One
The sun glistened high above, echoing against the baby blue sky which held bright. It was a beautiful day, a gorgeous day where the birds chirped and children laughed. Summer had finally settled in, engorging the city in its vast warmth and soothing sunlight. It seemed like it would be a good day-a great day even.
Marcus had woken up bright and early, feeling refreshed and eager to work. Which in itself is unusual and rare as working in a bank isn't exactly something that inspired him to wake up every morning for. He never imagined he'd work in a bank, have a boring desk job yet here he was getting ready like he always did wearing his dark blue slacks matching with white collar shirt and tie. His name badge sitting comfortably just above his breast pocket. He sighs in the mirror, gelling his hair just right so it sat perfectly displaying his beauty.
He knew it probably was a bit much, dressing so stylishly and focusing maybe a little to long on his hair and makeup. But what can he say, he liked looking good. He was narcissistic like that, self absorbed about his appearance.
His fingers tap dully against the hard wooden table, boredom sinking in due to having sat on his ass for the past two hours without a single passing entertainment. It got like this sometimes, no customers, no accounts to be opened or anything to help engage his mind. Monday's were like that, barely anyone came to the bank either to exhausted from the weekend or busy at work.
Though a few stragglers gathered inside, sitting on the couches awaiting to be seen for their appointments or others writing out paperwork that needed to be filed before they could do anything.
Marcus kept sitting there, growing more and more bored the slower time ticked by. At least that was the case before a gang of what appeared to be masked face men waving around machine guns come barraging in like they owned the place.
"Everyone get on the floor! This is a robbery! Any of you move and you're dead." One in a vendetta mask screams, firing shots blankly in the air.
Marcus’s heart almost bursts right out of his chest, it thumping so loud it rung in his ears. He didn't know what to do, he had been trained for situations such as these but it all flew straight out the window the moment his eyes laid upon the hefty machine guns each robber firmly held.
Some people scream, in a panic as they didn't imagine when stepping into the bank today they would be held at gunpoint. Not needing a second to think, everyone dropped to the floor like dead flies. Marcus would've done the same if it wasn't for the fact that one of the robbers guns was being pointed right at him. Even through the bullet proof sheet of glass he was still very much shitting himself.
"Money now!" The man orders rather harshly, Marcus in reflex flinches falling off his chair to land hard on his ass.
A bullet is heard flying through the air, directly fired towards him but luckily the glass protected him as did the table he is hiding under. He covers his ears, fear and panic settling in, paralysing him.
"You better get up or someone here is going to die. 1 2-." Marcus frantically looks around, trying to remember where the panic button is.
Another shot is fired, making his body stiffen and tears brimming in his shaky eyes. Just when he gives up hope of finding it he sees it red and flashing.
"I'm not going to ask again, get up or I'm going to kill this sweet little girl here." Marcus presses it, bolting to his unsteady feet.
With his hands raised in the air, heart pounding painfully in his chest he meets the daunting gaze of the robber holding a young girl aggressively in his arms while he pressed the barrel of the gun against her head.
"Please let her go-I'll do anything you say. Please just don't hurt anyone." Marcus expected his voice to come out cracked and stale but it didn't, actually he sounded calm.
The robber didn't move, instead seemed to be studying him or inspecting him he wasn't quite sure. It didn't sit well though, the way his eyes raked him up and down. It wasn't until the man's demeanour suddenly changed, to one if he wasn't wrong of fear.
The mans hold on the girl ceases, releasing her like Marcus had asked. She quickly dashed back to her mother who engulfed her in her embrace hugging on the floor.
"I'll get you the money-." Marcus goes to say but the man scampers back, the other two men glancing at him then to Marcus then back again.
Their eyes widen, the man threatening him before signalling the rest of his men to leave. Without a word or even a single note of money they're out the door and vanishing into the hustle of the city streets.
Marcus stood behind the counter lost and completely confused as to what just happened. One minute he was being held at gunpoint by masked men then the next their running away like frightened dogs with their tails between their legs.
Clearly he is missing something. Was he really that intimidating or did the robbers just have a change of heart.
——
"Can you tell me anything about the men's appearances? Did you recognise them or their voices?" Marcus is slumped on an uncomfortable wooden chair, being questioned in the police station by one of the officers from the scene.
"I can't really tell you much, they wore masks so I couldn't see their faces." He thought it was all utterly pointless, there was no crime as nothing had been stolen so why was he being questioned when he didn't have anything to say.
The officer jots down jumbles of what he had said, typing away on his computer afterwards. Marcus wriggles around on the tough seat, ass growing numb as well as his mind. He's been here for hours now, stuck in the same chair repeating the same thing to various cops.
