The older of the two black-suited men spoke as I entered the building.
“Oh, now who might this be?”
The man with the white suit and the dark red tie, who I suspected was the number, turned to look at me. He was a white, scrawny, and tall male with very brown combed-over hair. His face was completely clean-shaven, and his eyes were black with a dark yellow tint. The men beside him were different in every way. One of them was old, bald, and had moderately long white facial hair. The other one was tall and had a black-haired man bun, basic brown eyes, and no facial hair with fairly built muscles popping out of his black suit and tie.
The taller man exclaimed while looking at the man wearing the white suit, “Who is this guy? Do you know him, sir?”
The man with the snow-white suit replied, “Nope. I have no idea who he is, but he does look poor.”
I leered into the eyes of the man I suspected was the number with hatred and anger. I couldn’t care to assess the room or the situation. I knew he was a number, and I wanted to kill him now. The number raised an eyebrow in confusion at me as all the citizens’ screams outside faded away.
The man wearing the white suit asked me, “What? Are you homeless? You want some money?”
He immediately began pulling out his wallet as if it was routine.
I was furious. I rushed the number without thinking only to be flung back. It was like I hit a brick wall. I didn’t even have the chance to pull out a weapon. I looked up from where I was flung back, and the taller man in the black suit and tie was in front and looking down upon me. Instantly, the man jolted his fist downwards at me. I shifted my head to the right and barely dodged. The man’s fist pounded onto the carpet, and I flipped myself up backward creating distance.
The number handed the tall man who tried to punch me a one-hundred-dollar bill.
“Caviar, here. Give that to him. Maybe that’ll cheer him up.”
The man named Caviar spoke to me as he held out the bill.
“You got it sir. Is this what you want? Homeless man?”
As soon as I was about to speak, I heard gunshots, and the window on my right ignited sending glass flying towards me. I covered my eyes with my arms to block the glass and followed by throwing my arms away from my eyes quickly to see what was going on. A woman slowly walked through the glass pointing two pistols, one in each hand, at the men and the suspected number. She was now beside me and looked at me angrily.
She asked swiftly, “You. Are you here for the number too?”
I didn’t answer. There was just too much going on.
The woman had long black hair with emerald-green eyes. While holding two pistols, she was completely cloaked from her neck down to her simple black boots with a pitch-black clean cloak. The men were just standing in place, and Caviar dropped his arm holding the bill. The older man in the suit looked back at the number.
The suspected snow-white clothed number shouted, “Oh. So that’s what’s going on here!”
The woman moved forward and asserted, “You know who I am. I’m taking your head, number.”
I knew it. So that man wearing the white suit was a number.
“Uhh. No. I have no idea who you are, nor do I care. You’re definitely poor too.”
The woman continued to point her gun, but the number just leisurely took a seat by a table that was near the bank’s desk.
“Listen hag. I’m just here for some money. How about I cut you and the homeless man a percentage of what I’m about to rob? Sounds good-”
The woman didn’t let the number finish his sentence and fired five consistent rounds. The number didn’t move at all. All that I saw, in the blink of an eye, was the older man in the suit reaching out his hands towards the number, rapidly moving it. The man was wearing gloves as his hands reached out. The woman stopped shooting, and the older man opened his hands. The bullets hit the carpet softly as they fell out of the hands. His gloves were unscathed.
The woman was shocked.
“What? What the hell?”
The number expressed happily as he unbelievably and casually sat down on a table, “Hey! Nice one Linguini, but let’s let Caviar handle this. You can serve me some cake and tea while we watch.”
The man named Linguini responded while walking towards the bank’s desk.
“As you wish sir. By the way, the lady over there is a bounty hunter. I’ve seen that face before. She’s known as ‘The Witch’.”
Alright. So, the tall one’s name is Caviar, the older man’s name is Linguini, and the woman is The Witch.
The woman looked at me.
“Hey, you. Are you gonna answer me? Your cloak. Are you a bounty hunter too? If you’re also here for the number, wanna team up?”
I thought about what to say and noticed Caviar beginning to edge towards us raising his fists slowly.
I replied quickly, “Yea, yea. Fine, fine. Let’s kill them.”
I didn’t know who she was, but as long as she believed I was a bounty hunter that would keep her from pointing her guns at me. I threw my cloak towards Caviar revealing the hordes of weapons on my body. Caviar swiped the cloak away and sprinted towards The Witch.
I shouted, “Witch, shoot!”
