CurtailedAmbrosia
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2017
- Posts
- 1,291
“You sure he’s got a safe?”
“‘Course he’s got a safe. Where else would he keep his money?”
“I ‘unno Frank.” The thug hesitates, uncertain and thinking. His grip on the crowbar was loose, having forgotten all about Frank’s outstretched hand. “...a bank?”
If Leroy weren’t so stupid, Frank almost woulda thought his lackey was smart cracking at him. He took the crowbar from him and tested the weight of it-always a handy tool, them crowbars. Leroy might be catching the heavy end of it, next time he bungles another job. Frank still hadn’t decided. “Types like him don’t trust no bank. Zat where you keep your money? In the bank?”
“Sometimes, ‘til the checks start bouncing.”
“They can throw you in jail for that, you know.” Frank grunts, wedging the flat of the crowbar between the door and jamb. “Happened to my cousin.”
The irony of the statement didn’t occur to either man.
Glass cracked as the metal frame of the door bent outward, the cheery ring of a bell tinkling. No alarm. Frank hadn’t figured on there being one, but it was a relief all the same. He stepped just inside the doorway and peered back into the darkened street from the barred window. Nothing.
“There’s stairs in the back. Mac says he keeps it all up there. Swipe the lockbox under the register right quick and then let’s go.”
“Okay Frank.”
See, agreeable. Maybe he wouldn’t kill him-Leroy would never get any odd ideas about who was in charge, unlike the last asshole. Frank smiled, smug and satisfied. He’d shown him alright. Always scenic, that PoWah River Bridge…
Mood buoyed by the memory, Frank turned to head deeper into the store. Leroy had the lockbox on the counter, was prying at the lock with a screwdriver. “Later Leroy-we grab it on the way out.” The man complied, stowing away his screwdriver to slide the box into the stupid pillowcase he always carried. “C’mon-what we want is upstairs with the old ma-”
The bell jingled.
Frank spun as he raised his crowbar, but the door was already swinging back on itself, another jingle of the bell and a much too noisy clang of the warped metal against the jam. “I saw somethin’ Frank, it went over there-it was right over-”
Frank barely registered the silver and light blue blur before it came right for him-no, past him, an elbow or a fist socking him in the gut as she passed him by, displaced air ruffling his hair and clothes as he curled inward. It didn’t quite knock the air out of him, he was just surprised-and there was Leroy on the floor, the stupid pillow case over his head and his jacket half off and tied at the sleeves.
It was that goddamned hero-before he could think to bolt she was suddenly in the doorway, fully visible and smiling at him. “Midnight snack attack?”
No more than five feet or so, the kid-and she had to be a kid-was sporting oversized silver goggles to hide most of her face, and a costume Frank recognized immediately, something he’d been seeing in recent news reports. Not to mention the older videos back when he had more hair, back when Velocity had been a tall, leggy blonde.
Goddamned sidekicks or somethin’- He cursed, then grabbed a can of dog food to hurl straight for her face. Didn’t work-she flitted away and he took that chance to run, shoulder lowered to bodily shove her aside if he had to-but he didn’t get a step in before he tripped somehow, went crashing to the floor without quite catching himself, face exploding in pain as his nose crunched against the dirty tile. Frank shoved at the floor and shot a glance towards his feet-licorice. One of those long ass candy ropes-he tore his gaze up to her face as she zipped closer, some sort of canister in hand-he'd shove it down her throat.
“You little bitch-”
“Uh huh.” And then she sprayed him, something cold and stinging, something that made him gasp-he tried to crawl away, tried to stay angry-but his limbs were so heavy, all of a sudden, and he was so tired, so very, very tired…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hm…” Velocity picked up one of the man’s arms before letting it go, the heavy thump and lack of motion making it clear he was out cold. The other one had rolled onto his stomach and was trying to get out of the pillowcase, doing a weird worm crawl thing that, honestly, was kind of funny-if he wasn’t calling out for his friend so desperately, that was.
