Prologue: 8 Angry Suspects

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." 

-Seneca

I stood outside of the bank. This was it.

I was officially about to declare myself bankrupt.

I cringed to the thought of that rancid word. "Bankrupt". Such a devilish word. A word filled with both deceit and hatred. A word that meant a background of a diverse open ended story of both shame and indignity. It meant stupid decisions. Bad luck. For me, I had done both.

I bit more than I could chew when I invested a shitton of money into my cousin's guitar store. It was supposed to sell out. It would be a hit. I would be a massive part of bringing talent back into the world of music.

I stepped into the air conditioned bank, feeling each of my disgusted hairs on my skin elate to the gravitation of the cool air compared to the scorching sun outside. There was only a few people in the bank, and each was a weird character that I didn't want to talk to. I just wanted to walk up to that teller, close my account before any further damage gets done,-

But then what?

I pondered about what would happen in the next few hours. I checked the wall to see the clock pointed to roughly 2:00 PM. I would have enough time to write down my final words, and then maybe I would leave this cruel-"

"Next in line, please."

The voice of the teller kick-started my heart. As I approached her, I saw she was a strawberry blonde, and looked rather stern behind her half-circle glasses. Decrypting the teller's face brought me an overwhelming feeling of anxiety, and my last chance to slip away waded around the corner.

"I-"

But before another word got around, 4 masked gunmen kicked through the door, displacing the glass and steel doors on edge. This couldn't be happening.

"Ground, robbery, wallets, now!" Boldly shouted one of the robbers, waving a massive gun around.

I obeyed his orders, lying against the cemented tiled floor, the smell of fear stinging the air. I turned back at the teller to see another man got behind her, gun to head. This wasn't a nightmare. This was for real.

"Alarms have been rerouted, boss." Shouted the one behind the teller glass, as he waved the other bankers out of their hiding spots and into the lobby with the rest of us.

I felt the breath of a one of the hostages, the bank manager, skimmer down my neck. It took me a minute, but I realised that the poor bastard was praying. I lay against the floor, and felt one of the masked men pretend to take something from my hand, and he did this to each person that was hear before, excluding the staff. "Why did he just do that?" I asked myself. I was about to make a quick irrationally brave move to wrestle for the gun in his hands, but-" 

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience and cooperation, good luck in your new lives, and I bid you all, adieu." Declared the leader, as they danced back out into the open streets.

"We're alive...Praise the skies!" Announced a financial advisor in the back.

We heard sirens back in the distance, pulling closer and closer to us.

Boy, could I smell that freedom.