🎤 for a trope filled drabble
“Hey. Hey.” Persistence earned Tabby a single glance of acknowledgement. “My nose itches. I don’t suppose you could, like, untie me for two minutes so I can scratch it.”
Despite unleashing all of her charms, with big sad eyes in the mix, their captors remained unmoved. Sighing, Tabby slumped back against the wall.
“Which trick was that?” From a similar position beside her, with hands bound at the back by a thick white zip tie, Corinne merely sounded curious. Not afraid or quivering, as any normal person might be during an armed robbery gone sour. “Was that the ‘annoy the bad guys so they leave’ tactic, or ‘humanize their victims’.”
“Option three. My nose is really itchy.” Several years of hopping from one tropical island to the next had darkened the freckles upon Tabby’s face, and the marks bunched in as her nose wrinkled for emphasis. “Besides. Today is already enough of an epic fail. I’m not going to pretend to be a big damn hero. I am going to sit here and wait until these dudes and their showdown with the local law enforcement comes to its natural conclusion.”
To call the past few hours eventful was an understatement. The plan had been for a quick layover, swapping of boats, and on to the next destination. Easy. Something they’d done time and again. Except today the boat seller suddenly decided he didn’t want local currency. He wanted US dollars, forcing Corinne and Tabby to detour to the local bank. Barely two seconds after joining the queue for the sole open teller, the men with guns had come bursting in.
“Do you think we got set up?” Amid the panicked screams from the other customers, Tabby hissed the question in Cory’s ear. Her friend merely gave a resigned sigh.
“Honestly, Tabs, I can’t even tell anymore if it’s bad guys out to get us, or just bad luck.”
Maybe the robbers were having a rough time too. If the whole bank heist was designed around stealing the sizable lump sum Tabby had been hoisting around in a duffel bag, the criminal masterminds had neglected to dole out appropriate bribes. The police had come squealing up right as the bank teller withdrew the last note from the till, her hands shaking so hard the money resembled the blur of a humming bird’s wings.
Half an hour in, nerves had settled into stillness. From the ceiling, three-blade fans kept their slow rotation, filling the silence with a steady hum, if doing little to actually keep the air circulating. Beads of sweat dripped down exposed skin. Corinne’s loose cotton shirt clung where damp patches grew, and Tabby fared no better. She regretted wearing white, even with an old bikini beneath. Their captors wore masks, the cheap plastic Halloween type with elastic over the ears. Lion was the leader. Dog paced around nervously and then there was Devil. When that flame red visage turned towards Tabby and Cory, her gut twisted into knots. It was a relief each time he rotated out of the main room, sweeping over the rear with his assault rifle cocked from the hip.
More time ticked by. Lion took a phone call from the negotiator, ending with the handset being slammed down, causing a few nervous jumps. Dog and Devil swapped their positions, leaving Tabby’s favorite Devil looming over where the hostages sat in a messy row. Of the several people unfortunate enough to have been in the bank at the portent hour, Tabby and Cory stood out as the obvious tourists. Maybe that was enough to draw Devil’s attention. Maybe he was restless. Or maybe their lack of fear provoked him.
Devil breached the distance his compatriots had maintained. Empty eyes locked onto the two women, daring them to respond when he dragged the tip of his rifle over the hems of their shorts. Their silence proved insufficient, and he dug into Tabby’s thigh, metal pushing through denim, speaking for the first time as he detailed with French’s usually luscious vocabulary what played through his imagination.
Even while Tabby’s stomach rolled violently, she simply lifted her chin in defiance. “Je t'emmerde, connard.”
Devil pulled back his gun, flipping the direction. Tabby tracked the shift in muscles and angles, knowing he intended to smack the butt of the rifle right in her face, and there was nowhere to dodge.
Except, Corinne was faster. The thugs had only bound their hands and Cory’s heel shot out, getting Devil right in the knee cap. “Stay away from her.” Even through the language barrier, the woman’s fire burned bright, the yell echoing from wall to wall. Devil stumbled back a step before recovering, taking Corinne by the collar and hoisting her upright, just to slam her back into the unforgiving concrete of the wall. It must have hurt her friend, and she hated it, but Tabby still took her chance to aim for the man’s shins, getting in one good, distracting blow. The commotion forced Lion to leave his post at the counter before mayhem could complately break out. Rapid French passed back and forth between the men, too colloquial for Tabby to completely follow. Dog returned from the rear, head cocked as if trying to catch up on what he missed.
Devil was gesturing wildly, furious, with the Lion trying to pacify him. The subordinate angrily shook off his leader’s grip, making what sounded like a suggestion to take the two women to another room, when Dog lifted his rifle. Bang. Bang. Two shots and both Devil and Lion slumped motionless to the ground.
One of the hostages began to scream. Then another. Cory merely turned to give Dog the space to slash a knife through her restraints. The blade swapped hands while Tabby clambered to her feet, Corinne freeing her friend of the ziptie while Dog hustled over to where the robbers had piled the money. He stayed low and moved fast, grabbing the duffle bag that Tabby had originally carried into the bank, then nodding for the women to follow him.
Corinne paused only long enough to tell the other hostages to stay down, to wait for the police to come bursting in, with better French than Tabby possessed. Tabby herself was already making a move, following Dog out the door to the back corridor. Inside, the original Dog lay sprawled across the floor, his naked body pointed towards the ceiling, his chest unmoving.
“C’mon. This way.” Dog – or rather, Aaron Cross, - gestured down another corridor into an office designed for some level of management. Whoever it was felt they deserved air conditioning, even if the main rooms did not, and a vent hatch to the pipes hung open. Without needing a prompt, Tabby let Aaron hoist her up, her small fingers finding the ladder he had prepared so they could all get the hell out of there.
Once outside, Aaron dropped the canine mask onto the dusty road, leaving it to rot while they walked back towards the boats, shucking a layer of the original Dog’s clothing along the way. “Did you know I was already inside when you began to cause that ruckus?” As the two women exchanged glances, he let out a sigh. “I guess not.”
“Hey, before you give a lecture. One, they were assholes and deserved it. And two….” Tabby waggled a finger before quickening her pace, giving Corinne some privacy to thank Aaron in her own way. “I knew our own personal big-damn-hero would come to save the day.”