“Don’t leave me Frank! Don’t leave me!”
“He’s not going anywhere mister, don’t worry. Get you both a ride real soon.”
Silence and heavy breathing over there, the worm crawl abandoned. She considered dosing him too, but honestly-she only had so much of the stuff, who knew how long the coffee maker looking dispenser thing could continue making it for? She didn’t want to have to resort to pepper spray too soon, after all. That stuff was awful.
The stairs creaked, and the heroine glanced up just as an old man was coming down, thin and narrow eyed, clutching a sawn off shotgun she was one hundred percent sure was illegal here.
Well, that wasn’t really her business, all told.
“Um-good evening, sir. You uh…you call the cops yet?" She tapped at the little smart watch on her right wrist. "Cause I've called the cops.”
“Who’re you?”
“Velocity.”
“I don’t know any velocities lookin’ like you.”
“I’m the newest model. 2.0, you know how it goes.”
He ventured into the store proper, flicked on the lights and squinted through them a moment. She stood a little taller but stayed relaxed, not wanting to LOOK like she was trying too hard-but at the same time totally trying, hoping she looked the part. The silver boots and gloves, the light blue, thick materialled costume that shimmered slightly in the light, the various bits of tools peeking out from the cuffs of her boots-that was all legit. The goggles she’d painted to hide her face, well, little less so-but she liked them well enough.
“You really that new hero? From the radio? The papers?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” The young woman gestured to the snoozing man at her feet, then the quivering one half way out from behind the counter. She laughed a little. “Not in with these two knuckleheads, that’s for sure.”
The old man looked from one to the other before finally lowering the shotgun he’d been clutching. He walked past the one-kicked him in the ribs, which gave her a start-then behind the counter, intent on the lockbox sitting sideways on the counter. He opened it, started counting.
Velocity didn’t really know what to make of his reaction. People were usually…happier? You know what, it didn’t matter-he wasn’t robbed and so long as he didn’t shoot either of these guys, he was free to be whatever he wanted to be. She walked at normal speed to a display of fruit, selected a large red apple.
“It’s all here.” The old man said, blinking as the heroine set the apple down on the counter.
“Yep! All there. Can I buy this?”
“No.” The old man said seriously, leveling a look straight at her.
The heroine hesitated. “No?”
“No you can’t buy that.” The old man asserted as he closed the lock box with a snap. “Can have it.”
“Oh, thanks-but you don’t have to, I got some change right-”
“Eat it or don’t, but you can’t buy it.” The old man said stubbornly, bending to replace the box behind the counter. “This is my shop. I can give away an apple if I want to.”
He was grumpy, but he WAS glad she’d shown up. Velocity grinned, tossing the apple up before catching it again. “You want me to wait until the cops show up?”
“I don’t care. Just eat your apple.” He bent down again, then came back up with a little dish of suckers. “Here.” And he dumped half of them on the counter before turning to shuffle off, another kick to the pillow case wearing man’s ribs, then the sleeping man’s-wow, didn’t even stir-before going to inspect the door. Notably, he was still holding his shotgun. For some reason, the sucker and apple reward warmed her heart more than a thanks would have-Velocity took as big a bite of the apple as she could, then quietly set some coins on the counter as she chewed. Cops weren’t supposed to take freebies, and she imagined heroines probably shouldn’t either.
Between this and the prevention of grand theft auto on that spiffy looking Corvette, it’d been a solid night’s work. Not bad at all for a three hour patrol-all she could really spare tonight, that big test tomorrow. Glancing to the old man and his shotgun, Velocity felt a brief flicker of guilt, thinking about a test when stuff like this was going on, but…
Velocity finished the apple and tossed the core in a nearby trash can, moving on to a sucker next. Red and blue lights-time to shine, then time to get home and study.
Priorities, grades before volunteer work. She wasn’t leaving anything to chance with a professor as harsh as Dr. Goldstein.
