A job gone wrong and a friend in need
“You all set?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
Chicacolt. The windy city. On the west coast of Equestria. Nice place to be. Busy streets, constant flow of traffic, pretty much run by technology and firms like ctOS. Overall? Safe, secure, welcoming.
But there are some people who hate the restrictions. They hate ctOS and what it’s done. They believe that it makes the citizens mindless, controlling every detail. Some suffer in silence. Others take more extreme actions. And some just outsmart the system.
Vinyl Scratch and her friends fall into the third category. They know all the tricks, they have hacked the system all over the city, they are better than the system. They are thieves, taking what they want simply to prove to the people that ctOS is a waste of money. They’ve taken from jewellery stores, art galleries, banks, museums, and even ctOS headquarters, all operations under the grid.
But now they have one final job. One job to top them all. Enough that ctOS will hunt them down for the rest of their lives if they survive. The Union Depository. Though this would be harder than it would have been 3 months ago. Another successful heist on a Union Depository in LA has increased the security, and ctOS were more than happy to provide.
“Alright, you in Doc?”
“Gimme a minute. Just getting past their firewalls… aaaaannnd…… we’re in ladies. Mission is a go.”
Vinyl crouched down at the shutters of the underground entrance, behind her lay the two unconscious bodies of the night guard. She placed a small charge, designed to blow the doors off, but no more.
She pressed two fingers to her earpiece. “Charges set.”
A white van pulled around the corner and stopped in front of Vinyl. Vinyl dragged the two bodies around to the back of the van, opening the doors to see her crew: Octavia, Lyra, Bonbon, Derpy, and Doc. She chucked the bodies inside, then allowed her team, minus Doc, to clamber outside. They all wore specialist equipment: black lycra suits with pockets containing any and all hardware they would need, large carbine rifles, and sidearms tucked into belts.
Doc closed the van doors and climbed into the cab, before driving to a rendez-vous point two blocks south.
“You all set?” Vinyl asked.
“Yeah.” Came the affirmative reply of the group.
“Let’s go.” She pulled out a trigger for the bomb. “Doc, the alarms off yet?”
“Yes.”
She squeezed the trigger, and the bomb exploded, shattering the shutters, and crumbling the concrete walls around it.
“You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!” Came Lyra, ever the pessimist of the group.
The ran inside as fast as they could. As they ran, they shot countless guards, not stopping until they reached the doors. “Okay, we’ve only got about a minute before someone dials it in, and a further two for the response time. Doc’s bringing the escape cars round front. Two of you will take those. The rest of us go two blocks south to meet with Doc. Clear?” Vinyl repeated the briefing from earlier. She received nods all around.
“Doc? Mind opening the door?” Vinyl said as they approached a large iron set of doors, controlled remotely by a desk guy.
After a couple of seconds, the door slowly creaked open, allowing the group inside.
They quickly grabbed as much gold as they could and dumped it all on a trolley, which they would all push outside to the cars and unload.
They were ready to go in less than a minute, and ran with the trolley to the waiting cars, two powerful Ford Mustangs with custom kits to give more room for the gold and to allow the cars to actually carry the weight.
Derpy and Octavia got in the cars and sped off, leaving Vinyl, Lyra, and BonBon to run two blocks south.
Only, they never got that far. The police were alerted faster than what they thought.
“Guys, I’m getting a lot of chatter on the scanner. They know what we just pulled.” Doc all but screamed into the earpiece.
“Shit.” Vinyl barked.
Just as soon, three police cars skidded to a halt on the road, and officers poured out onto the street. The three girls stood their ground, taking cover behind cars, occasionally jumping up to shoot at the police officers on the scene.
“Guys, we need to make a break for it!” Vinyl shouted. They nodded back, so they all stood up and ran, shooting behind them.
Just then, BonBon took a hit to the leg, and she stumbled into the arms of Lyra.
“Ly-” She was cut off as her head practically exploded from the the power of a bullet, spattering Lyra in bits of brain matter.
