Well this is for my english controlled assessment, just thought i'd post it on here, enjoy - if you have the patience to read it
*Warning may be the odd occassion of bad language*
The Turning Point
It was a grey, toneless, dull day. It was gripped by an icy, menacing fog which seemed to ensnare the whole City. The contrast of colours blended in together in such a bland way that nothing of any interest was created. There was the usual hustle and bustle of the center of The City. Buskers were busking, drivers were driving and walkers were walking. Blake the banker was a man among these masses, just walking the usual route to his work like he did every day. As he looked around, the milky hue seemed to completely dominate the other colours and minimised them as much as possible. Blake looked up. Dark clouds, the usual stuff he thought. It was always on his mind to move somewhere nicer, the money was never THAT good – or atleast that’s what his subconscious told him, the city was full of lowlife thugs and it was always raining. There was nothing positive about his life, he himself was a meaningless statistic. It was the same old thing every single time. Walk the same route, Sit in the same booth, say the same things, punch in numbers on the same keypad, withdraw the same currency. Everything was the same and he was tired of it, tired, sick, fed up and quite frankly – flabberghasted. Now you may think that is an odd choice of words, but the more you coin it about in your head the sooner you will eventually see that it seemed to slot into Blake’s conundrum; his life conundrum, perfectly. Now Blake tried to insert some change into his life but somewhere in his cluttered apartment you will probably find a note or some sort of reminder to do something which Blake fails to do. Whether it was to lose weight, visit family or even go for a simple leisurely walk. The fact is, it seemed to be impossible.
That, right there, was Blake’s conundrum. He wanted change to happen, but would go to absolutely no lengths whatsoever to try and achieve that change. Maybe it was a mental thing. Maybe it was a psychological thing. Maybe it was even a physical thing! A physical thing? Of course it’s not a physical thing you idiot, it’s all in your head! Well maybe it could be a phy- Hey! Watch where you’re walking! No sooner had he stopped thinking than his snap back to reality revealed something very peculiar – he had walked right into a lamppost and was pressed right up against it. And that right there would probably be the most interesting thing that happened that day.
However this would not prove to be the case. As he regained his senses he noticed that a large circle seemed to be forming around him, and he noticed how idiotic he looked. Stumbling about, he flapped his head and tried to refocus his sight. He glanced at the many shocked, curious and generally entertained faces of the crowd which had gathered around him and decided the best course of action was to lower his head and walk as briskly as possible. As he walked off his audience slowly stared at him, then swivelled around as if nothing had ever happened.
As Blake was dragging his feet along the pavement, he studied the various cracks in the pavement with great interest, and the uneven texture with the tiny grains of stone with random but somehow fitting splatters of chewing gum and bird poo. He found his mind wandering again. With a great thump he clashed straight into a daunting, large figure. He slowly looked up and took a small gulp, for the time of day and place, he seemed to be very unusually dressed. He was cloaked by a huge jet black coat with a hood so low, you could only just see the bottom of his well-chiselled jawline - and even that was muffled by a khaki brown cotton bandana. As Blake’s eyes lowered he saw creased navy combat trousers with their various pockets and compartments and enormous autumn brown walking boots which tapped the ground very slowly. The man slowly stooped his head down and looked intriguingly at Blake. He almost seemed amused by the whole situation and started to break into a wry smirk. Blake could see his petrified silhouette shivering back at him through the man’s aviators. He took a quick survey of his surroundings and saw the man was not alone. There were 4 of them, all equally as menacing. One was incredibly bulky, well covered. He wore a crisp pinstripe suit and looked especially sharp in it, his bald head had a cloudy reflection to it which almost seemed a mirror of the weather that day. He too wore sunglasses but were much more obnoxious, oblong with a midnight black tint. His face was undefined and shapeless, and his jaw seemed to dangle there meaninglessly, it didn’t mingle in well with his ruddy complexion. He cracked one hand with his fingers and clutched at a large suitcase with the other and cocked back his head; seeing Blake as an inferior human being. Blake’s eyes darted to next to the next figure, average height and build but despite his balanced physique his other features were far from it. His head swayed, restless and his long, snaking scar on his forehead rocked in and out of view as he did so. He seemed unnaturally edgy. His emerald green eyes glared at him – fascinated, and his mouth twitched between disgust and delight. One hand grasped a shoulder bag while the other flitted about his clothes – and Blake noticed the strange purple and black colour scheme he had worn, and momentarily fixated on his odd socks. Then Blake’s eyes averted him as quickly as possible and eyed up the final man. He was a small man with a meagre frame – in comparison to the rest of the group. His almost skeletal face was made even more ghastly with his pale skin, so pale and thin-layered that it was almost ethereal. He too carried a shoulder bag whilst donning a black shirt and tie with untidy trousers and shoes that seemed disproportionately big compared to the rest of his body.