“‘Course he’s got a safe. Where else would he keep his money?”
“I ‘unno Frank.” The thug hesitates, uncertain and thinking. His grip on the crowbar was loose, having forgotten all about Frank’s outstretched hand. “...a bank?”
If Leroy weren’t so stupid, Frank almost woulda thought his lackey was smart cracking at him. He took the crowbar from him and tested the weight of it-always a handy tool, them crowbars. Leroy might be catching the heavy end of it, next time he bungles another job. Frank still hadn’t decided. “Types like him don’t trust no bank. Zat where you keep your money? In the bank?”
“Sometimes, ‘til the checks start bouncing.”
“They can throw you in jail for that, you know.” Frank grunts, wedging the flat of the crowbar between the door and jamb. “Happened to my cousin.”
The irony of the statement didn’t occur to either man.
Glass cracked as the metal frame of the door bent outward, the cheery ring of a bell tinkling. No alarm. Frank hadn’t figured on there being one, but it was a relief all the same. He stepped just inside the doorway and peered back into the darkened street from the barred window. Nothing.
“There’s stairs in the back. Mac says he keeps it all up there. Swipe the lockbox under the register right quick and then let’s go.”
“Okay Frank.”
See, agreeable. Maybe he wouldn’t kill him-Leroy would never get any odd ideas about who was in charge, unlike the last asshole. Frank smiled, smug and satisfied. He’d shown him alright. Always scenic, that PoWah River Bridge…
Mood buoyed by the memory, Frank turned to head deeper into the store. Leroy had the lockbox on the counter, was prying at the lock with a screwdriver. “Later Leroy-we grab it on the way out.” The man complied, stowing away his screwdriver to slide the box into the stupid pillowcase he always carried. “C’mon-what we want is upstairs with the old ma-”
The bell jingled.
Frank spun as he raised his crowbar, but the door was already swinging back on itself, another jingle of the bell and a much too noisy clang of the warped metal against the jam. “I saw somethin’ Frank, it went over there-it was right over-”
Frank barely registered the silver and light blue blur before it came right for him-no, past him, an elbow or a fist socking him in the gut as she passed him by, displaced air ruffling his hair and clothes as he curled inward. It didn’t quite knock the air out of him, he was just surprised-and there was Leroy on the floor, the stupid pillow case over his head and his jacket half off and tied at the sleeves.
It was that goddamned hero-before he could think to bolt she was suddenly in the doorway, fully visible and smiling at him. “Midnight snack attack?”
No more than five feet or so, the kid-and she had to be a kid-was sporting oversized silver goggles to hide most of her face, and a costume Frank recognized immediately, something he’d been seeing in recent news reports. Not to mention the older videos back when he had more hair, back when Velocity had been a tall, leggy blonde.
Goddamned sidekicks or somethin’- He cursed, then grabbed a can of dog food to hurl straight for her face. Didn’t work-she flitted away and he took that chance to run, shoulder lowered to bodily shove her aside if he had to-but he didn’t get a step in before he tripped somehow, went crashing to the floor without quite catching himself, face exploding in pain as his nose crunched against the dirty tile. Frank shoved at the floor and shot a glance towards his feet-licorice. One of those long ass candy ropes-he tore his gaze up to her face as she zipped closer, some sort of canister in hand-he'd shove it down her throat.
“You little bitch-”
“Uh huh.” And then she sprayed him, something cold and stinging, something that made him gasp-he tried to crawl away, tried to stay angry-but his limbs were so heavy, all of a sudden, and he was so tired, so very, very tired…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hm…” Velocity picked up one of the man’s arms before letting it go, the heavy thump and lack of motion making it clear he was out cold. The other one had rolled onto his stomach and was trying to get out of the pillowcase, doing a weird worm crawl thing that, honestly, was kind of funny-if he wasn’t calling out for his friend so desperately, that was.
