HeavyLight: Chapter 7
So far we managed to find our hacker and our hostage for the bank heist. However, we still needed some more gunmen. The way we chose to search out potential criminals was an online dating site. Now, it took some time, approximately eight days, but we did manage to get a hit. Actually, we got 14, but 7 of them were in other countries, 2 were from guys in prison, and 5 were from various rabbis from around the country. I’m not hating on rabbis or anything, but I doubt any of them really rob banks in their spare time.
The one hit that was a feasible option was from this guy who used the username “BadDaddy69." Apparently, he went to a college not too far away. It was a place called Skipjack Hammerson Community College. It wasn’t the one that Jumbo Jim and I had went to, and it was in a part of town we had never driven through, so we weren’t sure what to expect. But before heading over there we took some time to look through his profile.
“Bad daddy 69? What kind of username is that?” Dougman asked.
“It could be a secret code. Maybe he’s implying that he’s some kind of underground godfather for a secret crime organization...” Jumbo Jim said.
I scrolled down and looked through his person information. Most of the optional stuff wasn’t filled in which lead me to believe that he was intentionally trying to keep his anonymity. So Jumbo Jim’s guess was a long shot in being even a little true, but he might not be that far away.
“I’ve looked through this guy’s info, and he’s really not giving much away. Needless to say, I want to meet him and see if he’s a good catch. Let me write to him.” I said. Then I typed a personal message to him, saying “Hey, I really like your profile and I want to meet you. But first, my friends would like to meet you to see if you’re cool. Is that alright?”
Not but a few moments later I got a response. “Totally; tell your friends to come meet me at my college. I live in Dorm 12-8. Look for the guy with the red baseball cap.”
I typed back “alright, they’ll be there soon.” Then I turned to address the guys in my room. “Alright, we’re heading over to Skipjack to meet this guy. Uh, Roger, you drive us. Dougman and Steve, I need you with me. Jim, I need you here just incase one of those gangs shows up and tries to mess with Marcy.” I said, referring to our hacker who was in her room.
“Cool. Man, I miss college, even though I never went to one. But I still remember getting drunk and making out with college chicks. One time I got so drunk that I actually wandered into the girl’s bathroom and thought I was at a concert! Then some girl beat the shaving cream out of me! That’s how I met my wife...” Angry Steve said, staring off into the distance all dreamily.
“I don’t know, bro. Something feels weird about this...” Dougman said.
“Can we stop by Earl’s bakery real quick? I wanna nab a free donut.” Roger said. We agreed and we all got inside of the blue windowless van. I called shotgun, Roger drove, and Angry Steve and Dougman got in the back which doubles as a bedroom. Then we rode down the street. Our first stop was Earl’s Bakery, where we capitalized on Free Donut Friday. Then we continued on our way towards to college. On the way there, Roger started talking.
“Alright...so Marcy said you weren’t talking to her about anything...” He muttered.
“Well, I want to, but everytime I see her I kinda freeze up. I’ve never seen a girl like her. Dude, I bet that her personality is just as hot. I want to get to know her and learn about intimate stuff like her favorite color, which I hope is red because that would be awesome, and things like her favorite places to eat, which I hope is the Taco Barn because I’ve still got coupons for a free meal there.” I said, half romanticizing about having a romantic evening.
“Her favorite color is black. Her favorite restaurant is Los Nuevos, that spanish restaurant on East Street.” Roger grumbled.
“Dude! I wanted to find that out! Now I’ve just lost two things to talk about with Marcy!” I yelled.
“It’s on you then, man. Marcy’s not that hard to talk to. Besides, she works for you now so you need to explain her certain things. Like her pay. She wants to know how much she is getting paid for this.” Roger said.
“Uh, I’ll need to discuss the numbers with Dougman. But since we don’t know how much we are getting, we will be working on percentages. I think that the four of us combined with the two other people we find to rob the bank will get 10%. You and Marcy should get 10 percent. David Pincher will get 5%, and the rest will go to charity. Does that sound legit?” I asked.
