“Put this in your ear, Jackie.” Armond held out his hand expectantly, palm up, inviting Jax to take one. The comm earwigs were made of a blue shimmery crystal, and even the finely wrought miniscule pincers reflected the dim light within the van from every possible angle.
Jax took one carefully, looking over the magical object with a measure of fear, disgust, and reverence. Magic never sat well with her, and as a non-magical being, it felt… well, unnatural.
“Oh, don’t be a wuss. You stick it in your ear, it will blend in, no one will be the wiser. Once we are done, you pull it out and chuck it back my way. They’re completely harmless,” Armond added with a sly grin. He handed the remainder of the earwigs out to the others.
Garbles took one with a grunt, shoving it in his ear without a thought, and racking his oversized railgun like it was providing real world punctuation, then stowing it in it’s oversize instrument case. After the halfling troll made such a brusque example, the rest of the crew hastily pushed the commbugs into their ears, and Jax lagged behind, feeling inwardly guilty to be the last one to commit.
“So let’s review the plan one more time, everyone should know their parts,” Armond lifted his lip, his uberogre bloodline evident in the size of the lower incisors nestled behind the stereotypically handsome human face. “I will go in as a client seeking the manager. Once I have him secluded, I will frost him and take his rune deck. Got it?”
Everyone nodded or grunted assent in time.
Armond continued, “I will give the go-ahead over comms, then… Garbles, Frick?”
Garbles growled, of course, while Frick grinned widely, allowing his forked tongue to flick across his lips. “The troll and I station up near the doors, covering the streets, both the market-side and the main avenue. If it gets messy inside, Garbles goes in and takes the guards down while I keep the doors secured.”
“Right. Jackie?”
“I slip in behind you, stick to the edges and be as unremarkable and unnoticeable as I can be until the diversion starts.”
“Great,” Armond nodded at the newbie, trying to encourage her as best he could without letting the crew pick up on it. He knew of her hidden talent, of course. “And our diversion, Wick?”
Wick leaned his goggled head over the front seat, still tapping furiously at his oversized cobbled together laptop as he spoke. “I send the spike to the alarms, then I shunt the waterworks and flood the building. That leaves the runes for Jackie.”
“With the water flooding the bank, the water should distract the guards, and being the little pussies that they are, they will head under cover to avoid getting wet,” Armond flicked a hand along his suit sleeve, picking off a bit of white lint. “I drop the rune deck to Jackie from the upper floor, she wipes the runes at the vault level, and hopefully slips in undetected. The vault phasing should envelop her wholly, and she will be in and out, with the guards none the wiser.”
Jax felt her confidence escalate as she imagined entering the vault, purloining the riches within. “And I grab anything and everything I carry out the back to the van.”
Armond corrected her, “Ah, ah, ah – the first thing you grab?”
“The leather messenger bag with the gilded brass buckles that should be laying on the center table,” Jax sighed. “Why we need a silly bag of all things…”
“Good girl. The rest is gravy. That bag is what we were hired for, and that is our payday. Get the bag, get what else you can, and get out. And you should probably avoid any gold bars, a bit heavy,” Armond turned to the rest of the team. “Stay on comms, when you hear the all clear, go your separate ways. We meet up at the safehouse in three days’ time. Look for the signal in the window, if its not there, randomly circle back every other day until it is. Everyone good on their parts?”
Another wave of assent swept the back of the van.
“Great. Alright Nocke, let’s go.”
Nocke started the van, and the tires squealed briefly as they pulled out into traffic, headed towards the stout fortress of the Mercadian Central Bank three blocks away. The ‘goyle stuck his middle finger out the window to let the honking drivers what to do with their opinions.
Jackie, or Jax, as she preferred, did not necessarily want to live a life a crime. It was probably just a phase, she told herself often. Deep down she wondered.
Jacqueline Deanna Armas was born as a terribly normal human, to an abysmally normal family, and experienced a dreadfully boring childhood until her father had the audacity to shuffle off the mortal coil when she was twelve. Her father was a local political figure of some consequence, an admired Consul that moved within the circles of power that kept the capitol city of Mercadia functioning smoothly. No one had ever informed her of what happened to her dad, but it was then that she stopped calling herself Jacqueline, and insisted on being called Jackie. Because it was “Miss Jacqueline” or “Miss Armas” from the staff or “JACQUELINE DEANNA ARMAS” when she was in trouble with the nanny or mother. It wasn’t until she met her best friend Tulsi that she had finally encountered the name she loved. Maybe it was Tulsi, maybe it wasn’t.
