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    The Bank Heist

    by , 03-02-2012 at 02:39 PM (494 Views)
    Last night I had a dream that I was in a 20 person bank robbery for the final amount of hopefully $1,000,000. The reason for this was that we were trying to stabilize orphanages in the area. One of the characters, who reminded me of Drew Bailey, had taken on leadership for our team without much resistance. He was a strong guy. I'm a support, not a leader.

    We had already gotten control of the money and now had hostages. We were trying to find a way back outwards of the bank.

    He provided cases of weapons. I took a large one handed revolver, some sort of weird sci-fi automatic energy rifle (that did exactly nothing to everyone), and an RPG. As we went up the first stair case, there were some glass doors with police cars lined up outside. The leader-guy looked at me and said, “Are you ready for the first strike?”

    He threw open the door and I jumped back and shot the rocket launcher out, but it went over the cars and passed them, and he slammed the door and shook his head. I was going to have to do better than that if we wanted to win this.

    We headed to the right into a lobby, where we proceeded to look for places to settle in. A few times we pushed the police back and off the property with our various weapons. Among our team were some different people. A tenacious, ginger Irish girl with many freckles, that aforementioned leader-character, and even Brooks. There seemed to be someone of every nationality in the dream.

    As we pushed back the police, I began to run out of ammo and ran back to get some more from the cases and bring back to everybody. As I ran a girl called to me, “Hey!”

    I kept running and didn't take note of her other than the fact that she had blonde hair and blue eyes. After a bit I came back and continued into the fray.

    At one part the Irish girl took some of the people with her down some stairs and later came back up hoping to regroup in the main room. About this time, a super muscular guy came in through the front door. Many shots were fired and his body mass deflected them. Suddenly, I said aloud, “Let's confuse him!”

    I meant by scrambling about the room looking for hiding spots. Unfortunately, as soon as I did this, a blue glow began emanating from the man's head. He was reading our minds.

    I immediately said to the person beside me, “Let's think opposite things!”

    “Why?” he replied.

    I looked at him severely, “I don't know! It always works in comics!”

    We began to think about all kinds of things, but none of them the opposite. Small mammals and cakes. Watermelon. The man just stared at us and took in all that we thought of. At one point, the other guy thought of some 80's song that at one point said, “Lay down. . .” and I thought of that metal song, “Lay Down” that I heard in Guitar Hero III that one time.

    So I thought of that song, and before long our villain was singing loudly and listening to everything we thought of, and so I thought he should now go and give every person in the world a hand-shake. He promptly set out to doing this and began shaking the hands of the police in the crowd.

    We had a small break, and the civilians had now begun to form a wall. There was a wall of police who had now simply given up, waiting for the next big baddy, and then a wall of civilians in the grass. Our intention was to show the police that if they wanted to leave, they may. But they did not. They believed in our cause.

    Then there was us, behind the civilians.

    After a bit, a short German woman came riding up the hill, with slick black hair. She spoke with a heavy German accent and was riding along on a small motorized vehicle beside a big black box. We crouched and prepared, and took aim. She raised her hand and said, “Relax. It's one of your own skins.”

    She opened the box and inside lay the ginger-headed Irish girl. I remained skeptical at a distance, while the others crowded to say things to her. That same blonde haired girl looked at me from the box and turned to our leader and said, “Look at him. He doesn't even care. He's a traitor. If he hadn't run away earlier, this wouldn't have happened.”

    He looked back at her and replied, harshly, “He didn't run away. He ran to get ammo. Earlier, when you ran out of ammo and I tossed you a mag when that SWAT fella was right on top of you? That mag came from him. He resupplied us.”

    She looked at me, ever watchful and ever doubtful of my intentions. The German lady still watched with an maudlin stare. I wondered what she was up to, but the girl asked me to at least come say a few words to the Irish girl. So I walked over, looked at the German woman, and then put my hand down on the Irish girl's head from above, and then down to her shoulder. “You were brave. You did what you had to do, and you didn't give up. You died for this cause, and that death won't be pointless. We'll win this for yo-” and at this point, the ginger's green eyes began to flutter.

    I looked at the German lady, and she immediately pull out a knife and began swinging towards me, and I jumped away from the first one. As she came around for a second glance, the knife was shot out of her hand and her hand began to bleed. She screamed and looked at us, admitting loudly that she wasn't here to get us. She was a policewoman who had been set up to this. She didn't really believe we were evil. She was just doing her job.

    We pulled her from her vehicle and placed her among the civilians where she began to cry, quietly. One of the other civilians tried to talk to her. Once she sat down, the Irish girl sat up. She was completely naked at this point, for some reason. I was sitting on the curb and looked towards her to see this, then quickly away and started conversation with the person to my right, attempting to just pretend I hadn't just learned of the Irish girl's clear disclosure policy.

    After a bit of sitting around doing nothing, I found myself in a conversation with an African American man in his mid 30's, and he was with his small daughter of maybe 4. The man was sitting on the back of a truck, leaning against the door-flap, and playing with his daughter. She was on the ground below.

    He said, “Honey, what was that thing you always got at McDonalds you never wanted me to tell anyone?” and he smiled. I knew that he was just playing around with her to help relieve the fact that it was such a stressful time.

    She shook her head and smiled back?

    He continued, “What was it? Come on, let's tell the nice people! They'll think it's funny!”

    She giggled and still shook her head.

    About this time, another African American man in the background came by standing in a Volkswagen sort of van, and he had a woman with him. He was waving to us and the civilians and I got the impression he was some big celebrity. He had this huge white grin and these huge white sunglasses. I figured he might just be passing by to try and cool tensions. He was much loved, so maybe we would all calm if we saw someone we trusted.

    As he passed, time began to slow down. I saw it coming and didn't have time to react. He reached below him and pulled out a pistol, and when he raised up, shot the father playing with his daughter directly in the back. Blood flew out and the daughter screamed, and I grabbed her and placed her back a bit and went over to help the father. I tried to talk to him, but he was gone before I got there. I figured maybe the shot went through something pretty important, but I'm no medical expert.

    I ran over and grabbed the cart that the before unconscious Irish girl was in and pushed it towards the van that had now stopped. I pushed it while leaning on it with my elbow and occasionally raised up for a few shots and hid back down. The man now pulled out a machine gun and was mowing down my cart, while I hid behind it and pushed towards him.

    As I got close to the cart, I dropped to the ground and crawled around to the side door. I shoved it open and jumped in, then went through another door towards the front. Directly after, the girl who was present raised a gun and started to shoot back, and I immediately shot her between the eyes and killed her. She slumped over into the celebrity man's arms. He looked at me daftly. “Did you just shoot her?” he asked.

    “Yes.”

    “She was a hostage!”

    I cringed even though I had immediate aim on the man.

    “Now that's funny.” he said, with a golden tooth showing through in his smile.

    He raised up and smacked my pistol to the side and I backed through the door as a shot was fired through it. I went to the edge and hung out the side of the van by an arm as shots came through, then reached back in and fired back a few rounds.

    That's when I woke up. And it was getting so interesting, too!

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