He heard Mona say his name after his face stomping session ended. There was no way the guy was getting up, or living to tell the tale. He turned to face Mona, to verify that she was still doing good, but he heard the clank, clank, clank of metal cans bouncing off the bank's tiled floor, followed by booming voices and laser lights sweeping the place. Gideon knew what that was about, and before the guy could tell them the entire order, he was on the ground. Chest and legs in the blood of two dead bank thieves.
The smoke was filling up the room and he was coughing, trying to get some fresh air, before he turned to look at Mona. "HEY! She's pregnant!" He pointed an arm in Mona's direction, trying to get the attention of a person in tactical gear. "She's ******* pregnant and bleeding, you fucks!" His eyes locked on the redhead who was still close to Mona, wondering who she was and if the two knew the other. Or maybe, it was just the idea of banding together that made them feel 'safe' and confident when dealing with what was going on in the bank at the time.
May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
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Gideon Barnes (DELETED 8781)
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
The Lord prepares my arms for battle, my hands for war.
Be my shield today, be the sword in my hand, as I make my way.
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Doc
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
As much as the RCMP ERT tried, they could not control compliance without more violence. True, it should have been easy to spot the Perps from the innocent. But a clever perp would trade his clothes for those of a hostage and pretend to be an outrage victim. Like the male angrily claiming one of the women was pregnant.
“Then it behooves you to obey orders in an expeditious manner, which will get her out of here faster than if we all have to stand here at a stalemate.”
There had been too much violence to allow the ERT to let the hostages go without a debriefing. While the officer in charge was trying to gain compliance from the irate male, there was the shout of “GUN!” as shot rang out in the lobby area of the bank.
The ERT members tensed, as each ‘hostage’ could be viewed as a possible threat.
When the call came out a moment or two later, “Perp Down and secured!” There was visible relief on the ERT members. (Perp = Romeo)
The officer in charge said through gritted teeth, his voice stern but bitingly polite. “Sir. There has been enough bloodshed for one day. If you will ...please be quiet, this officer will escort the wounded lady to the ambulance.” He looked at the male. “The longer you wait. The longer it will take her to be seen.”
“Then it behooves you to obey orders in an expeditious manner, which will get her out of here faster than if we all have to stand here at a stalemate.”
There had been too much violence to allow the ERT to let the hostages go without a debriefing. While the officer in charge was trying to gain compliance from the irate male, there was the shout of “GUN!” as shot rang out in the lobby area of the bank.
The ERT members tensed, as each ‘hostage’ could be viewed as a possible threat.
When the call came out a moment or two later, “Perp Down and secured!” There was visible relief on the ERT members. (Perp = Romeo)
The officer in charge said through gritted teeth, his voice stern but bitingly polite. “Sir. There has been enough bloodshed for one day. If you will ...please be quiet, this officer will escort the wounded lady to the ambulance.” He looked at the male. “The longer you wait. The longer it will take her to be seen.”
Amalea, Mona, Gideon, Meg ERT processes the scene with no further issue - Failed
Ego correctionis silentio grammatica tua
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Megan (DELETED 9014)
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
Megan cast a glance about the room as a canister bounced across the floor. There were people who were cut out for these types of situations, but she wasn’t one them. She lacked the medical knowledge or life experience to react accordingly; triage was counterintuitive to someone who relied so heavily on hope.
“Keep applying pressure,” she urged the makeshift patient, guiding his hand to his injured side. Whether he’d have enough strength to apply the necessary pressure was debatable, but he was still breathing and responsive, which was more than she could say for others.
There was yelling — but she couldn’t make out the words.
Crawling back to the bank teller as smoke began to fill the room, Megan tentatively pressed her fingers to the woman’s jugular. There was still a pulse.
Grateful, she decided to give her powers another try. She reached for the buttons of the fitted vest—now soaked through—and yanked with urgency. The sewing cracked from the force, granting her access to the bloodied shirt below. With smoke filling the room, there was an added time constraint to work with. Hoisting the collar of her shirt up above her nose, Megan pressed her hands on Helen’s abdomen and closed her eyes as the stinging begun.
