Botched

Samuel Haynes crouched down on his haunches, back against the non-public side of the counter separating the bank tellers from the public of the west side branch of First National Savings and Trust. Head back, his eyes closed, Colt M4A1 assault weapon with ACOG scope standing upright between his legs. The bullet wound in his side, just inside the opening in the Kevlar body armor, burning like a sonofabitch, the sticky wet feeling of blood seeping out and into his dark colored clothes.

Rolling his head to the side, pullover Halloween skull facemask concealing his sweaty face, sweaty despite the climate controlled air conditioning. Sam opened his eyes and looked over at the crumpled heap of the similarly masked and dressed Patrick Swayne and the dark ruby pool of congealing blood he was lying face down in.

“We are so fucking pooched!” Cameron Stroud said, his own face also covered by a mask identical to Sam’s coming in low beside the crouching man, eyes sweeping across the half dozen police cars outside the bank, lights staining the interior of the financial institution red and blue through disheveled blinds and broken plate glass.

“Just stick with the plan,” Sam growled through clenched teeth, beads of perspiration trickling down the side of his face inside the mask.

“The plan is fucked man, Pat’s gone!” complained Cameron, voice high pitched and full of panic as he looked over at their dead companion.

Sam kept quiet, the original plan was fucked. It had been simple. Four man insertion team, another man waiting outside as a getaway driver and another to neutralize the alarm system remote, that was Wyatt Taylor’s job, six minute reboot time, perfect window of opportunity, cell phone signal jammer in the van, armored truck arrives exactly at 9:15. Wait for the unload, catch everyone in transition, the time lock on the vault would be open, get in, grab the cash and hit the specifically identified numbered safety deposit box with the punch, and get out. Simple, two minutes max window. Variables, six bank employees including one armed security person and one manager, a half dozen customers, two in the truck. Nice slow typical Tuesday morning. Not bad for an expected for a high seven figure payday split seven ways.

Truck was four minutes late, and for whatever reason the bank was packed with more than triple the expected number of customers. Someway, somehow, somebody alerted the cops and his team walked right into an armed response when they attempted to leave the bank two minutes and forty-eight seconds after arriving.

The exchange of gunfire that followed saw Pat take a bullet, catching him high in the neck over the armor. George Mendel had drug him back inside and despite their best efforts there was nothing they could do and Pat bled out. Jeff Tanner was shot and presumed while trying to make a break for it in the escape van which just wound up rolling to a stop against the cement impediment across the end of the open esplanade overlooking the ocean.

Sam himself was hit in the side, not to mention the two other bullets he took in the armor, knocking the wind out of his lungs and leaving him wondering if he might have broken ribs.

By some stroke of good fortune, Cameron and George both avoided getting hit all together, but Cameron was starting to panic, and when Cameron got nervous, he got an itchy trigger finger, and that was the last thing Sam needed right at this precise moment.

“Back up plan,” Sam said in a gravelly voice, pain seeping into his tone.

“We need the van,” Cameron said. “That’s the only way, man. This shit won’t work if we can’t use the van.”

“I know the contingency,” Sam replied calmly, “I just need you to keep your shit together for a little while longer.”

Cameron shook his head, the whole thing was sliding sideways fast and Sam was being too goddamn nonchalant about it. Standing up, “Nobody fucking move!” he screamed, waving his weapon over the gathering of people laying spread eagle and prone on the faux marble floor.

Sam pointed at a young looking female dressed in a light grey skirt and nice white blouse lying face down a few feet away, her eyes screwed shut as she trembled, “Sweetheart,” he said, voice coarse. The man lying beside her saw where Sam was pointing and shook the woman gently on the shoulder, she jumped and made a high pitched squeaking sound.

“Sweetheart,” he repeated, “You got a first aid kit somewhere in this place?” he asked, tone calm.

“I don’t know,” she replied, voice breaking.

“She doesn’t work here, there’s one down the hall second door on the left in the coffee room, it’s hanging up you can’t miss it,” said the man who had nudged the girl.

Sam inclined his head to the man.

“You catch all of that darling?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously, honey blonde ponytail bouncing, pretty little tear stained face a mask of fear as she looked at him with great big blue eyes. “In the coffee room,” she said, dulcet voice quavering.

George walked over, weapon secured against his shoulder. “I say we start dumping hostages, let them know we’re serious right from the get go,” he said, his own voice deep and filled with barely constrained rage.

Raising a hand to him and ignoring George for the moment, “Go get the first aid kit,” Sam said to her. Looking at Cameron, “Take her and bring it back, be nice.”

“On your feet,” Cameron said gruffly pointing his weapon at the side of her head. Climbing to her feet, she held her hands up, whole body trembling as she and Cameron wandered deeper into the building.

“Did you hear what I said?” George demanded.

Sam looked up to him. “I heard you, I just didn’t think you were being serious because it’s a really stupid fucking idea, these people are currently the only leverage we got right now and the only thing between us and the cops outside,” he advised.

“Fuck them,” George replied, “And fuck the cops.”

“Listen,” Sam started, trying calm George, “I don’t know if we tagged any of those pigs out there or not, but if we did and one of them dies, or one of these hostages die, it’s the death penalty if we get caught,” he finished.

“I’m not going back,” George avowed, shaking his head slowly from side to side, four years in Folsom was enough and now Pat was dead. “No way,” he repeated, voice low.

Sam nodded slowly, “I know, nobody wants to go back, but if we want to get make it through this, we need to be smart about it to make it work. We start killing hostages, they’re going to have zero choice, and they’ll just come in and start blasting. As long as everybody is making nice nice, time is on our side. Alright?” he asked.

George looked down and Sam didn’t need to see his face to know the other man was still pissed, him and Pat were best buds, had been since they were kids and Sam knew George wanted to inflict some serious hurt of his own to purge the ache in his heart, but Sam also knew George wasn’t stupid. George lowered his assault rifle and nodded, pointing at Sam’s side, “Looks like you’re leaking pretty good,” he said.

Sam nodded. “It’s okay,” he said, glancing down.

Band Aid

Cameron returned with the blonde woman and the first aid kit, instructing the petite woman back to the ground.

Pushing himself up to stand, Sam grunted a little at the protest coming from the wounds in his side and back. Setting his rifle on the counter, he opened the Velcro strap holding the armor together and pulled up his black shirt to examine the wounds. The bullet had hit him just above the hip and exited through his lower back, stopped ironically by the inside of the rear body armor, each hole seeping a bright red trickle every time his heart beat.

“Sweetheart,” he called again, looking down at the woman in the dove grey skirt and white blouse who had fetched the first aid kit looked up, her bright blue eyes still wide. “Up here,” he said smoothly, motioning her to him with a head movement.

She got up, the three inch black heels she wore clicking on the stone floor as she came over to him. Even with the shoes on, she was almost a foot shorter than Sam was at 6’3”.

“What’s your name?” he asked, keeping his tone calm and relaxed.

“E-Elayne,” she answered, stammering and avoiding eye contact with him.

“I need you to do me a favor here Elayne, do you think you can help me?” he asked.

She nodded, holding her trembling hands together to try and keep them from shaking.

“Good, now I want you to take that pad right there,” he motioned by nodding his head to the drainage dressing in the paper package inside the kit, “And press it against the bullet hole in my side,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, voice bordering on a sob as she reached out with shaky hands toward the kit.

“Not that one,” Sam said as she picked up the wrapped 4”X4” gauze square, “The fatter one,” he said, motioning again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, picking up the other one.

“That’s right, you’re doing great,” he said as she struggled to tear open the sterile package. “That’s it, now press it against my side. It’s okay. I want you to press hard, okay?” he inquired.

She nodded, tentatively pushing the dressing onto the ugly wound in his lean and muscled stomach.

“Hold against me a little firmer Elayne,” he instructed, wincing slightly as she complied and added pressure. Putting his gloved hand over hers, “Now, get the clear tape from the kit, I’ll hold this,” he said, again nodding toward the kit.

She slid her hand out from under his and grabbed the near new roll of 3M surgical tape from the kit and returned to him. Tearing off a piece about four inches long, she taped the dressing along one side to his flesh, then repeated the process until the dressing was secured to him on all four edges.

“Good, that looks good,” Sam said reassuringly, slowly releasing the pressure he was applying to the wound. “Now I need you to do it again for the hole in my back,” he added. She nodded and replicated the procedure of dressing the injury. He nodded, “Good job,” he said, lowering his shirt and re-fastening his body armor before collecting his weapon off the counter.

He plucked an alcohol swab in a foil pack from the kit and handed it to her, “For your hands,” he said. She looked down at her blood stained fingers and started shuddering again, lower lip quivering.

“Now I want you to go lay down,” he said softly. She nodded and moved back to her original spot, once on the floor tearing open the package and wiping his blood from her hands, turning the towelette a soft pink.

“Why aren’t they calling us?” asked Cameron, pacing like a caged animal.

“Give it time,” Sam replied, looking over the hostages. Seeing what he wanted, he turned to George and pointed a woman lying on the floor, a young boy in shorts and t-shirt clinging to her side. “Those two,” he said. “I want those two.”

George nodded and walked over, “Up,” he growled, motioning in an upward direction with his rifle.

“No please,” pleaded the woman, draping a protective arm over the boy who could not have been more than seven or eight years of age.

“It’s okay darling, you and your boy are going to be alright. You’re to be the first ones we let go,” Sam explained in an easy reassuring tone.

“What do you mean let go?” demanded Cameron, swinging his weapon around, looking from the woman and boy to Sam.

“Not now,” Sam said, walking back to one of the desks behind the counter. Picking up the phone, he brought it to the side of his masked head and listened for a dial tone, finding none he put the receiver back in the cradle.

“No, what do you mean?” Cameron repeated.

“Our strategy has now changed, if we want anything we have to give up something, understand? I don’t think this kid needs to be here for this, you still fucking with me? I don’t want this kid’s mother to get caught in any crossfire if SWAT decides they’re going to rush us, so I’m going to let them go,” Sam growled.

“I-I,” started Cameron, somewhat abashed.

“I need you to grow a set and stop sniveling like a bitch, then SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Sam snarled with force, frustrated and angry at having to hold Cameron’s hand in this tense situation.

Admonished, Cameron bobbed his head quickly, a subordinate yielding to the alpha.

“YOU IN THE BANK,” called a loud voice over a megaphone from outside.

Sam raised his hand and motioned the woman and child back down onto the ground.

“Show time,” he quipped, if anyone could have seen his face, they would have seen the half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. If they could see under his shirt, they would also have seen the red blossom soaking through the dressing on his side.

Give and Take

Sam moved closer to the door, careful to make sure he was not exposed so a sniper could take a bead on him, not that he thought they might. For him old habits die hard, and he believed those without them, die fast. “What do you want?” he shouted, back against the vertical support column near the doors leading into the ATM vestibule.

“We’re sending in a phone,” replied the electronically amplified voice.

“Do it,” Sam yelled back, “Nice and slow.”

He could hear the sound of feet approaching on the pavement outside, a black hand held phone with protective rubber case was tossed in through the shot out glass door in the ATM vestibule landing with a tinkling sound on the floor near where Sam stood. The sound of feet retreated quickly.

Tapping a man lying on the floor near him with his foot, Sam nodded toward the phone. The man looked at Sam then the phone, but didn’t move.

“Relax,” said Sam, “They’re the good guys, remember? Just move nice and easy and everything will be okay,” he reassured.

The man got up on all fours. Sam shouldering the M4 and tracking him as the man crawled into the vestibule and brought back the phone.

Lowering the assault weapon, he took the device from the man, nodding, “Good job,” he said. No sooner than he had taken the phone, it started ring in his hand.

Looking at the buttons, he touched the phone symbol and brought it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“My name is Jason Thomas, I’m with the SDPD, how would you like me to address you?” asked the voice on the other end of the line, he sounded young.

“I have no name and don’t care what you call me,” answered Sam.

“Kind of like one of Clint Eastwood’s characters from those 60’s spaghetti westerns, the man with no name,” said Jason, soft chuckle in his voice.

“Sure, whatever,” Sam answered.

“Is everybody okay in there Clint?” Jason asked.

“So far, everyone in here is just peachy,” Sam replied.

“That’s good,” Jason replied, “It means we still have some hope of getting this thing resolved peacefully,” he added.

