This piece precedes The Mercadian Heist as it is so far (parts 1, 2, 3), but it comes out as the muse dictates...=== Six Months Ago ===
Armond Dekseyer was many things, but he knew at his core that he was a good person. Sure that good person was wrapped in layers that presented other less desirable personas to the world. He could be seen as a confidence man, a grifter, a con artist, a thief, and perhaps, occasionally, a rogue. He admitted to himself that occasionally, he might not be the best person he could be, but on the whole, he was not bad. There were far worse people in Mercadia, and he should know, he had worked for many of them.
Some of them were terrible people. Fiends and murderers that would kill their own mother to get ahead in the world. Not Armond. He sent his mother flowers every week, ensured her accounts were always full of credits, and that she had nice neighbors to talk to. It took some effort to take care of one’s mother… but she was the only mother he was ever going to have, and he sure as hell had no plans to provide her with any grandchildren, so it was in everyone’s best interest to keep her busy with other pursuits.
She didn’t need to know that her son was planning on robbing a bank. That would not make her happy. However, it would make Armond happy. So very, undeniably, overwhelmingly happy. Because the money on the barrel was insane. As in, this couldn’t be a real kind of money. It simply couldn’t be real. The number was breathtaking.
But what if it was real? What if that amount of money was there because it was ready to be picked up by the first person willing to put out their hand and simply take it?
Armond had to talk to Wick and think this through. Put feelers out, perform the due diligence, and get the vibe on the deal. This wasn’t from some random fixer on the street, this had come to Armond from a highly trusted source. Someone that he couldn’t even talk about without causing some problems, but that was how good the deal was. A job that could put his crew on the next level. But he had to start with his partner, the dwarf technomancer Wick.
Armond looked at himself in a nearby storefront, adjusting his collar and his cravat. He scratched lightly as his chin, and grinned knowingly when he noticed the young lady behind the counter of the store within. She instantly blushed.
Armond winked and continued on his way. The crowds shifted and parted, the market stalls of Midtown were bustling nearly all day, every race that one could probably imagine walked the market district as vehicles, carts, and lorries were strictly prohibited. Armond was probably on the more common side of the crowd spectrum, being nearly human, he blended in with most mixed crowds. His skin was of a darker tone, not from sun, although he did appear to be nicely tanned all the time. His skin tone was from the same blood that gave him his oversized lower incisors that jutted past his lower lip. One would think that a human with uberogre blood his veins would be a terrible combination, but for Armond, it rewarded him with a some unexpected result of being devastatingly handsome. It was part of his success. Others trusted beautiful people more readily, and yes, that may have been parlayed into some personas that may have preyed upon that trust.
But Armond knew he was a good person. Deep down.
He excused himself from the path of a couple Sylvian women, and the solitary Dryad that walked between them. One of the women nodded politely in his direction.
“Good morning,” Armond smiled kindly at the three of them, lingering on the younger Sylvian for a split second.
“Oh good morning, sir.” She blushed as well, quickly lowering her gaze to the flat pavers at her cloven feet.
Armond grinned even wider, showing all of his teeth with mirth. It was shaping up to be a good day. He turned down his alley, heading to the backstreets of Midtown. The suppliers and shippers moved their wares to the markets through the backstreets in the larger vans and lorries that would not fit on the quaint market avenues even if they weren’t prohibited, and if you travelled far enough, the bustling backstreets coalesced into their own diverse markets and economies. Including the ones that were of a less reputable type.
In other words, Armond’s kind of crowd. He nodded at a couple of friendly acquaintances clustered near the Powder & Burnt entrance and turned down the alley that lead to the stairs to underneath the pub. He knocked lightly at the heavy wooden door and let himself in. The locks were enchanted, and Wick had long ago given him the lock iron shaving to keep in his bootheel.
“I thought I heard your good cheer coming down the stairs,” Wick grumbled from his massive work bench. “A rising gorge in my midsection, kind of like heartburn.”
“And good morning to you as well!” Armond smiled widely, holding his arms out as if he wanted a hug.
“Fuck off.”
Armond laughed all the more brightly.
“What put you in such a good mood? Besides some random maidens uncontrollably smiling at you,” Wick asked. He left his googles over his eyes, continuing to move the soldering gun over whatever circuit board project he had in front of him. Small wisps of smoke followed the tip of the gun as Wick waved it around, touching it to lead after lead in quick succession.
“I am glad I have you in my life to keep me grounded, my friend,” Armond walked around the piles of crates, buckets of parts, and scattered piles of technology that were intermittently spread between the door and the center of the workshop where Wick continued soldering. “You should put that away, I have a new offer in hand.”