Roger shrugged. “As long as I get paid in old fashion pirate coins...” he murmured.
I wasn’t planning on paying him in old fashion coins, but I didn’t want to tell him that right now. At that moment, we turned the corner on Pink Street and entered West Boulevard. The change was almost instantaneous. Pink Street was all clean, calm and peaceful with clean blue windows and kids running around kicking plastic balls on the sidewalk. West Boulevard was empty, devoid of life, and all the buildings were cold and dark in color and worn down. Most of the windows were smashed out.
Roger and I were just dazed, looking around at how dead this place was. There was like this weird sound in the air, not like silence, but like a screaming absence of sound that you could hear. “Alright...this place is kinda creepy...” I said. There was literally nobody. No cars, no faces, no dogs. Not even a dang pigeon. So in order to shut out the silence, I tried to turn on the radio. I reached down and pressed the button on the radio which unmuted it. Now, most of the time Roger has the station set to calm jazz or jewish rock, but we must have left the Area that both of those stations could reach, because we were now on a new station. On this station, we heard no music; just some lady whispering quietly.
“They’re all dead...I’m glad they’re dead...I’m dead...I’m glad I’m dead...” she whispered.
“Uh...yeah...not digging this station that much. How about I change it?” Roger didn’t seem to complain so I switched it to the next station.
All I could hear was some old guy chanting in backwards latin. “E nomini pedro. E Ceptim unpeddivi antu abucutus. Lutu Undubinus Septipulus...” Said the voice.
“...What is this, catholic radio? This isn’t music! Where’s the freaking music on these stations?” I asked, once again changing the station.
This time all I could hear was children screaming in pain and the crackling of fire in the background. I could see Roger sorta swaying left and right like he was tampering to some kind of beat I couldn’t hear. “Hmm...this is good stuff...” he muttered.
“Uh...Roger...this isn’t music. I’m not sure what this is, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to find it catchy...” I explained. He shrugged and I shut it off. Having nothing else to do, I stared out the window. There was one guy on the corner of the street. He was a homeless man who wore torn clothing and a dirty cap. He held in his hand a white sign with the words “no hope in sight” painted in black on them. We slowly passed by him, and the whole time he stared at me with dead eyes.
After passing that guy, we continued on down the street. “Uh...yeah...so did you see that guy?” I asked.
“No.” Roger said.
“Oh...uh...well then...” I muttered. This place was really starting to concern me. It was just an endless, dead neighborhood of dirty tenements and empty streets. But as we turned the corner, something colorful caught my eye. In the middle of this sea of dirty, empty buildings was a clean college campus with a green plaza and big white and red brick buildings. There were several people all around the campus. Plenty of activity inside the campus, but outside around the campus, nothing.
“Alright, I think that’s SkipJack right there. Let’s go find our man. Go pull over in that parking lot.” I said.
Angry Steve poked his head out of the window in the back of the front part of the van which connects the front to the back. “Hey, are we there yet? I’m getting tired of staring at Dougman’s face.” He said.
“Yeah, there it is right there.” I said, pointing it out.
Angry Steve’s eyes lit up with glee. “Yes! We are finally here! Let’s party!” He shouted, leaving the frame and disappearing into back of the van. Roger parked the car on top of a white chalk outline of a body in the parking lot. I glanced over at Roger and said “We’ll be back in a little while. If any East Side Butterflies show up, you know what to do.”
“...Give them all my money?” he asked.
“No. That’s the last thing you should do. If they stop by, shoot them in the clucking mouth and drive away. But first come get us so we can ride with you as you make your escape.” I explained. He seemed to understand that.
So I unbuckled my seat and opened the door. The door smacked against the door of the Silver Hybrid car next to us and it shattered the driver side window. I got out and closed the door. Angry Steve and Dougman were there too, standing by the back of the van. “Okay, so we’re here. What now?” Dougman asked. I glanced over at a minivan nearby that was filled up with pot smoke. The door opened and it began pouring out, revealing two skeletons who were sitting in the upright position in the driver and passenger seats.
