A Spirited Emergence Episode 5: Bank Heist by D.L. Copyright  © 2010 D.L. All Rights Reserved. "With great power comes great responsibility". People are going to get hurt, I can't stand by and let that happen!

The armed robbers act quickly and with purpose. To rob a busy main street bank on one of the busiest days of the week is nothing short of audacious.

All three are dressed in what appears to be army surplus desert camouflage gear. It’s all patterned in various shades of sandy colours. The bulkiness under their jackets seems to indicate that they are also wearing some sort of body armour underneath their outermost layer of clothing. Each is heavily armed.

The first man is carrying a pump action shotgun, the second an AK47 automatic rifle. The third man’s armed with a Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol and is pulling a large suitcase on wheels. All three are carrying secondary pistols on their belts.

Mr. Shotgun rounds up the customers and staff in the room, and makes us lie down in the front corner of the bank, away from the main entrance. He then stands towards the rear, covering us with the shotgun and making sure that we all stay put. I guess he’s trying to keep away from the windows and use us a human shield in case the police try to shoot through the frontage.

Mr. AK47 covers the doorway, making sure nobody can enter from outside. He positions himself on one side of the door so that he has a clean shot out of the bank, but his body is hidden behind the doorframe for protection from outside.

Mr. Suitcase proceeds to the rear where there is a security door leading to the secure area behind the counter. He takes something out of the case and places it onto the reinforced door. By this time, all the cashiers have ducked down below their desks and alarms are ringing throughout the building. The raider then retreats to a distance before there is a flash and loud bang as the substance on the door explodes.

The security door swings open allowing the man to enter the area behind the counter. He then proceeds to threaten the staff and make them load cash into rucksacks that he produces from the case.

Although I am lying face down on the floor like everybody else, I’m the only person with a good view of what’s happening, due to my unique abilities.

I hear sirens outside and can see police taking up positions around the bank. The street outside is cleared and armed SWAT teams assemble nearby. Snipers make their way to vantage points on nearby buildings.

The thieves seem in no rush to get out of the bank. In fact, the person covering the door even remarks at how slowly the police have responded. It appears that they have planned for a hostage situation, rather than attempting to get away before the police arrive. This doesn’t look good. If they try to leave the bank with hostages, there’s a good chance people are going to be hurt.

I keep watch for what the police are doing outside the bank. It looks like they are going to wait for the criminals to come out before taking action. One of the staff must have been able to get a message to the police, as they know that there are three gunmen inside. However, they can only see two through the windows.

I also hear some of the instructions to the snipers. Although they can see inside, they can’t risk taking a shot. The glass frontage of the bank is reinforced and resistant to bullets. The windows won’t stop a sniper’s bullet, but will slow it down, altering its trajectory. Any shots through the glass would be likely to fall short and injure the hostages.

Mr. Suitcase is in the rear and appears to be talking on the phone to a police negotiator while forcing staff to fill bags with money.

These people look extremely organised. There is no hint of panic and they are remaining calm and focused. I have no doubt the robbers are in control of this situation and not the police. It is looking increasingly likely that they are going to leave surrounded by hostages, a strategy highly likely to get somebody injured or killed. The suitcase is now open on the floor and I’m able to see what else is inside. There appears to be explosives, and what I assume is a dead man trigger. I don’t like how this situation is unfolding.

For some reason a certain song about Spiderman comes to mind. Ode to a Superhero, by Weird Al Yankovic.

I analyse the situation carefully, then make a decision to use my powers to intervene.

My first action is to project myself behind the man with the shotgun. I have chosen the appearance of a female police officer, Olivia Benson off the TV series Law and Order: SVU. A male officer may be more intimidating, but why choose male when I can be a women instead, especially one who can kick ass? I am dressed in black jeans, blue blouse and black leather jacket. A police badge is attached to my belt. The only thing missing is a gun. I can only project in one place at a time, so I can’t simulate a bullet. Besides which I have never shot a gun, so the chances of being able to hit a target are remote.

By appearing behind the person with the shotgun, I am out of sight of both outlaws in the room. I quickly move round to his side grabbing the shotgun and thrusting it upwards into his face. This has two advantages. Firstly, the gun is no longer pointed towards the hostages, including me, and secondly, it gives him a nice bloody nose. I also strike a blow onto his neck with my other hand while kneeing him in the groin for good measure.