Wick looked up, pushing his googles up with one thick knuckle. His dwarven eyes were sunken, but they glittered brightly like jewels in the deep. “Aye, do you? That is why you are in such a good mood.”
Armond leaned against the expansive stone and iron workbench with one hip and let his straight face play the unspoken game.
“Well, spill!” Wick said as he dropped the solder gun and pushed his googles up his forehead impatiently, he tapped a few commands on his nearby laptop absentmindedly with the other hand.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.” Armond stated matter-of-factly, keeping his face straight.
“That is… good money,” Wick acknowledged.
“Each!” Armond’s grin reasserted itself like the sun piercing through clouds.
“What?”
“I figured it will take a six man crew.”
“Each!?” Wick’s eyes continued to widen.
“And a safe delivery bonus of a million that I intend to expand our little enterprise.” Armond’s smile was nearly touching his ears at witnessing his friend’s reaction.
Wick was beside himself. “Two and half million? What are we stealing? The Jewels of the Counsel Chamber? The testicles of the fucking Underking himself? My gods. What is worth two and half million credits?”
“A single item. A bag to be precise. A leather satchel with two tongs and gilded brass closures, along with a simple shoulder strap.”
“What is in the bag?”
“That I don’t know. I do know that it is not heavy, enchanted, or dangerous. In fact, the way it was presented to me, it seemed to be nothing more than a bag of documents.”
“Blackmail.”
“Has to be, right?” Armond nodded. “This is from our friend, the Judge.”
“Interesting,” Wick raised his fingers to his thick beard, scratching at his cheek. “So it is either blackmail against our friend or for our friend to use. So drop the other blasted boot, Armond. A simple bag does not fetch that price, there has to be something else.”
Armond finally looked uncomfortable.
“Oh great, that face,” Wick smirked. “Dungeon? Dragon? Both? No, let me guess. It is lodged directly in the ass of a god himself. We have to crawl in there with a crowbar and a flamethrower-“
“-It’s in a bank.” Armond interrupted.
Wick looked confused. “So? Trivial.”
“A central bank.”
“More difficult, still not impossible.”
“The Mercadian Central Bank.”
“Yeah, no fucking way, Armond.” Wick pulled his googles back down and started on his next solder joint. He tapped a few keys on the clunky laptop and sighed heavily.
“You just said you had no problems with a bank, central or otherwise,” Armond said, waving his arms at the obvious contradiction.
Wick dropped the solder gun without a thought and pushed his googles up again, more wearily this time. Yet his eyes were smoldering in their pits, and his face was shifting to red at the incongruence of having to explain something obvious to someone who knew better.
“Armond, I am your friend, but this is making you sound like a stupid snipe-toothed little half breed… you are mildly suggesting that we go into the most secure, highly protected, and! And! …most used bank by nearly every single investor, noble family, and some of the greatest crime families in the city, and you… are just suggesting it is a walk in the park! Like stealing a handful of coins out of an alms box!”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god, you are knackered,” Wick put stood up abruptly and strolled over to the icebox. He pulled a beer out without offering one to Armond, and popped the top of the bottle with a smooth assured tap against the workbench edge. “So you won’t need one of these, but I will as I obviously have to explain to my good friend, Armond, who has more looks than brain cells…”
“Oh come on, you are being hurtful now.” Armond feigned a look of injury.
“Fine. Fine. You are smart. So you should know better. No wonder the offer is so big. Someone wants us, a six man crew, which by the way, we don’t have! And break into the Mercadian Central Bank. The only bank in the entire city that has both electronic and enchantment monitoring, at least three types of guards, including the damn Gargoyles in the rafters, and the vault is nestled in a phase shifted void locker in the center of the bank! On top of all that, like icing on the mother-fucking cake, I have heard that they have a deluge system to literally wash away anything, including unfortunate customers, into a holding tank until the cops show up, which given the bank’s status is probably measure in seconds, not minutes.”
Armond walked silently to the icebox and freed a beer from its confines without asking for permission. He pulled the beer cap against his left incisor and the cap careened into the corner waste basket.
“Did I get all of it?” Wick added sarcastically.
“You forgot the rune deck for the vault.”
“Rune deck? No shit. Fancy bank with fancy systems. And let me guess, the bank manager is the only one with the deck.”
“That’s right.”
“So we have to get our hands on a rune deck… make it to the phased vault entrance without being noticed? With gargoyles overhead, guards all around, tellers and customers, bank staff, and all backed up with the latest and greatest in tech. I bet each teller has a panic button, and every corner has a camera.”