Hunching over the fallen teller, the sorceress fought for breath as she withdrew into herself. Applying gentle pressure onto Helen’s wound, she channelled the aspiration of fibrous tendrils weaving about one another, bridging the gap that’d been caused by a bullet. Instinct drew her second hand under the woman’s hip, where blood had soaked into the carpet. It’d been a clean exit wound she’d not noticed earlier, which also meant far more blood loss than anticipated. Yet, she persevered.
Coughing as her throat swelled from the tainted air, Megan didn’t relinquish her hold until the healing tether between both her hands fizzled out, leaving in place woven layers of unscarred tissue. It was as if the bullet had never pierced the flesh, and only the blood and tearing in the fabric of Helen’s shirt would suggest otherwise.
There was another shot—or so she thought. Her eyes snapped open as she searched for the source, only to find herself recoiling at the sharpness of the sting. Pressing her bloodied palms to her eyelids, Megan hunched forward until her forehead hovered over broken glass and plaster-laden carpet. If there was still violence, she wanted no part in it.
Holding her breath, she channelled that same healing energy into herself, only to find it unresponsive. Her magic had served Helen, but failed her. Perhaps it’d be wise for her to make haste and escape this situation before it got worse. Until the smoke cleared, there were few neurones disposed to planning. Coughing once more, she reached for her discarded, bloodied jacket, and buried her face into it like an ostrich sticking its head into the sand, if only long enough to come up with a new plan.
“Keep applying pressure,” she urged the makeshift patient, guiding his hand to his injured side. Whether he’d have enough strength to apply the necessary pressure was debatable, but he was still breathing and responsive, which was more than she could say for others.
There was yelling — but she couldn’t make out the words.
Crawling back to the bank teller as smoke began to fill the room, Megan tentatively pressed her fingers to the woman’s jugular. There was still a pulse.
Grateful, she decided to give her powers another try. She reached for the buttons of the fitted vest—now soaked through—and yanked with urgency. The sewing cracked from the force, granting her access to the bloodied shirt below. With smoke filling the room, there was an added time constraint to work with. Hoisting the collar of her shirt up above her nose, Megan pressed her hands on Helen’s abdomen and closed her eyes as the stinging begun.
Hunching over the fallen teller, the sorceress fought for breath as she withdrew into herself. Applying gentle pressure onto Helen’s wound, she channelled the aspiration of fibrous tendrils weaving about one another, bridging the gap that’d been caused by a bullet. Instinct drew her second hand under the woman’s hip, where blood had soaked into the carpet. It’d been a clean exit wound she’d not noticed earlier, which also meant far more blood loss than anticipated. Yet, she persevered.
Coughing as her throat swelled from the tainted air, Megan didn’t relinquish her hold until the healing tether between both her hands fizzled out, leaving in place woven layers of unscarred tissue. It was as if the bullet had never pierced the flesh, and only the blood and tearing in the fabric of Helen’s shirt would suggest otherwise.
There was another shot—or so she thought. Her eyes snapped open as she searched for the source, only to find herself recoiling at the sharpness of the sting. Pressing her bloodied palms to her eyelids, Megan hunched forward until her forehead hovered over broken glass and plaster-laden carpet. If there was still violence, she wanted no part in it.
Holding her breath, she channelled that same healing energy into herself, only to find it unresponsive. Her magic had served Helen, but failed her. Perhaps it’d be wise for her to make haste and escape this situation before it got worse. Until the smoke cleared, there were few neurones disposed to planning. Coughing once more, she reached for her discarded, bloodied jacket, and buried her face into it like an ostrich sticking its head into the sand, if only long enough to come up with a new plan.
|SIDHE | SWEET BLOOD | SORCERER |
[COLOR=#4DBD33
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Romeo
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
“Weapon type?”
The sound of material being cut is followed by a rush of cold air that makes me wonder who opened a freezer door. I need a jacket but it is a little hard to come by when I am still trying to keep some asswipe from peeling off my clothes. Someone is going to get their fingers broken.