And now, Jax was standing on the corner of the financial district, glancing upwards on the grand marble façade of the Mercadian Central Bank, where even the gargoyles that lived on the eaves looked fancy, their flapping golden wings shimmering in the morning light. Armond was a few paces ahead of her, and she clutched the slip charm tightly against her chest, muttering the activation word that only two people on the whole of existence had ever known, and no one on the street witnessed as the lithe human woman shimmered beyond their notice. She was nothing but an afterthought, a forgotten dream, a fragment of a lost conversation floating away into the air.
Armond must have really trusted her, she realized, as he held the door open a split second longer than he had to, just to allow her entrance without tripping the hex barrier at the front doors. She effortlessly crossed the threshold, the ancient power of the family charm was just as invisible as she was.
Jax laughed aloud, marveling at the power that laid against her skin, but the charm stole that away as well, whittling her voice to nothing more than squeak of a heel or a rustle of a pant leg of the other customers that crisscrossed the floor of the cathedral-like bank. A few gargoyles lined the upper architraves far above, taking their break, blowing over hot cups of coffee and taking delicate bites of their cinnamon pastries.
Armond gracefully lifted his hand, waving at the wiry thin bank manager with the wispy mustache perched unsteadily on his top lip, his nametag catching the light. Jax peeled off to the left, finding the wall as quickly as she could so could focus on the exchange, keeping an eye on her boss, as he did what he did best.
Schmooze.
Was it his blood line? Some trickle of crossbreed magic in his blood? Maybe he was like Jax, hiding an ancient family charm somewhere on his person, one that was crafted by sirens, encapsulating their enchanting song? A thing to beguile others, make their eyes linger, their blood warm, and their pleasure centers tingle? Probably nothing like that. He was just exceptionally handsome and he knew how to expertly swing his charm around like a battle axe of his green-skinned kin.
“Ah, Mr. Armond! So glad you made it!” The bank manager smiled warmly.
Armond lowered his arm, taking the bank manager’s offered hand and shaking it warmly. Jax noticed he had put his other hand over the top, gently squeezing the bank manager’s clasp with both of his palms. The bank manager made note of it as well, and Jax grinned. The poor man had it bad. He was smitten.
“And I am so glad to have made it as well, Mr. Ducal. After receiving your call last week, I was most impressed that you had an investment opportunity already prepared so soon after our first meeting.”
The manager smiled graciously, “I would love to discuss it, ah, up in my office?”
Jax felt her eyes go wide. Was he serious? Was it really this easy? How did Armond just wander through his life having people just trip all over themselves to give him what he really wanted?
Armond smiled widely in return. “Of course. Show the way.”
Jax wondered briefly if Armond had that same power of persuasion over her. She had indirectly met him two years ago, as she and her friends had barhopped through the riverside district. It was supposed to be for her eighteenth birthday, but with liquid bravery being ingested amongst squealing inebriated women dressed in scantily arranged clothing, she couldn’t resist attempting to break her personal pickpocketing record. Armond had been surrounded by distractions, and lifting his pocketbook had been effortless. Even after all this time, she had yet to figure out how he had tracked her down, hours later, on a completely different quarter of the district.
Armond had confronted her kindly on the dance floor, throbbing music afloat in the air, as he pulled her aside, complemented her skills, and firmly rescued his wallet from her purse. Noticing the wealth of wallets within, he handed her a card, and offered her a job with a impressed smirk.
She wasn’t attracted to him, so that wasn’t it… but she was attracted to the freedom of what he had offered. But it was still her own choice, right? It was a way to break from the mold that had been set for her, the expectations that confined her, that worked to pin her under obligation and duty. Armond had offered her an escape. Maybe he was just good at giving people what they wanted.
Armond followed the bank manager with confidence, gliding among the thin crowds of both employees and customers, everyone seemingly busy in their own way. Jax circled away from the teller wall, rushing through shadows, doing her best to keep her feet on rugs and carpet, avoiding the marble floor. The charm covered everything, but best to maintain good habits. She positioned herself in the nook of where the expansive spiral staircase curled back on itself, nearly reaching the wall. She kneeled behind it, and looked upwards at the glass of the manager’s office.
Outside, Garbles and Frick should have setup near the main door, each watching a different street that lead to the bank, while Nocke idled the van out back, where Wick was probably pounding his keyboard with glee. As if their ears were burning, she heard the comms check far away in her ear, knowing the charm was doing its strange work to quiet the commbug.