“Uh...first thing we are going to do is get the cluck out of this parking lot...” I said. They seemed to agree with me. So we left the parking lot and began to walk down the path towards the main building. The path we walked was made of beige cobblestones and surrounded on both sides by well cut grass. It lead to a circle around a fountain where people sat on benches. Trees rose randomly all over the perimeter, and activity was taking place in different places.
Over to my left, there was a circle of hippie girls holding hands and dancing around a tree. Over to my right there was a guy beating the snot out of an indian kid next to a trashcan. Then we reached the fountain. Some guy was standing there, peeing directly into it. Then he bent over and threw up into it. After that, he passed out and calmly fell into it.
“Wow...that guy knows how to party...” Angry Steve pointed out.
Sitting in a nearby chair were three people. Two of them were women who were making out. Like full on, intimate making out in the daylight. The kind of kissing you do when you’re at home in private, but these chicks are just doing it in public without restraint. Sitting next to them was this fat guy with glasses typing on a laptop in his lap, not even looking at them. He’s just typing away while those two chicks next to him are going at it. It just seemed kinda odd to me.
I had to refocus and remember why I was here. We were trying to find Dorm 12-8. Now, I couldn’t ask either girls for directions because I didn’t really feel like interrupting their clearly romantic moment, so I gently tapped the fat guy on the shoulder. He shuttered like I had just shouted at him and glanced up at me slowly. “Yea...yeah?” He asked.
“Uh...do you know where Dorm 12-8 is?” I asked. He carefully lifted up a beefy finger and pointed at the 2 story building to the left of the gymnasium on the west side of the campus. Some guy jumped out out of the second story window and landed in a bush. “Hmmm...I hope that wasn’t our guy...thanks though.” I said to the fat guy. He nodded and went back to typing.
We continued on the path towards the Dorm, passing several people who were hanging out in the grassy areas. There was one guy who was sitting with two girls on a beach towel with a guitar. “Alright girls, I'm gonna play you a song about free credit...” The guy said, pushing up the comically oversized sunglasses on his unshaven face. He started strumming and it sounded more like a bunch of vibrating cords then a song, but the girls didn’t seem to notice.
“Man, that guy sucks at playing guitar. But the girls don’t seem to notice because he got those sunglasses. Bro, if I had glasses like that, all the chicks would be over me.” Angry Steve said.
“Dude, you’re married...” Dougman pointed out.
“...Oh yeah...I forgot about that...well, maybe if I had myself some fancy sunglasses like those, my Wife would stop telling me to brush my teeth every night. That shaving cream’s annoying, bro!” He said. I pushed open the door to the Dorm and stepped out of the way as two guys dressed in football jerseys flew out of the door. They landed hard on the cobblestone path and kept wrestling, grunting angrily as they fought.
The hallway itself was pretty occupied. Some blind guy was painting schizophrenic murals on the wall with virgin blood. Three british guys were freestyle rapping over in the corner. Some girl with big rimmed glasses was calmly sitting against the wall and reading a book. “...Don’t these guys have like classes or something? Why is everybody just out and about like this?” I asked. Dougman and Steve shrugged.
We made our way to the staircase and tried to climb it, but some guy was pouring gallons of beer down the steps, making them slippery. He stood at the top of the stairs with his arms around the tilted barrel, shouting “guys! I did it! I made a beer slip and slide!”
Some guy wearing a football helmet ran through the open doorway and kicked him in the back. He rolled down the stairs until his body smacked against the wall. The football guy raised his arms in the air and shouted “Slip and slide! Geronimo!!!” He jumped, sailing over the stairs and landing right on top of the guy at the bottom of the stairs. Neither of them moved. We both side stepped the two bodies and carefully made our way up the stairs, gripping the metal railing to make sure we didn’t slip off. Then we got to the top, where before us, over the open doorway, was a plaque that read “Dorms 12-8.”