“We get the six units of blood? We need it!” I hear the loud clanking of doors and am feeling someone's fingers in my side digging deeper than anyone needs to. I am trying to get up but I am floated from one spot to another. A voice is barking from the distance and whatever they say is lost in the sounds of machines by me. “I know! She is filling up. Get me a tube. Weapon! What a mess!”
I am trying to answer but before I do some ***** is cutting me off. Who the **** is she? I want names. I was the one shot. And it was a god damned drill going through. I want to grab her by the neck and tell her to shut her pie hole and let me give the details.
“5.56x45 mm. They got someone outside that verified it.”
I feel nauseated. I knew it wasn’t a pellet that ran through me. What the hell. It must be more than that because I hear suctioning and my jaw is jacked open as if I am not supposed to be feeling anything while they handle me. Who the **** gave these idiots the clearance to work on people?
“What?!” The burn on my side is enough that I flinch somewhere because I swear someone is slapping my cheek then pulling on my eyelids.
“You know that is what they are using these days. Cops.” An alarm goes off and something hard is wedged between my lips then holding my mouth open when I try to close it. I groan instead of saying what was really on my mind. “C’mon!” Someone just made my **** list. I feel my teeth jamming against against what is prying them open and the skin on my lips stretches until it finally cracks at the surface. “Romeo. You need to let us help you. This will make it easier to breath. Relax!”
I plan on shoving my fist down the *****’s throat so we both are equally miserable when I start to feel a deep ache in my side by my ribs. Either someone is using a crowbar to widen the space between the bones or I am getting a…
“Chest tube is in!” A movement of the surface beneath leaves no question where I am heading to next.
“She is dropping. Call O.R. We are on the way. Move it!”
The sounds of metal clinking, the rush of cold air flowing over my body, the shifting of voices around me and the panic in each one confirms it. Maybe this isn’t the typical flesh wound. In that case that asshole has some serious explaining to do. I will know his beady little eyes when I find him.
The sound of material being cut is followed by a rush of cold air that makes me wonder who opened a freezer door. I need a jacket but it is a little hard to come by when I am still trying to keep some asswipe from peeling off my clothes. Someone is going to get their fingers broken.
“We get the six units of blood? We need it!” I hear the loud clanking of doors and am feeling someone's fingers in my side digging deeper than anyone needs to. I am trying to get up but I am floated from one spot to another. A voice is barking from the distance and whatever they say is lost in the sounds of machines by me. “I know! She is filling up. Get me a tube. Weapon! What a mess!”
I am trying to answer but before I do some ***** is cutting me off. Who the **** is she? I want names. I was the one shot. And it was a god damned drill going through. I want to grab her by the neck and tell her to shut her pie hole and let me give the details.
“5.56x45 mm. They got someone outside that verified it.”
I feel nauseated. I knew it wasn’t a pellet that ran through me. What the hell. It must be more than that because I hear suctioning and my jaw is jacked open as if I am not supposed to be feeling anything while they handle me. Who the **** gave these idiots the clearance to work on people?
“What?!” The burn on my side is enough that I flinch somewhere because I swear someone is slapping my cheek then pulling on my eyelids.
“You know that is what they are using these days. Cops.” An alarm goes off and something hard is wedged between my lips then holding my mouth open when I try to close it. I groan instead of saying what was really on my mind. “C’mon!” Someone just made my **** list. I feel my teeth jamming against against what is prying them open and the skin on my lips stretches until it finally cracks at the surface. “Romeo. You need to let us help you. This will make it easier to breath. Relax!”
I plan on shoving my fist down the *****’s throat so we both are equally miserable when I start to feel a deep ache in my side by my ribs. Either someone is using a crowbar to widen the space between the bones or I am getting a…
“Chest tube is in!” A movement of the surface beneath leaves no question where I am heading to next.
“She is dropping. Call O.R. We are on the way. Move it!”
The sounds of metal clinking, the rush of cold air flowing over my body, the shifting of voices around me and the panic in each one confirms it. Maybe this isn’t the typical flesh wound. In that case that asshole has some serious explaining to do. I will know his beady little eyes when I find him.
