Cara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wrongkindofsith) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2014-07-14 01:02 pm
wrongkindofsith) wrote in fandomtownies2014-07-14 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
The Corner of Loon and Unicorn, Sunday Evening
It was a pleasant evening, as these things went. The darkness was murky as opposed to Stygian, the constant rain was closer to a light summer drizzle than to bone-numbing sleet. Even the ever present saxophone music was almost soothing compared to its usual forlorn and foreboding range.
Tucked between Satriale's Pork and the Chilly Boulder, across from the Movie Sign Theater 3000, running the latest talkies every evening with weekend matinees, was the First National Bank of Fandom Town. A busy temple to capitalism during the week, today it stood a silent monolith. Silent until a muffled roar deep within the building, like someone had just used powerful explosives on the tons of concrete and steel that made up the vault door, shook it to its very foundations.
Some minutes thereafter, as the bank's alarms began a belated ringing, a pair of black clad figures, hat brims pulled down low over kerchief covered faces, emerged from the bank's front doors. Toting Tommy Guns and hauling heavy duffels, they dove into a waiting rickshaw, urging the driver to get the lead out before they'd need a doctor to.
[ooc: Cara and Surreal have just robbed the bank and are rickshawing into the night at high speed. Feel free to react as they're taking an escape route that covers most the island to throw off the fuzz.]
Tucked between Satriale's Pork and the Chilly Boulder, across from the Movie Sign Theater 3000, running the latest talkies every evening with weekend matinees, was the First National Bank of Fandom Town. A busy temple to capitalism during the week, today it stood a silent monolith. Silent until a muffled roar deep within the building, like someone had just used powerful explosives on the tons of concrete and steel that made up the vault door, shook it to its very foundations.
Some minutes thereafter, as the bank's alarms began a belated ringing, a pair of black clad figures, hat brims pulled down low over kerchief covered faces, emerged from the bank's front doors. Toting Tommy Guns and hauling heavy duffels, they dove into a waiting rickshaw, urging the driver to get the lead out before they'd need a doctor to.
[ooc: Cara and Surreal have just robbed the bank and are rickshawing into the night at high speed. Feel free to react as they're taking an escape route that covers most the island to throw off the fuzz.]
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Surreal waited until they'd rounded a corner and no one was in sight before taking off her hat and kerchief, and starting to strip right there in the rickshaw to change into something non-black from the trunk. "Keep your gloves on, and start transferring the money into the trunk," she hissed, shoving the incriminating black garb out of the way. "Then get changed, and we'll burn the bank bags with the clothes in them, to throw them off our track. We won't have the outfits they're looking for, see?"
Surreal wasn't worried about the rickshaw driver identifying them. She'd take care of that later.
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"Then we're just two girls having one last night out on the town before we blow this joint."
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Paris sounded so romantic, apparently the sun even shone there. "I hear Chicago's even more crooked than this town."