The small man stepped forward and rubbed his hands together; assessing the situation to see how he could profit from it most.
“Well, well looking a little lost are we?” He sneered. Blake looked around nervously and saw that he was completely alone in an alley. This was not his usual route to work and he was completely puzzled as to how he even got there.
“Uhm, actually… no, i’m… I’m just on my way to work, actually.” Blake stuttered. The man in purple then took his turned and cackled “Well he looks lost to me, and I’m feeling REALLY froggy this morning.” Then the tall figure with aviators signalled a sign with his hands as if he was trying to say STOP and then he snapped in a whisper “Keep quiet Edgar! You don’t want this failing before it’s started d’ya?” Suddenly the suited man grasped the Edgar by his sleeve and whispered something in his ear. The hooded man then turned to Blake, “I’m sorry about the others but you better go, and quickly.” This was as much convincing as Blake needed and he darted off away from them. What an incredibly strange group of people he thought, but as soon as he left the alley the idea ballooned from his head and floated into the sky.
*
The small man stropped from wall to wall in the alley, pacing impatiently,
“God Edgar you made us look a right prat there din’tcha?” Edgar writhed under the grip of the suited man, “Get off me Kurt ya big freak!” He snarled and wriggled free of Kurt’s iron grip and swayed his body towards the small man and clicked his fingers, his mood changing instantly, “Well Freddie my feverishly impatient boy, you didn’t allow me to work my magic! Besides you hardly gave him a glistening first impression of us did you?” He looked down at Freddie and gave the look of a sad puppy. Freddie tensed his jaw and looked at Michael and Kurt, “What are you two smirking at, didn’t see you do anything!” Michael replied “Well we wanted to leave it to the… professional, didn’t we?” He smirked again and looked right into Freddie’s eye.
“Oh just cut the crap already! I only wanna just get down to business!” He groaned and then rubbed his hands together sensing there was money to be had. In unison they all put on their gas masks, and the stiff rubber created a harsh friction on Michael’s sweaty face. Unlike the others, he didn’t feel like this was a good idea. He quivered at the possible consequences. Ever since Freddie had joined up with Edgar, he was a different man from the friend he once knew. Edgar had manipulated, twisted him into a cold calculating criminal masterminding machine. He didn’t want to say anything, but Edgar was a freak. Worst of all, he knew himself he was, and he embraced the madness. Maybe, if he hadn’t got mixed in with Freddie this would’ve never have happened. He didn’t want to be a thug. He didn’t want to carry a gun. He didn’t want to break the law. Worst of all, he NEVER wanted to rob a bank. Edgar whistled the signal and Freddie nodded. Kurt heaved up his suitcase and cracked his neck. Michael sighed, looked up and swallowed hard. It was time to make the biggest mistake of his life.