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Amalea
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
Amalea was beyond ready to go home and put this nightmare behind her; she knew that that wasn’t likely to happen for several hours yet as the police were sure to want statements. As soon as she was free though, she planned on heading straight for a shower and change of clothes before going out to hide somewhere safe at least for a few hours. It was silly but certainly better than hiding alone at home.
The male’s declaration that Mona was pregnant was more than a bit of a surprise. Though the red-head supposed that explained why there hadn’t been a new issue of The Sun in while. Either the reporter had more important things to do or her sense of self-preservation had kicked in. It’d certainly be interesting to see what would happen after the child was born as well as to see if wedding bells were also in the woman’s future.
After seeing his reaction to Mona being stabbed, Amalea had no doubts that the staple-wielding male was the father. She pitied the person would accidently bumped into the pregnant paladin as she got closer to the due date; she suspected it’d be hazardous to their health. If she was honest, it seemed to be a disaster in the making and could only hope that Kevlar onesies were a thing.
The yelling and following shot caused the red-head to wonder which of the masked goons was the unlucky one. The two that were in the vault, she knew, were accounted for and not going anywhere without assistance. She still suspected the one had run though perhaps he had not. In reality, it made no difference given they had been dealt with.
Amalea wasn’t about to move until she was given the all clear to do so. Being uninjured, beyond the effects of the tear gas, she preferred to remain that way. There was no reason, in her mind, to tempt fate knowing that tensions had to be running high on all sides. The sooner everyone cooperated, the sooner everyone would be able to relax and get things cleared up. Given the officer had just given the male a huge incentive to shut up and cooperate, she suspected that he'd so so sooner than later. It was the others she wasn't so sure about.
The male’s declaration that Mona was pregnant was more than a bit of a surprise. Though the red-head supposed that explained why there hadn’t been a new issue of The Sun in while. Either the reporter had more important things to do or her sense of self-preservation had kicked in. It’d certainly be interesting to see what would happen after the child was born as well as to see if wedding bells were also in the woman’s future.
After seeing his reaction to Mona being stabbed, Amalea had no doubts that the staple-wielding male was the father. She pitied the person would accidently bumped into the pregnant paladin as she got closer to the due date; she suspected it’d be hazardous to their health. If she was honest, it seemed to be a disaster in the making and could only hope that Kevlar onesies were a thing.
The yelling and following shot caused the red-head to wonder which of the masked goons was the unlucky one. The two that were in the vault, she knew, were accounted for and not going anywhere without assistance. She still suspected the one had run though perhaps he had not. In reality, it made no difference given they had been dealt with.
Amalea wasn’t about to move until she was given the all clear to do so. Being uninjured, beyond the effects of the tear gas, she preferred to remain that way. There was no reason, in her mind, to tempt fate knowing that tensions had to be running high on all sides. The sooner everyone cooperated, the sooner everyone would be able to relax and get things cleared up. Given the officer had just given the male a huge incentive to shut up and cooperate, she suspected that he'd so so sooner than later. It was the others she wasn't so sure about.
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Doc
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
Once the ERT members secured the scene, and fans were set up to draw the tear gas from the lobby, the Emergency Medical Technicians were allowed on the scene. Wounded ‘hostages’ were triaged and a police officer we assigned to each one. The officers would not leave their side, even through surgery, until their identity and story could be verified.
The same was true with the dead. The dead also had an officer assigned to stay with the body, from evac, to the morgue. The officer would ride with bodies, and present through first inspection until released by the Coroner. Due to the number of wounded and dead, this turned out to be more time intensive than first expected. What should have been a ten minute evac, turned into a ninety minute order, due to the fact they ran out of available officers. The ERT Commander in Charge refused to deviate from protocols.
The first evac had been the Perp shot by ERT, when they spotted the gun. The perp was assigned to Officer Jones. Jones was a hardened beat cop, who never made Homicide even though he took the test every year. Jones knew the Perp. It was obviously one of those entitled bitches from the Country Club who thought because they ‘watched’ a cop show on the television, they could plan a bank robbery. Well this one ‘entitled’ ***** he would make sure was nailed to the wall! Once he nailed her to the wall.. He would be in line for that promotion. Yes. This ***** would pay.
