The Night before the Robbery
The Year is 1902
The Night before the Robbery
The six lawmen sat huddled around the poker table, each desperately waiting for his enemies’ next move. The players included Sheriff William “Red” Erhart, Deputy, the man who held the entire town apart, Alexander “The General” Funk, a foul but overall jolly man, Ivan Arkov, a polite figure who had recently joined the force, and Kalbim, a shy but sly gentleman who used to be a sheriff in a different county. Each officer was patiently waiting for their winnings to be counted. Funk had won the game, but that didn’t mean the others didn’t get any winnings.
On the other side of the room sat Kelly and Pat, who were sharing a drink together. Sheriff Erhart sat alone a few seats away, drinking his worries away. It was his last night before the election of a new sheriff. The favour was in his opponent’s, Humphrey Bogart. Why? He had money, and that was what this town needed. However, he was a greedy, sleazy, selfish bastard.
But the real thing this town needed was a hero, someone who could run it without once thinking of financial issues or own personal gain. Erhart fitted into all of these categories, but how could he show the people that? Bogart had something to present to the town. Erhart didn’t. He sighed, set down his whiskey, and left the tavern with Peachew, who insisted everyone call him ‘Lord’ and he be included in the highest of society. He hadn’t a drink that night, and was probably the only sober one there.
They’d all need drinks when Humphrey won the election tomorrow.
Jackson Grey was no stranger to the city of Brimstone. He had robbed every bank outside the town within a five mile radius. He was planning a hit on a newly erected bank in the center of the town, supposedly one of the biggest ever built, with his gang, generically named “The Outlaws”. Everyone knew about The Outlaws. They were the most successful gang in the entire state of Texas, with over 16 banks, 4 jewelry stores, 2 trains, and even a police station robbed. Money wasn’t the reason Jackson was robbing Brimstone’s bank, though. He has a personal grudge against the town’s Sheriff, William Erhart. Years earlier, Jackson was in another gang that he was recruited into early in his life. They attempted to rob Brimstone’s earlier bank but failed miserably when another gang member backed out of the heist, leaving them short of a full crew. Jackson was the sole survivor of the heist and was put behind bars by Erhart for 10 years. The heist tomorrow would not only have them set for life, but also show Erhart that The Outlaws are not people you’d want to mess with. Oh, and Sheriff Erhart would be out of office tomorrow. How low the mighty have fallen. With luck, he would also die on the same date. Grey wished to kill Erhart himself, and then disappear.
He reached the tent a minute later. Inside was his crew, looking over blueprints of the place, as well as subterranean ventilation systems, pipes, and wiring. ‘Tactical Genius’, one of Grey’s right-hand men, looked up from the documents and greeted the leader. He was a slim, shady man with a dark sense of humour. He never showed any emotion no matter what. Nobody knew his real name besides a select few in his own personal inner circle. He also had a sexy moustache. Tac handed Jackson a dossier with documents inside including a copy of the blueprints and a full description of the place. It had been cased earlier that day by Norman Matthew’s, one of the more intelligent gang members. Even better, he didn’t stand out in a crowd, and as such, he was perfect for the job.
Jackson slipped the folder into a secluded pocket on the inside of his jacket and checked how the rest of the crew was doing.
Buffalo Bill, a fat, racist hillbilly, was inspecting the crew’s munitions and firearms and making sure they were cleaned and ready for the heist. The gang preferred stealth over anything, but nothing like a good Plan B in case things go south. This was where the weapons came in.
Rummu Jüri was constructing makeshift bombs, next to an open canister of whiskey. He liked explosives. And whiskey. Pretty much any type of alcohol. He was a technician of sorts. If the gang needed to get past a wall? Turn your head the other direction for a second and this guy will be standing in the debris you didn’t notice a second ago.
Edna Lookeye was the whore in the group. There wasn’t a single person in the room who hadn’t fucked her at least once. Despite this, though, she always remained serious and ready in a second. Just don’t piss her off.
Edward Gloriana, Andrew Chrome, and Hank (he had a last name, but nobody knew it.) were patrolling outside the tent for any rival gangs or cops that might foil their plans to early. They were a mile away from the nearest house in the town, but they didn’t want to take any chances just in case.
Norman Matthews was counting the gang’s money and making sure everything was in order. Of course, it was, thanks to his precision. He never let the group down, despite the fact that he was bipolar. “101, 102, 103, 105, 106, hey, I skipped a number!” He turned around and stared the others in the eyes. “Jokes on you. Norman Matthews never skips numbers.” He went back to counting the gang’s money.
Jackson looked around the tent and figured that the only thing left to do was to rest. It’d been a long day and he needed it badly. He had trouble falling asleep; he couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Erhart’s face when he successfully robbed the biggest bank in the country.
He took off all of his clothes, laid on his bed, and instantly fell asleep.