She was only able to let out one bullet as Caviar rushed her. The bullet hit one of his shoulders, and he grabbed her pistols with both of his palms snatching them out of her hands. She fell to the ground as Caviar whipped the pistols out of the window she shattered before. She attempted to draw another one from her hip, but as the pistol was revealed, Caviar kicked it away, sliding it down the carpet.
While this was all going on, Linguini randomly rolled a cart with a teapot, a teacup, and a whole cake towards Number Twenty-Nine. He served tea as fast as a cheetah, and Number Twenty-Nine began sipping. I noticed that his snow-white top hat was now resting on a table to the left of where he was now being served.
Meanwhile, Caviar flexed his wounded shoulder popping out the bullet. He then reached his hand toward the bulging bullet now sticking out of his shoulder and pulled it out completely unfazed. He flicked the bloody bullet towards The Witch and towered above her awaiting a response. She rapidly drew a knife out of one of her boots and swung horizontally. Caviar jumped back and entered what appeared to be a very basic boxing stance.
I couldn’t care what was going on with her or Caviar. Number Twenty-Nine was wide open. I rapidly hurled two daggers that were attached to my left and right torso at the number’s head only for them to be instantly snatched by Linguini. Instead of tossing them aside, tossing them at me, or countering in some way, Linguini simply swirled both knives around in his hands and carefully cut a piece of cake. He served the cake on a small plate to the number as he finished another sip of tea. I was utterly confused. He snatched the blades at an incomprehensible speed.
The number howled, “Hey! Homeless man! Can you throw a few more while you’re at it? I think Linguini wants a slice too!”
I am going to kill that man. The lady rushed Caviar with her pocket knife while looking at me.
“What are you doing, you idiot! Stop scratching your ass! Man up, and help me out!”
Now I want to kill that woman. She was right though. These people were unpredictable. We had to work together.
I yelled at Caviar while spiraling a hatchet from my right knee.
Caviar exited his boxing stance and dodged hastily. He then entered the stance again. The Witch entered a fierce exchange of blows with him. The Witch dodged punch after punch while she swung her knife at him countless times. He kept dodging as I pulled out a machete and rushed to interfere in their one on one. After dodging for a solid three seconds, Caviar rapidly knelt down and swiped his leg at hers. She fell down, and Caviar attempted to get on top of her. She rolled away, and I swung my machete down at his shoulder. He bobbed his head and caught my hand holding the machete as I threw the strike at him.
Number Twenty-nine continued munching on his slice of cake and drinking his tea, spectating us while Linguini leisurely made his way back to the bank desk.
I heard Linguini state as I struggled to release Caviar’s grip from my hand, “Are you almost finished sir? This battle seems to be coming to a conclusion.”
I threw a punch at Caviar’s chest with my free fist, but he tanked it effortlessly.
The Witch, now on the floor, reached for the pistol that Caviar kicked previously, but that’s when he won the struggle against me over the machete. He punched my stomach plunging me back against the bank desk and hurled the newly acquired machete at The Witch. It stabbed the witch’s hand into the floor. Upon impalement, she screamed in agony. I felt unspeakable pain as I coughed up saliva and held my hand to my stomach while subsequently attempting to raise myself up. How could his punch have been so damn strong? That’s when Linguini, who was now behind the desk near an open register, held a small bag up over his right shoulder to get his crew’s attention. He declared victory.
“Alright sir. We’re done here. Once you finish your cake and tea, we can leave.”
Number Twenty-nine shouted, “That’s my man!”
The Witch still had her hand impaled into the floor squirming to take the blade out with her other hand while I began successfully bringing myself back up. The number dropped his fork and cup on the table, pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket on the right side of his white suit, quickly wiped his face, and began walking to the door ignoring me.
I shouted at the number, “I’m not done with you, you bastard!”
While screaming, Caviar dropped to his knees and threw his right hand onto his bleeding shoulder.
“What… What's going on?”
He turned to look at The Witch, but she just smiled palely. Caviar collapsed onto the carpet slowly.
Linguini, who was now behind me and the desk, expressed as if he was surprised, “Oh my.”
I extended my arm to the right of my body, gripped the air, and was about to draw out the great-scythe I gained, but the number completely ignored me and just walked out of the front entrance making sure to place the top hat back on his head. I had my eyes set on his back as he walked out and wasn’t going to let him get away. Right before I could conjure the great-scythe out of thin air, I blacked out.
All I remember faintly is The Witch carrying me through people and past streets as she slightly bled from her hand which seemed to be wrapped in a ripped part of my cloak. The obscure sounds of people talking and cars roaring as my body moved sent me back into darkness.