Officer Sapatico was assigned to a pretty blonde that had a dazed and confused look to her. She was covered in plaster dust and blood. The EMTs found her trying to help the wounded. When he spoke to her, she just stared at him. He had asked her name, and she just looked at him. He tried speaking in a calm voice, but she frowned at him. Unbeknownst to Officer Sapatico, the mustache that he grew for working Vice, disguised his mouth, and unaware the girl was deaf, his soft calming voice, and mustache hidden mouth, along with the Blonde’s tinnitus did little to help her understand what he was saying. The EMT followed by Officer Sapatico, had to manhandle her and drag her outside.
One of the last hostages to leave was the redhead in the vault. She was one of two hostages that seemed to come out of the whole situation physically unscathed. Officer Anderson was assigned to the redhead. He knew she was dirty the minute he saw her. Physically unharmed.. In the vault? Right.. And she didn’t even looked scared. No.. she had determination in her eyes. Riley lit into her the first chance he once they were alone.
“Go ahead.. Confess now. You and I both know you guilty as hell.”
“Who was it.. Your boyfriend? You were his eyes and ears.. Before he and his hyped up buddies came charging in. It’s only a matter of time before we get the goods on you. And let me tell you.. There are a lot of families of the loved ones you helped kill that would love to have a piece of you..”
The same was true with the dead. The dead also had an officer assigned to stay with the body, from evac, to the morgue. The officer would ride with bodies, and present through first inspection until released by the Coroner. Due to the number of wounded and dead, this turned out to be more time intensive than first expected. What should have been a ten minute evac, turned into a ninety minute order, due to the fact they ran out of available officers. The ERT Commander in Charge refused to deviate from protocols.
---Evac the wounded with no further issues - Failed
The first evac had been the Perp shot by ERT, when they spotted the gun. The perp was assigned to Officer Jones. Jones was a hardened beat cop, who never made Homicide even though he took the test every year. Jones knew the Perp. It was obviously one of those entitled bitches from the Country Club who thought because they ‘watched’ a cop show on the television, they could plan a bank robbery. Well this one ‘entitled’ ***** he would make sure was nailed to the wall! Once he nailed her to the wall.. He would be in line for that promotion. Yes. This ***** would pay.
---Recognize Romeo - Failed
Officer Sapatico was assigned to a pretty blonde that had a dazed and confused look to her. She was covered in plaster dust and blood. The EMTs found her trying to help the wounded. When he spoke to her, she just stared at him. He had asked her name, and she just looked at him. He tried speaking in a calm voice, but she frowned at him. Unbeknownst to Officer Sapatico, the mustache that he grew for working Vice, disguised his mouth, and unaware the girl was deaf, his soft calming voice, and mustache hidden mouth, along with the Blonde’s tinnitus did little to help her understand what he was saying. The EMT followed by Officer Sapatico, had to manhandle her and drag her outside.
---Megan - have her go with the EMT without incident - Failed
One of the last hostages to leave was the redhead in the vault. She was one of two hostages that seemed to come out of the whole situation physically unscathed. Officer Anderson was assigned to the redhead. He knew she was dirty the minute he saw her. Physically unharmed.. In the vault? Right.. And she didn’t even looked scared. No.. she had determination in her eyes. Riley lit into her the first chance he once they were alone.
“Go ahead.. Confess now. You and I both know you guilty as hell.”
“Who was it.. Your boyfriend? You were his eyes and ears.. Before he and his hyped up buddies came charging in. It’s only a matter of time before we get the goods on you. And let me tell you.. There are a lot of families of the loved ones you helped kill that would love to have a piece of you..”