*
Blake slumped down on his chair and drummed his gnawed-at pen against the rough splintered table. He was already daydreaming and he’d only been there half an hour. The bank was almost completely devoid of customers, unusual for a busy Tuesday morning. There were also no security guards, which was surprising considering that he'd been working there 7 years and it’d had never happened before. He glanced at a man holding a newspaper. He doesn’t seem to be doing much reading, even though he has a paper. Why would you even have a newspaper in here anyway? Blake thought as the man peered around his paper a third time and murmured something to himself. As Blake squinted he noticed something, Hey I know that guy I saw hi-. There was a huge boom as Blake was blinded with a flash that scourged the whole room. People screamed and collapsed the floor, and Blake’s head was whirring.
Kurt barged in clad in his suit and gas mask, he simply brushed aside the bodies of the incapacitated bankers like ragdolls. He made sure the area was clear and he signalled to Michael and Edgar. Edgar strolled in with an unnatural swagger. The bank robbery didn’t even mean anything to him, he just loved the thrill of doing so. The money didn’t even matter. Teehee, well… it matters a little! Edgar smirked at the voices in his head and as the cloud of gas cleared up he whispered into Freddie’s ear. Simultaneously Michael entered nervously, regularly checking behind his back and giving an uncertain nod. “Show us the money and nobody gets hurt!” Freddie bawled into the lobby. There was silence for a few moments then a grey haired man clad in his bank uniform gingerly grappled onto the opposite Freddie and hauled himself up. “None of this belongs to you! The police have been alerted!” Freddie plucked a handgun out of his pocket but to his horror saw the banker’s brain splatter all over the desk infront of him. Edgar lowered his shotgun, giggling. “Sorry!” He chuckled. He then prowled around the room threatening each and every clerk to tell him where the vault was and systematically ended their lives when he didn’t get an answer. Michael simply stood there by the door and watched it unfold.
Blake held his head and groaned. It felt like his brain was trying to drill its way out of his skull, as his vision stopped blurring he realised his manager was talking to him. “…Take this key and go to the vault, at no cost can you give it up to anyone, the contents of that vault are invaluable! The police will be here soon...” He clamped the keys into Blake’s hand and turned around. Blake without even fully knowing what he was being told to do, registered the few key words and stumbled towards the door. As he wrenched it open he felt a white, hot fiery pain burrowed its way into his back and he let out an ear-splitting howl but kept focus, and started to slowly stumble towards his destination. When he finally reached the titanic, shiny oval door of the vault he slumped down onto it, causing a roar of clangs which echoed along the narrow stretching corridor. He clutched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, squirming and writhing in pain.
*
“I’m finished talking to him.” Edgar admitted uninterested, he rolled his eyes and pulled the trigger of his gorgeous steel silver shotgun. The manager collapsed to the ground, a fountain of scarlet red blood emanating from him. He took out a pair of gleaming, smooth white silk gloves from his trouser pockets and stroked the barrel of the shotgun. Freddie looked towards the corridor containing the vault door and rubbed his hands, sensing the opportunity.
“Edgar, you stay at the front and make sure everyone who needs to be dead is so. Kurt you watch the corridor, if anyone sneaks past Edgar he’s your man. Michael you’re with me.” He twirled around his bony fingers and turned to the door. Michael reluctantly hesisted and hurried on after him. As they rushed on through the corridors Freddie instructed him “I’ll look for any extra dough lying around, you get the vault.” He heavily patted Michael’s back and calculatingly scanned his surroundings, then he rubbed his hands and went into a room.
Michael took a deep breath and took a right and he then came to huge door with metal so cold to the touch that he pulled away his hand surprised. He pulled out of his pocket a clump of keys given to him by Edgar who snatched it from the lifeless corpse of the manager. He fiddled with the lock and after what seemed an eternity, managed to open it. It gave a large groan as he pulled it back with all his strength. He glanced down and was alarmed to see several puddles of blood blotted along the gleaming white marble floor, his eyes followed until he saw a figure which was pressed up against a gaping door with a huge wheel on the front. There it is,I wonder who that man is.. As he cautiously got nearer and the figure started to come into view Michael’s eyes widened, “You! What are you doing here!” Blake looked up dazed and confused. He was seeing two of everything but could just recognise who it was, “I can’t let you… go through, why… did you do this?” He panted heavily, searching for his breath but it seemed to constantly escape him. Ignoring him, Michael slowly pulled a handgun out of his pocket “I’m sorry, but that will have to wait, but for now there is work that needs to be done. I really don’t want to hurt you. So please, just give me the code… and nobody needs to get hurt.” Michael said this in such a gentle way; he almost seemed scared which contrasted with his huge intimidating stature. He steadily aimed his gun at Blake’s head, but after a few seconds his hand started to tremble. Blake clutched the access card in his hand, opened it up for Michael to see and then closed his fist so tight that the bloodied knuckles were bulging white. “Never.” He said defiantly.
