line.

"'cause baby you're a fiiiiirework! Come on let your cooolours burst! Make 'em go---" The thief clicks the mechanism. Suddenly, the ATM starts spitting out note after note after note. They mostly land perfectly into the well placed backpack, beginning to fill it up in no time. "Ah, ah, ah!" Flick finishes the line.

The ATM robber grins as he retreats from the machine and slips back to the floor below. Still unaware of Shade, the armoured robber unshrinks next to his backpack. His suit looks to be high tech, with black plates that cause a weird blurriness to surround him. Flick hums the rest of the tune as he inspects his earnings.

The cash machine starts to spit money like it's going out of style and my suspicions are all but confirmed. He must have shrunk down and crawled into the machine. Would have been pretty easy to crack from inside. Not half bad. Still a low down thing to do, but not that dumb either.

Next thing I know, he's popped right back where I can see him. Damn near scares the shit out of me. Almost pulled the trigger right then and there. But then, that's why they call it trigger discipline.

I notice he's got headphones on as he leans over to start collecting his haul. He must have his music up pretty loud because he doesn't even notice me. I'm a little bit insulted if I'm honest. Part of me half considers just whipping him in the back of the head and calling it a night, but that's not really an option for multiple reasons.

I could shoot his foot, but no reason to waste the bullet.

I guess I'll give the poor shmuck a chance.

"Hey..." I call out. The gravel in my voice in an affectation. Throws off voice detection and scares some of the dumber thugs. It's just something I've gotten used to over the years.

"Hey, asshole. Fun's over, okay? Put your hands where I can see them and I won't have to waste the money on a bullet. Come on, kid."

Flick's smugness shatters as he hears the gravely voice behind him. His first instinct, to attempt to shrink and flee, is countered by a mix of dread and curiosity. He points to his headphones, as if to indicate what he's about to do. Reaching for the wire, he withdraws them from his ears and drops them through a small tag.

With notes beginning to overflow out of his grounded back pack, Flick slowly turns around to regard Shade. The black masked vigilante cuts an imposing figure in the darkness, one that the thief is immediately wary of. His focus turns to the firearm. If he was going to be shot, he would have been shot already, right? He waits for a moment to consider his options, before responding.

"Whit do ye want?"

The accent is definitely Scottish. Reminds me of someone. My mind flashes back to a simpler time. I can smell her perfume. The jazz band in the background. Coffee. She held my hand...

Snap out of it. Now is no time to go drifting off. He's at least acting compliant thus far. Maybe he doesn't want a fight. Smart on his part. Don't want to underestimate him though. Have to take this nice and slow.

"Get down on the ground, and put your hands on your head." I cock the revolver. 'Don't make me ask twice."

"I cannae do that, mate," Flick remarked, slowly raising his hands up to chest height. He doesn't put them onto his head, purposefully avoiding as much. "How about we come to an agreement? There's a of cash here, aye? Maybe we part on amicable terms. Victimless crime, yeah?"

Flick hoped for an agreement. His armour should be able to stop a bullet - if it hit the right spot - but it would not be a pleasant experience. Besides that, shooting the guy with his own wrist mounted blasters could escalate the situation beyond sensibility.