“Avenue clear,” Garbles muttered.
“Market clear,” Frick added quickly.
“In position,” Nocke replied.
“Wick?” Frick followed up.
“Here, here. Uh, two minutes. Standby. I see Armond in the manager’s office through the interior windows, and I am assuming Jackie is at the stairs?”
Jax gently pushed one of the planters on the balustrade near her elbow.
“Ah, clever girl. Jackie is in position,” Wick added. “I see two guards as planned. Its the ugly troll…”
“Hey,” Garbles snarled lightly.
“Sorry mate, but trolls are ugly. Be proud of it. Unfortunately, the other is the old dwarf, the one with the metal eye.”
Frick sighed, “Jackie, just to be safe, stay out of eyeline of the dwarf. We don’t know if his smithed eye can pick you up or not. He may only see what the camera’s see, but better safe than sorry.”
Jax scanned the crowd and saw the older dwarf sitting on a stool near the teller windows. He was more interested in the magazine in his lap than the crowd around him. But why should he be worried? The last time the Mercadian Central Bank had a crime occur, he had not been born yet. She made a mental note of where he lounged and fully ducked behind the balustrade to ensure she stayed hidden.
Jax sighed as she remembered herself as a fourteen year old that only felt alive when she was making away with small paltry thefts under the careful watch of her caretakers. It was the one thing that infused her soul, the sole activity that she craved above all things. When she went counter to the expectations that had been set for her, she was finally made real, and not some cardboard cutout that her mother insisted attend the senseless functions full of boredom and populated by dull, unremarkable people. On one of her early thievery jaunts to the undercity, Jackie and her best friend Tulsi had stolen a particularly expensive set of watches, but somehow one of them had tripped over a sleeping guard dog in the process. The dog had alerted the owner, one thing led to another, and after a heated pursuit in which they lost their pursuers, the two had collapsed into a pile of giggles behind a garden wall. The laughter was deep and relentless, fueled by both raw adrenaline and exhausted leg muscles. Tulsi had slugged her in the shoulder, looking over their their pile of oversized watches, and had said, “I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Jax.”
Jax smiled at the memory. She glanced up above and it appeared that the blinds had been drawn while she was lost in thought. Armond was either cleverer than half, or lucky as hell. How does one get the bank manager in his office and close the blinds for privacy? Did that wispy man, what was his name again? Duscald? Duckle? Ducall? Something like that. Ducall was up there trying to seduce her boss. She stuck her tongue out and play-gagged at the thought.
“Alright, no cameras in the manager’s office. You are clear, Armond. Let us know when to pop the distractions.”
“Finally. I was wondering how long it was going to take you,” Armond replied, as if he had been impatiently waiting for hours. “Jackie?”
Jax looked up and saw Armond’s face, and she knew he was looking at an empty space. She tugged a frond of the nearby plant back and forth as an impromptu signal.
“Ah, there you are. Heads up.” Armond dropped the rune deck from the second floor balcony. “Alright, Wick, spike the alarms and punch the water.”
“In three, two, one—“
The comms were overtaken by the peal of thunder as the water rune was activated at the dome of the bank ceiling. Hundreds of gallons would cascade downwards in the next few minutes, with both atmospheric and water magic at play, the storage tanks on the roof dumping their contents through the enchanted seal, drenching the customers and employees alike.
“Front door is locked.” Garbles came back through on comms.
“Streets are still clear, no audible alarms out here,” Frick added calmly.
“Sorry, Ma’am, the bank is temporarily closed, fire alarm testing.” Garbles voice came up again and was followed by the far off sound of a disturbed customer. Jax couldn’t make out whatever she had to say. “No Ma’am. We are definitely testing. Right now, in fact.”
Frick laughed over the channel as Jax rushed through the downpour. Her form may have been invisible, but the rain bouncing off of her was very much visible, but thankfully, both of the guards were at the main door, attempting to figure out how the doors had locked on themselves.
Jax made it to the vault enclave without issue and spun in place to face the central floor where the customers and employees were all huddled tightly against the teller windows, attempting to stay out of the torrential downpour. The water bounced off of desks, stone, and furniture alike, spiraling in a great shallow whirlpool around the central drain positioned at the middle of the expansive floor.
