Chapter 35—Bank Brawl
“I’m guessing you didn’t bring Lydia?” Finster said.
“Why do you want her anyway?” Sylvia spat out.
“Oh, you’re still upset about Kirk,” Finster said, nodding. “I didn’t mean to, but it was him or me. Honest, I wasn’t trying to get rid him. You know he was my favorite rival. He just got a little too hot to handle when he’s gassy. Come now, don’t look like that,” he said. “Okay, okay. Bad joke on my part. Sylvia, you know I respected him. He was a good agent. I’m just trying to lighten your mood and have a bit of fun. Kirk knew how to have fun like that. How about I make it up to you, then? Let’s catch a movie. Friends only and you pay for any snacks you want.”
“You won’t get Lydia,” Sylvia said, growling. “Why don’t you let these people go?” Lydia and the boys snuck around to the vault, inching closer to Finster. “You have me now.”
“We figured you would say that,” Heather said. “Don’t worry. We’ll take you. Then we’ll negotiate for Lydia. I doubt Arthur would want to lose two agents in such a short amount of time.”
Finster walked forward. Jando touched one of the rows, giving an opening for Lydia to see Heather. She had her pistol aimed at Sylvia, who was glaring daggers at Heather and Finster.
“How do you two plan to escape? Even with hostages, there’s no chance for you,” Sylvia said.
“Ah, see, that’s where our ace in the hole comes in,” Finster said.
“What? Your bombs?” Sylvia asked. “You would kill yourselves in the process?”
Aidan lifted Jando, who clung to Aidan’s back. Then he picked up Lydia and held her in his arms as he took them both up to the ceiling, keeping to the darkness. The combined uneven weight of both of them proved almost too great for Jando. Yet he managed to hover awkwardly above the group below. Lydia motioned at herself, Finster, the vault, then at the boys. Jando caused the two to vanish. Aidan flew Lydia and Jando above Finster and Heather. He made sure to stay in the shadows so Jando wouldn’t be seen. Along the way, Lydia saw another dead guard, his face pale, by the vault’s light.
“Who said anything about bombs?” Finster said. “I believe I mentioned ‘firepower.’ Although I suppose they are bombs, in a manner of speaking.”
“Meaning?”
Aidan halted right above Finster. Lydia mouthed prayed that she’d be able to disarm Finster right away.
Finster said, “Canisters loaded to the brim with new and improved SN91. Faster, better, and definitely stronger. I’d hate for you to have to experience its symptoms. Flopping around like a dying animal? Twitching, gagging, and gasping for breath? Let’s not forget the pain of it all either. Death occurs within days for this batch, not weeks anymore. Nasty sight overall. Not suited for you, my dear Sylvia.”
Aidan gasped and nearly dropped Lydia. Her mind started racing. SN91? The disease?
Sylvia looked shocked as well. “You’re going to release it? Here?”
“Makes a good getaway,” Finster said, laughing. “Easier to escape in a panic. Everyone will be too busy looking for stolen cash and trying to contain the airborne disease. It’s also a decent test for this latest batch.”
Heather elbowed him in the ribs. “You talk too much,” she said. Then she held her pistol to Sylvia’s head. “Drop your holster.” Sylvia did so.
“Hey,” Finster said, turning to the vault. “Get me the detonator. Small, gray piece. Has two red buttons. Then let’s start getting everyone out of here.”
Lydia was frozen in Aidan’s arms. Finster was moving away. Should they change plans? Aidan decided for Lydia, releasing her. She dropped on top of Finster and became visible. His gun went off and she wrestled with him for it. Heather was distracted long enough for Sylvia to kick the gun from her hand.
Finster pushed Lydia off, the gun clattering to the ground, and held her up by the throat. His grip was cutting off her air supply. She pried his fingers, spreading them apart. He added his other hand, choking harder. Lifting her fists high, she hammered on his arms.
“Agh!” He dropped her and shook his arms. He hissed. “Oh, that’s good. That’s good.” Then he stopped and stared at her. The deep, blank eyes of the mask were unsettling. “Wait a minute. It can’t be,” he said slowly. “You’re Lydia.”