“Kill him! He is surplus to our requirements.” Freddie ordered him from across the corridor, with each step his took the booming echoes became louder and his face more and more frustrated. “With every moment you waste is more and more money down the drain! Come get it over with kill him!” Michael looked at him and told Freddie sternly “I will not have this man’s blood on my hands.” Freddie’s face turned purple, “Why I always knew you were the weak one! Too scared to do anything! Well I’m getting the money and getting the hell out of here.” Michael’s eyes were now bulging and his blood pumping, he knew that look of Freddie’s and it spelt trouble. “Freddie wait, we can always do this another wa-.” BANG! Blake looked on in horror as Michael dropped to the floor, the gun clanged as it hit the polished marble, and then there was silence. Freddie’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Blake. “It already seems you have expired your use, besides we can’t have any… loose ends, can we?” Suddenly there was a huge roar and the floor rumbled as Kurt barged in with superhuman speed, incredible for his enormous frame. He clutched Kurt’s neck and hurled him across the room as if he were a rugby ball. Kurt skidded down the corridor and around the corner, out of Blake’s already blurry view. Kurt growled and sprinted on after him “You killed my best friend you bastard! I hate you!” The next few seconds seemed like an eternity to Blake and he felt his strength being sucked out of him. He could only make out a few distinct sounds, suddenly there was a huge shotgun blast and a crash. Then once again, there was an eery silence. Blake looked up to see an oddly dressed figure calmly walking towards him.
“And then there were two!” chuckled Edgar. He knelt down and slapped Blake and squeezed his cheeks. When Blake’s eyes met his, he giggled and let go, stood up straight and began erase the creases from his clothes, flitting about almost faster than Blake could process it. “I sensed the perfect opportunity, aren’t I marvellous? Why have the same as some when you can have more? It was simple really, and poor Freddie played right into my hands.” He tutted and shook his head, “He was easily manipulated that boy, even when that Michael boy tried to stop him, I just gave him a push. He did the rest himself.” As he babbled on about his scheme, Blake knew he would probably be killed. He tried to look for a possible escape route but there didn’t seem to be- hang on.. Blake’s voices started to speak to him again. The gun, THE GUN! Blake shook his head to regain focus and saw Michael’s gun lying infront of him, enticing him to spill more blood. He slowly reeled it in and grasped it in the hand not clutching his back, he was still in utter agony but blocked it out with the fact he knew he may live yet.
“… And that my dear, friend.. no dear acquaintance, is why you need to die. So say goodnight to your life.” He screeched in laughter as he readied his shotgun.
“I… don’t think so!” Blake heaved the pistol as if it were a shotgun and repeatedly hammered down on the trigger. As Edgar fell he saw the entire notes spill out of his shoulder bag and he was embedded in cash. Something he thought would quite frankly, never happen in a million years! He felt the warm blood seeping through his clothes on his back, he didn’t care anymore. This one day, no matter how bad it had been, was the most eventful of his life and he was grateful for it. He wasn’t just a statistic anymore, he had made an impact. He stared up to the ceiling, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. As the police sirens whirred he slowly bobbed his head back, his life had changed, and so had the lives of many others. He was inspiration for all misfits everywhere. Despite his questionable personality, it was not the way he was that defined him. It was the choices he made, and his bravery would never be forgotten.
