Streetlights flashed by as Harry pulled his black beanie over his balding head. Marv gave him a sideways glance as he drove the van.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Don’t you think we're getting too old for this kinda thing?”
“One more,” Harry snapped. “No more home burglaries. We do this one big job and we’re out.”
“This is a really big deal, Harry. If we get caught-”
“Shut up, Marv. We have some new toys to get this done. Stop worrying and drive.”
Marv listened to Harry as he drove down the empty streets. They rounded a corner and the massive bank loomed in front of them.
“There it is,” Harry said. “Pull around back.”
Marv crept the white van down a narrow alley to the rear of the building. Harry hopped out and opened the sliding door. He tossed one duffle bag to Marv and he caught it with an oof. Harry slung the smaller one over his shoulder and the two crept to the back door.
“The drill,” Harry whispered.
Marv dug into his duffle bag and pulled the power tool out. Harry snatched it from him and began to drill into the rivets on the steel plate around the keypad. Once the plate was free, Harry pulled it down away from the door, exposing wires behind the keypad. Marv watched as Harry sniped and stripped several wires and twisted them together. Then finally, he touched two together and the door clicked open with a spark.
Marv smiled and was about to push the door open when Harry caught his hand.
Harry slowly and steadily opened the door just enough to slip his arm through the crack. He pulled a device from his small duffle. It looked like a keycard but several wires trailed from the back of it.
Harry snaked his arm through the gap, felt around for a moment, and inserted the keycard into a slot on the other side of the wall. He brought his hand back and pulled a tablet from the bag that was attached to the other end of those wires. Marv gawked as Harry tapped away on the tablet.
“What are you doing?” Marv asked.
“Deactivating the motion sensors.”
The tablet beeped and a message flashed across the display. “Motion sensors deactivated.”
Harry pushed the door open and they stepped into the rear entry. Harry threw a hand across Marv’s path to keep him from walking any further. He pointed up and Marv’s eyes followed. A single-camera faced in toward the bank. If they walked any further they would get caught on it.
“Do you have a special device for that?” Marv asked. “Maybe loop the feed so it was like we were never here.”
Harry dug around in his duffle bag and pulled out a can of black spray paint. Marv gave him a stupid look.
“Nobody is watching the feed, dummy,” he said, shoving the can into his hands. “Loop the feed? What is this? A movie? Use your long arms to black that lense out.”
Marv sprayed the lens and they continued into the bank. They rounded a corner and there it was. The vault looked marvelous. A wide grin stretched across Marv’s face as he pulled the drill out again. Harry smacked him in the back of his head.
“We can’t get through that with a little drill, stupid.”
“Then what?” Marv asked, rubbing the back of his head. “Did you bring explosives?”
“The manager keeps a key in his office,” Harry said. “I told you I cased this place, didn’t I? Upstairs.”
The burglars crept through the bank, Marv spraying camera lenses. Then, Marv’s feet flew out from under him and he was laid out flat in mid-air before he came crashing down on his back. He gasped for air as he suffered on the ground. Marv had slipped on something. Harry saw dozens of little, colorful things scattered across the floor. He bent over and picked one up, inspecting it in the beam of his flashlight.
“Harry,” Marv croaked.
“Shut up,” Marv said, returning his attention to the tiny truck. Micro Machines. “Get up. Someone’s kid must have left their toys laying around.”
After several attempts, Marv was back on his feet, hunched over and holding his lower back. Harry smacked Marv’s chest and pointed to the stairs. They carefully crept up each step, keeping an eye out for cameras they may have missed. When they were halfway up, something came flying down at them from above and hit Marv in the face with a loud thump. The lanky burglar flew all the way back down the stairs and once again landed on his back.
A gallon can of paint dangled from a rope where Marv had been standing.
“C’mon. Quit messin’ around,” Harry hissed. “Someone must have been repainting something up there.”
Harry squinted into the dark at the top of the stairs as another can of paint flew at him. No time to dodge it. It struck him in the face and he flew down the stairs just as Marv had.
“Harry,” Marv squeaked, looking over at him.
