Acquiring Addictions II

Fiend shuffled through the evacuation plans, his breathing growing unnecessarily loud. The amps had kicked in and his body had started to struggle for air. The wild tingling dispersed from every joint in his body, spreading to force a shudder up his spine before escaping through his skin. The body surges had become the norm to him - in fact, they were a joy to him. He sipped his bottle of water and tossed the plans aside, frustrated with staring at them. A quick glance at his watch spurs him to sit upright in the drivers seat of his brand new Cadillac. It was nearly 3PM and that meant it was nearly time for his appointment. But before his appointment, he had to make a quick stop.

After his detour, he pulled up outside the bank - 70-odd paces from the entrance. It wasn't the optimal 62 but it was the closest he was gonna get right now. He climbed out of the car and dusted down the front of his beautiful hand-stiched three-piece suit. Fixing the cuffs, he makes his way to the back of the car before lifting the boot and retrieving a matching black briefcase - a rather large briefcase in comparison to the standard size you'd see your average businessman carrying. But in Fiend's firm grip, it wasn't just a briefcase - he wielded it like a weapon and headed into battle, towards the bank entrance. 

Upon arrival, he slipped the first guard an envelope - the contents unknown. However, the two nodded their heads and Fiend was ushered through the temporarily disabled detectors. He tapped his breakfast before heading left - towards the restroom from his memory of the evacuation plans. A brief stop in and out of the cubicle had him ready. As he peered in the large bathroom mirror, he straightened his stylish cravat, before splashing some water over the scruff of his stubble. He wiped his mouth dry and took one last sharp snort to ensure any residue was hoovered up. He chucked himself a cheeky wink in the mirror and headed out of the bathroom and towards the stairs - up and left, straight up to the managers door. As he made his way past the office windows, he noticed the managers sign hung from a door just ahead. The windows surrounding the entrance were blinded, in contrast to all of the other un-shielded windows. Shrugging it off, he strutted up to the door and thudded twice.

The door squeaked open and stood in front of him was a very confused Solace. A nervous smile spread across her face as she peered both ways down the hall.

"What're you doing hereeee?" She begged for answers through her teeth.
"Is 'Sleazy Stevens' here?" He joked, a nickname Solace had given the manager earlier.

Fiend slid past the young Texan, a cocky smile on his face and began to survey the room. He spun his head in two half-circles and looked back at Solace,

"Where's the bossman, then?"

She notices her manager heading back towards the office and rushes the door closed, attempting to hush Fiend.

"He's here. What're we gonna do?"
"I'm going to meet him. Obviously." Fiend grinned, straightening his body in preparation for the door opening.

Solace rubbed her hands together nervously - what was he doing?! Her heart rate rapidly increased before the sudden opening of the office door. No sooner than the man could get through the doorway, Fiend was stood in front of him offering a handshake,

"Ahh, Mr. Stevens? .. It's Mr. Bee - Barnaby Bee. The journalist excited to hear your story?"

Fiend glanced over, throwing Solace a grin before gripping the mans hand and shaking eagerly. He accepted the offering of a seat and placed his briefcase on the floor beside him. The two shared the usual niceties before beginning to discuss the possibility of a newspaper article involving 'Sleazy Stevens' helping to crack down on a local mafioso recently. Apparently he'd found some paper trail leading back to one of Detroit's darker corners of fraud and deception. A shoot-out happened with the so-called 'authorities' and some mid-level player by the handle "F" was caught up in the gunfire. After a short drought on drugs and a few no-namers thrown in the slammer, Mr Stevens was crowned a hero and jumped straight up the ranks to Manager. The guy didn't have a clue really, but he'd struck lucky - or so he'd thought so far. 