Amalea - leave without incident - Failed
Ego correctionis silentio grammatica tua
IC Forum username: That Guy
Dressed by Ariadne-
Amalea
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
The fans were a welcome sight and sound as they drew the tear gas out of the building slower than Amalea liked. While it lessened the effects, she’d still need a shower to be rid of it all, but it was a welcome start particularly since they weren’t allowing anyone to leave – dead or alive – without a police escort. By nature of not being in need of medical attention, she had been last to leave escorted by one Officer Anderson.
For her troubles, she ended up in the sterile interrogation room down at the station. It was pretty much as anyone who watched TV or movies would expect, though their chairs were the crappy plastic garden variety. It was cold, very cold, barely above the temperature outside if she had to guess. She was beginning to think she had only traded one horrible situation for another given the way she was being treated.
When the nameless officer left the pair alone and Officer Anderson started hurling abuse at her, she knew she was in for a long night. Wonderful, they thought she had a hand in robbing the bank. Jesus, if she was going to do that, she certainly wouldn’t have done it in the same manner. Armed robberies rarely paid off well, drew too much attention and were generally messy. There were more subtle ways that wouldn’t have resulted in today’s drama.
“What the ****?! Are you bloody serious?” She fished around in her pocket for her license which she slid across the table at the prick.
“Amalea Nimue Devadas, born August 23, 1986 in Boston, Massachusetts. Currently hold both Canadian and American citizenships,” she rattled off the information as she stared at him. “Owner of Sanguine Services and the not-yet-open Crimson Delights. Single, not seeing anyone – male or female -, and not even looking. ”
“I was at the bank today to get information on opening a couple new accounts. I had planned to actually open them at that time, but was running late and didn’t get to the branch until 20-25 minutes before closing time. I asked a teller for the paperwork I’d need and was told I would need to speak to an account manager which she summoned for me. I stepped to the side to wait and it was at that point the bank began to fill up. The robbers entered almost immediately after. Five of them all dressed in dark camo with hoods; all had weapons and duffels. One held a gun to one of the employee’s heads and declared it was a robbery and to get down on the ground. That was the first I knew about this damn mess.”
She didn’t even give the officer a chance to comment as she pushed on, “The only person in the bank I knew was Mona McGee – the reporter for The Sun. She was the pregnant woman that was near the vault with the outraged male. I didn’t even know she was there until they split the hostages up and pulled the pair of us to empty the vault into bags.”
For her troubles, she ended up in the sterile interrogation room down at the station. It was pretty much as anyone who watched TV or movies would expect, though their chairs were the crappy plastic garden variety. It was cold, very cold, barely above the temperature outside if she had to guess. She was beginning to think she had only traded one horrible situation for another given the way she was being treated.
When the nameless officer left the pair alone and Officer Anderson started hurling abuse at her, she knew she was in for a long night. Wonderful, they thought she had a hand in robbing the bank. Jesus, if she was going to do that, she certainly wouldn’t have done it in the same manner. Armed robberies rarely paid off well, drew too much attention and were generally messy. There were more subtle ways that wouldn’t have resulted in today’s drama.
“What the ****?! Are you bloody serious?” She fished around in her pocket for her license which she slid across the table at the prick.
“Amalea Nimue Devadas, born August 23, 1986 in Boston, Massachusetts. Currently hold both Canadian and American citizenships,” she rattled off the information as she stared at him. “Owner of Sanguine Services and the not-yet-open Crimson Delights. Single, not seeing anyone – male or female -, and not even looking. ”
“I was at the bank today to get information on opening a couple new accounts. I had planned to actually open them at that time, but was running late and didn’t get to the branch until 20-25 minutes before closing time. I asked a teller for the paperwork I’d need and was told I would need to speak to an account manager which she summoned for me. I stepped to the side to wait and it was at that point the bank began to fill up. The robbers entered almost immediately after. Five of them all dressed in dark camo with hoods; all had weapons and duffels. One held a gun to one of the employee’s heads and declared it was a robbery and to get down on the ground. That was the first I knew about this damn mess.”
She didn’t even give the officer a chance to comment as she pushed on, “The only person in the bank I knew was Mona McGee – the reporter for The Sun. She was the pregnant woman that was near the vault with the outraged male. I didn’t even know she was there until they split the hostages up and pulled the pair of us to empty the vault into bags.”