She flipped the rune book open, turning the slate pages as if it was a deck of cards in the hands of an expert gambler. The last sheet was the rune for the vault enclave, it’s mark matching the oversized one below her feet. Jax took her wet forearm, swiping across it. The chalk came right off on her sleeve, and before her, where before she was facing the main floor of the bank, now the enclave faced a sizeable vault room, a number of small tables near the center, with safety deposit boxes on every wall.
The transition had made her lightheaded. Phaseportal magic was complex, and to traverse into the vault, which technically, was in the same place as the main bank floor, took a fair amount of energy. Whatever batteries had powered her transition, she was glad that the energy they leveraged hadn’t disrupted her charm. To the employees and customers of the bank, they still only saw the floor of the bank getting soaked by the cascading water falling from overhead.
She dropped the rune book on the table next to the simple leather bag with brass buckles. Nothing else was on the tables. She grabbed the bag, hitching the strap over her head, and releasing the Slip charm with the safe word. As if she had been dressed in pillows covering every square inch of her body, she suddenly felt unleashed. Her voice was free again.
“I have the bag,” she exhaled. “Nothing else in here except the deposit boxes.”
“Good girl, that’s all we need. Get out of there. I am headed to the van to leave with the others. Garbles, Frick, as soon as Jackie is clear, get gone.”
Jax ran back to the enclave, picking up the rune deck from where she had dropped it. She swiped over the rune deck again, and the chalk returned to its place. In a half a breath, the central floor was back in front of her with nary a sound or flicker of energy. She surreptitiously slid the rune deck in-between a planter and the plant within it, ditching it as quickly as she could. She huddled her shoulders and ran through the dwindling downpour.
“Ah, love, this way,” one of the tellers called out. She was an elderly human, and to her eyes, Jax probably looked like a drowned rat. “Oh you poor dear, you are absolutely soaked. Where were you?”
“I, uh-huh, was in the bathroom,” Jax made her voice crack as if she was on the verge of ugly tears. She turned her shivering up a couple notches.
“That is terrible. Terrible. You poor thing.”
The troll guard finally managed to get the doors opened, and sunlight flooded into the wide bank chamber, illuminating the fog that was forming from the massive humidity change.
The old teller patted Jax lightly on the back, walking her towards the light.
“No one leaves, Mrs. Rowlson,” the troll guard sniffed haughtily. “We have to take names and information of everyone in here.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Brgx. This poor child was in the BATHROOM! THE BATHROOM! When the fire alarm went off. Do you think any woman should be subject to that abject humiliation!? And then BE SUBJECTED TO QUESTIONING as if they are a common criminal? Look at her! She is a highborn, and she was in the wrong place at absolutely the wrong time, and you are going to be a sensible clod-brain and let her into the sunshine. And if there are any problems, all of them can come to me for addressing. Do YOU understand?”
“Um, yes, um, yes ma’am.” The troll looked as if he had just been slapped.
Mrs. Rowlson gently guided Jax out the front doors and into the sunshine. The street looked completely as it had, not an enforcer or badge in sight. “You head home, dear. Dry off, and we will see you next time, right? Let me flag you a cab.”
The old teller ushered Jax to the street, and out of the corner of her eye, Jax caught Frick smiling devilishly in the market crowd, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You should see this guys, Jackie is being escorted onwards to her escape,” Frick laughed.
“You are a natural, Jackie,” Wick added.
“She is a highborn natural, and I think she has earned to be called Jax now,” Armond appended. “See you all in three days.”
A cab rolled up, its team of domesticated Griffins snapping at their leads. The driver nodded at the teller, and Mrs. Rowlson gently helped Jax into the cab. “Take her wherever she wants. Here is a handful, keep the change.”
“Thank you,” Jax whimpered.
“Be safe, dear.”
“Oh my gods,” Frick was gasping for air, he was laughing so hard.
“You stupid Sylvan, get out of there,” Armond admonished, sounding like a disappointed father.
“I am, I am. Too good to miss. On my way.”
The cab rolled forward, and Jax picked a random location from her memory, calling it through the driver window. “Crusher and Tully Street, please.”
She leaned back in the seat, feeling the fabric under her hands, her clothing feeling clammy and tight across her back. The bag was nestled in her lap, the buckles gleaming brightly against the dark leather. She ran her hand across the leather, resisting the urge open the bag here, in the cab, to see what had was the impetus for the greatest bank robbery that Mercadian Central Bank had yet to fathom.
But she resisted. It could wait until she was off the street. And first, she could pull the damn earwig out, then maybe get into some warm clothes. After that…
What to do for three days? She felt a tingle under her fingers, but thought nothing of it.
It was probably just nerves.