Harry gasped for air and as soon as he had the breath, a stream of expletives escaped his mouth.
“Frizzle fricka fraz! Fiz isssa phazle-”
Marv got up with some effort while Harry continued.
“Harry,” he said. “Do you think this could be-”
“No,” Harry spat. “What are the chances? Help me up.”
They get up and brush themselves off. Marv stared at the two cans of paint dangling on the stairs for a moment and a sharp sense of dread filled him. What are the chances it’s him? What are the chances something like this could happen without him?
Harry shoved Marv to the stairs and they begin the climb again, extra caution this time. There was a long landing at the top of the stairs with a men’s and women’s bathroom. Doors on either side of the landing probably led to offices.
“This way,” Harry said, pointing to the door on the left. “Through this door, down a hallway, last door on the right. That’s the manager’s office.”
Marv gripped the doorknob and it felt frozen at first, then he smelled something burning. When a sizzling noise reached his ears, he realized the doorknob was burning his hand. He pulled it away, but it was too late. His palm was scorched. He screamed and ran into the bathroom, plunging his hand into the first toilet. The cold water did little to soothe the lancing pain that shot up his arm.
Harry pulled his sleeve down over his hand and used it as an oven mitten to turn the knob. The door clicked open and he gave it a little nudge, peeking inside. He felt a little tension on the door. Must be old hinges. He pushed a little harder and heard another click and then a sound like rushing air. He noticed a series of pullies and lines attached to the top of the door and his head grew hotter and hotter for some reason. Then he noticed the lines leading to the trigger on a blow torch at the top of the door and he realized his head was on fire.
He ran into the bathroom and shoved Marv out of the way, diving into the toilet bowl head first. Once the fire was out, he sat back on his heels and gingerly touched the scorched remains of his scalp.
“It’s him,” Marv said. “The kid. He’s here.”
Harry wanted to deny it, but even he was quickly getting convinced. Then the intercom crackled and screeched. A familiar voice echoed through the building.
“You have to the count of ten to get your liein’, yella, no-good keister off my property before I pump your guts full of lead.”
Marv cowered next to the toilet. Harry tried to pull him away.
“One. Two. Ten.”
Sharp cracks and flashes of light filled the bathroom. Harry crouched down on the other side of the toilet and covered his ears. Ominous laughter filled the building. The loud popping and cracking continued for several seconds. When they finally stopped, the voice came back.
“Keep the change, you filthy animal.”
Finally, Harry ventured from the stall and searched the bathroom with his flashlight. On the floor, he found scorch marks and little wisps of red paper.
“Firecrackers,” Harry said. “See. Someone’s messin’ with us.”
“Not someone,” Marv sniveled. “Him.”
Harry growled and pulled a snub nose revolver from his belt.
“Well, he ain’t bulletproof.”
Harry charged onto the landing and kicked the door open. The blowtorch and heating coil clattered onto the floor.
“We know your here, kid,” Harry announced. “I got somethin’ for ya.”
Harry stormed down the hallway to the last door on the right, a name in gold lettering scrolled across it. Kevin McCallister, Bank Manager.
Then he heard a small squeak. He looked down and the mail slot was open, something long and black poking through it. Harry stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what it was. Then he realized it was a BB gun barrel pointed directly at his crotch.
“Hello,” a voice from inside the office said.
Then blinding pain radiated from Harry’s groin and he went down, gun spinning across the floor. Harry gripped himself with both hands as he writhed on his back, doubled over in pain.
“Frizzle fricka fraz! Fiz isssa phazle-”
The office door opened and Harry watched someone walk out through blurred vision, but there was nothing he could do. The person scooped up the revolver and Harry’s vision cleared. The kid stood over him, all grown up. Kevin thumbed the hammer on the revolver.
“Now where did Marv get to?”
The kid picked up his right foot, drove his heel down across Harry’s chin and all went black.
Writing prompt is courtesy of u/casualfreeguy on r/writingprompts.
"You and your gang are about to rob a bank owned and operated by some guy named Kevin McCallister. It should be a quick and easy job."
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