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Doc
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
The door to the interrogation room opened and Detective Peterson entered. “Ok Sapatico, I will take it from here.”
Peterson had heard voices as he came in, but they were unintelligible, the rooms were designed that way on purpose. He held the door open pointedly waiting for Sapatico to leave. Once the officer left, Peterson sat opposite the hostage slash perpatrator. He laid the file on the table and opened it. This was his eleventh interview of the night. He was tired. From what he gleaned from the other interviews, this was not an inside job, from the point of view of the hostages.
“Good evening. I am Detective Tom Peterson, and I am here to take your statement.” He pulled out a small recorder from his jacket pocket. “This interview will be recorded.” He depressed the record button. “The Date is May 1st, 2017, at 10:07 pm. This is Detective Tom Peterson interviewing. If you would please, state your full name for the record, along with your account of the event at that the bank, please.”
He rubbed his eyes. He looked at her, the tape was still recording, “Would you like some coffee?”
Peterson had heard voices as he came in, but they were unintelligible, the rooms were designed that way on purpose. He held the door open pointedly waiting for Sapatico to leave. Once the officer left, Peterson sat opposite the hostage slash perpatrator. He laid the file on the table and opened it. This was his eleventh interview of the night. He was tired. From what he gleaned from the other interviews, this was not an inside job, from the point of view of the hostages.
“Good evening. I am Detective Tom Peterson, and I am here to take your statement.” He pulled out a small recorder from his jacket pocket. “This interview will be recorded.” He depressed the record button. “The Date is May 1st, 2017, at 10:07 pm. This is Detective Tom Peterson interviewing. If you would please, state your full name for the record, along with your account of the event at that the bank, please.”
He rubbed his eyes. He looked at her, the tape was still recording, “Would you like some coffee?”
Ego correctionis silentio grammatica tua
IC Forum username: That Guy
Dressed by Ariadne-
Amalea
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Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
The red-head glanced over as the door opened to admit another officer. She was surprised when Officer Asshole was dismissed, though she didn’t fail to catch the look he gave her as he left. It would be wise for her to not cross his path anytime soon, she silently noted; she didn’t trust him anymore than he seemed to trust her. She suspected if he had the chance to get her alone, she’d end up in serious trouble – not that she would allow it to get that far if she could help it. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the vampire race, but anything else would be fair game.
Warily, she watched the new arrival as he settled into the vacated seat and opened the folder. His demeanor was a welcome change from that of the last officer though she wasn’t going to exclude the possibility that they were playing ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ with her. She smiled politely as he introduced himself. The recorder was an interesting addition but not completely surprising given the events of the day.
Amalea blinked as he stated the time not realizing how late it had become. She suspected it was going to be a much longer night than she hoped for but at this point it was inevitable. “Coffee would be wonderful, if it’s not too much trouble, please.”
Collecting her thoughts for a moment, she considered the events of the day. Starting at the beginning again would be necessary, but at least this time the questions were more neutral.
“My name is Amalea Nimue Devadas. I arrived at the bank less than a half hour before close. I was running late and wanted to get information on the accounts I had been hoping to open, but since I was later than I planned, I didn’t want to hold the staff up by actually opening them. I spoke to a teller who had me step aside to wait for an account manager. That’s when the bank got busier and the five hooded robbers entered very shortly afterwards. Each was dressed in dark camo and carried a duffel bag and weapons. One held a gun to one of the employee’s heads and declared it was a robbery and to get down on the ground. “
Taking her time, she carefully described the events that took place in the lobby. How the explosion had knocked out the lights briefly as well as how they had demanded wallets and cellphones while threatening to shoot anyone who didn’t have one or the other. That they had actually shot a customer when one of the customers had failed to comply with the demands while they were collecting the items.
Pausing in her narrative for a moment, she looked at the Detective, “Were our phones and wallets recovered? Sorry, it’s probably none of my business at the moment, but I’m curious.”
