Age of Paranoia

In an age of paranoia, children played unsupervised.  

Sun glinted off the various apparatuses in a playground filled with young humans.  The only adults in sight were two men, two very bad men.  Their names were Charles Gravesen and his associate, Hundred.

Often, Charles had wondered why his new partner was named that.  His first theory developed when he saw Hundred’s face, which was covered in plenty of neat self-inflicted scars made with a blade.  These scars were indeed numerous, but Charles doubted if there were indeed a hundred, unless there was more yet unseen.

The two men strolled under the warming Sun and through the playground, barely even noticing the children’s presence.  They moved directly for a high rise of flats ahead, there was no time to be distracted when there was a job to be completed.

With their pace never once slowing down or speeding up, they soon arrived at the door they wished.  Hundred took out his gun and said, “Let’s make this fast.”

Charles was about to knock when Hundred stopped him and said, “What you doing?  I said fast,” before easily kicking the cheap door open and rushing inside.

Charles chased after him, trying to keep up as Hundred stopped in a dingy living room where a woman had been sitting on a settee, watching television.  She jumped up from the sound of her door being kicked in and held up her hands at the sight of the guns.

“What do you want?” she cried out.  “I don’t have anything worth stealing.”

“Shut up please,” Hundred said before hitting her with his gun, knocking her back down onto the sofa.  “Mr. Geisler owns this territory and you’ve not been paying him his share.  It doesn’t matter how little you sell.  If you are not licensed by Geisler, you get punished.”

“But I lost my job,” she protested.  “I needed money for my son.”

“Be quiet please,” Hundred said.  “Now let’s play a game.”

Hundred took one of her hands and laid it flat on the coffee table.  She made a poor attempt to struggle but Hundred was stronger than he looked.  “Come here,” he said, pulling her hand back into place.  He then placed his own hand over hers and switched the gun in his other hand with a knife.

“What happened to fast?” Charles said.

“I changed my mind,” Hundred said, not looking away from the woman.  “Don’t worry, I’m very good at this.”

Hundred then proceeded to stab his knife in each of the voids between their fingers, accelerating more and more as he moved up and down, back and forth, causing the woman’s heartbeat to increase at a similar rate.

Eventually, when Hundred was missing their fingers just about as fast as he could, he came to a sudden halt and the woman stopped holding her breath.

“See?” Hundred said.  “Nothing to worry about.”

Hundred then stabbed through his own hand and into hers, forcing a cry of pain from the woman while Hundred just smiled at her expression of agony.

“It’s interesting to go through the exact same experience as another human,” Hundred said calmly.  “It’s almost…spiritual,” he said as he twisted the knife, causing them to feel the exact same pain but only the woman screamed, Hundred just continued to smile, as if gaining pleasure from both his own pain and the pain of this woman.

Hundred pulled the knife out of their jointly impaled hands and the woman withdrew back onto the settee, cradling her wounded hand.

Hundred’s own profusely bleeding hand didn’t seem to bother him.  All he did was turn back to her and said, “Playtime’s over.”

“No, wait!” she managed to say before Hundred shot her in the chest.  As her lifeless body fell back down onto the couch, he said to Charles, “Let’s go.”

“Hundred?” Charles said, directing his attention to back in front of him, where a terrified boy stood by the kitchen door.

Hundred spotted the shaking child and slowly approached him.  “Hello little man, I guess you’re the son,” he said before turning back to Charles.  “Hey Charles?  A little lesson.  The secret to longevity in this business is never leaving anyone wanting revenge.”

As Hundred shot the boy in the head, Charles looked away.

***

Another time, another place, but with the same company, Charles sat in the back of a van opposite Hundred.

“Don’t we need more guys for this?” Charles asked.

“We say that and Geisler will think we’re incompetent,” Hundred said.  “Now grab your gear.”

The pair then put on their ski masks, grabbed their bags and readied their weapons.

In the bank round the corner, smiling tellers were handling the long lines of customers when Charles and Hundred rushed through the doors.  Charles fired a round in the air and Hundred shouted, “Everyone down!”

