The Masked Gunman

Brandishing a gun he shouted “Give me the money!” at the little shaken old lady at the band checkout desk. Alarms were screaming like babies everywhere. Everyone in the bank was scrambling for refuge behind chairs, desks or whatever they could get their hands on. A small boy was crying and holding onto his mother as this sick, twisted criminal put lives in danger for some money. The lady gave him the money and he fled quickly. Ten seconds later everyone stood up, shaken and the old lady was trembling behind the desk. The police arrived shortly afterwards but were too late to trail “the masked gunman" the name by which he was known to the authority after targeting several local shops and terrorizing their neighborhoods. “We can’t do anything mam,” a policeman exclaimed, “We’ll get him next time boys,” he then announced to his fellow officers before they sped off in their orange yellow and white patrol cars. Everyone looked at each other in dismay and couldn’t believe that the police had just left so abruptly. Perhaps they didn’t understand that if he were approached he would probably have no mercy of killing an innocent pedestrian or authoritarian.

“This is the man we need to catch if we want to make this community safe,” the constable told his fellow officers the next morning. They all knew that this man was unreachable and no-one knew his identity as he always wore a black, flame stricken mask whenever he carried out these brutal robberies he was drawn to. To catch the thief you had to catch the mask. People’s lives are in danger while he is on the loose after he escaped from prison last year, after committing an amount of felonies around England. He has many contacts and could get a man killed within hours. He was about 6 foot 1” and built like a bulldog, but that is all they knew of him and he was practically untouchable. He had a range wide of houses and unregistered cars to his name which made him extremely hard to track. He knew the major cities like the back of his hand and boasted a genius IQ. Bit if anyone could catch him it would be the North Anglian Police.

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While everyone was quizzing the whereabouts of this man in a mask he was preparing for his next heist, the robbery of £3 million from a London Casino. He was well equipped with a range of firearms and accessories. He hid in his run down flat in East Dormant, the roughest place in the area. His flat was covered in rubbish and smelt worse than a dog’s breath. There was uneaten pizza everywhere and ammunition all over the creaky, dark wooden floor. He slept on a pile of cushions, blankets and pillow arranged in a sort of heap on the floor. How could someone live here? The Masked Gunman squatted here to lay low after being in hot pursuit however how this would change if he pulled off his next robbery would be incredible. With £3 million under his name he could disappear to anywhere in the world, have a luxurious lavish of cars, yachts, and villas wherever he wanted. He would be unreachable. The police would not enjoy having their failure to catch this man sprawled across he headlines therefore they were determined to catch him.

The day that the casino heist was to take place on arrived. A warm Sunday evening in June. The air was cool and old couples were out taking a stroll when he pulled up outside in his battered, old, green Vauxhall Caviler. He got our wearing blue dungarees and his trademark flame stricken mask. Onlookers stared worryingly as he opened the boot and collected a black, silenced pistol. He then strolled into the casino and shouted,
”Get on the floor now!” the lady at the slot machine quivered, as did the casino manager as he was staring down the barrel of this powerful weapon. Everyone was on the floor shaking as the gunman announced calmly, “Anyone dares to move or even try and escape, I will make sure that their head is placed on a pole and paraded around the town, understand?” Everyone looked at each other and nodded attentively. He turned back to the manager, as his sweaty hands clenched the gun fiercely.

“Take me to the safe,” he imperatively spoke.

“The safe is on a time lock and cannot be overridden at any time during…..”

The gunman cocked his gun and everyone gasped. He rose on eyebrow to the manager sarcastically.

“Ok, Ok, just don’t… shoot. Follow me,”

The gunman and manager disappeared through the lush red casino interior doors towards the safe of the casino, the gun still pointing at the poor managers head.

They walked down corridor after corridor until they came to a solid grey door. ‘Private’ it read on the smooth door. The manager got the keys and the gunman ushered him inside.

There before them stood the biggest safe money could buy. The Terminator 3002. It stood proudly in the room surrounded with plain walls.

“Enter the code,” the gunman ordered.

“Look, you’re a smart man, I could get you places, I could organize ….” He replied.

“Open the damn safe before I blow your head off!” the gunman impatiently shouted.

The manager reluctantly dialed in the sixteen digit activation code. The safe open slowly and was filled with new, unused, crispy fifty pound notes.

“Now help me load all this into bags,” the gunman said. Staring open mouthed at the money that he was about to invest.

The bags were filled with pure cash as the gunman walked out of the doors back into the lobby of the casino where everyone still lay frightened and scarred from this terrifying ordeal. The gunman snatched the bags that the manager helped him carry from the safe and ran out of the front doors of the casino abruptly.

He halted sharply and stood in disbelief. There before him was at least three hundred armed police officers waiting for him.

“Put your weapon on the floor and raise your hands above your head,” a policeman shouted through a megaphone. The gunman stood in total shock while officers closed in around him. He went to run but ten officers jumped him and left him lying uncomfortably on the cold, concrete floor. He was done for. They picked him up surrounded by more officers with automatic weapons for extra security. He was forced reluctantly into a patrol car accompanied by two more officers who he was handcuffed to. As the patrol car sped off with police vans either side of it the manager of the casino cheekily waved at the masked gunman. He was greeted with the “V sign” from the gunman as the patrol car sped off into the sunset with the now “unmasked” gunman in its grasp.

Ed Horrocks 10SSB