Warily, she watched the new arrival as he settled into the vacated seat and opened the folder. His demeanor was a welcome change from that of the last officer though she wasn’t going to exclude the possibility that they were playing ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ with her. She smiled politely as he introduced himself. The recorder was an interesting addition but not completely surprising given the events of the day.
Amalea blinked as he stated the time not realizing how late it had become. She suspected it was going to be a much longer night than she hoped for but at this point it was inevitable. “Coffee would be wonderful, if it’s not too much trouble, please.”
Collecting her thoughts for a moment, she considered the events of the day. Starting at the beginning again would be necessary, but at least this time the questions were more neutral.
“My name is Amalea Nimue Devadas. I arrived at the bank less than a half hour before close. I was running late and wanted to get information on the accounts I had been hoping to open, but since I was later than I planned, I didn’t want to hold the staff up by actually opening them. I spoke to a teller who had me step aside to wait for an account manager. That’s when the bank got busier and the five hooded robbers entered very shortly afterwards. Each was dressed in dark camo and carried a duffel bag and weapons. One held a gun to one of the employee’s heads and declared it was a robbery and to get down on the ground. “
Taking her time, she carefully described the events that took place in the lobby. How the explosion had knocked out the lights briefly as well as how they had demanded wallets and cellphones while threatening to shoot anyone who didn’t have one or the other. That they had actually shot a customer when one of the customers had failed to comply with the demands while they were collecting the items.
Pausing in her narrative for a moment, she looked at the Detective, “Were our phones and wallets recovered? Sorry, it’s probably none of my business at the moment, but I’m curious.”
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Romeo
- Registered User
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- Joined: 13 Jan 2017, 12:32
Re: May 1 - GM RP Event - The Bank Heist [closed]
I am sure I am on the receiving end of more narcotics than I need. So much so that I know it is possible to give absolutely no fucks on any level about anything for countless hours. Something in the syringes that parade in and out is consistently pushed into my system. As soon as it hits me it owns me. It has me feeling like a slab of meat that is routinely poked, squeezed and rolled around like a roast being prepped for a slow cooker. I can’t react for any length of time. I couldn’t raise a finger even if I wanted to. I can’t complain there.
It is such a state of comfortably numb that even the whispers going on in the room about me being that cop barely register and lack the affect they normally would get from me. I can hear the debate as to what really happened and of course they got their guesses all wrong. I keep my ears open and retain what I can. Everyone thinks they can do the job ten times better yet none of them have the guts to sign up for it themselves. Everyone wants to try and save a life but lack the balls to take one or two out of the equation.
All of this gives me time to think about my actions. What else would I do during the hours that tick away on the wall clock mounted to the east wall of the private room I am in? I smell death nearby and am reassured when the overhead page pours out of the ceiling that the sounds of stampeding no skid soles aren’t coming in like a tidal wave to my room. I was just rolled and for once my *** isn’t as numb as the rest of me. The prickling and itch is welcomed. More than likely someone left a wrinkle in the draw sheet beneath me. It is a little too soon for me to be pointing anything out. Give me time and it will happen. For now I wait and while I do my mind keeps working overtime. They will need a far bigger syringe to get that to stop.
It is such a state of comfortably numb that even the whispers going on in the room about me being that cop barely register and lack the affect they normally would get from me. I can hear the debate as to what really happened and of course they got their guesses all wrong. I keep my ears open and retain what I can. Everyone thinks they can do the job ten times better yet none of them have the guts to sign up for it themselves. Everyone wants to try and save a life but lack the balls to take one or two out of the equation.
All of this gives me time to think about my actions. What else would I do during the hours that tick away on the wall clock mounted to the east wall of the private room I am in? I smell death nearby and am reassured when the overhead page pours out of the ceiling that the sounds of stampeding no skid soles aren’t coming in like a tidal wave to my room. I was just rolled and for once my *** isn’t as numb as the rest of me. The prickling and itch is welcomed. More than likely someone left a wrinkle in the draw sheet beneath me. It is a little too soon for me to be pointing anything out. Give me time and it will happen. For now I wait and while I do my mind keeps working overtime. They will need a far bigger syringe to get that to stop.