The panicked customers instinctively hit the floor as Hundred headed for the tellers and simply stated his wishes.  “Money.  Now.”

With Hundred shoving fistfuls of cash into his bag, Charles quietly stepped over the bank customers turned hostages, carefully eyeing each one in turn.

“Who’s in charge here?” Charles heard Hundred say behind him.

The bank manager bravely raised a hand, causing Hundred to immediately grab him by the shirt, dragging him along while saying, “Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” Charles asked calmly.

“The vault,” Hundred replied, still pulling the manager along.

“Don’t,” Charles said.  “There’s only two of us.  Geisler said just go for the cash drawers.”

“He’s not here,” Hundred said.  “We are.  Let’s get what we want and leave the petty cash for him.”

Hundred disappeared with the manager and Charles returned to looking after the customers.  “Idiot,” one of the hostages thought he could hear the robber above him mutter.

The hostages continued to whimper below him as Charles calmly paced back and forth while waiting for his partner.

“Hundred!” he called out to him.  “How things going back there?”  There was no response, prompting a concerned Charles to round the corner and see Hundred pointing a gun at the kneeling manager in front of the vault.

“Open it!” Hundred ordered him.

“I told you, I can’t,” the manager tried to explain.  “There’s a time release lock, it’s impossible.”

“Problems?” Charles couldn’t help but smirk as he said it.

“Of course not,” Hundred snapped.  “Just gotta convince this fool that his life is more important.”

Charles turned and headed back out to the floor, where he saw a blockade of police vehicles outside the bank through the transparent walls.

“Of course,” Charles whispered to himself before shouting, “Hundred!”

Hundred instantly appeared and said irritably, “What?” before spotting the police.  “That was fast.”

“Someone tripped an alarm,” Charles put forth the most likely reason.

Hundred turned to the row of tellers and said, “Is that true?” before running up and down the line in a panic, eyeing each one with suspicion.

Outside the bank under siege by police, a negotiator knelt behind one of the cars with a loud hailer.

“Surrender now and you’ll be dealt with leniently,” Charles and Hundred heard him say.

Hundred paced up and down the bank, beginning to panic further and holding his hands to his head as if he had a headache.

“You heard him, let’s go,” Charles said behind him.

“Are you an idiot?” Hundred said.  “Screw that, coward!  No, we need to stop them storming the place.”  Hundred desperately searched his mind for a plan before a pregnant woman among the hostages caught his eye.  “I’ve got an idea.”

He strolled over to her sitting by the counter and lifted the woman to her feet, before marching her over to the window and pushed her against it.

“Hundred?” Charles said.  “What are you doing?”

“They don’t believe what we’ll do if they try to come,” Hundred ranted.  “We need to prove our resolve.”  Hundred then pointed his gun at her head and told her, “Wave to the police…do it!”

From the police blockade, the negotiator saw the woman wave from inside the bank and said, “Oh my god, he’s gonna kill her.”

Hundred pressed the gun firmly to her head and everyone, both outside and inside the bank, heard the gunshot just before…Hundred fell down dead.

The unharmed pregnant woman opened her eyes to look over at Charles; his freshly fired gun still raised.

Charles slowly lowered his weapon while staring at Hundred’s corpse, before sighing and taking off his mask, letting it drop to the floor.

“That was a gunshot,” the negotiator said outside.  “What happened?”

“Should we go in?” a nearby officer asked.

“Yes, let’s…” he began before seeing something.  “Wait, someone’s coming out.”

As Charles exited the bank, the negotiator raised the loud hailer to his lips and said, “Put down your weapon and lie face down immediately!”

Charles sedately walked forwards as the policemen all around shouted for him to drop his gun.

“Drop the gun!” one ordered.  “Do it!  Do it now!”

Charles casually tossed the pistol aside and got on his knees with his hands behind his head, before easing himself to the ground and laying his hands flat.

Two police officers then approached cautiously and arrested the non-resistant Charles.  As they picked him up, they saw that his face was smiling slightly.