“Your boys didn’t show up so peaceful,” Sam retorted.

“You guys rolled out there with machine guns and scared the crap out of everybody, smells like a port-a-potty out here,” Jason answered with a soft laugh.

Sam feigned a chuckle. “Any dead cops out there?” he asked, almost conversationally.

“Nope we’re still good, nothing a few band aids couldn’t cover, like I said, still hope we can work this out,” he provided. “Sounds like you got some pretty impressive hardware in there based on what I’ve been told.”

“We are well armed and determined, your presence here has now added desperate to the equation, now I want to check on my boy in the van,” Sam said.

“Okay, let’s talk about that,” Jason said. “You seem pretty cool given the situation, so I’m guessing this is not your first time at the rodeo or in a firefight and if that’s the case, you know how this works.”

“I know how it works, tit for tat, so here’s how our first little trust exercise is going to play out, you’re going to let me send one of my boys out to that van and bring it back to the door and I’m going to give you a hostage,” Sam offered.

“C’mon Clint, that’s a biggie for our first date don’t you think? For all I know you’ve got a fifty caliber machine gun or some type of mini-gun mounted in the back of that thing, if that’s what you want you’re going to need to really sweeten the pot quite a bit,” he said.

Sam chuckled before placing the phone against his chest, covering the receiver. “Boy,” he said, calling to the youth still glued to his mother. “It’s time to go,” he said.

The mother nodded, “Do as the man says Timmy, Mommy will be right behind you,” she said, tone soothing and reassuring, face streaked with makeup.

“I don’t want to leave you,” the boy protested, tone concerned, eyes wide, his own voice on the verge of breaking.

She smiled and nodded, looking at him before up at Sam, “You’re going to need to be a big boy for Mommy and you’ll be okay and so will I, alright sweetheart?” she said, kissing him on the side of his face. The boy got up and walked over to Sam.

Putting the phone back to his head, “Here’s a token of my willingness to work with you Jason,” Sam said, “I’m sending out a kid, make sure none of your gung ho cowboys out there cracks off a round.”

“Good,” Jason said over the phone. Outside he could hear him yelling, “Everybody hold up, we got one coming out!”

Sam nudged the kid toward the door, shards of glass crunching under the boy’s running shoes as he crossed through the vestibule and out of the bank. Quick footsteps approached then receded rapidly.

“That was a damn big gesture, damn big,” Jason said over the phone. “You seem like a reasonable man Clint.”

“Now I want my van,” Sam said, “And I’ll give you that little boy’s mother.”

“Okay, I’m willing to do that, but give me a few minutes to clear the van first, you understand,” Jason said.

“You have two minutes, otherwise, I might be thinking you’re trying to sabotage my ride and that this might not be a mutually rewarding first date,” Sam said.

“Fair enough,” replied Jason. Sam waited, muffled instructions being issued on the other end of the line. After a couple of minutes had elapsed, “You’re good to go, anything shady, all bets are off,” Jason advised.

“Quid pro quo, anything happens to my guy out there, you just killed that little boy’s mother,” Sam replied directly.

Sam motioned George over. Leaning in close, he whispered, “This is the single most important part of the plan, we need that van.”

George nodded and leaned his rifle against the wall near Sam, before reaching around and removing the desert eagle tucked into his pants and sticking in the front of Sam’s pants.

“My guy is coming out, unarmed, just going to move the van back to the front of the bank, nice and slow,” Sam advised.

“Copy that,” answered Jason.

Exiting the bank, George walked cautiously toward where the van had jumped the curb onto the esplanade, hands raised, fingers open. Cops everywhere. All of the doors on the van were open and Jeff lay huddled over the steering column, blood and other chunks of gore from the gunshot wound to his head spattered on the inside of the driver’s side interior. Pushing Jeff toward the passenger seat, George climbed into the driver’s seat, the smell of blood and shit strong. Leaving the driver’s door open, turning the ignition key, the van’s engine came to life. Engaging the automatic transmission, he slid the vehicle into reverse and began to slowly roll the vehicle back over the slightly elevated esplanade onto the street in front of the bank. Once back in position near the armored truck, George turned off the engine and got out of the van, making his way back into the building through the glassless doors.

Sam looked over and the woman sitting on the ground and nodded. “Mama, your turn, go to your son,” he said, making eye contact with the woman and motioning her toward the door with his head.

She got up on her feet, moving slowly, pausing near Sam, “Thank you,” she said softly, relief written all over her streaked face.

He nodded, “She’s coming out Jason,” Sam said, again, there were orders barked outside the bank and the sound of feet moving about as she exited the building.

George grabbed his pistol from Sam’s trousers and picked up his rifle. “SWAT”s out there now,” he said.

Sam nodded, bringing the phone down to his chest. “How many cops?” he asked.

George shook his head, “I don’t know, twenty, thirty maybe, ones I could see anyway,” he replied.

“Jeff?”

George shook his head again, touched a finger to the side of his skull and snapped his head to the opposite side.

“You still there?” Sam heard from the phone as he brought it back up to her head.

“Yeah I’m still here,” Sam replied.

“I was just telling my superior we been making some solid progress, that you’re a man of special integrity,” Jason said, “You keep this up, we might get this thing to bed without anyone else getting hurt. Speaking of that, the little boy Tim tells me you’re hurt, you took one in the side between the plates.”

“Just a scratch,” Sam said. “Nothing a band aid won’t cover.”

“Hmm. You need a doctor in there?” Jason asked.

“Nope, I will call you when I’ve got something more to say,” Sam said, ending the call before Jason could respond.

Pulling George off to the side, “You get a chance to check the van?”

George shook his head, “No way, but I doubt they found the charges though,” he opined.

Sam nodded.

“Probably planted a GPS in it or something, the whole thing was wide open,” George suggested.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as the charges are still in place, we are still golden,” Sam replied, looking over at Cameron still fidgeting behind the teller counter.

Containment

San Diego Police Department negotiator lieutenant Jason Thomas leaned back in his grey ergonomic chair in the Sunshine Realty office across the street from the bank. Although still being debriefed, preliminary information from the woman and child released by the men in the bank was not good. Three heavily armed assailants, a fourth injured or dead. Military grade weapons, body armor, and a demonstrated willingness to tangle.

“What do you think?” asked Superintendent Frank Williams, the officer in operational command of the scene. Almost fifty, Frank’s hair, including his thick moustache had completely surrendered to grey in the last few months. Lines permanently etched into his face as he squinted down at Jason.

“Our boy in there is as cool as a cucumber, he’s not going to make this easy,” Jason said, nodding slowly before pushing the thin gold rimmed glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.

Frank frowned and shook his head. “We didn’t find anything of potential danger in the van, planted an electronic disabler under the hood and a magnetic GPS locator under the driver’s front wheel well.”

“Okay,” he replied.

“Pulled a set of prints of the dead perp in the van, we sent them off nothing yet,” Frank advised.

“This guy is planning something, I can feel it in my gut,” Jason said, sucking air through his teeth. “Kid says our head guy in there has been shot,” he informed.

“Bad?”

“Kid’s description sound like a side shot, between the plates in the armor,” Jason supplied.

Frank shook his head, “Ugly way to go,” he conceded.

“Kid also says the leader is the one holding everything together, he dies we might have a massacre on our hands,” he informed.

Lieutenant Cole Markham, SWAT commander, walked in, black hat turned backwards on his head.

“Cole,” said Frank, Cole nodded in return.

“Cole,” said Jason.

“What’s the sit-rep?” Cole asked, hands on hips.

Frank provided an overview of the current situation, using the banks floor plans to point out where all of the gunmen and hostages were located according to information provided by the mother and son.

“Coordinated intrusion, two teams supported by snipers, one in the front, one in back, bang, bang, dead bad guys, everybody is home for dinner,” Cole said directly.

“What kind of collateral damage we looking at?” asked Frank, eyes narrow and cold.

“Twenty percent, tops,” answered the black attired commander.

“There’s still twenty people in there, twenty percentage means four dead,” protested Jason.

“Tops,” added Cole, nodding.

“These guys are packing military gear, body armor, the whole shebang,” Jason replied.

Cole frowned.

“What about Jackson, the patrolman that took one in the face?” Frank asked.

Jason shook his head and pursed his lips, the policeman died in the ambulance on his way to the hospital. “Our guy in there, I’ve been calling him Clint, asked, I told him we’re golden out here. They get a whiff we got a dead cop out here, they suddenly get a whole lot more desperate to avoid the needle,” Jason replied.

“Smart,” Frank said nodding and clapping Jason on the shoulder.

“Why the van?” Cole asked, looking at the monitor and pointing.

Jason pursed his lips, and shook his head, “We swept it, I don’t know. Would’ve been smarter to take the armored car.”

“Slower,” commented Cole.

“But armored. They wanted that van for some reason,” he said. “Curious.”

“Stupid criminals,” Cole snickered. “Let them take the van and a couple of hostages, take them out. Twenty percent becomes ten percent, better yet.”

“There are news helicopters flying overhead and dozens of cameras out there scrutinizing every single move they make and we make. So far, this guy has given up hostages and there’s been no further exchange of gunfire, we need to be very careful how we move forward,” suggested Jason, nodding toward Frank.

A uniformed officer approached, Stevens the name on the tag, “We just got a hit on the prints from the dead guy in the van, name’s Tanner, Jeffrey, an ex-con recently released after three years in Folsom, got a record twice the length of my arm. Paroled three months ago, jumped parole three weeks ago,” he informed.

“What did I tell you, bunch of mentally challenged ex-cons looking for a score,” Cole stated, smug. “You assholes should’ve stayed with liquor stores and gas stations, idiots,” he barked in the direction of the bank.

Frank nodded. “Get me someone in records at Folsom, I want to know if any of this guy’s friends got out in the months before or after. I want to bloody know who the hell we’re dealing with in there. The kid said one of the guys in there mentioned a Pat, so see if there’s anyone named Pat or Patrick on their role.”

“Yes sir,” replied the cop, nodding before departing.

Jason drummed his fingers over the desktop, waiting. Unlike Cole, Jason had the opposite feel, he didn’t think these guys were stupid at all. The only reason the cops were even here was blind luck. Random patrol car spotted the van, called it in, plates belonged to an entirely different vehicle, two other cruisers in the vicinity. Otherwise these guys were ghosts long before the cops arrived. As it was, they caught the robbers by surprise and they went back into the bank as police reinforcements started to arrive.

Waiting was part of the job. Picking up the phone, he pressed the receiver shaped icon.

“What is it?” ‘Clint’ answered.

“Just thinking of ordering up some pizza for the troops out here, you probably got a lot of hungry mouths to feed in there, what do you say?” he suggested.

“We’re good in here,” replied the voice on the phone.

“No tricks Clint, I promise,” he said with a slight chuckle.

“No food.”

“I know you said everybody was okay in there, but my super wants to know if you wouldn’t mind me coming in and having a look for myself,” Jason said. “I’ll be unarmed.”

“No, you got all the intel you need out there already, ask the kid or his mother, they’ll tell you everything and everyone is fine,” said ‘Clint’, then he disconnected the call.

Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, morning shifted into afternoon.

Stevens returned. “I got something out of Folsom, a Patrick Swayne, known associate of Jeff Tanner’s and another recently released inmate named George Mendel.”

Jason nodded, a smile on his face, the pieces were coming together. Tim had mentioned one of the gunmen had said, “Pat’s gone.”

“Run all known associates on those three guys and get me a cross referenced list ASAP,” Frank said. Steven nodded and vanished.

Within an hour, they had a list of eighteen possible candidates, and an army of uniforms out to try and locate persons on that list in an attempt to narrow down possible suspects.

“I think the sumbitches are waiting for night, darkness to cover them,” Cole said.

Frank shook his head, “We got enough spots to light up a Hollywood premiere out there, there is no hiding in the darkness,” he said.

Cole nodded. Afternoon slid into early evening and still no list of demands or further contact from the men in the bank.

In the Bank

Cameron prowled back and forth in front of the counter, the sound of his thick treaded combat boots thudding off of the stone tiled floor, a caged animal pacing, nerves fraying with each passing second, muttering incomprehensible sounds to himself.