She nodded. He clapped his hands and laughed. “Oh this is rich! So you did bring her!” he said to Sylvia. But Sylvia and Heather were engaged in tearing one another apart. Sylvia kicked high. Heather ducked and spewed spurts of black, noxious gas. Sylvia leapt out of the way, disappearing behind one of the shelves of deposit boxes. Heather chased her.
“I came here on my own,” Lydia said. “Let my parents go!”
“Oh, sure, sure,” Finster said. “We just need you to come with us. Tell you what. We’ll settle on some of your blood.” He turned a dial on his waist. Lydia recoiled at two masses in his legs that wormed their way up to his arms. She was horrified at the unnatural process of parts of his legs shifting, stretching his skin, then settling comfortably within his arms. Those lengthy appendages were extended to a disproportionate size. “Unfortunately, I’m all out of syringes. Guess I’ll have to beat it out of you.”
He ran toward her, fists raised. His fists slammed the floor, throwing Lydia off balance. She hopped to her feet and dodged another tremor. She swung at Finster. He grabbed her hand, crushing it in his own. Lydia spread her fingers apart. Then she jabbed his stomach. It was difficult being mindful of her bones’ limits at the same time. Straight, hook, uppercut, and Finster fell.
“You are as strong as they say,” Finster said, sitting up. “But how much can you stand?” He charged and swung at her head. Lydia ducked aside. She conjured up whatever she could remember from self-defense. Nothing immediately came to her. So Lydia jumped onto his back. Finster hit her sides. Lydia squeezed tight. Finster backed into a wall, smacking her against it. Whump! Whump! Dazed, Lydia slid off the wall and rolled sluggishly away. Finster hit the wall where her head had been. Summoning her strength, she tackled him to the ground. Self-control abandoned to concentrate on fighting, she punched Finster’s face. His mask came away, allowing her to see the damage she’d dealt him. Her bones felt like they were tearing, and she was forced to ease up. Finster used his forearms to stop one blow. Then he bashed her in the head.
Lydia fell off. She scrambled to her feet as Finster stood. She dashed and kicked at his side. Finster caught her leg in the air. He flung her in circles like a ragdoll. Then she was sailing across the room. She hit the floor hard, landing on her shoulder.
Meanwhile, Jando and Aidan had landed and confronted Crying Clown inside the vault. The criminal held the detonator in his hands. “Get back!” he cried. His hand shook violently. “I’ll set them off!”
Arnold was lying on the ground against one wall. He kicked the criminal’s foot, knocking him over. Jando grabbed the detonator from him and Aidan tore at the criminal’s mask. Crying Clown pushed Aidan off. Then he jumped up and punched at Jando.
Jando elbowed the criminal. Undeterred, Crying Clown continued to attack. Aidan stepped up, jabbing and kicking him. Yet none of the blows slowed down Crying Clown. “Why won’t you go down?” Aidan groaned. He and Jando attacked nonstop, throwing punches everywhere. Torso, face, legs, but nothing worked.
Jando wrapped his arms around Crying Clown’s waist and lifted him high in the air. Aidan helped steady the load. Then, as hard as possible, Jando smashed Crying Clown to the floor. But the inexhaustible criminal kept coming back for more.
Aidan picked up a money box. He whacked Crying Clown with it. Clang! Clang! The metal box had no effect. Aidan chucked the box at Crying Clown’s head.
Crying Clown picked up Finster’s discarded gun. He aimed it at Jando and Aidan. “Give me back the detonator!” he said. “Give it!” He couldn’t hold the pistol without it rattling.
“He won’t fire it,” Aidan whispered to Jando.
“Yes, I will!” Crying Clown said, assuring them. His
finger slipped onto the trigger and then away, unable to commit.
Aidan eyed Jando and looked down at his hands. Jando caught on and handed the detonator to Aidan. Walking forward with Jando’s hand on his back, Aidan held out the detonator to Crying Clown’s outstretched hand. Crying Clown jolted when Aidan vanished. This turned to surprise cries when Aidan’s invisible hand cuffed the criminal’s ear. The gun dropped. Jando kneed Crying Clown in the face. Together, Aidan and Jando attacked relentlessly, exhausting themselves.