He drops to the floor half-conscious and in pain. I grab and throw the shotgun away into the rear corner of the bank. I bend down and take his pistol from his belt. I turn my attention to the second gunman while the first rolls around on the floor incapacitated.

Surprised at hearing his companion being attacked Mr AK47 swings round to face me. He sees me remove the pistol, and as soon as I am stood up, he opens fire. I am prepared for this. As long as the bullets are heading in my direction and not at anybody else, I’m happy.

The bullets travel straight through me, making a mess of the plaster and brickwork behind where I’m standing. I grin menacingly at the gunman and walk slowly toward him. He continues to unload the full clip into me. All the time I can see the fear building in his eyes.

“I’m a ghost, but the gun is real.” I raise the gun and point it at his head from only a foot away. I calmly state: “You can either leave now or join me in the afterlife, your choice.” He turns and runs straight out the front door into the path of several armed police officers who promptly arrest him.

I feel a bullet pass through my head from the rear of the bank, and the glass door in front of me shatters.

“Very clever, now drop the gun and stay where I can see you. If you try anything, I will start killing people. You may be immune to bullets, but everybody else isn’t.” I turn to see the final gunman holding his pistol to the bank manager’s head. The manager also has a device strapped to him with wires linked to a trigger the gunman is holding in his left hand.

The gunman has a mobile phone in his breast pocket with a wire going to a hands free headset. He is talking to both the police and me. “I don’t know what is going on here, but I don’t believe in ghosts, especially as Mariska Hargitay isn’t dead. Any more tricks and someone’s going to get hurt.”

I gently put the gun down at my feet.

The gunman calls out to the ex-shotgun guy, “Hey, numbskull, are you awake over there?” I look across at the person lying on the floor. It would appear some of the bullets fired through me dislodged a pot plant off a shelf and it has landed on his head. He is at the very least out for the count, if not more severely injured.

I weigh up my options. The trigger on the dead man device is large enough for both our hands to hold. I can grab it below where it’s currently being held and prevent its activation. My primary problem is the gun. There’s nothing I can do while it’s against the hostage’s head. I can re-project myself across the room in an instant, but even with the element of surprise I am not confident of being able to knock the pistol far enough to stop him shooting the manager in the head. I am also stuck at what to do afterwards.

The armed man orders the bank staff out from behind the counter. There are five of them, each with a rucksack. He tells them to surround him. I am instructed to join the hostages in the corner, which I do. As I walk over to the window, I gradually make myself more transparent so that by the time I have reached my destination I am hardly visible. He watches me carefully as I do so, saying nothing but eyeing me suspiciously.

Keeping a careful watch on me, he leaves the bank surrounded by hostages. The manager leads the group, still attached to the bomb and with a pistol a few inches behind his head.

I quickly remote view the position of each police sniper. At least one of them has a good shot, but none of them will be able to shoot unless the dead man trigger can be neutralised. I take a deep breath and pray that what I am about to do won’t make the situation worse. At least there’s now only one dead man trigger instead of the original three.

I wait until the police snipers have a clear shot, then I instantly appear directly in front of the outlaw. I take hold of the trigger with my right hand making sure to keep a tight grip while simultaneously grabbing his right wrist, the one holding his firearm, with my left hand. I pull his pistol arm downwards and to the side so any shots will hit the ground.

I realise I can’t maintain this struggle for long so I yell at the top of my voice “Shoot him!” As I do so I drop to my knees maintaining a tight grip on both the trigger and his wrist. I hear a loud crack and see the man’s head explode above me. His hand releases the trigger. I let go of his arm and grab the trigger with both hands as his body crumples to the ground. As the only thing solid about me is my hands, his body falls through mine. I am left kneeling on the street through the dead body, holding the bomb trigger.

A police officer dressed in SWAT body armour dashes over. “Here, take this before I fade away.” I carefully hand over the device to the astonished police officer. Once I am satisfied that he has a tight hold of it, I slowly fade out of sight so not to surprise him.

I return to my body inside the bank and sit up as several SWAT team members enter the building. One goes over to the unconscious shotgun owner and carefully checks his pulse by putting a finger on his neck. He then calls for a medic while handcuffing him. Another comes over to us and asks if anybody is injured. Nobody answers. Looking around, no one else seems to be hurt. Several more SWAT personnel head into the back of the bank. We are then quickly led outside via an emergency exit to the rear, and taken a short way down the street into a wine bar that the police have temporarily requisitioned.