Sam touched his side, at least the bleeding had stopped for the time being but now the fucking thing just throbbed mercilessly. Looking at the people lying on the floor, a couple of them seemed to be fidgeting quite a bit. He understood. “Who needs to go to the bathroom?” he asked. Several people raised hands. Sam looked over to George. “Take them to the bathroom one at a time, let them do their business,” he instructed, pointing at an elderly woman lying on her side on the floor, “Go ahead and start with her.”

George nodded in return and walked over to the woman, “Let’s go,” he said, stepping back and letting her get to her feet. In all, there were seven people who needed to use the facilities and one by one they were escorted to the washroom in the rear of the bank and allowed to use the lavatory. George continued his procession until everyone who had indicated the necessity to go was allowed to go. Everyone behaved appropriately and there were no complications in the procedure. Finished walking people, George resumed his position near the front door.

“What are we waiting for?” Cameron asked, taking a break from his incessant pacing to walk over and look out through the bank blinds to see the cluster of police vehicles assembled outside.

Sam turned his head slowly, “By now our friends know we didn’t get out clean,” he said. “Alternate arrangements take time, that’s what we’re waiting for,” he looked down at his wrist watch.

“They got a shit ton of lights and cops out there,” Cameron commented.

“We discussed the possibility of something going wrong, and how we were going to get around it. We just have to stay patient and wait for a little while longer,” Sam instructed.

“Fuck!” growled, Cameron, “I goddamn hate this waiting. It’s driving me absolutely nuts.” Releasing the blind, he walked over to the counter and leaned against it.

Sam nodded, “Time is all we got right now, so take a breath and try take it down a notch, you’re winding yourself up,” he suggested. Cameron was getting indeed harder and harder to keep settled.

“Yeah whatever,” sniped Cameron, shaking his head from side to side. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the counter.

“Sir?” Elayne asked meekly, looking up at Sam from her spot floor.

He looked down at her, “What can I do for you Elayne?” he asked, crouching down onto his haunches near her, wincing at the pain caused by the movement.

“I’m sorry, I know you asked everyone earlier, but I didn’t need to go then, but I really have to go to the bathroom now,” she said apologetically, eyes averted.

Sam nodded slowly, looking at Cameron, “You need something to do, why don’t you take her back to the washroom so she can relieve herself?” he said, using his assault weapon to help push himself back up to a standing position.

Looking in the direction of the hall, “Fuck that, let her piss in her panties for all I care. What the fuck difference does it make?” Cameron remarked, tone snarky and holding an edge.

Sam glared at him across the counter, restraining his frustration through clenched teeth, “Stop being an asshole and just take her to use the goddamn bathroom,” he ordered.

“Fuck her, like I give a shit,” replied Cameron.

Sam took a step toward the counter and Cameron, “I do give a shit. I don’t need puddles of piss everywhere because you just can’t do what you’re told. Stop being a fucktard and take her,” snarled Sam, pointing toward the hall.

George walked over to the public side of the counter beside Cameron, “Everything okay?” he asked, looking from one man to the other.

Sam held Cameron in his steely gaze in a stare down between the two men for a minute before Cameron finally relented and looked away.

”Jesus Christ, fuck, okay!” Cameron exclaimed, walking around the counter, stomping his feet passive aggressively as he neared the place where Elayne lay. “On your feet bitch,” he barked, flicking the end of his assault weapon in an upward motion. Pushing herself up off the floor, Elayne got to her feet and smoothed her knee length skirt. “Go on,” he said motioning her passed the desks and down the hall. Turning, she moved off in that direction, hands raised to her shoulders.

George shook his head slowly, “He’s losing it,” he said softly.

Sam shook his head, eyes fixed on Cameron’s back. If Cameron’s defiance kept escalating, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do to rein him in.

Cameron made Elayne walk ahead of him down the hall toward the bathroom, slight smile on his face under the mask as he appreciated the wiggle of her firm little ass in the tight skirt.

There was only one unisex washroom. She pushed open the door and Cameron put his hand up as she walked into the bathroom. There were two closeted stalls and one urinal on the wall, a counter with two sinks, a hand dryer and a circular paper towel dispenser on the wall.

She stopped in the center of the orangey brown colored tiled floor, near a brass drain.

He pointed to a stall. “In there,” he barked, “Leave the door open.”

“Open?’ she asked, eyes widening.

Cameron snickered and nodded his head slowly. Maybe 5’5” in her heels, the small woman was an absolute stunner, rocking bod on her, pretty face. Getting a peek at her hoo-hah might be just the thing to keep his mind off the situation at hand.

Bathroom

“You’re going to watch me pee?” she asked, gnawing on her lower lip. Eyes downcast, she frowned. “I don’t think I can pee with you staring at me,” she said, embarrassed.

“Go on, have yourself a little tinkle,” he said, letting go the rifle with one hand and motioning her to sit down on the toilet.

“May I at least have some privacy please?” she asked softly, looking up at his through long lashes.

“This is about as private as it’s going to get,” he said chuckling. “Now hike it up, drop your panties and pop a squat.”

She nodded. Faster than Cameron thought possible, she reached out and snatched the end of the assault weapon near the sight at the end of the barrel with her right hand and turned quickly into him, catching him in the throat with a edge of her left hand, staggering him backwards and disarming him of the rifle in a single fluid motion. Setting the weapon on the bathroom counter, she braced a hand against it and reaching down removed her shoes one at a time.

Cameron growled, the pain in his throat making it difficult to talk and breathe, “What the fuck?’ he gasped, looking at the woman and his weapon now resting over the sink. Where had the shy little thing he had brought down to go pee gone? Was this the same little terrified flower who had practically pissed herself getting the first aid kit?

A half smile on her face, she came in at him low and fast. He threw a punch at her, a big sweeping right hook, she ducked in underneath and delivered two snake strike quick punches to his exposed ribs before removing the pistol tucked into the waist of his pants and nimbly dancing back across the floor to the counter.

He dropped to one knee as she spent a moment to examine the pistol, before setting it down on the counter beside the rifle.

He climbed back to his feet, left hand touching the area she had just punched him in. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, sliding a knife out of its sheath and holding it blade down.

She grinned. He was massively confused. He had at least eight inches on her and was easily double her body weight, but she was taking him apart, and with ease. He considered himself a capable fighter, maybe not in the same league as Sam, but still able to hold his own, but somehow this little girl was handing him a beat down. God she was fast.

Changing his stance, he moved forward, knife poised to slash at her. Stepping in, he lunged, but she took the arm above the knife hand and jerked him forward, shifting his center of gravity and flipping him over her and onto his back. Tumbling back onto him, straddling his stomach, she planted her open hand directly in the middle of his chest on top of the body armor.

He blinked up at her. “What’s happening?”

She shook her head and smiled.

“What are you?” he wheezed, struggling to focus on her face.

“Amused,” she answered, before she winked at him.

It kind of felt like an electric shock, sort of, like a jolt radiating out from the middle of his chest directly beneath her hand, the sensation rapidly flowing out and into his extremities. There was a hollow rushing sound in his ears and a sense of spinning and falling. It wasn’t necessarily painful, but the tingling sensation enveloped his whole body, like bumping your funny bone, but all over. He felt himself receding, pulling back into his clothes as he shrunk rapidly away.

Completely naked, body spotted with black and grey prison tats, he staggered forward, moving out of his clothes. The woman was absolutely huge as she grinned down at him. Standing upright, she was now easily over a hundred feet tall from his perspective. Walking back to the bathroom counter, she checked her appearance in the mirror and touched her hair.

He stumbled backward a few steps, mouth agape, mind agog. He couldn’t find any words, he was just dumbfounded. She turned, crouching down to reach in and seize him by his lower body. Holding him up by one foot, he hung inverted in front of her face. There was a slight smile on her face as she regarded him. Walking over to the toilet she dropped him in from a height of about six inches, ten feet or so for him. He grabbed his side, and lay in the cold water, floating on his back. She loomed over the opening above him, looking down. He was so confused. How could this be? She vanished from view for a second before her gigantic nicely rounded bottom appeared overhead, framed by the toilet seat as she lowered herself down. Suddenly a thick solid stream of urine sprayed out of her urethra and splashed into the water, the force carrying him back into the bowl over deeper water. He coughed as fluid washed over him, causing a stab of pain in his injured ribs and making him roll over face down in the pee filled water. Struggling to right himself, he pushed forward as best he could, moving back to the front of the bowl.

Finished, she dabbed herself with a piece of tissue, dropping it into the water before standing up. Drawing her cotton panties back up and adjusting her skirt, she turned and looked down at him. “Is that what you were hoping for?” she asked, “No better angle to sneak a peek at a girl taking a pee than that I would say,” she said with a giggle.

Clutching his ribs, he got some footing and stood up in the bowl, “Please,” he said.

“Please what? Flush?” she asked, reaching over to the handle on the tank, mischief dancing in her bright eyes.

“No,” he said. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he pleaded.

“You wanted to see me pee, you got your wish,” she said, smile on her face.

“Why?” he murmured, still baffled and unable to rationalize the situation.

“Honestly I was just going to sit back and let this amazing little drama unfold all on its own, you know enjoy the spectacle from inside the action. It’s really quite thrilling, but then you,” she wagged a finger at him, little smile on her pretty face, “You wanted a peek at my pee-pee, and now I’m involved. Here we are.” She spread her hands.

He still looked bewildered, “What?’ he babbled. “How did you make me small?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s always the same questions.” Frowning, “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Cameron,” he replied.

“Well Cameron, I’m sure you’re a very nice person when you’re not robbing banks and trying to perv on young girls while they pee,” she said, “But, now you are tiny and the question I’m faced with is do I keep you or just flush you?”

“Please, don’t flush me, please,” He beseeched, eyes growing incredibly wide at the prospect.

“So you want me to keep then?” she asked, jiggling the metal handle n the bank of the toilet tank slightly.

“Yes, please, whatever you want,” he said.

She seemed to consider a moment. Reaching into the bowl, she plucked him by a hand and lifted him out, letting the liquid drain off him. Flushing the toilet, she walked to the sink and turned on the faucet, dousing him and washing her hands.

Drying him off with the paper towel she used on her own hands, she fixed him with a stern look. “You need to be quiet, otherwise,” she looked back toward the stall.

He nodded vigorously, before looking himself over.

She moved all of his clothing and the weapons into the second stall and returned to the sink. Lifting him off the counter, she pulled her skirt up, and the elastic of her panties out. Tilting her pelvis and parting her legs before pushing his little body into the smooth groove of her pubis. Again she winked at him as he looked up at her with big round eyes, and released the waistband, smoothing her skirt and making sure her little passenger was safely tucked away.

Putting a frightened expression on her face, she exited the bathroom and returned to the open room, lying down on the floor on her tummy. Squeezing her thighs together, she smiled to herself.

Sam looked from her to the hall before walking over, “Where is he?” he asked.

From her prone position, she glanced over her shoulder, “He said he need a few moments to take care of a little business down there,” she answered, eyes like a scared rabbit, big and round.

Sam swore softly and nodded. 

Man Down

Checking his watch, Sam nodded to himself. He hadn’t seen Cameron in almost a half hour, but as long as he wasn’t pacing back and forth, he didn’t much care.

Looking over to George, “It’s time,” he said.

George nodded, looking around. He spread his left hand away from his body, as if asking where the fuck is Cameron.

“Get the bags ready,” Sam said, moving down the hall. “Hey!” he called out, peeking into the lunchroom. Empty. Pushing open the shitter door, “If you’re  in here tugging one out or pinching a loaf, get it done, it’s time, everything is in place.” No response. Sam frowned.

Barging into the bathroom, “I’m not in the mood to play any fucking games, where the fuck are you?” he asked, kicking open the first stall door. Moving to the second stall, he kicked the door. Cameron’s clothes, body armor, boots, weapons were all there, just sitting in a pile. Sam stared at it a moment, shaking his head. It didn’t make any rational sense. Grabbing the weapons, he returned to the front of the bank and set them down on the counter.

George looked in his direction and Sam motioned him over with a nod of his head.

Weaving through the sprawled hostages, he crossed the floor to public side of the counter opposite Sam. “What’s up?” he asked, looking at the weapons.

“He’s gone,” Sam said.

“Who? C? What do you mean gone? Like dead?” George asked.

“No, vanished, nowhere to be found, all of his gear and clothes were in the bathroom, but he’s just gone,” Sam replied.

