All I Want is the Money

As I walked in the building, the fear rolled off the patrons in waves. Gasps followed my purposeful footsteps into the center of the floor.

I raised my arm, pointing the gun in my hand at the people behind the counter. "You know what I want. Hands in the air, and step around the counter slowly."

The employees did as I asked.


“On the ground.”

The employees knelt at my feet.

I pointed my gun at a woman across the room, the manager. “Fill this up.” I chucked a bag toward the counter.

The woman grabbed the bag, her hands shaking. Strangled sobs escaped her chest.

“There’s no need to get choked up. All I want is the money,” I said. “All of it, from every register.”

The woman nodded, her chest still heaving. My gun followed her from register to register. When she’d gotten all the money, I took a few steps toward her.

“Bring me the bag.”

As she stumbled around the counter, I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye. I whirled around, gun raised and finger already pulling the trigger. The gunshot cracked like thunder, and screams echoed it.

The armed guard collapsed. A crimson spot blossomed on his chest as blood pooled on the floor.

“Look at what he made me do.” I shook my head. “Nobody had to die today. All I want is the money.”

I marched up to the manager and ripped the bag from her hands. She screeched.

As I zipped up the bag, I sighed. “Killing people truly is a nasty business, but he left me no choice. Make sure you tell the reporters I didn’t want to do it, okay?”

The manager nodded, more sobs rattling her body.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get going before the cops arrive.” With that, I shoved my gun in the bag and strode out.


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