Well this is for my english controlled assessment, just thought i'd post it on here, enjoy - if you have the patience to read it
*Warning may be the odd occassion of bad language*
The Turning Point
It was a grey, toneless, dull day. It was gripped by an icy, menacing fog which seemed to ensnare the whole City. The contrast of colours blended in together in such a bland way that nothing of any interest was created. There was the usual hustle and bustle of the center of The City. Buskers were busking, drivers were driving and walkers were walking. Blake the banker was a man among these masses, just walking the usual route to his work like he did every day. As he looked around, the milky hue seemed to completely dominate the other colours and minimised them as much as possible. Blake looked up. Dark clouds, the usual stuff he thought. It was always on his mind to move somewhere nicer, the money was never THAT good – or atleast that’s what his subconscious told him, the city was full of lowlife thugs and it was always raining. There was nothing positive about his life, he himself was a meaningless statistic. It was the same old thing every single time. Walk the same route, Sit in the same booth, say the same things, punch in numbers on the same keypad, withdraw the same currency. Everything was the same and he was tired of it, tired, sick, fed up and quite frankly – flabberghasted. Now you may think that is an odd choice of words, but the more you coin it about in your head the sooner you will eventually see that it seemed to slot into Blake’s conundrum; his life conundrum, perfectly. Now Blake tried to insert some change into his life but somewhere in his cluttered apartment you will probably find a note or some sort of reminder to do something which Blake fails to do. Whether it was to lose weight, visit family or even go for a simple leisurely walk. The fact is, it seemed to be impossible.
That, right there, was Blake’s conundrum. He wanted change to happen, but would go to absolutely no lengths whatsoever to try and achieve that change. Maybe it was a mental thing. Maybe it was a psychological thing. Maybe it was even a physical thing! A physical thing? Of course it’s not a physical thing you idiot, it’s all in your head! Well maybe it could be a phy- Hey! Watch where you’re walking! No sooner had he stopped thinking than his snap back to reality revealed something very peculiar – he had walked right into a lamppost and was pressed right up against it. And that right there would probably be the most interesting thing that happened that day.
However this would not prove to be the case. As he regained his senses he noticed that a large circle seemed to be forming around him, and he noticed how idiotic he looked. Stumbling about, he flapped his head and tried to refocus his sight. He glanced at the many shocked, curious and generally entertained faces of the crowd which had gathered around him and decided the best course of action was to lower his head and walk as briskly as possible. As he walked off his audience slowly stared at him, then swivelled around as if nothing had ever happened.
As Blake was dragging his feet along the pavement, he studied the various cracks in the pavement with great interest, and the uneven texture with the tiny grains of stone with random but somehow fitting splatters of chewing gum and bird poo. He found his mind wandering again. With a great thump he clashed straight into a daunting, large figure. He slowly looked up and took a small gulp, for the time of day and place, he seemed to be very unusually dressed. He was cloaked by a huge jet black coat with a hood so low, you could only just see the bottom of his well-chiselled jawline - and even that was muffled by a khaki brown cotton bandana. As Blake’s eyes lowered he saw creased navy combat trousers with their various pockets and compartments and enormous autumn brown walking boots which tapped the ground very slowly. The man slowly stooped his head down and looked intriguingly at Blake. He almost seemed amused by the whole situation and started to break into a wry smirk. Blake could see his petrified silhouette shivering back at him through the man’s aviators. He took a quick survey of his surroundings and saw the man was not alone. There were 4 of them, all equally as menacing. One was incredibly bulky, well covered. He wore a crisp pinstripe suit and looked especially sharp in it, his bald head had a cloudy reflection to it which almost seemed a mirror of the weather that day. He too wore sunglasses but were much more obnoxious, oblong with a midnight black tint. His face was undefined and shapeless, and his jaw seemed to dangle there meaninglessly, it didn’t mingle in well with his ruddy complexion. He cracked one hand with his fingers and clutched at a large suitcase with the other and cocked back his head; seeing Blake as an inferior human being. Blake’s eyes darted to next to the next figure, average height and build but despite his balanced physique his other features were far from it. His head swayed, restless and his long, snaking scar on his forehead rocked in and out of view as he did so. He seemed unnaturally edgy. His emerald green eyes glared at him – fascinated, and his mouth twitched between disgust and delight. One hand grasped a shoulder bag while the other flitted about his clothes – and Blake noticed the strange purple and black colour scheme he had worn, and momentarily fixated on his odd socks. Then Blake’s eyes averted him as quickly as possible and eyed up the final man. He was a small man with a meagre frame – in comparison to the rest of the group. His almost skeletal face was made even more ghastly with his pale skin, so pale and thin-layered that it was almost ethereal. He too carried a shoulder bag whilst donning a black shirt and tie with untidy trousers and shoes that seemed disproportionately big compared to the rest of his body.