Crying Clown remained unfazed during the punishment. He came back at the boys when they lost their energy. He hit Aidan right on the swollen bruise on his cheek.
“Yeow! No!” Aidan cradled his face. Crying Clown punched Jando, then head-butted Aidan. He swiped the detonator. Aidan and Jando continued to swing, but most of their punches went wild.
Off to the side, Sylvia and Heather were putting on an impressive display in their deadly dance. Heather swept her foot along the floor, aiming for Sylvia’s legs. Sylvia jumped and countered by slicing at her throat. Heather leaned back, aiming for a high kick. Sylvia grabbed and wrenched Heather’s foot. Heather landed on her hands between Sylvia’s legs. She kicked Sylvia from behind and sprang to standing.
Heather latched onto Sylvia’s head and bashed it into one of the shelves. Sylvia’s hook to the gut broke the hold. Their fists and feet flew in a flurry of motion. High elbow, low kick, duck, strike. Sylvia grabbed Heather’s arm and twisted it.
Heather yelped and spun around behind Sylvia’s back. She grabbed the other woman around her neck. Then she yanked backward, bringing Sylvia to the ground.
Sylvia struggled free and kicked Heather in the face. Then she rammed her, connecting her shoulder with Heather’s torso.
Lydia was only vaguely aware she was being lifted when Finster loudly proclaimed to an imaginary crowd, “He’s doing it! Twice in one day! The powerbomb!” He crushed her braces, pinching the metal of one end shut. The intense pressure suffocated her arm. The other brace was bent and mangled. His height grew as his arms shifted back to their normal shape.
Hands flailing, Lydia found a tube connected to Finster’s spine and yanked on it hard. Some liquid gushed out. Finster dropped her and reached around. “No, no, no!” he said. He screamed in anguish, clenching his teeth in terrible agony. Lydia searched and discovered similar tubes on his body. She pounced on him like a cat. She pulled the tubes, snapping them one by one.
The masses under Finster’s skin halted in his back. He yelled, wheezing and grunting. He held onto a shelf, pounding on it as his body contracted. Hunching over, he roared at the floor, his red head ready to explode. The masses slowly worked their way into both his legs, accompanied by his long tormented cries. When he finished, his face was drenched in sweat. He leaned his weight on one foot, close to falling. “That,” he said, sipping air through his teeth, “was not a very smart thing to do.”
Lydia backed up. There was a growing dread that she had pulled the tail of the bull. Finster certainly fit the part, holding his head down, readying it for ramming. A guttural shout and then he was rushing her. He hit hard. Lydia could merely defend and dodge.
Aidan and Jando had set up a routine. One freed one of the seven hostages as the other fought the Crying Clown. When Crying Clown had pushed away his opponent, he would attack the liberator. Then the previous opponent took on the role of freeing the hostages. It was a cycle they perfected, urging people to flee as the other combated fiercely. There were various yells and screams amidst the fighting. Thankfully, no one ran after the escaping hostages.
When only Arnold and Debra were left, Jando managed to untie Arnold first. He switched roles with Aidan, who helped Debra. As he was loosening her bonds, Arnold ran to his daughter.
“Lydia!”
Finster had driven Lydia against the wall. His merciless blows were unending. He finally held her up by the throat once more, crunching her neck as his veins popped in his own. Lydia was drained, her arms aching from deflecting heavy punches, and her vision was fading. She chopped Finster’s arm. He socked her jaw. She tasted bitter copper as he continued to choke her.
Arnold collided into Finster and they tumbled to the ground. Lydia collapsed, coughing strands of blood and rubbing her throat. “Dad,” she said, wheezing.
Arnold pushed Finster away, creating as much room as he could between the large man and Lydia. Finster lifted Arnold high into the air and flung him headfirst into the wall. Arnold bounced off and fell motionless to the ground.