“Fourteen cameras in the lobby, another twelve behind the tellers, and three vantage points on the vault entrance. Not sure what cameras are upstairs, obviously couldn’t get up there as a customer,” Armond said with the air of an educator. “Two to three guards on duty depending, including an old dwarf with an all-sight in his left eye socket. Everything else is as you rattled off.”
Wick slapped the workbench in exasperation. “Holy shit, you already started casing the place? Please tell me you have not agreed to this yet. We don’t even have a full crew!”
“I haven’t. I wanted to talk to you first, do some research second, and then feel out the source. If we do something this big, we need to know that we can trust the benefactor.”
“And what makes you think we can do this? Like actually do this, Armond?”
Armond took a heavy swig of the brown ale in his hand. “I know we are missing the crew… but something just tells me that we can do this. Call it a little whispering voice deep down in my gut, Wickie. I can feel it.”
“I hate those gut feelings of yours,” Wick scratched at his beard again. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“Your gut tends to be right, too. Doesn’t mean that I have to be happy about it.”
Armond punched the air with his the free hand. “Yes! Today is coming up golden.”
“We need a crew. Six men?”
“Yes,” Armond agreed.
“We need to feel out the benefactor. That’s your job.”
“Yes,” Armond agreed again.
“And it appears that I have a bank to case.”
“Yessssss,” Armond smirk shifted to a wide grin again. “You rock, Wick.”
======
A few days later Wick and Armond gathered around the work table in Wick’s workshop under the Powder & Burnt. The bar itself was empty, but that should be expected as it was mid-morning. Only the overly desperate or the exceedingly dedicated were getting drunk at this time of day, and those patrons did not typically visit the P&B. In its basement, Wick’s expansive worktable in the middle of the galaxy of crates, tech, and parts was remarkably clean. Wick already had floor plans laid out on the stone surface when Armond had walked in. Armond, as always, was impressed with his friend’s dedication and hours. He had no idea if Wick slept, and if Wick did, Armond had no idea where.
“Before I start, what did you find out on our benefactor?” Wick started.
“Our judge was tight lipped. Refused to say… but he made it clear that he was already in possession of the funds, and that for all intents and purposes, he was the client.”
“So our judge friend fucked up, and he doesn’t want to tell us.”
Armond shrugged. “I told him three more days and we would give him an answer. He wanted you to know that he wanted to start with us, given our history. He knew you and I would do it right.”
“He has you played, Armond.” Wick grumbled. Armond knew it was only friendly ribbing.
“Eh, maybe. But we did help him not just once, but twice, with that little habit of his, and we did it seamlessly. He thinks he can rely on us.”
“Can he?”
“For now, I think he can,” Armond said truthfully. “Vatsitz?”
“Deng-deng. Street slang from sophisticated Armond. How rare. Sometimes I forget a street rat is under all that pomp.”
“Koom te deng, Hammaman. What did you find out?”
“I wish I could say it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but it isn’t.”
“Was it worse?” Armond’s right eyebrow lifted involuntarily.
“No, about what was expecting. Being in the circles we are, I hear things. The things I heard seem mostly true.” Wick pointed at the floorplan. “Old koom I knew, a real hammaman, had these on hand when his clan dropped in the vault stones.”
“Can you trust him?”
“Oh, yes, I can. He is dead. His kids had no idea these were in his collection. I, uh, liberated them.”
Armond was impressed. “Nice.”
“His daughter was exceptionally nice. A little on the young side, but well built for a dwarf. I would crawl through a latrine to see that backside up close.”
“Stop it, you grizzly old pervert. You are well past that age. You should only be interested in liberating shiny rocks at this point in your life,” Armond teased. He ran his hand over the plans, flattening the curve of the aged vellum. “These are old, things could have changed…”
“Maybe the electronics on either end, but I bet the wiring and the channels are the same. Why rerun wire that works or change out a pathway? There would be no sense. The cameras can even change position, but the wires probably have never changed. And the vault… well that is the same since the bank was erected. A void locker that size? The bank was built around it.”
“Gargoyles would probably be grumpy if something did change. They like their routine.”
“Aye. Don’t they. They also hate water… and that’s why we should flood the place.”
Armond looked sharply at his partner barely comprehending what he just said.
Wick continued, “Think about it. We get a three way benefit. We clear the guards, we clear the customers, and we clear the ‘goyles. The only thing left would be the tech, and I can get that dialed… tech is my thing. Heck, I bet at least half these systems are based on my clan’s work to begin with. That leaves a remarkably small number of things to handle…”
“Controlling the doors, getting the rune deck, and…” Armond trailed off.
“Getting the deck to the vault and the bag out of the vault in under a minute.”
“What.” It was not said as a question.