The small man stepped forward and rubbed his hands together; assessing the situation to see how he could profit from it most.
“Well, well looking a little lost are we?” He sneered. Blake looked around nervously and saw that he was completely alone in an alley. This was not his usual route to work and he was completely puzzled as to how he even got there.
“Uhm, actually… no, i’m… I’m just on my way to work, actually.” Blake stuttered. The man in purple then took his turned and cackled “Well he looks lost to me, and I’m feeling REALLY froggy this morning.” Then the tall figure with aviators signalled a sign with his hands as if he was trying to say STOP and then he snapped in a whisper “Keep quiet Edgar! You don’t want this failing before it’s started d’ya?” Suddenly the suited man grasped the Edgar by his sleeve and whispered something in his ear. The hooded man then turned to Blake, “I’m sorry about the others but you better go, and quickly.” This was as much convincing as Blake needed and he darted off away from them. What an incredibly strange group of people he thought, but as soon as he left the alley the idea ballooned from his head and floated into the sky.
*
The small man stropped from wall to wall in the alley, pacing impatiently,
“God Edgar you made us look a right prat there din’tcha?” Edgar writhed under the grip of the suited man, “Get off me Kurt ya big freak!” He snarled and wriggled free of Kurt’s iron grip and swayed his body towards the small man and clicked his fingers, his mood changing instantly, “Well Freddie my feverishly impatient boy, you didn’t allow me to work my magic! Besides you hardly gave him a glistening first impression of us did you?” He looked down at Freddie and gave the look of a sad puppy. Freddie tensed his jaw and looked at Michael and Kurt, “What are you two smirking at, didn’t see you do anything!” Michael replied “Well we wanted to leave it to the… professional, didn’t we?” He smirked again and looked right into Freddie’s eye.
“Oh just cut the crap already! I only wanna just get down to business!” He groaned and then rubbed his hands together sensing there was money to be had. In unison they all put on their gas masks, and the stiff rubber created a harsh friction on Michael’s sweaty face. Unlike the others, he didn’t feel like this was a good idea. He quivered at the possible consequences. Ever since Freddie had joined up with Edgar, he was a different man from the friend he once knew. Edgar had manipulated, twisted him into a cold calculating criminal masterminding machine. He didn’t want to say anything, but Edgar was a freak. Worst of all, he knew himself he was, and he embraced the madness. Maybe, if he hadn’t got mixed in with Freddie this would’ve never have happened. He didn’t want to be a thug. He didn’t want to carry a gun. He didn’t want to break the law. Worst of all, he NEVER wanted to rob a bank. Edgar whistled the signal and Freddie nodded. Kurt heaved up his suitcase and cracked his neck. Michael sighed, looked up and swallowed hard. It was time to make the biggest mistake of his life.