“BONNIE!” She screamed tearfully, taking up arms against the officers, slaughtering them with her rage-fueled accuracy, leaving them no time to recover.
“We have to go!” Vinyl shouted, shooting at the officers.
Lyra ignored her, keen on killing every last officer, even if it meant her own death.
“LYRA!”
Lyra reluctantly turned and ran, jumping into the back of the van while Vinyl took the helm.
They drove off, leaving the police in the dirt.
“Where’s BonBon!?” Doc screamed in worry.
“She’s gone!” Vinyl shouted back, whilst Lyra sat on the floor and cried.
“Damn.” Doc uttered, covering his face with his hand, as the van sped away from the scene. “We still get the money?”
“Yeah.” Vinyl responded solemnly.
“Right, let’s regroup at base. We need to assess the situation, and most likely fade into the background, lead normal lives away from each other. We still need a form of communication if something happens, but otherwise no contact. Time to go into hiding.”
3 years later…
“Welcome, guys and gals, to radio P0n-3, home of sick beats and the best DJ this side of Equus. Here to start off your workday, let’s kick it up with Eiffel65 with their old hit ‘Blue’”
Yo, listen up here’s a story…
Sitting in the recording studio of P0n-3 radio with her feet on the panel was Vinyl Scratch, hostess of the station, semi-famous DJ, and ex-thief. She wore an off-white tank top, skinny jeans, and heavy black boots, giving off the impression of a tough, tomboyish woman.
Just as the song started and the ‘on air’ sign blinked off, the station producer walked into the room.
“Got some more news for you to read after this song.” came his surprisingly deep voice.
“Lemme guess, the vigilante again?”
“Yup. Sorry V, it’s what the peeps wanna know.”
“S’alright Neon, give it here.”
“Thanks V. Catch ya at lunch.”
With that, he left the room, just as the song ended.
Vinyl cleared her throat as the ‘on air’ sign came on again.
“Hello once again! We have some breaking news now regarding the vigilante. Sorry to bore ya with this.
“Last night, at the apartment complex Rossi-Fremont, several dead bodies have been found, all belonging to members of the gang ‘The Black Viceroys’ who have had a vice-like grip on the citizenship and law enforcement in the area. Amongst the bodies was that of gang leader Delford ‘Iraq’ Wade. Police and eyewitness reports place the vigilante Aiden Pierce at the scene as well as an unknown sniper. At the scene, several databanks amassing to a 30 terabyte storage system containing information on knon suspects and crimes, as well as blackmail on several law enforcement officers. Detectives are still looking into the case.
“Okay, now we got the boring stuff done with, let’s tear it down with The Killers and ‘Runaways’ from their album ‘Battleborn’.”
With that, the ‘on air’ sign turned off. “Today’s, gonna be a busy day. I just know it.” Vinyl uttered beneath her breath.
Vinyl stumbled through the door of her modest house in the suburbs. She picked up the mail and sat on her armchair in the living room.
“Let’s see. Bills, bills, junk, bills….” She said as she sifted through her mail.
But, just before the last letter, there lay a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it curiously, not usually receiving notes in this way. Her eyes widened in shock as she read.
Greetings, Vinyl. I hope you’re well. You should be after that big union depository score three years ago. Not your best work, I have to say, relying mostly on brute force. Shame about Sweetie Drops.
I have a job for you. A big one. At least, enough to make me rich. But I need you and your group.
If you refuse, well, I know where you and your friends live, and I can assure you that you will not be able to defeat me.
You’ll have to acquire your own equipment by your own means. Contact me on this number: 555 079630. Do not contact the police.
You have 24 hours to respond. I expect the job to be complete by the end of the month.
Vinyl glared at the paper.
“Fuck.”
She grabbed her house phone and dialed a number she knew off by heart. “You have reached the office of Dr. Time Turner. Press one to call his office. To pass on a message, press two. To-*beep*” Was the voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Doctor Turner speaking.”
“Hey Doc. We need to get the group back together…”