“Gone? That don’t make any kind of sense at all,” George commented, shaking his head from side to side.

“I know. I want you to check around back, make sure we’re still secured, grab C’s clothes out of the bathroom on your way back out. Any trouble, you holler, you hear me?” Sam instructed.

George nodded, “You got it.” He returned less than five minutes later, Cameron’s clothes in hand. He shook his head. “No sign, we’re still locked up tight.”

Sam frowned. What the fuck? Did Cameron find a way out? How does someone just disappear from a bank surrounded by an army of cops, and do it while naked? Even his underpants were in the pile. Like that wouldn’t draw at least a little attention. Did the cops somehow snatch him? If they did, why the hell would they strip him out of his clothes? That didn’t make any kind of sense. Did he loose his mind and decided to hide out somewhere in the bank? Again, naked? Cameron could be a bit of a loose cannon, but this absolutely defied sane comprehension. Where the fuck are you Cameron? You picked one hell of a time to pull this shit.

Sam motioned for George to put the clothes on top of the counter. “Just put them there, I got an idea.”

Looking over the hostages, he spied a man similar in body shape and size to Cameron. Pointing at the man, he said, “You there, in the grey suit.”

The middle aged man turned his head to look at the skull faced robber. “Me?” he asked.

“What’s your name?” inquired Sam.

“Steven,” answered the man.

Sam motioned him over with an index finger. Steven got up, moving slowly. “I want you to put these clothes on,” he said, indicating Cameron’s clothing.

“What?” the man asked, puzzled expression on his face.

“Put it on,” Sam repeated, enunciating every word slowly.

Steven was about to voice protest, but though better of it. Removing his suit jacket, he pulled Cameron’s clothing over his own, including the body armor. He removed his shoes and pulled the pants up, belting them in place.

“Mask too,” encouraged Sam.

Steven nodded and pulled the skull mask over his face. Attired completely in Cameron’s stuff, the man could easily pass as one of the robbers, except for the fact the man was unarmed. Pulling magazine from the handle of Cameron’s pistol, he moved the slide and ejected the bullet in the chamber and tossed it to Steven, who bobbled it before it fell to the floor.

“Pick it up,” encouraged Sam.

Steven bent over and took it.

Sam nodded. “Now lay down.”

Steven again nodded and returned to his spot. Looking back to Pat and then over the remaining hostages, he picked out another man, this one smaller than Pat but suitable for the purpose he had in mind. Calling the man over, his name Blaine, Sam had him remove the clothing from Pat’s corpse. Blaine made retching noises, peeling chunks of clotted blood away from the clothing.

“Put it on,” instructed Sam, nodding toward the man.

Blaine shook his head, coughing and on the verge of vomiting. “I can’t” he protested, eyes watering from trying not to throw up.

Sam walked over, slight limp. “Put it on, I’ll not ask a third time,” he repeated, voice low and threaded with menace.

Blaine nodded and slowly began to pull on Pat’s blood soaked clothing and gear, stopping once in a while to control his impulse to gag.

Sam nodded, “Good,” he said, “Now go lay down near Steven.”

The man nodded and moved around to lie beside the other man garbed like the robbers.

Looking at George, “Bring me the bag with the party favors,” Sam instructed.

George nodded. Grabbing a duffle near the door, he hefted it up with one hand and brought it over to the counter. Opening it, he pulled out the brick of material that suspiciously resembled plastic explosive and put it on the counter near Sam.

Still lying on her stomach, Elayne rested her chin on her hands, quirky smile on her pretty mouth as she felt a delicious tingle of sensation from between her thighs as Cameron squirmed within the confinement of her tight panties.

Flight

Jason was strumming his fingers across the desk when the phone rang. “We’re on,” he said, looking to the others in the room before connecting the call.

“Hey Clint you had me worried there for a minute,” Jason said with a light hearted chuckle.

“It’s time to bring this date to a close,” Clint replied. “Just so you know, you’re the girl.”

“Tell me how we’re going do this then, do I get a kiss goodnight?” requested Jason, motioning Frank over with his left hand.

Clint chuckled, “You’ll see.”

“Okay, tell me what you’re going to do,” encouraged Jason.

“Simple, we get in the van and drive away, I’m taking some hostages and once we’re safely away, I’m going to let them go,” he said.

Jason frowned, no way in the world did he want to let these guys get in the van, especially with hostages. “Then what?” he asked, stalling for time.

“That’s it,” replied ‘Clint’, “Nice and easy.”

Jason shook his head, it made no sense to him. “You realize there is no way command can just let you drive away, come on Clint, you have to know that. I mean if it was up to me, I’d say sure, as long as everybody gets to get out of this with their skin intact,” he said.

“Something you should be aware of Jason is that I anticipated the possibility of something along these lines and I brought some things to help me convince you to see things my way,” said the robber, the chuckle in his voice not entirely masking the pain.

“Oh?” replied Jason, “What might that be?”

“I have a fair supply of Semtex and radio detonators at my disposal. Plus a Dead’s man switch in my hand,” said the man in the bank.

Jason covered the receiver of the phone, “Jesus! He says they’ve got plastic explosives,” he said, eyes wide.

The SWAT commander shrugged, “Bullshit,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s bluffing.”

“I want you to look at the front of the bank,” instructed the robber.

Jason got up, snapping his fingers and pointing to the building across the way. The officer in the room, turned to see what the negotiator was pointing at.

An older looking man in casual attire appeared in the shattered remains of the vestibule, hands raised as he ducked under the bar and then stood upright, a gray colored brick hanging from a strap around his neck, leads pushed into the plastic explosive and a blinking red light.

“Fuck,” muttered Frank, “Somebody get me a goddamn picture of that pronto,” he ordered.

“His name is Gabe, he is a loving husband, a father of two, grandfather of three and there is enough explosive wrapped around his neck to turn him into a fine red mist. Now I’ve nothing against Gabe personally and I don’t want that, you don’t want that, and I’m pretty damn sure Gabe and his family don’t want that,” stated the man on the other end of the phone.

“You’re right Clint, nobody wants that, so how do we make sure that doesn’t happen?” Jason asked, running a hand over the top of his head, armpits stained with sweat.

“I already told you. We are going to get into the van and drive away. Let us go and nobody gets hurt,” advised ‘Clint’.

Jason looked up to Frank, “Your call, sir,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, no one anticipated plastic explosive.

“Dammit,” muttered the superintendent, growling under his breath. This whole situation was getting out of control.

“Sir?” asked Jason, seeking a course of action.

Frank looked to Cole.

“Orders?” asked the man clad in black combat fatigues.

Frank cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Sir?” Jason repeated.

“Goddamn it, let them take fucking the van,” he blurted, face red, the vein at his temple pronounced.

Jason brought the phone back up to his head, “The man in charge says you are free to get into the van,” he advised.

“Excellent,” replied the man.

Gabe turned and looked back toward the vestibule, nodding he re-entered the bank.

“I want eyes on these bastards,” growled Frank.

Cole brought his radio up, “Henderson you’re in Bravo position with a clear sight line from the bank to the van, I want a play by play,” instructed the commander.

“Copy that,” replied SWAT team member Henderson.

“They pull out, Collins I want you here and get the bloody bomb squad down here pronto too,” Frank demanded.

“Yes sir,” acknowledged the other officer, moving into the other room to make arrangements.

Frank began assigning tracking vehicles and a detail to pursue the van, including use of the GPS trackers and chopper one circling overhead.

Cole’s radio started to squawk, “Movement, two persons moving what appears to be a number of large duffle bags into the back of the van. One of them is pulling the body out of the van, the other figure has returned into the building. Both persons wearing what looks like skull masks, more movement, multiple persons entering the van, I count six persons, four with skull masks, two with black bags over their heads, both hooded persons smaller, wearing  skirts, guessing both female. All four masked perps armed, weapons visible, repeat weapons visible. One perp holding a device in his left hand, looks like an operator pressure control device, repeat affirmative confirmation on the Dead man’s switch,” relayed Henderson from his perch, using the scope on his sniper rifle to watch.

“Four?” asked Jason, looking at Cole.

The swat commander brought his radio up, “Say again? Four perps?”

“Affirmative, counted four perps wearing masks, all armed,” replied Henderson.

“Goddammit,” snarled Frank. “Any sign of the explosive device on either hostage?”

“Negative,” replied the sniper.

Frank shook his head, “Fuck,” he growled.

“Sir, the mayor is on line two, she’s not happy,” said Stevens from the rear of the command room.

Frank rolled his eyes, “This just gets better and better,” he griped sourly as he crossed the room to the phone.

Two to Get Ready

After getting Steven and Blaine help load the bags into the van, Sam called Steven over.

“This is what they call a Dead Man’s switch, should you release the trigger, it will activate the detonator. Do you understand?” Sam asked, showing the smaller man the hand held device.

Steven nodded, head movement jerky and erratic.

“Okay, give me your left hand,” Sam instructed, taking it when Steven extended his arm. Putting the pressure control device into his hand, Sam chuckled when the red light at the top of the handle started to glow. “We are now live,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Whatever you do, don’t let go of that switch,” he chuckled.

“Oh my god,” whispered Steven, hand shaking uncontrollably, seemingly fixated on the switch.

Sam chuckled, motioning George to the side.

Leaning in close and whispering so as only George could hear, Sam said, “Do one more sweep of the premises and see if you can find that fucktard Cameron.”

George nodded.

“We are almost through the worst of it and I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I’m going to need two more volunteers,” Sam said, walking through the gathering of people lying on the floor.

Elayne rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt before raising her trembling hand slowly, “I’ll go,” she offered timidly, sucking her lower lip into her mouth and looking at him from under long lashes.

Sam nodded slowly, “Alright Elayne,” he said, moving closer to the woman and putting a hand on her shoulder, “That’s very brave.”

She nodded meekly.

Turning back toward where the majority of others lay, “I need one more, anyone else?” he asked.

A slight woman, barely five feet tall, hair silvery white, maybe in her late fifties, early sixties stood up and looked at Sam. “If it’ll mean these others can go free, I’ll do it,” she said.

Sam approached her, nodding slowly, “And your name madam?” he inquired.

“Mabel, but everyone just calls me May,” she answered.

“Like Peter Parker’s aunt,” Sam said, chuckling softly.

May shook her head not understanding the reference.

“Spiderman,” informed Sam.

May nodded, “I’m not much for those kinds of movies,” she said, making a sour face.

“I’ll go,” said a man from the ground behind Sam, “Let the ladies stay.”

Sam turned slowly, nodding, “Chivalry is not dead after all, but I have what I need,” he advised.

The man was about to say something else, but Sam raised his hand and the protest died on the man’s lips.

George returned, walking toward Sam and shrugging his shoulders while shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said.

Sam also shook his head, how the fuck does someone up and vanish? Incomprehensible. Walking over the duffle bag on the counter that had held the plastique, Sam pulled out two black cloth bags.

“My apologies ladies, but if you would be so kind,” he said, walking first to the older woman and handing her a bag.

“Over my head?” May asked, taking the bag from Sam and examining it.

Sam nodded. May frowned but put the bag on. “Hands out,” he said. May put her hands forward and he removed a zip tie from a pocket on his pant leg and secured her hands.

Walking to Elayne, he extended the second bag to her. She took it and repeated the process, then he tied her hands with the plastic fastener.

“I’m scared,” she murmured, a quaver in her voice, tremor in her slender body.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he reassured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“What about the bomb?” Gabe inquired, eyes opened wide and staring at the parcel on the bank counter.

Sam followed the man’s line of sight. “It’s not going to hurt anybody. But when we leave here, I want everyone in here to remain as you are, allow the police to come to you,” he advised. “A bunch of you go running out there, might cause someone out there to panic and everyone’s been behaving so well I don’t want to see anybody get shot.”

“You’re going to set the bomb off!” accused one of the men lying on the floor.

“I promise you it won’t detonate, scout’s honor,” Sam said.

There was some indistinct grumbling and murmuring from the people sprawled on the floor, but no one else spoke.

Gathering both hooded women and the two men dressed like robbers together, Sam motioned George over to join them. “I want to make sure everyone understands how we are going to leave the bank. No surprises, no sudden impulse to run, that kind of thing. You drive?” he asked, looking at Blaine.

Blaine nodded.