“Don’t leave me Frank! Don’t leave me!”
“He’s not going anywhere mister, don’t worry. Get you both a ride real soon.”
Silence and heavy breathing over there, the worm crawl abandoned. She considered dosing him too, but honestly-she only had so much of the stuff, who knew how long the coffee maker looking dispenser thing could continue making it for? She didn’t want to have to resort to pepper spray too soon, after all. That stuff was awful.
The stairs creaked, and the heroine glanced up just as an old man was coming down, thin and narrow eyed, clutching a sawn off shotgun she was one hundred percent sure was illegal here.
Well, that wasn’t really her business, all told.
“Um-good evening, sir. You uh…you call the cops yet?" She tapped at the little smart watch on her right wrist. "Cause I've called the cops.”
“Who’re you?”
“Velocity.”
“I don’t know any velocities lookin’ like you.”
“I’m the newest model. 2.0, you know how it goes.”
He ventured into the store proper, flicked on the lights and squinted through them a moment. She stood a little taller but stayed relaxed, not wanting to LOOK like she was trying too hard-but at the same time totally trying, hoping she looked the part. The silver boots and gloves, the light blue, thick materialled costume that shimmered slightly in the light, the various bits of tools peeking out from the cuffs of her boots-that was all legit. The goggles she’d painted to hide her face, well, little less so-but she liked them well enough.
“You really that new hero? From the radio? The papers?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” The young woman gestured to the snoozing man at her feet, then the quivering one half way out from behind the counter. She laughed a little. “Not in with these two knuckleheads, that’s for sure.”
The old man looked from one to the other before finally lowering the shotgun he’d been clutching. He walked past the one-kicked him in the ribs, which gave her a start-then behind the counter, intent on the lockbox sitting sideways on the counter. He opened it, started counting.
Velocity didn’t really know what to make of his reaction. People were usually…happier? You know what, it didn’t matter-he wasn’t robbed and so long as he didn’t shoot either of these guys, he was free to be whatever he wanted to be. She walked at normal speed to a display of fruit, selected a large red apple.
“It’s all here.” The old man said, blinking as the heroine set the apple down on the counter.
“Yep! All there. Can I buy this?”
“No.” The old man said seriously, leveling a look straight at her.
The heroine hesitated. “No?”
“No you can’t buy that.” The old man asserted as he closed the lock box with a snap. “Can have it.”
“Oh, thanks-but you don’t have to, I got some change right-”
“Eat it or don’t, but you can’t buy it.” The old man said stubbornly, bending to replace the box behind the counter. “This is my shop. I can give away an apple if I want to.”
He was grumpy, but he WAS glad she’d shown up. Velocity grinned, tossing the apple up before catching it again. “You want me to wait until the cops show up?”
“I don’t care. Just eat your apple.” He bent down again, then came back up with a little dish of suckers. “Here.” And he dumped half of them on the counter before turning to shuffle off, another kick to the pillow case wearing man’s ribs, then the sleeping man’s-wow, didn’t even stir-before going to inspect the door. Notably, he was still holding his shotgun. For some reason, the sucker and apple reward warmed her heart more than a thanks would have-Velocity took as big a bite of the apple as she could, then quietly set some coins on the counter as she chewed. Cops weren’t supposed to take freebies, and she imagined heroines probably shouldn’t either.
Between this and the prevention of grand theft auto on that spiffy looking Corvette, it’d been a solid night’s work. Not bad at all for a three hour patrol-all she could really spare tonight, that big test tomorrow. Glancing to the old man and his shotgun, Velocity felt a brief flicker of guilt, thinking about a test when stuff like this was going on, but…
Velocity finished the apple and tossed the core in a nearby trash can, moving on to a sucker next. Red and blue lights-time to shine, then time to get home and study.
Priorities, grades before volunteer work. She wasn’t leaving anything to chance with a professor as harsh as Dr. Goldstein.