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Ardebitis

(IC) Overdraft

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Freedom City Credit Union, Wading Way Branch

11:00 AM, 1st February 2016

 

The day started off innocently enough for the cozy FCCU branch. The clerks were looking forward to their respective lunch breaks when a pair of unmarked black vans pulled up. Before anyone even took particular notice, eight men armed with black masks and assault rifles barged in.

 

Four of them began shouting for clerks and patrons alike to get on the ground, two began making their way to the vault, and two got to work systematically shooting out security cameras. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. The clerks couldn't even manage to pull the alarm before being stopped at gunpoint...

Edited by Ardebitis
I got the year wrong...

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She was heard before she could be seen - just out of sight the door to the women's bathroom thumped open, a humming voice pausing to throw paper towels into the trash as softly-thumping boots carried their wearer back into the bank proper after a visit to the only throne to which even the mighty had to pay respects once in a while.

 

A full six feet of red-headed amazon rounded the corner into the lobby, and it took her almost two full steps to realize something was amiss before she was brought to a halt by...well. By a sign that her quick trip to the bank wasn't going to be so quick. Pulling out earbuds audibly blasting something that sounded suspiciously like Tchaikovsky, she scanned the room with eyes near-unreadable behind sunglasses but a body posture that was more bemusement and caution than fear. "....heh, you guys've got some timing."

 

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Nina al-Darsah was dressed conservatively in a blazer and maxi skirt, the forest green of both matching the hijab that covered her short black hair. Coming to the bank 'dressed down' (in fact she'd worn her favorite mosque outfit for it) had supposed to be a good idea - she could look over the documents provided for her by the bank's vice-president, find out if this was the right bank for Iyar and the other Socotran refugees living in Freedom City, all while making sure no one matched the famous daughter of Typhoon to the facility. I should have brought my sword. Or Mark. She ducked when the robbers entered, watching them and waiting for a weakness, but then froze for a moment when she caught the expression on the face of the woman who'd been in the 'loo. When she caught Tiamat's eyes for a moment, the look on her face was not one of a helpless potential hostage - but an ally. 

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At that point, the redhead was far from unnoticed, and the robbers could definitely tell by her nonchalant expression that she wasn't afraid. In their minds, that could only mean one thing.

 

One of the four in the main room promptly opened fire on the redhead, firing a single shot from his assault rifle. It most certainly hit its target, but whether or not it downed her would confirm or disprove their suspicion...

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"You look shooting girls, you gutless-?!" The last was a word in Arabic that would have made a sailor blush. Monsoon's wrath was focused on the man who'd shot Tiamat, who looked hardly the worse the wear for the blow. "Cowardly peasants," she sneered, "eight against one? Then women will teach men how to fight!" And with that, she turned and targeted not the man who'd shot Tiamat - but the man standing behind her. "Hah!" She kicked backwards, leaping in the air as she planted a blow against his chest - Tiamat saw the black, whirling tornado of diamagnetic energy that erupted from the site of the blow, driving the man backwards as Monsoon struck at the water inside his very body. 

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The robber seemed unimpressed at Monsoon's insult, due to a mix of not understanding Arabic, and being too distracted by the idea of a possible superhuman before him. However, the knockout kick to one of his comrades told him this wasn't the time to dawdle. He opened fire again on the redhead, this time a sustained burst. The remaining two men in the room followed suit, one aimed at the redhead as well, the other at the attacker, as one of the men tasked with taking out the cameras returned to the main room to check on the commotion.

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The redhead lurched a bit as the single round hit her in the chest, but it made a rather more metallic sound than it should have - and the music still blaring out of her earbuds stopped with a strangled, electronic warble. Pulling off her sunglasses, Teagan gave the perforated mp3 player a critical once-over before turning crimson eyes on her attacker.

 

He never got another good chance. At that range she only had to duck the barrel of his gun, not the bullets - she twisted out of the way of the next shots with surprising speed for someone her size, closed the gap, and grabbed the man by the collar. "That was mine," she growled, lifting him off the ground. "I liked it."

 

Her ire was the last thing he was going to hear for a while: with both hands still hauling him by his collar, she slammed the man down into the floor with an unsettling strength, rising up over his prone body in challenge. "None of the rest of you are making it out of here. Blame this one if you must."

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It wasn't that Monsoon dodged bullets, really. For all her compactly muscular grace, honed by years of gymnastics training, she was not faster than a bullet, much less a cascade of them. Instead she used the scenery of the bank and her own formidable powers to her advantage, weaving between two robbers as they fired harmlessly at her, their shots going wild rather than risk hitting one of their own, leaping up over their heads, far higher than a normal woman could have, and landing like a cat at the feet of the robber whose bullets had come the closest to striking her down. She augmented her rising throat strike with another blow of her hydrokinesis, driving the man backwards and up over the barrier behind him, sending him over the side of the empty children's play area, toys scattering everywhere as he hit the smiling cartoon zebra on the ceiling with a tremendous THUMP. 

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He'd certainly feel that in the morning. Meanwhile, three more men made their way back into the main room, two with bags of loot slung over their shoulders. Two of the remaining robbers took notice, doing their best to provide covering fire in all the mayhem as they simply attempted to bypass the conflict and make a hasty retreat. Looks like the unconscious ones were on their own...

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Teagan raised an eyebrow when the robbers started covering their own - she could have almost respected that, if they were firing at anybody else. "Clever monkeys," she...complimented?...generously allowing the hail of bullets to chase her away from the loot-bearers.

 

She was unsettlingly okay with that option, though, and as she ducked between cover and urban terrain one of the robbers found himself unable to drive her away from both his friend and himself...and paid for his choices with a roundhouse that managed to lift him off the floor before sending him, crumpled, to the ground a few feet away. "Maybe I wasn't clear," she growled, cracking her knuckles and glaring at the others with fire in her eyes. "Nobody. Leaves."

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