“Good, okay so when we go out of the bank, I want you to get behind the wheel, you’re going to be the driver and we’re going to pull out of here nice and slow,” instructed Sam, speaking slowly and enunciating very clearly.

“Where do you want me to drive to?” Blaine inquired.

“Don’t worry, I’ll direct you once we get out on the road.”

“What about the police?” Blaine asked.

Don’t worry about them, they’re going to be very accommodating and they’ll make a hole for us. I just don’t want you to panic and do something foolhardy is all,” Sam stated. “You can do this,” he added, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

Blaine nodded, the seriousness of the situation not lost on him. Sam started to turn toward George, then paused a moment, before turning back to Blaine, “How we going to do this?” he asked.

“Nice and slow,” replied Blaine calmly, voice even, making a smooth gesture with his left hand.

Sam chuckled, “Almost like a real bad guy,” he said, handing Blaine Cameron’s unloaded assault rifle minus the magazine. Looking around, “Everybody else ready?” he asked.

The people in the group nodded.

Sam checked on Steven grip on the switch and nodded. “Alright, let’s do it.” He paused at the door, “Remember, everyone stay down,” he instructed.

Exiting the bank, Sam guiding Elayne with a firm hand under her right arm, George assisting May. Blaine complied with Sam’s instruction and circled around the front of the van to climb into the driver’s seat. Steven opened the side door and scooted in, Dead Man’s switch clenched tightly in his fist. May, with George’s assistance was next to enter the van followed by George who reached back down for Elayne and took her hand while Sam put his hand on her bottom and boosted her up into the van.

“You see alright?” Sam asked, looking at the gore on the inside of the windshield.

Blaine turned and nodded. Turning back, he looked down and turned the ignition key.

Elayne

Pretty face concealed under the black hood, she smiled to herself. She was excited. She had absolutely no idea just how the lead robber was planning on getting away from the police, but he seemed to have some devious scheme in mind. She had already decided, should he somehow manage to pull off his miraculous escape plan, she would take him. He appealed to her very much. The way he put his hand on her shoulder, strong, assured. Moving with a natural animal grace, an alpha wolf oozing masculinity, his scent arousing her, almost begging her to take him and bend him to her will. She thrilled at the prospect of possessing him. It had been a long while since she had found one worthy of keeping more than a night or two. The situation was ideal. These were men who did not want to be found, men who could simply disappear and no one would raise alarm, no one would come looking. Yes, she would have the leader and his accomplice. She already had Cameron, but she was growing increasingly dissatisfied with the diminutive bandit, motionless and cowering inside her panties and doing little to stimulate her, not that she really needed his assistance, the idea of taking the leader causing her body to respond physiologically, her pussy starting to moisten.

She considered a moment, thinking she might pawn Cameron off on one of the others, or simply dispose of him. Did she want to take him down into her, swallow him? She was still undecided. One thing she should have done was to get Cameron to tell her the names of the other robbers, at least that way she could begin to assemble a mental identity for them. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what the gravel voiced lead robber looked like under his mask. Short hair, square jaw. There was a hardness in the chipped ice blue eyes peering through the eye holes in the mask he wore. She guessed his age to be probably late twenties, early thirties, composed the way only maturity and adversity can bring. She knew the breed, hard and tough, he wouldn’t balk or flinch. Even now in the face overwhelming odds, he retained his composure which only heightened her fascination of him.

Cameron started to squirm, probably because of how wet she was getting thinking about the leader. She shifted her bottom on the floor of the van, sliding forward a bit to tighten the tension in her panties. She found it curious when they helped into the van, there seemed to be only the two seats in the front while everyone else sat on the floor in the back. She wondered if they got out of this, should she take everybody in the van but realized she really only just wanted the robbers, especially the alpha.

Hot Pursuit

Frank shook his head. Bringing his radio to his mouth, he said, “Clear a path, let them through.” The van started to roll out, the driver, looking back and forth looking at all the flashing lights and commotion.

The only people visible inside the van was the driver wearing one of the skull faced masks and a like covered person in the passenger seat. Turning the wheel, he drove the van toward the opening created by the vacating police cars.

Jumping into the unmarked Crown Victoria, “Follow the van,” Frank instructed the driver. Cole exited the building swinging his arm over his head and pointing at the departing van before jumping into the backseat of Frank’s car.

Several police cars with cherries flashing pulled in several lengths behind the van as it slowly drove away, its lights coming on as evening was fading into dusk.

The van wasn’t driving particularly fast and seemed to be driving around the city without any specific destination before finally pulling into a back alley amidst several taller buildings in the business district. Driving up the alley, the van rolled in an alcove created between three buildings, one way in, no way out. Coming to a stop near one of the buildings, the lights on the van went out. Two large Waste Management dumpsters in the alley barred exit.

“It’s a dead end,” commented Cole with a snort, “They just double fucked themselves.”

Several police vehicles closed in and blocked access across both ends of the alley.

“I wish I could see what’s going on inside that van,” Frank voiced.

Cole shook his head. Several minutes elapsed without any apparent movement.

“What the hell are they waiting for?” Frank asked, impatient, drumming his fingers on the dashboard of the car.

“Give the order,” encouraged Cole.

Frank growled. “Wait, we’ll give them a few more minutes. I wish to Christ I knew what was going on in there. Can we get a parabolic mic or something?” he asked looking to Cole.

“We can try,” started Cole, but was cut off by a buzzing sound from Frank’s cell.

Taking the phone out of his pocket, Frank answered the call, “Go,” he said, Cole looked at him. “You’re kidding me? Plasticine?” He looked at Cole, “You’re right about the semtex, bomb squad says it’s just bloody plasticine,” he said, covering the mic in the phone. Putting the device back to her ear, he listened, nodding, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Our boy over there has got a set on him alright. Reports from people in the bank say two of our bad guys are actually hostages dressed up to look like robbers,” he said. “The question is, which-“ the rest was unsaid as the van exploded in a huge fireball, creating a blinding flash of light, the concussive force of the blast obliterating windows on all three buildings ten stories up. The van itself was lifted at least a dozen feet in the air before coming down in a tangle of twisted flaming steel.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Frank, eyes wide, the sudden explosion having caused him to drop his phone.

The Getaway

Blaine drove the van exactly as Sam instructed, following direction perfectly. Sam guided the van to the precise location near the building, nose of the van practically on the wall of the building itself. Pulling a foldable knife out of his pocket, he quickly cut the zip ties binding May and Elayne’s wrists.

“Go ahead, take your hoods off, you’re going to need to see,” he instructed. Both women complied.

“Where are we?” May asked, looking at the brick wall through the windscreen of the van.

Sam chuckled, “We’re parked exactly where we need to be, but I’m going to get you girls to both scoot up near the front for a moment,” he instructed, motioning them to where he wanted them.

George stepped into the back, “You too,” he said to Steven. Once the man dressed up like a robber vacated the back of the van, George dropped down and rolled up the carpet on the floor revealing an unsecure panel. “No lights?” he said looking up at Sam.

“We’re good,” replied Sam.

Lifting it up, then twisting it sideways, it was easy for George to pull the metal panel into the van before rolling the carpet back down into the hole left by the panel’s removal. In the ground there was a large circular manhole cover. Grabbing a hook wrench, George slide it into a hole in the metal covering. Grunting with effort, he heaved the lid out of place and revealed a series of metal rungs vanishing down into the darkness below. Grabbing two glow sticks from a pants pocket, he cracked them and shook them, creating a yellowy green light inside the van before dropping them down into the gloomy hole beneath the van.

Next, they dropped the black duffle bags down through the hole. After all the bags were gone, “I’ll go first,” Sam said, exchanging places with George. Before dropping through the hole he looked at George. “You come last, him second to last,” he started, nodding to Steven. “You make damn sure that cover is in place. I am going to encourage everyone to move with as much haste as possible, we are under a bit of a time crunch here.” With that, he descended down into the storm sewer channel.

Descending almost thirty feet to the broad floor of the storm channel, Sam grinned under his mask. Wyatt Taylor, the sixth man who had set up the IT overrides had finished loading the bags into the back of the crew cab four wheel drive Ford pick-up, a black balaclava pulled down over his face.

“What the fuck happened in the bank?” Wyatt hissed.

People began descending the ladder from above.

“Neither the time nor the place,” warned Sam.

“You almost got me with one of those bags,” griped Wyatt, heaving slightly, slender of build and not accustomed to much physical exertion.

Sam pointed up the ladder.

One by one, each of the people began climbing down. First May arriving at the bottom.

“Fucking hostages?” said Wyatt, looking at the older woman.

“Just get in the truck,” Sam said. Turning to May, “If you would be so kind, into the box,” he said, pointing to the rear of the truck. Next was Blaine, who received similar direction. After Blaine it was Elayne. who at a height only a few feet from the storm channel floor suddenly squeaked and fell backward, landing squarely in Sam’s outstretched arms, her left hand inadvertently pushing his mask back and mostly off his head.

“Got you,” he said gruffly, setting her feet on the floor of the channel. and readjusting his mask.

“I’m sorry,” she said, panic in her voice, studying his face in the eerie yellow light from the glow sticks. “It was damp and I slipped,” she explained, eyes wide and full of abject terror

Readjusting his mask, “Unfortunately you’re going to have to come with us for a time Elayne, but not to worry, you’ll be okay. I want you to get in the back seat,” he said pointing at the cab of the pick-up.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Steven, no minus the Dead Man’s switch arrived followed shortly after by George. Steven was hustled into the box of the truck with May and Blaine, while Sam jumped into the front passenger side and George behind him.

“We need to get the fuck out of here like right the hell now,” George said, “Timer is counting.”

“Go!” instructed Sam.

Clicking on the headlights, Wyatt stepped on the accelerator and the truck sped away.

“What the fuck she doing here?” George asked, looking at Elayne huddled up against the door in the seat behind Wyatt.

“She saw my face,” Sam explained without bothering to look back, eyes instead watching as they travel down the cement conduit.

What?” George asked.

“I-I fell,” Elayne said, “When he caught me I accidently hit his mask,” she added, recoiling away from George.

“Well that’s fucking great,” bellyached George, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference, my goddamn DNA is all over the bank and undoubtedly they’ve already have Jeff’s identity. Pat’s laying there dead and I still don’t have the faintest idea of what the hell happened to Cameron.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Pat’s dead?” Wyatt asked, shock in his voice.

“Jeff too, those guys in the back dressed like Pat and Cameron are more hostages,” Sam said.

“Oh my god,” murmured Wyatt. “Cameron too?”

“Just focus on driving, here, pull up right here,” Sam said, pointing to spot up ahead. Wyatt slowed the truck down. And brought it to a stop.

“Thank Christ it’s not rainy season,” mumbled the driver.

Sam chuckled, “Like he had a hand in the contingency plan,” he said, getting out of the truck. There was a rumbling, like thunder, from somewhere in the distance. Moving around the back of the truck, he had the three people back there climb out.

“You’re a few hundred yards from getting out here, I’m sure the cops will be keen to hear your side of the story,” he said, closing the gate of the truck and moving back around the side.

“What about Elayne?” May asked, stepping forward.

Sam paused at the door, “She’ll be fine, we’ll let her go somewhere further down the way,” he assured, climbing back into the truck.

The three released hostages watched as the tail lights of the truck vanished in the darkness of the channel ahead.

The Takedown

Just before driving out of the storm channel system the men all removed their masks to prevent drawing attention to themselves, Wyatt took the truck to an old broken down empty warehouse on Front Street to make another vehicle exchange. Inside the open space was a brown older model Ford LTD four door sedan, nondescript but with a large enough motor to move fast if needed. Pulling up and parking beside the car, the three men got out of the truck.

“What about her?” Wyatt asked, walking around the back of the truck and nodding back at Elayne who was still sitting in the backseat of the pickup truck, hands folded on her lap in front of her.

Sam motioned her out with his hand. Nodding, she unfastened her safety belt and climbed out of the truck, walking over to stand near Sam.

“Put a bullet in her head and be done with it,” urged George, frowning, pulling his desert eagle out and cocking the slide.

She frowned, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed.

“No offense,” he said raising the hand with the gun and bringing toward her head.

“Hold up,” said Sam, walking up and putting his hand on the back of George’s wrist.