His eyes scanned around the station, every time his eyes caught sight of a criminal cuffed to a chair or being brought in by police there would be this sudden glint in their eyes. Almost like they recognised him, just like how the robbers acted when they saw him. He began thinking he was being paranoid, imagining things as he's never meet any of those men.
It had to be all in his head, the looks or glances he thought he was receiving were nothing more than accidental. He still hadn't figured out exactly what had happened in the bank. Why the robbers suddenly changed their minds or why they looked at him like he was the grim reaper who held their lives in his hands.
"Do you have any explanation why they would've just left without any of the money?" The cops questions stunned him from his thoughts, snatching his gaze from a ginger haired man who caught his eye.
"Why would I have an explanation? I have no idea why they didn't take any money. Isn't that actually a good thing they didn't?" Marcus suddenly felt like he was on trial, suspected of something he'd never do.
The officer pushes back his thick glasses, eyes lingering before shifting back to the computer. Marcus huffs, sticking his tongue into the ridge of his mouth out of annoyance.
"Some of the witnesses said that when one of the robbers saw your face they suddenly retreated. All the robbers in fact running away once they saw your face. Can you explain why that would be?" Marcus didn't like this, what the cop was implying sickening him.
"What are you trying to say exactly? You think I had something to do with this? I'm sure you are aware, I was the one who had a gun pointed at them." He snapped rather bluntly, dislike boiling inside him for this cop.
The officer's eyes raked over him with suspicion, his green emerald eyes narrowing.
"I am just trying to get all the information, get all the stories straight. You must have an idea as to why they acted that way." Stupid. This cop was stupid, it was the only explanation Marcus had for the questions he was asking.
"I don't Officer. Maybe they just had a change of heart. That does happen you know? Guess they decided they were better than that." Marcus’s sly remark didn't go down to well with the officer, a scowl forms on his ageing features.
The officer glared at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the computer. Marcus didn't quite understand why he was the one on trial here. He has done nothing wrong so what was the point of all these questions.
"When can I leave? I've answered all your questions Officer, I've been here for hours." All he wanted to do was go home, collapse onto his bed and forget any of this happened.
"You are free to leave whenever you like sir, you are not under arrest. But I do have a few more questions for you." The moment the officer began to speak he was bolting up from his chair, if he was free to leave then he was bloody well leaving.
"Well then, if I'm free to leave. I hope you find whoever it is you're looking for but just know I had nothing to do with it." Marcus tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk, spinning on his heels not waiting for a reply.
He didn't see the point in sitting there being interrogated when he'd done nothing wrong. So what if the robbers suddenly changed their minds, it wasn't like he had anything to do with that. It must have been something else, them seeing his face had nothing to do with it.
He shivers at the blistering cold that enveloped him when he stepped outside. The sun had set, taking its warmth along with its light. He hooks his woollen overcoat around his slim figure, keeping his hands stuffed into the warmth of his pockets. He passes people on the street, bumping shoulders, small acknowledgement in the fleeting greetings made.
He couldn't shake this feeling though, like this burning itch on the back of his neck the second he stepped out of the police station. This paranoia starting to settle in on him, every passing look his way he grew to imagine they were staring right into his soul. The image of the robber looking at him like he was a monster lingered in his mind.
Why did he look at me like that? Why was he afraid? Why did he run?
Questions he desperately wanted answers for but knew he never would. A mystery in his life that would forever be just that. A mystery.
The walk to his house is long and treacherous, constant looking over his shoulder or power walking as he past alleyways. He knew he was probably being paranoid, over thinking since of what has happened to him today. Being held at gunpoint isn't exactly something he expected to happen in his life. Or the fact apparently just a glimpse at his face sends criminals running.
Maybe it was a super power, an unknown skill he carried. But that was stupid, the idea of his face scaring anyone completely insulting.
"Jesus what a day." Marcus ruffles his soft black locks, grudging up his steps.
His footsteps echo on the hard stone, making his way up his stairs he fumbles in his coat pocket to find his keys. The rattling of keys jiggle when he unlocks the front door, stepping inside he flicks on the light letting his home get cascaded in its brightness. In the warmth of his home he pulls off his heavy coat, dumping it on the coat rack he's strolling into his kitchen. But when he steps inside, pausing by his dining table his eyes catch sight of an envelope resting atop a Bouquet of white roses. He cocks a brow, blinking in case he is imagining things.
But no, right there on his table is an overly extravagant bouquet of flowers and a note written in cursive with his name engraved a top. He gingerly picks up the bouquet, sniffing them they smelled deliciously sweet. His fingers slide to the note, flipping it open his breath catches inside his throat.
Marcus
I want to apologise for the ignorance of my men, they know to never hurt you. But don't worry, I am taking care of them so you'll never have to worry about them coming near you again.
P.S. your home is very beautiful as are you. I hope to see you very soon my love.
Forever yours J.T.