We entered, finding ourselves in another hallway. Several other doors lead to other rooms. There were alot of doors in this college, which makes sense considering that college opens many metaphorical doors to our future success as long as we have the Will to seek out these doors and stand and enter them when they are open. However, unlike the metaphorical doors, these doors just led to College dorm rooms. There was some guy walking around, completely naked except for a fig leaf duct taped to his groin. He held under his arm a naked mannequin that was missing a leg, acting like this was totally normal for him. When he saw us, he gave us the silent “sup?” chin tilt.
“Hey, do you happen to know a guy who wears a red baseball cap?” Dougman asked.
The dude pointed at an open doorway leading to a room full of activity. I thanked him, and I would have shook his hand but I was kinda worried about where his hand had been, so I just settled for the verbal gratitude and left it at that. We entered this room and were immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and bad decisions. There was a huge boombox set up with loud 2Pac music blazing out of it. Two guys sat right next to it, listening to 180 decibels up close. “dude, this guy rocks!” One guy shouted over the sound of 2Pac rapping about child support.
Several guys stood in a circle, holding red solo cups and cheering on whoever was in the middle. “Go! Go! Go! Go!” They all shouted in unison.
“Why are they saying go? Are they trying to kick someone out? Are we involved in some kind of segregation process?” Angry Steve asked. I began shoving guys out of the way in order to get a better look. Dougman stayed back because he didn’t feel like touching a bunch of sweaty frat bros. Eventually, I managed to see who they were all standing around. Some guy in the middle was holding a full size keg of beer upside down with his lips on the nozzle, chugging it down. His short track pants and red and white jersey glowed in the soft light of the overhead lights, his red and white shoes were premium and clean, and to top it off, his slick black hair was covered by a red baseball cap. Our guy.
Suddenly, he threw down the keg and put his hands up in the air in victory. “Suck on that, GED class of 2017!” He shouted. Everybody put their hands in the air and went “Heyo!” They started high fiving each other and slapping hands and giving each other skin and other synonyms for hi-fiving. Then one guy drunkenly slapped another guy. That guy slapped him back. Then he punched him in the stomach. More guys started to fight, and suddenly a total brawl broke out among the guys with the solo cups. The bro with the baseball cap just calmly walked out of it like it was no big deal. He spotted me, standing outside of the groups staring at him, and said “Yo?”
“Uh...hey,do you happen to have an account on TurtleDove.Org?” I asked.
He smiled and pointed his chin up higher. “Who wants to know?” He asked. I suddenly noticed that the wretched smell of beer was wafting out of his mouth in almost visible gusts of smell. I tried to ignore it to the best that I could though.
“Are you...BadDaddy69?” I asked.
His skinny black eyes lightened up for a moment. He scratched his fat cheek and said “That’s me bro. Are you friends with that Chanty Chick? Man, I wanted to hit that the second I saw her profile. Do you think you can hook me up with that hottie?” he asked.
“Uh, first we kinda want to talk to you. What did you say your name was?” Dougman asked.
He spread his arms out to his sides and held the palms up like he was praising the lord. Then he slumped back and tilted his chin upwards. “I’m Kevin Strokehard.” he said all cocky.
“Kevin...Strokehard?” I asked. He nodded. Now, I wanted to ask him what his parents were thinking when they gave him that name, or maybe what he was thinking when he changed his name if that's what happened, but I didn’t. I just smiled and said “can you come with us? We need to talk in private.”
He calmly nodded. “Lead the way, hombre.” he said. So we lead him out of the room and into one of the other rooms where there was less activity. The room we chose was a bedroom with nobody in it and a door with the lock still intact, so we filed in and locked it behind us.
Angry Steve pulled some papers out of his vest and put on his circular rimmed glasses, reading through them. “Alright...now, I’m supposed to ask you a couple of questions. Care to take a seat?” he said, nodding to the empty chair next to a desk. Kevin shrugged and took a seat.
“So...why did you give yourself the username ‘BadDaddy69?’” Angry Steve asked.
kevin shrugged. “Cause that’s what I am, man. Ladies love bad boys like me.” he explained.
“So you’ve committed a crime before?” Dougman asked.