“Dad!” Lydia crawled to him. “Dad?” He didn’t answer. “Dad!” She rolled him over. His eyes were closed. She propped up his head, opening his eyes. He was unresponsive. Lydia withdrew her hand from the top of his head. Her fingers were stained crimson.
“No!” She leaned down, listening for a heartbeat, breathing, anything. Nothing. Her own heart stopped. The world halted in its tracks. Lydia shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “No, no!” She pressed his chest, performing any kind of CPR she had picked up from television. Her erratic chest compressions and breaths into his mouth had no effect.
In the background, Debra was screaming Arnold’s name. All the fighting faded until Lydia could only hear her own sobs. She wept over his body, burying her face in his chest. She beat on him. “No!” she said, blubbering. “No, Dad! No. Please, don’t be gone. Don’t go. Please, God. Please. Please. ..”
She wiped her tears on his clothes and stared down at his face. He was gone. Her father was gone. Debra was at her side, calling for Arnold to come back. But Finster’s throw had soundly destroyed any hope of that.
Finster. Lydia spun around. The large man was standing there, watching them mourn. He seemed surprised himself at Arnold’s demise, but Lydia didn’t care. “You,” she spat, the malice welling up in her soul. “You. I’ll kill you.” She smeared snot on her jacket sleeve. “I’LL KILL YOU!”
She threw herself at Finster with a fury she didn’t know she possessed. A powerful force took over her body as she punched, kicked, bit, and clawed at him. Lydia took no notice of the stress to her bones or to anything else around her. Her vision flashed red as she unleashed a hail of attacks.
Bruises welled up in Finster’s flesh. Cuts appeared. Marks that Lydia hoped would serve as memorial scars embedded themselves into Finster. She didn’t ease up. She lifted him overhead, hurling his giant body at the wall. His back smacked into the wall and he crumpled to the ground. Lydia leapt on him.
But she was yanked away, legs kicking. Sylvia. She had grabbed Lydia by the waist. A gunshot rang out. Sylvia dragged Lydia behind one of the rows, holding her own pistol up high.
Jando, Aidan, and Lydia’s mother were nowhere to be seen. Heather paused in her firing and called to the dark room. “Come on!”
Footsteps echoed through the room. Lydia saw the Crying Clown running to Heather, detonator and toolbox in hand. Lydia raced out of cover and tackled the criminal, latching onto his leg and tripping him up. Sylvia tried to pull Lydia back to safety, but Lydia reached down and unmasked the last criminal. It was Mark.
Mark kicked out at her face and ran off. Lydia tried to follow, wiggling away from Sylvia, but Heather suppressed them with more gunfire.
“I’ve got this!” Aidan said. He was hidden near the vault, fumbling with the grenade. “Stay back!” he yelled at Heather. “I’ve got a grenade and I’m not afraid to use it!” She fired toward his voice. He tore at the pin, unable to pull it out. He covered his head when the bullets struck closer to him. “Quit shooting, you psycho!”
When Lydia heard the pistol click, she dashed out. Sylvia called for her to stop, but Lydia sprinted after the criminals.
Somewhere ahead, Heather had reloaded and was firing at Lydia. A sudden explosion rocked the bank’s halls. Debris was strewn in her path, but Lydia jumped over it. She rounded a corner, but dove away from a grenade rolling along the floor. She covered her head as it detonated, raining bits of tile on her head. Then she was up and moving again.
The criminals were running for the back door of the bank. Lydia arrived in time to see Mark slip out last. She ran for the door and pushed. The door budged, but didn’t open. Outside, a firefight was taking place.
There was a loud bang like a balloon popping. She heard a hiss nearby, like an approaching snake. Gas. The disease. One of the canisters must have been close to her. She pushed harder on the door. It creaked. After a couple of shoves, whatever blocked the door gave way. Lydia stepped outside—
And was met by a fist. A one, two punch sent her sprawling onto the ground. Her head spun. The gas was nearing her, seeping out of the door. But she couldn’t stand, much less run.
An engine roared. Orders to “Halt!” and “Stop!” Another earth-rumbling explosion. Wheels screeching, then crash! More gunfire. Lydia was only vaguely aware of the chaos around her. Within moments, she had blacked out.