The Perfect Plan

For Blade and Angel, every day is about their next high. Tired of the daily pilfering needed to support their drug habit, Blade hatches a scheme for a bank heist that’ll line their pockets. It’s the perfect plan.

But in the middle of the robbery, their plan starts to crumble, forcing Blade and Angel to find a way to escape or face years in prison. And if that’s not enough, someone in the bank is killing the hostages, and it isn't them.

“Trust me; it’s the perfect plan,” the young man whispered into his girlfriend’s ear, hoping it was enough to keep her calm. As simple as her part was, he needed her to play it flawlessly.

It was five minutes to closing for the Comerica Bank in downtown Detroit. With its redwood-size columns, the building appeared more like an impenetrable fortress rather than a bank. 

This didn’t deter the young couple from slipping into the bank before the doors were shut. The elderly bank guard dutifully locked the front doors of the large, two and a half story building behind them. Exit only. 

The tellers were working as fast as they could to service their remaining customers before the start of the Fourth of July holiday weekend. The weather forecast for the next three days was sunny and warm. Everyone wanted out.

The couple stood at the end of the line, whispering back and forth while they looked around. The man wore a five o’clock shadow, blue jeans, and a black t-shirt with the word “D-town” on the front. A messenger bag was strapped across his chest. He appeared calm and focused as he eyed the tellers. The woman, however, couldn’t stop fidgeting, always looking around and tugging on his arm. Every few seconds the man would lean down and whisper into her ear. 

Most of the men in the bank had noticed the girl the minute she walked in. Her outfit was comprised of a black mini-skirt, black heels, a black baby tee, and a cropped silver and black leather jacket. Her hair was short and black, and she wore a plethora of bangles on each arm. But that’s not what caught their eyes.

It was her little porcelain butt, barely hidden by her skirt. It wasn’t typical banking attire but then again, she didn’t have typical banking business to conduct.

Within seconds the couple each pulled out their own handguns––he from his messenger bag, she from her Hello Kitty purse. They wielded 9-millimeter Glocks with extended clips, a reason to shut the hell up and listen.

The guy, the Robber, was the first to speak. “I want everybody planking on the mother fucking floor!” He then trained his sights on the guard. “Don’t move, Slick, or I’ll waste your black ass right there.” He made his way to the guard and disarmed him. “How we doing babe? You got things covered?”

The girl, the Babe, had her piece trained on the tellers and the customers. “Are you guys deaf? My sweetie said to get the fuck down.” She fired off a round in the air to emphasize her point. “And don’t even think of pushing the button for the silent alarm.”