*
Blake slumped down on his chair and drummed his gnawed-at pen against the rough splintered table. He was already daydreaming and he’d only been there half an hour. The bank was almost completely devoid of customers, unusual for a busy Tuesday morning. There were also no security guards, which was surprising considering that he'd been working there 7 years and it’d had never happened before. He glanced at a man holding a newspaper. He doesn’t seem to be doing much reading, even though he has a paper. Why would you even have a newspaper in here anyway? Blake thought as the man peered around his paper a third time and murmured something to himself. As Blake squinted he noticed something, Hey I know that guy I saw hi-. There was a huge boom as Blake was blinded with a flash that scourged the whole room. People screamed and collapsed the floor, and Blake’s head was whirring.
Kurt barged in clad in his suit and gas mask, he simply brushed aside the bodies of the incapacitated bankers like ragdolls. He made sure the area was clear and he signalled to Michael and Edgar. Edgar strolled in with an unnatural swagger. The bank robbery didn’t even mean anything to him, he just loved the thrill of doing so. The money didn’t even matter. Teehee, well… it matters a little! Edgar smirked at the voices in his head and as the cloud of gas cleared up he whispered into Freddie’s ear. Simultaneously Michael entered nervously, regularly checking behind his back and giving an uncertain nod. “Show us the money and nobody gets hurt!” Freddie bawled into the lobby. There was silence for a few moments then a grey haired man clad in his bank uniform gingerly grappled onto the opposite Freddie and hauled himself up. “None of this belongs to you! The police have been alerted!” Freddie plucked a handgun out of his pocket but to his horror saw the banker’s brain splatter all over the desk infront of him. Edgar lowered his shotgun, giggling. “Sorry!” He chuckled. He then prowled around the room threatening each and every clerk to tell him where the vault was and systematically ended their lives when he didn’t get an answer. Michael simply stood there by the door and watched it unfold.
Blake held his head and groaned. It felt like his brain was trying to drill its way out of his skull, as his vision stopped blurring he realised his manager was talking to him. “…Take this key and go to the vault, at no cost can you give it up to anyone, the contents of that vault are invaluable! The police will be here soon...” He clamped the keys into Blake’s hand and turned around. Blake without even fully knowing what he was being told to do, registered the few key words and stumbled towards the door. As he wrenched it open he felt a white, hot fiery pain burrowed its way into his back and he let out an ear-splitting howl but kept focus, and started to slowly stumble towards his destination. When he finally reached the titanic, shiny oval door of the vault he slumped down onto it, causing a roar of clangs which echoed along the narrow stretching corridor. He clutched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, squirming and writhing in pain.
*
“I’m finished talking to him.” Edgar admitted uninterested, he rolled his eyes and pulled the trigger of his gorgeous steel silver shotgun. The manager collapsed to the ground, a fountain of scarlet red blood emanating from him. He took out a pair of gleaming, smooth white silk gloves from his trouser pockets and stroked the barrel of the shotgun. Freddie looked towards the corridor containing the vault door and rubbed his hands, sensing the opportunity.
“Edgar, you stay at the front and make sure everyone who needs to be dead is so. Kurt you watch the corridor, if anyone sneaks past Edgar he’s your man. Michael you’re with me.” He twirled around his bony fingers and turned to the door. Michael reluctantly hesisted and hurried on after him. As they rushed on through the corridors Freddie instructed him “I’ll look for any extra dough lying around, you get the vault.” He heavily patted Michael’s back and calculatingly scanned his surroundings, then he rubbed his hands and went into a room.
Michael took a deep breath and took a right and he then came to huge door with metal so cold to the touch that he pulled away his hand surprised. He pulled out of his pocket a clump of keys given to him by Edgar who snatched it from the lifeless corpse of the manager. He fiddled with the lock and after what seemed an eternity, managed to open it. It gave a large groan as he pulled it back with all his strength. He glanced down and was alarmed to see several puddles of blood blotted along the gleaming white marble floor, his eyes followed until he saw a figure which was pressed up against a gaping door with a huge wheel on the front. There it is,I wonder who that man is.. As he cautiously got nearer and the figure started to come into view Michael’s eyes widened, “You! What are you doing here!” Blake looked up dazed and confused. He was seeing two of everything but could just recognise who it was, “I can’t let you… go through, why… did you do this?” He panted heavily, searching for his breath but it seemed to constantly escape him. Ignoring him, Michael slowly pulled a handgun out of his pocket “I’m sorry, but that will have to wait, but for now there is work that needs to be done. I really don’t want to hurt you. So please, just give me the code… and nobody needs to get hurt.” Michael said this in such a gentle way; he almost seemed scared which contrasted with his huge intimidating stature. He steadily aimed his gun at Blake’s head, but after a few seconds his hand started to tremble. Blake clutched the access card in his hand, opened it up for Michael to see and then closed his fist so tight that the bloodied knuckles were bulging white. “Never.” He said defiantly.