Susan and I are holding hands. When nobody is looking, she squeezes my hand. I look at her and she raises her eyebrow in a questioning fashion. I nod at her. I whisper to Susan to go ahead and say exactly what she saw, just don’t let on that I’m the ghostly figure.

A couple of paramedics and several police detectives come into the bar and address us. The paramedics check each of us out in turn to make sure we are all right. The police then start interviewing each of us in turn. Because we are both classed as minors, the police ask that our parents to be present when we give our statements. Susan is allowed to phone her mother. As I don’t have an adult who knows me, I ask if I can give my statement alone. As I am only giving a witness statement, and am not being read my rights, I am told I will be able to do so without parental supervision.

It is going to take at least twenty minutes for my Aunt to arrive so we sit in a corner of the bar where we are not likely to be disturbed. I position myself so that I can project without it being obvious that I am asleep.

I decide to take the opportunity to speak to the senior officer. First, I project myself across town into the Public Library. They have free to use internet terminals and I quickly sign up for a new gmail account.

With remote vision, I locate the senior officer in one of the rooms nearby. He’s giving instructions to two other officers. I project the same appearance I used in the bank in ghost form so that I am semi-transparent.

“Excuse me,” I say to the surprise of the officers. “I believe you may want a statement from me.”

“Um, yes, of course,” the senior officer responds, recognising me from my brief appearance on the street. One of the other officers grabs a pad and pen ready to take notes. The third pulls a Dictaphone out of his pocket and starts recording the conversation.

“First, I am not a ghost, but a person with unique gifts of astral projection and remote viewing. I was nearby and saw the gunmen enter. I am in a trance close by. I don’t want to identify myself, as I don’t want to end up being dissected in some secret government laboratory.” I keep my identity and whereabouts deliberately vague. “I intervened as I could see that they were organised and ready to take hostages.”

I relate the earlier events in as much detail as I possibly can. The officers question me about my actions and I answer them truthfully, but refuse to identify myself further. I give them the email address I have just created before ending the interrogation by vanishing.

My Aunt Janice and my father arrive. I’m introduced as Jennifer, a friend of Susan’s. It feels very weird treating my own family as strangers. One of the detectives calls Susan to be questioned, and she heads into another room with Aunt Janice. I am called in to be interviewed shortly afterwards.

First, I am asked for my name. I reply, “I am commonly called Jennifer Palmer, however do you need my full legal name?” I am told that it is indeed required. “David Andrew Palmer", I answer, looking her directly in the eye. She looks at me slightly surprised.

“Despite my appearance I am legally male. The reason I declined having my father present is that he is unaware of my female persona. I would appreciate if this information was kept on a need to know basis, it could have implications for my safety. There are a lot of bigots about,” I respond.

The police officer nods and then asks for my date of birth and address, which I give. I am then invited to speak about what I saw happen. I begin to relate how I would have expected to see and hear the events had I not been the one doing the heroics.

“I had just finished using the ATM when three individuals dressed in army surplus clothing entered the building. I could not see their faces as they were covered. They instructed everybody present to get down on the floor at the front of the building in the opposite corner from the door. I did as instructed.” I pause so that the officer can catch up with the notes she is taking. “The man with the shotgun positioned himself along the right side wall and kept watch. The rifleman stood near the entrance and the third person headed towards the back of the room. I didn’t see much else as I kept my face to the floor until your officers came in, however I can tell you what I heard.”

The officer nods for me to continue. “By this time, a number of alarms were ringing, so I couldn’t hear everything that was going on. I heard a loud bang followed by the sound of a door being kicked open. There was some shouting and screaming, but I couldn’t make out what was said. I assume this was coming from behind the counter. I heard a couple of thwacks and what might have been a bone breaking, quickly followed by someone falling to the floor, from the direction of the right rear corner of the bank.”

I pause again before continuing. “The sound of gunfire came from the main entrance. It continued for several seconds. A female voice then said ‘I’m a ghost, but the gun is real, you can either leave now or join me in the afterlife, your choice’.”

“Were those the exact words spoken?” the officer asked.

“Yes, I remember then clearly,” I reply.