“She can’t stay with the three of us,” protested George, shaking his head.

“Three of us? Fuck that shit, I’m not staying here, they’re looking for you guys, I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with the woman, just want my share,” said Wyatt, eyes nervous.

George frowned. “Shoot her,” he repeated, “Drop her in the desert and let the coyotes and buzzards do the rest, fucking problem solved.”

Elayne shook her head slowly, “No,” she said. Her hands moved faster than any off the men’s eyes could track, a simple shift and flip and she now held George’s desert eagle and was pointing it at George.

She chuckled, “Now that’s not very sporting George,” she commented, shaking her head, grin on her pretty face.

Not only startled by the incredibly quick movement, but by the dramatic shift in her demeanor, Sam’s hand crept down toward where he kept his own pistol tucked in his shoulder holster. Curling his fingers around the handle, he slid it out and pointed it at Elayne.

“Sporting?” George asked, hands raised, looking at the business end of his own gun.

“Sure, shooting a girl in the head and leaving her as fodder for carrion feeders,” she said, slowly shaking her head and stepping back.

“I said hold on,” reminded Sam, raising his hands, “Nobody’s shooting anybody right now.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I think it’s time Georgie got a lesson in manners.”

George laughed, exchanging looks with Wyatt and Sam.

Elayne checked to ensure her pony tail was secure before looking at George, “Well? You got the parts to fight a little girl, or do you need a gun?” she asked, turning the pistol around and offering it to the robber.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” snorted George.

Sam raised an eyebrow, gone was the timid, meek young woman from the bank.

“Bad move little girl,” he said, stepping forward to grab the gun.

She turned away, dropping low and sweeping George’s feet out from under him dropping him to the warehouse’s spalled concrete floor with an audible thud. Righting herself, she dropped the magazine from the gun and popped the round in the chamber out before setting the pistol on the ground.

Wyatt laughed, “Holy, she just dropped George,” he said, shaking his head and grinning in disbelief.

George got back to his and brushed himself off, glowering at the girl. “This shit just got real,” he snarled moving aggressively toward his much smaller opponent.

She giggled, “It’s about to,” she said, moving in very quickly, easily evading his blow and delivering a series of short punches to his midriff before backing away as he dropped breathless to his knees.

Raising the pistol, she pointed it at George’s head and winked.

Sam reached for his own weapon, Wyatt, unarmed, just stared.

Dropping the clip from the handle, she popped the bullet out of the chamber and extended the weapon back to George.

Reaching out in an attempt to grab her, George came in low, arms spread. Instead of trying to evade, Elayne stepped forward and drove her knee into his chin, toppling him unconscious and backward in a heap.

“What the fuck?” Wyatt mumbled glancing sidelong at Sam who was standing almost beside him.

Elayne looked at the pistol still in Sam’s hand. “You want to try your luck?” she asked coyly, winking at him.

Sam laughed, holstering the pistol, “You are very fast, I’ll give you that, but you don’t want any of this,” he cautioned.

 She grinned. “I intend to take it all,” she said, nodding at Sam.

Wyatt snickered, “You want a piece of Sam? Stupid, very, very stupid,” he stated, shaking his head.

She nodded slowly, “Sam?” she asked. “That’s your name? Mmm masculine, I approve,” she added.

“You can relax now, I wouldn’t have let him hurt you, I told you in the bank I would let you go,” he assured, “And as a man of my word, when we leave here you’ll be free to remain.”

She laughed openly, “I on the other have decided not to let you go,” she stated, walking closer toward the men.

“What?” Wyatt demanded, taking a sideways step away from the approaching woman.

She paused, pointing a finger at the driver, “You are?” she asked.

Wyatt shook his head.

She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter much anyway I suppose,” she said, snapping the fingers of her left hand. Wyatt slumped back against the truck and slid to the ground, out cold.

Sam looked at the prone form lying beside the truck and shook his head.

“Now that we’re alone I want to get a proper look at you,” she said, angling her head to the side to get a good look at him. He was handsome, confidant, virile. She nodded slowly, grin spreading.

“How did you do that?” he inquired, looking down at the prone form of Wyatt on the pavement, not quite sure how she could accomplish such a feat.

“Impressive trick, no?’ she asked.

“Hypnosis or something?” he queried. “I mean, how?”

She grinned, even white teeth visible between her lovely lips, “Oh handsome, I am all full of surprises,” she answered.

“I’ll say. Where did the little trembling girl who almost wet herself in the bank go?” he asked, she seemed an entirely different person.

“You know, I was actually willing to let it all go, the whole thing, not get involved in your heist, but your boy Cameron just needed to get a peek at my delicate lady parts,” she chided, shaking her head ruefully.

“Cameron?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be reunited soon enough,” she said. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Ready? You still want to fight me?” he asked. Unlike George, Sam was an exceptional fighter but at the moment he was so very confused.

“It wouldn’t be fair, you’re already injured, and I don’t want to bruise you up too much,” she replied. “Well at least not this way.”

He chuckled, “This is making absolutely no sense whatsoever,” he commented.

She grinned, “Lights out handsome,” she said before touching the tips of the fingers on her right hand to her lips, she blew him a kiss. Blackness welcomed him as he dropped to the ground.

Waking Up

Sam awoke aching all over his body, in particular a throbbing at the base of his skull that made his eyes hurt. Opening his eyes, it took him a minute to focus. He was lying on a bed, bed being a generous term as it was hard and unyielding and about as comfortable as a mortician’s slab. The room was Spartan, the only furniture being the bed. Faded patterned wallpaper decorated the walls and the ceiling was an off white. There were no light fixtures and the only illumination seeped in between slatted windows.

Sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his vision swam and his stomach rolled, threatening to empty. Putting his hands to either side of him, he steadied himself a moment.

What the hell happened? What did Elayne do? Why the fuck am I naked? He looked down at the wounds in his side. He frowned. Instead of a still relatively fresh injury, both entry and exit points showed a vivid pink scar. How long have I been asleep?

Getting up, he moved slowly. The floor under his feet was covered in what felt like plastic indoor outdoor faded orange carpet. Crossing the room, he grabbed the knob to the door, but it didn’t turn, not that it was locked, instead, it looked like it was just an ornament of the featureless plastic door.

He frowned. Pulling the handle, the door opened to a hallway beyond.

There was a ten inch gap that ran down the center of the hallway floor, allowing him to look into the floor below and the attic above.

“Weird,” he murmured, stepping into the hall. He paused to listen, trying to detect other sounds in the house.

He could hear indistinct voices, masculine sounding from another room down the hall.  He took a couple steps in that direction, stopping at a painting in the hall. He scowled. Putting his fingers on the illustration, it was actually part of the wall, almost like a large sticker. Shaking his head, he crossed the opening in the floor and peered into one of the rooms on the wall opposite. Similar to his the one where he had found himself, the room contained only a simple bed. George lay on the bed, naked, face bearing the marks of his pugilistic encounter with the deceptively dangerous Elayne. Wyatt stood beside the bed, arms crossed, also bereft of clothing.

“Sam,” George said, seeing him at the door and pushing him into a seated position

“What the hell is going on?” asked Wyatt, eyes frightened and body language skittish.

Sam shook his head. “Woke up in another room,” he said, jerking a thumb back the way he had come.

“Me too,” added Wyatt, “I found George here.”

“This is like the shittiest hotel room I’ve ever seen,” commented George, swivel his head and evaluating the room.

Sam shook his head. “This is no hotel room. It’s like a giant version of some child’s dollhouse. Furniture is cheap plastic, door knobs are glued on, pictures are stickers and there’s a big split down the middle of the house,” he said.

“What does that mean?” inquired Wyatt, scanning the room.

Sam shrugged, “Don’t know yet, we need to take a look around,” he suggested.

“Why the fuck are we naked?” George asked.

“Chalk it up as another mystery,” Sam replied.

George pointed at Sam’s side, “Those look healed,” he said.

Sam nodded, touching his hands to the healed but scarred flesh, “Tender, but otherwise good as new,” he said.

Wyatt looked puzzled, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two other men in the room. “What happened?”

“Took one in the side,” Sam replied gruffly.

“But?” Wyatt started.

Sam nodded, “Exactly, they’re healed over. We been here awhile.”

Wyatt shook his head, “This is so fucked!” he stated.

“It’s so something,” answered Sam. Looking to George, “Why don’t you get up, let’s give this place the once over.”

George nodded, pausing and shaking his head. “Feel fucking queasy,” he mumbled before pushing himself to standing.

The trio explored the floor they found themselves on. At either end of the hall was a set of stairs, one up, the other down, three doors along each wall.

None of the windows in any of the rooms opened or even actually allowed them to look at the environment outside. In the bathroom, there was a plastic sink, a waterless plastic toilet, and plastic tub and none of the silver faucets turned. Like the painting in the hall, the mirror over the sink was nothing more than a reflective sticker.

The attic was a wide open space, a chimney at the far end. Although from a distance it resembled brick, it, like everything else they had encountered, was constructed of molded plastic.

“You’re right about the whole dollhouse feel. Like some cheap little child’s toy except made normal size,” George commented.

“Who would do that?” bleated Wyatt.

Sam frowned and shook his head. The gap ran lengthwise through the house, but where the end walls were, the spilt was sealed up tight, again preventing them from seeing beyond the confines of their environment.

Collectively moving back down the narrow flight of stairs, the group descended to the ground floor.

The main floor was more of the same. Kitchen, plastic refrigerator that didn’t open, stove with four circular spiral stickers atop the range. Living room, plastic television set, no screen, sticker of a nature scene, plastic couch and chair. Walking to what would normally pass as the front door of a house, Sam found it was like many other things in the house, not quite what it appeared to be, just another sticker representing a door.

There was also another bedroom on the main floor and this is where they found the unconscious form of Cameron, lying on the bed, appearance disheveled and features marked up like George’s.

“It’s Cameron,” said George, a confused expression on his face. “How?”

Wyatt shook his head.

Turning to Wyatt, Sam chuckled. “He disappeared on us, just vanished into thin air, and now, like Elayne said, we meet again.”

“That doesn’t make any kind of sense,” commented Wyatt.

“Exactly,” replied Sam, pushing into the room and sitting on the bed beside Cameron. Grabbing the unconscious man by the shoulders, Sam shook him gently, hoping to rouse him, maybe find out where the hell he disappeared to.

Half smile on his face, “Morning merry sunshine,” Sam welcomed.

Cameron’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing Sam, relief visibly washed over his features. Reaching out, he grabbed Sam by the arm, “Oh my god!” he exclaimed.

“Easy,” encouraged Sam, “I need you to help us understand what’s happening here,” he said slowly, calmly.

“It’s the girl, the one from the bank,” blurted Cameron.

Sam smiled, “That much we’ve already been able to ascertain. How about you tell us what the fuck happened to you at the bank?” he said, eyes dangerous.

Reality Check

Cameron recounted the events in the bathroom, where Elayne beat the hell out of him, shrank him and then peed on him before stuffing him in her underpants.

Sam listened, letting Cameron finish his story before asking questions.

“You were in her panties the whole time after you vanished?” George asked, expression incredulous.

Cameron nodded.

Sam grinned, “So, for no apparent reason, the little girl hung a beating on you and then did these, uh, things to you?”

“I don’t know what motivated her,” Cameron answered.

Sam looked at George then Wyatt, before looking down on Cameron, “You didn’t maybe get a little overly curious to sneak a peek at her girly bits?” he asked, knowing full well it’s the kind of greasy thing Cameron would do.

“No, no,” he answered, shaking his head, “You know I had to keep containment, make sure she didn’t have a phone of something, you know?”

Sam nodded slowly. “So you wanted to get a gander at her pussy? Probably told her to keep the door open,” he suspected.

Cameron looked away.

“And then she shrank you. To what size?” Sam inquired,

“Maybe the size of her little finger,” Cameron replied.

“That’s horseshit!” said George, tone snide.

Sam raised a hand. “Then she dunked you in the toilet, pissed on you, making sure you got a good look at her snapper. Then to top it off, she stuffed you in her underpants,” he said, summarizing.

Cameron nodded slowly.

George shook his head, “People can’t shrink people,” he countered.

“It happened, I swear,” assured Cameron.

“You back on the fucking crystal?” demanded George, posture very aggressive, Wyatt ducking out of the way.