With Solace still confused, she'd found herself just wandering around continuing her 'cleaning'... or searching, if she was honest. The two men remained in a consistent flow of conversation as Fiend took in all of the juicy details of Stevens' sneaky tricks to fucking over crime bosses. He even admitted to taking from their deposit boxes from time-to-time - only little bits they wouldn't notice gone, of course. Stevens wasn't suicidal - he was just a dick. With the shit coming out of this guys mouth, it was  honestly lucky Fiend wasn't a journalist - the guy would've been instantly dismissed and dragged through the papers AND the courts for the things he'd been doing under the table. And that's not even to mention the several 'sexual harassment in the workplace' cases that should be hanging over his head. Unfortunately, with his new-found power came the ability to bully and he exercised that fantasy often. He was just Fiend's favourite sort of guy, really. This type of scum was always worth the extra effort of a proper seeing-to and even in Fiend's ageing state, he still relished a good, messy situation. Concluding their conversation, Fiend stood up and placed his briefcase on the desk, popping the clips open and standing the lid up. He leaned over the top of it to shake Stevens' hand before tightly gripping it and thudding it down against the desk. His right hand disappeared inside the brief case and reappeared holding a large nail-gun. He banged the nail-gun into the sleazeballs hand and clenched the trigger, firing a nail through the centre of his hand and deep into the wooden surface. With Stevens' bursting into sudden yelps of pain, Fiend tore the cravat from around his neck and shoved it down his throat before punching him square on the nose.

"Shut the fuck up!" Fiend demanded before continuing in a hushed but firm tone, "You're gonna shut the fuck up and tell us where the keys are. Then the sweet Solace here is gonna grab our booty and we're gonna dance out the front door. You're gonna listen or you're gonna swallow a nail. Alright partner?" He finished in a mocking Texan accent before chucking the man a wink.

"Now, tell us where the fucking keys are.. And if you shout, I'll nail your slimy balls to this desk." Fiend pulled the cloth from the mans throat and nodded slowly. The shuddering manager waved his free hand in the direction of a plant pot sat next to the dropped blinds. She scrambled around and beneath the plant pot before finding an oddly-shaped triangular key. Between whimpering, the sleazy manager sniffled and waved his free hand again - this time towards the bottom drawer of his desk. As Solace bent down to open the drawer, the manager's eyes instantly found themselves peering down her top. Fiend's anger grew, forcing him to throw a sharp jab into the manager's throat, throttling him temporarily while Solace rummaged for the keys. She jumped to her feet with excitement and flashed Fiend a grin before darting towards the door.

"You stay here! I got this!" She slammed the door behind her and skipped down the hall.

Fiend's evil eyes looked down at the managers fearful pupils. 

"You can stay here with me." His eyes darkened.

Solace didn’t feel an ounce of concern for “Sleazy Stevens” as she heard the door click shut behind her. She’d just spent the entire fucking day trying to keep up appearances while she wondered where the hell Fiend was, and if she was forced to continue the charade any longer she probably would have nailed his hand to the desk her damn self. It was bad enough having to actually work an entire shift, even if she hadn’t found the keys until Fiend arrived. But after listening to the manager’s “conquests” during the interview, she felt the need to vomit on more than one occasion. In reality, it was partly the come down from her drug fueled morning, but she preferred to think it was solely how much Stevens disgusted her. The amount of times he’d accidentally dropped a pen and asked her to pick it up, how often he rambled about how important he was and how lucky she was to be working for him now – It obliterated any sympathy she might have had for the man. 

Alas, Fiend had stayed true to his word and eventually showed up, saving her from her own personal hell that she’d admittedly made for herself. They were back on track! Now she just needed to obtain their prize so they could get the heck out of this place. She skipped down the hall excitedly, fingering the keys in her hand and paused before the room containing the safety deposit boxes. A shrill voice behind her startled her out of her excitement. 

“I know you’re up to something,” the teller hissed through her teeth. Solace turned in surprise, feigning innocence as the teller continued to berate her. “You can just drop this whole act. I’ve worked here since we opened, and I’ve never been short in my till. Not until the day YOU showed up,” she spat. “So you can just drop this whole fucking act, because nobody is buying it. I. Don’t. Trust. You.” The poor teller’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head, each word punctuated with an eye twitch.