“What happened next?” The officer asks.

“I heard someone barge through the front door and run off. There was then another gunshot from somewhere to the rear of the bank and the sound of breaking glass from the direction of the door. A male voice then said ‘Very clever, now drop the gun and stay where I can see you. If you try anything, I will start killing people’.”

“You are certain that is what was said?” The police officer asked.

“Yes,” I confirm. Satisfied the police officer asks me to continue. “The male voice then said something else, but he was speaking more softly and I couldn’t hear what he said over the background noise. He then shouted ‘hey, numbskull, are you awake over there?’ to which he didn’t get a reply. He then shouted ‘right, move it’ and I heard a number of people walk out the front door. I heard the female voice shout ‘shoot him’ and there was a gunshot. I then heard a number of people running into the bank and shouts of ‘armed police’. It is at this point I finally look up to see your SWAT officers and we were taken out of the bank.”

“Thank you, Miss Palmer,” the police officer states. “That is a very clear and concise statement. If we need anything further, we will be in contact. I will get this typed up for you to sign.” With that, she rises from her seat and leaves me alone in the interview room. It’s actually a side room off the bar used for private parties.

We are then allowed to leave, and the four of us head outside. The street in front of the bank is still blocked off, so we have to take a diversion down a back street to head back towards Platterns department store.

My father then asks where David is, as he thought I would be with Susan. I quickly think of an excuse. “He is currently playing computer games with my younger brother.”

“Oh, I thought I recognised his bike chained to Susan’s in the bike rack,” he replies.

“David let me borrow his bike as mine had a flat tyre. He and my brother were going to take a look at it while Susan and I are out shopping.” That seems to be a satisfactory explanation.

We call back at the department store and retrieve our shopping from the trunk of my uncle’s car. We drop the back seats down and load the bikes in instead. My aunt leaves a message on my uncle’s phone regarding bringing the bikes home.

We all then proceed to travel back home in my father’s car. I’m asked where I live and give a vague response, “Just a few roads away from Susan. You can drop me by the Red Lion on the way through.” The Red Lion is our local bar, it’s based on a traditional English public house.

I have another reason for being dropped here, one that I think Susan realises. She smiles at me when I say it, so I assume she knows what I am going to do. There are a number of back alleys around the estate, one of which leads down the side of the Red Lion to the street behind ours. From there I can get down the alley to our back gate.

Luckily, neither adult insists on meeting my family and they let me get out where requested. As soon as the car starts to drive off, I sprint down the alley towards home. As I come through the back gate, I hear a car turning round in the end of the road. I quickly unlock the back door and dart through the kitchen as I hear it reversing up the driveway. I head straight to my bedroom and dive down the other side of the bed.

By the time my father comes in the back door, David is putting the kettle on to make some coffee.

“Coffee?” I ask.

“No thanks, Janice is making me some,” he replies. “You’re back, I thought that you had gone out with Susan.”

“She and Jenny were planning on doing some shopping and while they did invite me and Steve to join them, we don’t feel comfortable hanging round the lingerie department.”

My father chuckles at that. He then turns serious and explains what had just happened at the bank. We both then head back down the street to my cousin’s house.

My aunt makes us some sandwiches for lunch. Susan and I manage to escape into the back garden to eat ours. I am able to temporarily return to my body and sneak down the back alley so that Susan can hand my sandwiches through a hole in the hedge. I quickly sneak them back home before projecting myself into her back garden again. I was keeping a close remote eye on my father and aunt the whole time to avoid being caught.

About mid afternoon, I leave with the excuse of finding out if Jennifer is all right after this morning’s heist. I go home and phone saying I have been invited to dinner, which gets me out of eating with my family. Not being able to eat as David is going to become awkward quickly.

With my father staying for dinner with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, it means I have the house to myself, although I have to keep an eye out for him coming home.

I eat the sandwiches from earlier and down a whole packet of chocolate chip cookies. All this projecting is making me exceedingly hungry. I find a microwavable meal in the back of the freezer for my dinner.

My father returns home mid evening and we spend the rest of the night watching TV. I retire to bed slightly earlier than usual, as I am extra tired from all the day’s activities. I am projecting my old image again, and I don’t want to run the risk of fading out.

I am woken up on Sunday morning by my father bringing me a cup of coffee.