“Enough,” Sam interjected. “I watched this little girl punch the fuck out of you George, and put Wyatt to sleep with a simple snap of her fingers.”

“Tell me you’re not actually buying this crap are you?” challenged George, looking at Sam.

Sam shook his head slowly. “I’m not buying anything, but there is something seriously messed up happening here. Take a bloody look around,” he said, spreading his arms. “We’ve already said it, it looks like a dollhouse, and maybe it is, maybe we have been made small. I don’t fucking know. Maybe we’re all fucking dead and this is hell? Don’t know,” he growled, getting to his feet. “Until we figure this shit out, we all got to keep it locked down, hear me?” he asked, looking each of the other men in the eye.

The alpha had spoken, any protest died before they crossed the lips of any of the other men. Nodding slowly, “Good,” he said.

“Now, let’s for moment say we have been turned into fingerlings,” Sam started, George opened his mouth but thought better of speaking recognizing the ice in Sam’s eyes. “So let’s say we’re shrunk. Okay, why? Why shrink us? Doesn’t seem to be an unreasonable question does it?” the others shook their heads almost in unison.

Sam looked at Cameron, “Except she said she was not going to get involve until you had to see her beaver. She said that was the straw,” he informed.

“I-I,” Cameron sputtered.

“Okay, so how does this trembling chick shrink us? What is she? Like witch or a gypsy or something?” George queried.

“How did she shrink you Cameron?” Sam asked, turning to look at the man.

“She put her hand on my chest. I felt a weird kind of sensation move throughout my body, down my arms and legs and then I shrank,” he answered, eyes round during the telling.

“Just like that? Curled up like a piece of bacon in a frying pan?” asked George, skepticism thick in his tone.

“Fuck you dude that’s what happened. She moved so fast, threw me onto my back and planted her hand in the middle of my chest,” he defended, turning to look at Sam, “I swear it Sam, that’s how it went down,” he assured.

Sam chuckled, “So there you have it. That’s how she does it and who knows, maybe she is a witch. I don’t know. What I do know is this, we got to find some way to get out of this house and see what’s on the other side. If everything out there is fucking huge, chances are pretty good we’re tiny. So let’s figure that out before we start worrying and theorizing why and for what purpose,” he instructed.

“Sounds good,” acknowledged George, “Get to the bottom of this and start cracking some skulls,” he said, curling up his right hand and punching it into his open left palm.

Cameron and Wyatt nodded together.

“And if this unbelievable shit turns out to be true and it’s because you perved on her, you are going to be apologizing profusely to get see if she’ll undo the curse or spell or whatever.” Sam said, staring intently at Cameron.

Searching the house for some means of egress proved to be pointless. The windows were plastic and wouldn’t give, even when they tried to smash them out using the TV. There was no way to get anything into the gap to try and pry open the two halves and they were just not strong enough on their own.

Frustrated, exhausted, they assembled in the ‘living’ room area, seating themselves on the floor, backs against walls.

“I guess it’s wait and see,” muttered George, tattooed body slick with perspiration from effort.

Sam nodded, arms resting across his bent knees. “The question is waiting for what?”

“What do you mean?” asked Wyatt.

“Means I have no clue what’s in store, this is unfamiliar territory, whatever happens, happens,” he said.

“What if Wyatt pussy’s out?” snickered George, taking a pot shot at the jittery man.

Sam didn’t dignify the query with a response, instead shaking his head from side to side. If she could shrink them, why did she? What was her plan? He was a confidant man, used to setting the tone and tenor of any situation he was a part of, and he certainly didn’t like the prospect of being entirely dependent on the whim of another.

Fortunately or not, they didn’t have to wait very long.

The Dollhouse Gang

Sam could hear voices coming beyond the confines of the dollhouse’s plastic wall. Indistinct at first, but growing clearer. Two voices, both female. One Elayne, the other unknown. He nodded to himself.

“Careful in there everybody, the floor is going to move,” came Elayne’s voice followed moments later by a sudden shift in the dollhouse itself as it was being opened, the two halves separating lengthwise.

Dropping to a knee and bracing himself, Sam waited for the movement to finish, the others following suit. When the house was open, he could not believe what he saw in front of him. Standing there were two women, both positively enormous in stature. Tall, easily over a hundred feet each. It was one when thing when Cameron was talking about it, but the magnitude of the reality was practically overwhelming. Elayne was dressed pretty similarly to what she had been wearing in the bank, skirt and blouse, the other woman looked young, long slightly wavy dark hair cascading down and over her shoulders, wore a snug fitting faded pink top and black and white zebra striped stretchy pants. He guessed they couldn’t be more than a few inches in height to these women.

“Oh my god!” exclaimed the unknown woman, bringing her hands to her face and covering her mouth. “They are absolutely adorable,” she said through her fingers, looking down at the four tiny men.

Cameron squeaked, making a dash for one of the bedrooms. The sudden motion spurred George to follow suit, while Wyatt stood there, mouth agape, eyes wide. Sam frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Elayne smiled down at Sam. Looking passed the gigantic women, Sam surmised they were in some type of enormous bedroom, fancy bed, frilly curtains, lots of pinks and purples. The dollhouse was elevated, on a table or something as where he stood on the upper floor was about waist high for the two women.

The woman turned to Elayne, “They are so cute. Can I have one?” she asked, tone hopeful.

“Of course,” answered the blonde, “That’s why I brought you here. Except, you can’t have that one, he’s mine,” she said, pointing a finger at Sam.

The dark haired woman chuckled, “He look like he’s got an edge that one,” she said, grinning down at Sam.

Despite the fact his mind was reeling, trying to manufacture some sense of the impossibility of the situation, Sam remained calm.

“George, Cameron, come out so Kaylee can get a look at you,” she said.

Sam turned his head to look over his shoulder at the door where the two men had vanished.

Bending down, the dark haired girl, Kaylee leaned in closer, locks of her dark hair spilling over her shoulder and hanging down on either side of her very pretty face as she looked at Sam and Wyatt. She was close enough Sam could detect a trace of spearmint in her exhale as he defiantly met her gaze.

Kaylee chuckled, “Oh yeah, I can see why you want to keep this one,” she said, indicating Sam, her emerald colored eyes sparkling. Looking to Wyatt, she half smiled, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this one looks ready to wet himself,” she commented.

Wyatt stood there shaking, paralyzed with fear.

“That one is Wyatt and the other one is Sam,” said Elayne. “This is my friend Kaylee,” she introduced. “The two trying to hide are George and Cameron. Come on you guys,” she encouraged.

Sam said nothing, watching. Kaylee’s eyes moved back to him, plump bottom lip held between perfect pearly white teeth as she looked him over.

“Cameron!” Elayne said, edge in her voice.

He appeared at the doorway and stepped into the hall, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped.

“Good boy,” she praised.

Kaylee frowned slightly, the expression doing nothing to mar her attractiveness. “He’s the creeper?” she asked.

“Right little peeper creeper,” she chuckled.

“The other one?” asked the brunette.

Elayne nodded. “George front and center,” she instructed.

“Fuck you!’ he hollered back from the bedroom.

“You do know the roof and upper floor comes off right?” Elayne asked, grin on her face.

No response.

“Don’t be shy, let Kaylee get a look at you,” she coaxed. “If I have to pull the roof off this thing, I promise you I will not be pleased,” she warned.

“Eat shit!” George snarled back.

“Sassy,” remarked Kaylee.

“If you don’t come out by the time I count to three, I will tear the house apart. Then I will tear you apart, limb from limb,” she cautioned, tone cold and menacing.

George appeared, gruff expression on his face.

Kaylee smiled, “I like him,” she said, turning to Elayne.

Elayne nodded, “He’s the one who suggested shooting me and leaving me for animals in the desert,” she replied.

Kaylee pursed her lips and shook her head from side to side, making a tsk-tsk noise.

George looked at the other men then at his feet.

“The Dollhouse Gang,” joked Kaylee, amused.

“What do you want from us?” blurted Wyatt, voice high pitched and full of panic, frightened eyes darting around.

Elayne’s face brightened, “He speaks!” she said.

Sam half smiled, Wyatt was a great techie, but absolutely no grace under fire, though not a bad question. “What now?” he asked, voice gravelly.

“Oh, I like him a lot, you’ve got to let me play with him when you’re done,” Kaylee said, nodding her head slightly and licking the inside of her lower lip.

“Maybe,” teased Elayne. “Tell you what, take Cameron and George for now and go have some fun,” she suggested.

Kaylee smiled. Leaning back, she reached in and took George in her left hand and Cameron in her right before stepping back. “Do you want them back?’ she asked.

“Do whatever you want with them they’re yours now,” Elayne replied, grinning at the two men still in the house.

Looking down at the two men, still one in each hand, Kaylee smiled. “In that case,” she said. Turning, she crossed the floor and exited the room.

Elayne watched her go then looked back to Sam and Wyatt.

Sam and Wyatt

“What’s your friend going to do with George and Cameron?” Sam asked, brow furled.

Elayne grinned, looking over her shoulder at the door then back to Sam before shrugging. “I guess that’s up to her,” she replied.

Sam frowned. “Are they going to be alright?” he inquired, the uncertainty of his compatriots less a concern than an understanding of the disposition of these women who now held power over him.

“Don’t know, again, up to her,” she answered, shaking her head slightly from side to side. “Though, Kaylee does have a reputation of being quite hard on her playthings,” she added glumly.

“Playthings?” Sam asked, a nagging unpleasant sensation brewing in his gut.

Elayne’s face perked up and she nodded, “Playthings, toys,” she supplied.

Shaking his head, “Played with how?” he asked, suspecting the answer but wanting her to clarify.

“Come now Sam, I am sure a man of your character can certainly imagine how a fully grown woman might find service from a tiny little man,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“What’s she talking about?” asked Wyatt, voice quavering slightly.

Sam didn’t look to the other man, instead holding his hand up toward him, “I think Elayne here is telling us that George and Cameron and Kaylee are getting much better acquainted on a more personal level,” he explained.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling and nodding her head.

“Which lends me to believe that soon, we too, shall become much more thoroughly aware of the particulars of Elayne’s body,” Sam surmised.

Wyatt shook his head, taking a step toward Sam, “What does that mean?” he asked plaintively, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“That will all depend on her,” he answered, his eyes locked onto hers.

“Sam?” asked Wyatt, tugging on the taller man’s shoulder.

Sam turned his head to look at Wyatt, a half smirk on his face, “It means we are going to have to pleasure her,” he stated.

Elayne raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“But how?” Wyatt asked, flicking a glance at Elayne then Sam.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “For a bright guy you’re pretty dense,” he accused.

A light bulb switched on in Wyatt’s brain, eyes drifting back to Elayne as realization of how they were going to be used to sate her libidinous needs dawned on him, “Oh,” he said, eyes widening.

“Well now that’s settled, I think it’s time to play,” she said.

Sam brushed Wyatt’s hand from his shoulder.

“Eenie, meenie, miny, mo,” she started, moving her index finger back and forth from man to man, “Ah, who am I kidding,” she chuckled, extending her hand down and curling it around Sam, “It’s you I want to experience,” she said.

Wyatt shuddered.

Standing upright, Elayne, closed the house back up, leaving Wyatt trapped within. Bounding across the room, she slipped up into the hall and entered another room, this one a bedroom and very nicely appointed.

“Welcome to my boudoir,” she said, extending her hand and allowing him to stand in her palm.

In a general sense of the word, the room was spacious, a large postered bed with a dark burgundy plush looking blanket atop the bed. The furniture was ornate and appeared to be of exceptional quality.

He turned his head and nodded, “Nice,” he acknowledged.

Crossing the room, she set him down on the blanket, his weight though insignificant was still enough for him to sink a little into the soft fiber. Steadying himself, he turned back to look at her.

“I’m just going to get myself freshened up a little before we begin,” she advised, moving to a door in the far wall leading to her own bathroom.

“Okay,” he said, moving closer to the edge of the bed and peering over. His initial thought to being left alone was to figure a means of escape, but then he shook his head and chuckled. To where? This girl, witch, goddess, whatever shrank him and who know what other abilities she might possess? What motivations she possessed that she would seek to please herself with him in this form was unknown to him. Not that it really mattered much, he was in no position to demand her to explain herself. Her long term goals concerned him a little. What were her plans? What was his life expectancy? She had already said Kaylee’s handling of ‘toys’ was rough and he had been with some ladies in his time who had left him battered while he was full sized. He could only imagine the rigors of a veritable giantess in the throes of ecstasy was not without some inherent risk. At the present, he was pragmatic enough to realize that if he wanted to be restored to his normal size, she was the key, the only key.