Wick picked at his teeth with an overgrown thumbnail. “I knew you would like this part. Once the rune deck is wiped, that starts a timer. See these runes here? Those are on the void locker pillars, meaning that the vault has a rudimentary time aspect. It will count down, and once it crosses the limit of the rune, it will pop up on every single teller position. They have the matching runes at eye level on their teller window pillars.”
“No way to circumvent it?”
“Rune magic, Armond. Solid as an old mountain. Carved runes are immutable. Unless you can get a runehammer to them faster than they can count down. Which is impossible. Those runes will only ever see the open air again when the bank is torn down. Sealed behind brick and iron currently. Void lockers are powerful enchantments, not to be trifled with.”
“They will know they were robbed.” Armond’s face fell a bit, somehow still managing to appear dashingly handsome.
“And that’s the beauty of popping the water. The bank was designed with this absurdly complex and powerful deluge system. And I mean a flood, torrential and inundating amounts of water… if the bank tellers are dealing with this deluge of fire suppression, I doubt any of them will be at their teller windows minding the vault status. That would be silly.”
“And giving us a chance to melt right into the madness.” Armond’s smile reasserted itself.
“Aye. Speaking of melting into the madness. I have muscle lined up.”
“Please tell me Frick said yes.”
“He did. Jumped at it, didn’t ask what the pay was,” Wick smirked, his best version of a wide smile. “He offered to bring Garbles in if we need him. I am not one for Sylvies, but Frick is not all that bad.”
Armond nodded in the affirmative. “Yes we need two for the doors. Garbles is perfect, not much to say, and stays that way. I love the troll work ethic.”
“So that leaves me running the tech dips, you doing the social work with the manager?”
“Obviously.”
“You said crew of six?”
“That leaves the driver and the fingers.”
Wick’s eyes went wide. “You knew about the runes.”
“I did. Parlor trick really. Tell you some other time.”
“And you made me sit here and explain it,” Wick made a face.
Armond chuckled. “Your voice is just so warm and inviting.”
“Fine. Driver… let’s see… uh we got Terrence? Or Nocke?”
“Terrance, Terrance? Is he the one that does the high speed stuff? Likes to sing at top volume?”
“Oh yeah, crazy shit man.” Wick laughed, his mouth still appearing to be mostly downturned.
“If we are going high speed, that means we fucked up along the way. I rather we disappear. Nocke is a fine choice. Reliable driver, help us evaporate.”
“That leaves the pinch out of the vault itself. Who are the fingers?”
“Well… what about Rashammonka?”
“Dead.” Wick shook his head.
“No shit?”
“Yeah, old lady killed him accidentally. Or at least that’s the story. Probably did it on purpose, he got around. More portholes than keys.”
“Ok… gross. Thanks for that. Stammin?” Armond tried.
“Went legit.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yeah, works up at the ‘Hill now. Doing well under Counsel Eseldi, you know, the old tree elf.”
“Good for Stammin. He was good. That’s a loss. Hmmm…”
Wick brightened. “What about Jack-de-jack?”
“Prison,” Armond replied shaking his head. “In for a tenner.”
“That old goblin finally got pinched himself? Shocker.”
“No, arson.”
Wick laughed out loud. “Let me guess? Fucking brownies.”
“Yeah, fucking brownies. Burned the entire building down. Unfortunately, it was an apartment.”
“Guy hated brownies though. I get it.” Wick chuckled it out to a fading sigh. “Well shit. I would say you since you are a talented pinch, but you have to handle that rune deck personally.”
“Yeah, I know. I know. We need to find some light and talented fingers.” Armond sighed heavily. “Alright, you keep on the tech, I will find us someone.”
“Where?”
“The place where fingers like to go walking. The wild nightlife of well-to-do Mercadia. Where else?”
“Do we have enough time?”
“Judge said we have time. Said that bag was deadholed in the vault. Not going anywhere. Even if I find a greenhorn, we can train them up a bit with some little stuff before we drop them into the cauldron.”
“If you find someone. That is a big if.”
“Come one, Wick. When have I ever let you down?” Armond smiled proudly, tapping his chest with both hands.
“That one time with the Priest’s daughter.”
“Oh you had that coming my friend. Who am I to stand in the righteous fury of a father that was a man of the cloth and just so happened to know how to fistfight?”
“He was a former prizefighter, asshole. I am still missing this tooth because of it.” Wick lifted his lip, and he definitely did not have a tooth in the black gap.
“Gives you character, Wick. A presence.” Armond grinned his own white impeccable toothy grin as he headed towards the stairs.
“Yeah, yeah. Like I need that. Fuck off, Armond.”
“Already am, my old friend.”