Solace finally reached the point of caring enough to look at the name tag of the teller she’d so recently shorted. Gertrude. Really? That name just sounded bitchy. “Aw, shucks, Gertrude. You really think lil’ ol’ me would do that to you?” Solace tucked her hair behind her ear and managed her best doe-eyed look. Gertrude’s face didn’t change; she clearly wasn’t impressed. “Oh, fuck it, then,” Solace said, losing her patience. It had been too long since her last high and she was coming down hard, her irritability peaking. She grabbed Gertrude by the throat and spun her around, slamming her into the wall. Gertrude struggled to breathe as Solace chuckled menacingly and took out the day’s frustrations on the teller.  

“I’ve had just about enough of your terrible attitude,” Solace said, her teeth clenched. “This is how you welcome new employees? This is how you show fucking hospitality?!” Her grip tightened around her neck as Gertrude struggled, kicking and clawing against her captor. A blow hit, and Solace felt a sting on her cheek as the teller scratched her, a single drop of blood flowing down her cheek and landing on the bodice of her dress. Solace snapped and kneed her hard in the stomach, causing her to double over. “This was my favorite dress, you bitch.”

“This is how this is going to work,” Solace continued, the venom oozing from her once sweet voice. “You’re going to turn off the fucking alarm, and I’m going to get what I came here for. If you so much as roll your eyes at me, I’m going to gut you and leave you for dead. Do you understand?” Gertrude nodded furiously, her face turning a deep shade of reddish purple before Solace finally released her grip.

“Please,” the teller cried, “I have a family.” Solace slammed her knee into Gertrude’s stomach again, knocking the wind out of her as she fell to the ground. 

“Did I say you could fucking talk?!” Solace was enraged. She grabbed a nearby roll of duct tape and wound it around Gertrude’s head, covering her mouth. “You’re not going to make me feel bad about this. Now disarm the alarm before I lose my patience.” She grabbed Gertrude by her hair and lifted her to her feet, marching her over to the room. Gertrude’s hands shook as she keyed in the code, causing the box to rapidly blink green. At last, Solace smiled again. 

They walked into the room and Solace shoved Gertrude into the corner, her body crumpling as she cowered. Solace closed the door, just realizing that she had already narrowly escaped being caught. The adrenaline was still pumping through her body as she turned, eyeing the walls of metal boxes. She was here. She had made it. Now she just needed to get their shit. Her eyes settled on a cardboard box and grabbed it, tossing it on the ground as she began to open the containers. Cash was piling up as she made her way through the boxes. There was an occasional necklace or ring that she’d throw in, but the majority she’d found was costume jewelry; she laughed to herself at their owners’ ignorance and let them stay. 

“Ohhh, what have we here?!” her eyes sparkled as she opened the last container. It was the employees’ area, and she’d just hit the fucking motherload. Drugs, weapons, more stacks of cash, it was crammed completely full. “Oh, my, my, my…” Solace continued, grinning brightly at Gertrude. “It seems your upstanding boss hasn’t parted with the items he’s ‘liberated’ from some of his more... violent customers.” Solace began loading the last container into the box, pausing only to roll a bill up and snort a line of cocaine. She breathed deep and felt her body calm from the comedown. A wicked smile crept across her face as she lit up like a ray of sunshine. Looking towards Gertrude, she became annoyed with the tears spilling down her cheeks, interrupting Solace’s precious high. She shrugged and twisted a silencer onto one of the newly found guns, pausing only a moment before shooting Gertrude in the face. 

“Sweet dreams, darlin’!” Solace said brightly before tossing the gun in and picking up her box. She struggled with the weight but managed to position it in front of her to hide the blood on her dress and walked out of the room. Her foot caught the door and swung it closed, leaving poor Gertrude behind. The body would have to be dealt with later. Her mission accomplished, she made her way back to the office, setting the box down on the floor to let herself in. 

Blood. There was lots of blood. Solace’s eyes widened as she pushed the box in with her foot and stepped inside the office, leaning against the door as she took in her surroundings.