Elayne returned within a few moments, dressed in a lacy pale pink colored bra and matching panties. She was exceptionally well put together, gorgeous face, firm breasts, taut tummy, and lightly tanned smooth long legs.

“Well?” she asked, leaning a hand against the door frame.

He nodded slowly as she seductively moved forward.

Stopping near the edge of the bed, carrying in her wake the alluring scent of some fragrance.

A slow smile parted her lips, “Are you frightened?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” he answered without embarrassment, “But I’m also excited,” he added.

She grinned, reaching around behind her back and unfastening her bra, cupping her hands to her bosom as the bra fell to the floor. Slowly, she began to massage her breasts, kneading the flesh and causing her nipples to tighten. Bending forward, she placed a hand to either side of him and move her hips from side to side, causing her breasts to pendulously move in the rhythm of her body.

His bravado excited her, standing there as he was watching her. So often in the past, they would run away and try to hide, or barter, or plead, but not Sam. She knew she had recognized something in him that was special. Standing upright she turned and showed him her bum, the slender thread of materials from her thong vanishing between the lovely globes. Hooking fingers in the elastic, she slowly drew down her panties, allowing them to fall to her feet before stepping out of them. Turning back, he could see the pale skin of her smooth pubis, sex already dewy with anticipation.

“So how is this going to go down?” he asked, looking up from her privates to her face.

“I am sure given your carriage and appeal you are no stranger to the female form?” she asked, spreading her hands apart.

He smiled wryly, “Never on this particular scale,” he answered.

“I think it prudent then to give you an opportunity to explore my body,” she said, the tip of her pink tongue touching her bottom lip.

He nodded slowly. He had been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but this was going to be a first.

Cameron, George, and Kaylee

“Well, well, well,” Kaylee said in a playful tone, strolling into the other room and setting the two tiny naked men down on the oak framed queen sized bed.

George and Cameron exchanged glances across the printed design of the comforter as the woman began to disrobe.

Stepping forward, George piped up, “Hey, what the fuck?” he demanded, brow furled and a determined jut of his jaw

Bending at the waist as she was removing her stretchy pants, she looked over at George, “Yes?” she asked.

“This is fucked up,” he commented, spreading wide his arms.

She chuckled, stepping out of her pants and straightening up, tossing the pants onto the upholstered chair in the corner.

Cameron moved meekly behind George, steps sinking marginally into the fabric as he walked.

“What’s the deal here?” asked the little surly bandit.

Kaylee brought a finger to her philtrum, tapping it gently, eyes looking up and to the right, appearing to look ponderous a moment before speaking, “Let’s see. We are going to have a little play time together,” she paused, pointing at George, “You’re the ‘shoot her in head’ guy,” and moving the finger to Cameron, “And you’re the ‘let me see your pussy’ guy,” she clarified.

George turned to look at Cameron then back up at Kaylee, “So what?” he said belligerently.

She shook her head, dark hair swishing across her smooth pale shoulders, “Silly boy,” she said, reaching down and picking George up by the head. Instantly, he brought his hands to her fingers to try and relieve the stress placed on his neck, teeth clenched, as she brought him up neat her face. Opening her mouth, she extended her tongue and brought her near, a mirthful noise coming up from her throat.

“No!” George yelled frantically, kicking his legs as she lowered him down.

“Sweet Jesus,” mumbled Cameron, watching from his position on the bed as Kaylee deposited George on her tongue and pulled him back into her mouth.

Closing her lips, Kaylee looked down at Cameron, smiling around the tiny man trapped inside her mouth.

Cameron didn’t move, he just stood there shaking allowing her to easy close a hand around him before hopping up onto the bed and positioning the bounty of pillows against the headboard to form a back rest before flipping over and reclining.

Pushing George half out of her mouth with her tongue, she plucked him from between her lips and captured him with her free hand, quickly dropping Cameron into her mouth.

George sputtered and cough as she positioned him in the channel between her right index and middle fingers, his head distal to her hand, pinning him in place with her thumb and brought him to her left breast, rubbing his face and upper body against the rosy nipple, the flesh tightening under her skillful manipulation.

George made sounds of protest but they were garbled and unintelligible to her ears, muffled by the pressure of her fingers mashing his face into the pillowy flesh.

Continuing to tease her breast with George, she rolled Cameron around the inside of her mouth, completely coating him in slick saliva before pushing him out onto her chest and snatching him with her right hand while her tried to roll over. Shifting her grip on him to match the way she was holding George, she brought him back up her face, grinning as her tongue moved back and forth across her lower lip cleaning the slobber left by Cameron’s departure, “So you want to take a sneaky little peek at some pussy do you?” she inquired, brows raised, green eyes like polished malachite.

Unable to clear his throat Cameron gagged and tried to shake his head. Moving him quickly down her body, over the neatly trimmed tuft of dark hair atop her mons, she pressed his tiny frame against the heated furnace of her burgeoning arousal, moving him through the rubbery moistened flesh in a slow circular motion while simultaneously titillating her breast with George.

“There you go naughty boy,” she chided, feeling her petals beginning to bloom as blood engorged her genitals in response to her ministrations.

Sliding her right hand further down the slit of her sex, she eased her fingers into the juicy opening, parting the flesh. Slowly working her fingers and Cameron, still held securely, in and out of her greedy pussy. Moving her left hand and George down, she began to stimulate the swollen nub of her emerging clitoris, using his face to generate friction and heat.

The combination of Cameron in her pussy and George on her clit rapidly escalated her need, her want of climax. Eyes closed, breath coming in gasps, a moan of pleasure parted her lips as her efforts brought forth a release from her eager flesh, body shuddering as neurons delivered the message to her brain to release a tidal wave of endorphins.

Lifting her left hand off of George, the little man barely clinging to consciousness, she took his left leg between thumb and forefinger, dragging him over her flesh, across the erect nipple of her left breast and into her waiting mouth, tasting the combination of his flesh and her orgasm.

She could feel the muscles of her vagina still pulsating slightly around the fingers of her right hand and the tiny passenger trapped there. Withdrawing her slick fingers, Cameron sputtering, she brought it back up passed her breasts, pressing the tiny robber firmly against her throat emitting a little noise of delight as she swallowed, allowing the little man to feel his companion slide passed and into her stomach.

“Oh my god,” squealed Cameron, unable to move as she pulled him away and lifted him over her face. Mouth opened wide, she playful held him just high enough above her maw that he could feel her tongue flicking at the bottom of his feet.

“No,” he pleaded, trying to pull his legs up and away from the massive pink appendage.

She giggled and released him, letting him fall toward her mouth. Twisting, he was able to catch himself on her lower lip, though his legs fell inside her mouth. Closing her lips around his upper torso, she cooed slightly and sucked him into her mouth completely with a slurping noise.

Turning in the humid darkness, he lashed out, hands striking teeth and her upper palate as saliva pooled around him.

A deft flick of the tongue and he tumbled over to the back of her mouth where her tongu undulate and shifted him into her throat. He tried to scream, but her saliva poured into his mouth as he tried desperately to scramble up her slippery tongue. A quick giggle and his legs were grabbed by the muscles in her throat, peristalsis pulling his down despite his effort t to claw his way out.

Sweaty from the exertion, Kaylee lay there a moment, savoring the post orgasmic bliss lingering in her nerve ending, as her fingers danced across her glistening taut tummy. Feeling a hint of movement within, she giggled to herself a little.

Sam

Elayne carefully climbed over top of him onto the bed, lying supine, him dropping to a knee to wait while she settled herself. He chuckled softly to himself as he rose to standing. She had played her part perfectly, like a frightened little wide eyed doe. Shaking his head he moved nearer to her, her weight causing a depression in the mattress.

“Little help,” he said, standing close to her right hand.

Rolling her head to his side, she grinned at him and picked him up, setting him on his feet atop her tight tummy.

He moved carefully, methodically. Dropping to a knee, he put his hands on her skin, soft and supple, warm to the touch. He could feel the beat of her heart, strong and steady. There was a subtle hint of some alluring fragrance mingling with her own natural scent, tantalizing his senses. While filled with a heavy dose of caution, he also felt exhilarated, excited by the situation, by her. Obviously this was no normal girl, she was someone, something special, and she had chosen him. He still had no idea what manner of being or creature she was, regardless, she positively stunning. He also knew any means of restoration lay entirely in her hands.

For her part, she allowed him to explore, to touch her. He moved from her tummy up her body, his tiny feet tickling her as he moved. Her shapely breasts sitting firm and high on her chest, rising and falling as she breathed. Ascending the left globe, he crouched down, trailing the fingers of his left hand gently around the textured aureole of her left breast, fascinated as her nipple began to tighten in response to his delicate touch. Reaching out, he drug his nails across it before squeezing it gently. He had wondered if she could feel his touches and the firming flesh answered his question.

His inquisitiveness thrilled her. So often, little ones would run and scream or plead, but not Sam. She restrained her desire to simply grab him and ravish his tiny frame, instead allowing her passion to simmer and grow. Of course, there were times when using a hapless and terrified tiny to sate her baser desires was rewarding unto itself. She knew that was what Kaylee was doing. The brunette was eager to play with no vested interested in keeping either George or Cameron, and Elayne herself honestly had little care when the other woman kept or disposed of the pair. Right now, her attention was on the tiny man acquainting himself with her body. She closed her eyes and smiled, trying to anticipate his next move. She thought he was going to return down her body, toward her privates, instead he moved up onto her throat, moving toward her jawline, he braced himself against her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Her smile broadened and she opened her mouth, letting out a long slow sigh. It had indeed been a considerable amount of time since she had found one like him.

Turning, he moved back onto her chest, crossing her breastbone before delaying at her right breast and teasing it just enough to arouse then continuing on. Across her tummy again, to rise of her mons. He stood on the fleshy prominence a moment, gaining a measure of what lay before him. She could feel him, looking back up toward her.

Parting her legs slightly and arching her pelvis upward to enhance his access to her most delicate of areas. Moving down to the side onto her thigh, he braced himself and lowered down into the gap between her legs, the heat coming off of her like a furnace. Her scent, fresh and clean filled his nostrils as he pushed against the delicate outer lips and slid his fingers up the groove and beneath the fleshy hood to find the taut pearl concealed within.

She found herself squirming in pleasure despite her best efforts to remain still so as not to interfere with his efforts, her fingers clenching and unclenching the blanket at her sides as she chewed on her lower lip as he worked her swollen pleasure nub, the little fingers extracting remarkable and delicious sensations from her body. She could her wetness as she lubricated, clear juices seeping from inside of her, sticky and sweet.

Parting her legs further, she pulled her feet up, drawing them closer. Waiting for her to finish moving, she could feel him kissing herself, little pecks just at the fringe of her opening and the edge of tactile awareness. It was more than she could endure. She wanted to feel him inside her. Reaching down with her right hand, she curled it behind him, cupping him in her palm and lifting him slightly, steering his feet toward the drooling wetness of her swollen pussy. He held his legs together, tipping his toes forward to help facilitate penetration as she eased him inside of her, her hungry flesh closing around him until he was embedded to his chest.

He continued to stroke the slick slippery tissue in his vicinity while she touched herself, making slow circles over her clit. She could feel herself ascending the heights of pleasure, rising higher and higher, breath coming more quickly as she neared release. Bucking her hips and grinding against her own hand, she let out a small gasp, crossing the threshold of no return as her body began to shudder with an imminent expectation of climax. Then she came, fingers pushing him deeper into her, the release intense, her muscles contracting violently, squeezing him mercilessly again and again as she came. He cried out but she didn’t hear or didn’t care, lost in her own ecstasy as he was swallowed into her.

After the waves of pleasure subsided, she took hold of one of the little hands outside of her satisfied pussy and gently drew him out, tendrils of secretions sticking to him as he was pulled free. Laying his unconscious little body on her stomach, she covered him with her hand. There in the afterglow of a very intense climax, she laughed softly, he was definitely a keeper.