“Kill him! He is surplus to our requirements.” Freddie ordered him from across the corridor, with each step his took the booming echoes became louder and his face more and more frustrated. “With every moment you waste is more and more money down the drain! Come get it over with kill him!” Michael looked at him and told Freddie sternly “I will not have this man’s blood on my hands.” Freddie’s face turned purple, “Why I always knew you were the weak one! Too scared to do anything! Well I’m getting the money and getting the hell out of here.” Michael’s eyes were now bulging and his blood pumping, he knew that look of Freddie’s and it spelt trouble. “Freddie wait, we can always do this another wa-.” BANG! Blake looked on in horror as Michael dropped to the floor, the gun clanged as it hit the polished marble, and then there was silence. Freddie’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Blake. “It already seems you have expired your use, besides we can’t have any… loose ends, can we?” Suddenly there was a huge roar and the floor rumbled as Kurt barged in with superhuman speed, incredible for his enormous frame. He clutched Kurt’s neck and hurled him across the room as if he were a rugby ball. Kurt skidded down the corridor and around the corner, out of Blake’s already blurry view. Kurt growled and sprinted on after him “You killed my best friend you bastard! I hate you!” The next few seconds seemed like an eternity to Blake and he felt his strength being sucked out of him. He could only make out a few distinct sounds, suddenly there was a huge shotgun blast and a crash. Then once again, there was an eery silence. Blake looked up to see an oddly dressed figure calmly walking towards him.
“And then there were two!” chuckled Edgar. He knelt down and slapped Blake and squeezed his cheeks. When Blake’s eyes met his, he giggled and let go, stood up straight and began erase the creases from his clothes, flitting about almost faster than Blake could process it. “I sensed the perfect opportunity, aren’t I marvellous? Why have the same as some when you can have more? It was simple really, and poor Freddie played right into my hands.” He tutted and shook his head, “He was easily manipulated that boy, even when that Michael boy tried to stop him, I just gave him a push. He did the rest himself.” As he babbled on about his scheme, Blake knew he would probably be killed. He tried to look for a possible escape route but there didn’t seem to be- hang on.. Blake’s voices started to speak to him again. The gun, THE GUN! Blake shook his head to regain focus and saw Michael’s gun lying infront of him, enticing him to spill more blood. He slowly reeled it in and grasped it in the hand not clutching his back, he was still in utter agony but blocked it out with the fact he knew he may live yet.
“… And that my dear, friend.. no dear acquaintance, is why you need to die. So say goodnight to your life.” He screeched in laughter as he readied his shotgun.
“I… don’t think so!” Blake heaved the pistol as if it were a shotgun and repeatedly hammered down on the trigger. As Edgar fell he saw the entire notes spill out of his shoulder bag and he was embedded in cash. Something he thought would quite frankly, never happen in a million years! He felt the warm blood seeping through his clothes on his back, he didn’t care anymore. This one day, no matter how bad it had been, was the most eventful of his life and he was grateful for it. He wasn’t just a statistic anymore, he had made an impact. He stared up to the ceiling, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. As the police sirens whirred he slowly bobbed his head back, his life had changed, and so had the lives of many others. He was inspiration for all misfits everywhere. Despite his questionable personality, it was not the way he was that defined him. It was the choices he made, and his bravery would never be forgotten.
Edited by DemyxIsBest