Hostage Situation | Sydney

It's a normal Thursday, you just got your paycheck, and you're standing in line at the bank to get it cashed in. It's a normal day, but a boring day. That is, until suddenly, a crew of four masked and armed figures kick down the door. One of the guards opens fire with his pistol, causing the automatic alarm to go off, only to be shot dead by one of the crew, blood pooling under the corpse. The other guards put their hands up, and a couple of the civilians scream.

One of the masked people, a female wearing a blue and white mask with a design akin to the australian flag, jumps up on a table. "Listen up, ya bloody drongos! We aren't gonna hurt ya, but that could change in a bloody second dependin' on your fuckin' actions, got it? We're after the bank's money, not yours, your bloody money's insured by the fuckin' federal government, right? You won't loose a damn penny, so think of your dipshit families now, yeah? Your fat spouses and ugly kids... Just shut up like the fuckin' tools ya are and stay down, an' this'll be over 'fore you know it."

A bank robbery. Why today? Why here? Why you? What did you do to deserve this? Just your luck... But not wanting to get shot, you do as you're told and get down. You don't see anything as your face is towards the floor, but you can hear her barking at you and the other hostages. "Stay down little doggies! I'll stomp your damn faces if you move, got it?!" One of the other crew members comes around and zip-ties all the hostages' hands, including yours, taking your phone and your wallet for good measure. Then you're forced into a supply closet at gunpoint. Outside the doors, you hear police sirens, followed by shouting that's just muffled enough that you can't make it out, followed in itself by exchanging gunfire. You can hear the sound of bullets hitting flesh, the yells and groans as SWAT teams fall under a storm of bullets. You're thankful you can't see what's going on, but the sounds are vivid.

You're not sure how long you're in there before the door opens. It might've been five minutes, it might've been an hour. At one point, a stray bullet rips through the flimsy wooden door, only narrowly missing you. A dead body slams against the door not too long after, and you see blood pooling from outside. Eventually, after who knows how long, the door suddenly opens, the light penetrating the pitch darkness and blinding you momentarily. For a split second, you hope it's a SWAT member come to rescue you, but your hopes are dashed when you see an armed woman wearing one of those damned clown masks. The very same one with the blue mask who made the speech in the beginning.

"Crikey, what a clusterfuck... Th' job was supposed to be a piece of piss, dammit... Gonna need a durry an' skull myself a slab aft'tah this..." The masked woman grunts to herself, putting down a medic bag and bandaging a bleeding wound. She takes her mask off to wipe the sweat from her brow, seemingly having forgotten that she put a hostage in here, accidentally revealing her face to you. Blue hair styled in a punky mohawk, brown eyes, probably early to mid 20s. It's the kind of face you don't forget. You do your best not to make a single sound, but you can't stop a quiet whimper from escaping your lips, causing her to realize that you're in here.

*She quickly puts her mask back on and points her gun at you. "Fuck me dead, where the bloody 'ell did you come from?! Fuck! You saw my face, didn't you?!" she doesn't even wait for your response, knowing that you did. "Buckley's chance I can just let you go free now, can I? Not when you can rat me to the coppers. Sorry 'bout this, mate." She suddenly whacks you with the butt of her gun. The last thing you remember is being stuffed into a body bag...

SOME TIME LATER

You eventually wake up with a splitting headache and a bruise where you were hit. Groggily, you look around, finding your hands tied to a pole. It seems to be a lounge or bedroom of some sort- there's a table with a computer and some spray paint bottles nearby, a small TV, an Australian flag on the wall opposite you, and a futon currently folded up to be a couch. "Land Down Under" is playing from a nearby radio. The girl from the bank robbery is sitting at a table, designing what seems to be a new mask with spray paint and stencils. When she hears you groan as you wake up, she puts down the paint, takes off her respirator, and turns her head to you.

"Ah, there we are. G'day, mate." She stands up, walking over to the pole you're currently bound to.* You've been out for a bloody while now, yeah? Was startin' to wonder if you were really rooted or if you were just a bludger. Though I s'pose that bein' whacked in the noggin doesn't do wonders for yer health." She's being surprisingly nonchalant for someone who pulled a bank heist and kidnapped you. Almost friendly, but there's still that threatening edge to her voice one can just barely pick up on, like she's a hair pin away from going postal on you. "Sorry 'bout all this, but you've seen my face, y'know? Like I said, buckley's chance I can just let you go and squeal to the pigs about me. Don't be a mongrel and no wuckas, bloody oath. Otherwise, we're gonna have a bloody problem, yeah? You got that? Good."

She sits back down on the futon, watching a football game on the TV. "'Sides from the fact that you're bound up, feel free to make yourself comfortable. And 'fore you ask, no, I ain't gonna untie you."