“No, officer.” Kevin said before chuckling.
“It’s alright man, you can tell us. We aren’t cops; we’re trying to be your bros.” I explained.
He wiped his nose with his wrist and spoke. “Uh, I’ve been known to smoke donkey tail and loiter. One time I stole some guy’s TV out of his dorm.” he explained.
“So wait...you’ve never committed any big crimes? So you haven’t done things like cocaine?” Dougman asked.
“Naw, bro. One time, I saw a guy do cocaine and then convert to buddhism. I was like ‘cluck that, man.’” He said, motioning with his hands the act of drunkenly swatting away an invisible fly.
“Well, in our...I mean Chanty’s personal ad, we were looking for people who like to party.” I pointed out.
“Dude, I love to party, I just don’t do cocaine. You know, partying; drinking, dancing around, throwing dwarves into trashcans. Stuff like that.” Kevin explained. Dougman and I turned and stared at each other with the same look of disappointment. It was becoming clear that this guy wasn’t the guy we thought he was. Seeing our silence, Kevin Strokehard went on to ask his own questions. “Yo, so what’s this chick like? What’s her real name? How soon before I can start making out with her?” He asked.
The sudden thought of this gorilla of a man making out with Marcy made me want to punch him in his gut. But I kept my cool and answered him. “Uh, not anytime soon. But we want to ask you, if you happened to have the time, would you be willing to pull off another crime?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m down for whatever, man. Just get me some beer and I’ll do my thing...” he said.
“Well, sounds like he’d make a pretty good henchman. He’s got the heart for it.” Dougman pointed out.
“Yeah, you guys mentioned in the ad something about working in a team? Does that mean this chick is up for a threesome? Yo, I can totally do that. You gonna be in that threesome, bro?” he asked Angry Steve.
“Yeah! ...wait, no. Sorry, I’m married.” Angry Steve realized.
“Uh, no. That’s not what we meant. We’re gonna break it down for ya, Kevin. We’re bank robbers. That ad was a subliminal message meant to reel in a potential gunmen for our future heist. We were looking for someone who could work in a team during a robbery. Here is our point; will you help us out with this?” I asked.
Kevin Strokehard thought hard about it. I was almost sure he would go call the cops. Dougman was sure too, which is why he places his hand on his pocket where he had hidden a pistol just in case. Kevin took a moment to think and then he spoke again. “So...who’s the chick in the picture then?”
“That’s our hacker, man. Her name is Marcy.” Steve explained.
“So...if I join you guys...will I get to meet her?” Kevin asked.
“I...guess so. That’s not really the selling point though. If you join us and we make it out of this heist alive with money, then you’ll get 10%. With that, you can buy all the clucking beer that you want. Does that sound like a deal?” I asked.
Kevin smiled and leaned back, putting his arms around the back of his head. “That sounds uptight man. I’ve always wanted to be in a heist but I always thought it would be some kind of overplanned panty raid or maybe me and a couple of buds would rob a liquor store or something. But I’m totally down with what you guy’s are talking about.” He said.
“Really? So you’ll do it then?” Dougman asked.
Kevin got up. “Yep. Now, let me give you my contact info, all my usernames to the 20 dating sites I subscribe too, my social security info, my application, Mother’s maiden name, list of allergies, and stuff like that.” He said.
I stepped back and pushed Dougman in front of me. “You can talk to Dougman about it.” I said.
“What?” Dougman asked.
Kevin Strokehard pulled out several pieces of crumpled up paper and began walking towards him. “Alright, let’s talk.” He said.
Angry Steve and I walked out of the room and into the hallway. I couldn’t help but smile. “Yo dude, whatcha smiling about?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m just glad we picked a good henchman. He’s obviously an idiot, we can pay him in beer, and now all we need is another person just like him and we have our team. We’re on our way, bro.” I said.
“yeah but we still need watches, guns, and some kind of explosives to blow the vault door open. We still got stuff that needs to be done.” Angry Steve explained. He was right, but as far as I was concerned, we were on our way to success. It just took some time.