Chapter 2, Episode 02: Hahahaha, really...
Episode 02 Hahahaha, that's really not funny.
Time briefly rewinds to before the three-minute escape notification.
The moment I was taken hostage, my first thought was to escape. Taking advantage of the moment when the guns were out of commission, I fired a shot at their gun and then quickly retreated.
The first thing to do to stay away from danger is to stay away from danger unconditionally.
Never test the waters, never try to maneuver, and never take chances.
But the next second, I was overwhelmed by the task I had come to the bank for.
I originally came to Lloyds Bank just to scout out the location and learn about the overall structure of the underground vault and all the security and anti-theft measures.
After all, someone of Milverton's stature could simply ask to have a safe deposit box filled with 500 Swiss gold coins from 1926 installed at a bank, and the bank manager would be so attentive that he would practically bow and scrape to him as if he were a tour guide.
After receiving the information, I will think carefully about how to proceed.
Ultimately, I've never robbed a bank, and I have no experience with it.
I don't know how high London's moral and ethical standards are, but I think that even if it doesn't stop people from doing things, it certainly won't help them.
All of this requires careful consideration.
However, the robber's impulsive thinking, as if driven by some kind of hunger, gave me an insight.
Just as he shouted, "Hurry up and hand over the money," a clear thought crept into my mind like a dark shadow.
If I lead him to the underground vault to rob it, and in the chaos I manage to steal some scandalous photos of the royal princess, no one will notice immediately, and even the owner of the vault will be unable to pursue the matter.
The timing was perfect.
I feel that as long as I want to do it, I can achieve it.
It was a calm yet deadly thrill that sent shivers down one's spine.
Therefore, compared to the criminals' clumsiness and frenzy, the calmness of my voice made it easier for the bank staff to hear and even react.
I spoke calmly, yet with a gentle provocation in my words: "It would be better for you to lay down your weapons and surrender now. Robbery in broad daylight? You know, even a brainless worm knows how to survive reasonably, while your brain is probably unwanted even if you donate it."
Even though I didn't see the assailant's face, I could still feel him tighten his grip instantly, the gun making a scraping sound, and his voice filled with undisguised panic and anger: "****Are you calling me stupid! Do you want to die right now!"
I smiled nonchalantly, "I'm not scolding you, I'm reminding you."
We were so close that I could hear his trembling through his arm, and a gun barrel was pressed firmly against my head.
Seeing this, the bank staff quickly raised their hands towards me to calm me down, "Sir, sir! Please calm down, he has a gun, please don't provoke him!"
I knew perfectly well that the gun was probably full of duds.
Regardless of the cause, the correct course of action is to stop firing and remove the bullet from the barrel; otherwise, a catastrophic malfunction could occur.
In this situation, he either had to keep firing and set himself on fire, or he had to adjust the gun's position immediately, which meant freeing his hands and losing a hostage.
In this seemingly sure-win situation, I naturally wouldn't miss any opportunity to maximize my profits.
"Data from the British Bankers' Association in 2012 showed that, regardless of the probability of being caught, the average amount of money gained from a robbery was only £20,300."
I paused, watching as the bank staff helped put the money into the bag he provided, and then said calmly, "Back then, mobile payments weren't widespread, and it was only a mere 20,000 pounds. Let alone now, you've come to a small branch like this. How much money do you think the bank teller would have on hand? 10,000 pounds? Is it worth risking your life to commit a crime for such a small amount of money?"
The bank staff hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back, and could only keep a close eye on the situation.
Of course I know they want to correct themselves, and they're not exactly small branches.
But now is not the time for them to make pointless remarks.
The gun was pointed at me more and more fiercely, and my head was almost tilted to the side. Nobody knew when he would fire.
"Don't you dare pretend to be smart with me!"
I shook my head and said, "I'm definitely not smart."
"Even someone as dim-witted as me knows that to rob money, you have to target armored trucks. Even without armored trucks, I'd raid the underground vault. Why make such a big fuss if I can only steal ten thousand pounds?"
The robber's chest heaved violently. He glanced at the money the bank employee had given him and realized it wasn't as bulging as he'd imagined; it was just a few bundles of banknotes. He asked incredulously, "Is that all?"
He pointed the gun at them and said, "Are you playing me?"
The cashier stammered, "We really don't have any left! Please don't hurt us."
I lowered my voice and urged, "Make a decision quickly, the police are coming, is it really necessary to rob us of this little bit of money?"
The robber glanced at the time displayed on the wall, as if he could already hear the approaching sirens, gritted his teeth, and said viciously, "Where's the underground vault? I need to get to the underground vault! Open the safe!"
...
Everything was planned perfectly, but London's three-minute challenge completely disrupted the rhythm.
There aren't even three minutes to open a safe!
The brown-haired bank manager in front was clearly using stalling tactics, holding the same key he used every day but unable to find the one to open the vault for ages.
"Hurry up, are you playing tricks on me?!"
The longer it goes on, the more it wears down the criminals' will.
He had shouted at the sky several times in a meaningless manner, and even kicked the vault door, making a "thump thump thump" sound.
I tried to chat with London again to figure out how to crack it, but there was still no sound.
So I looked at the bank manager again.
The manager's hand rummaged through the keys, his fingertips repeatedly making a soft sound as they rubbed against the metal ring.
As I watched, I suddenly noticed a strand of hair fall with the movement, brushing past his turquoise eyes. A fleeting light and shadow flickered in his eyes, like light reflected off the sea.
I suddenly felt a chill in my chest.
I noticed that he was paying attention to what was happening on our side.
People may repeatedly observe the expressions and behaviors of others out of fear in order to gain a sense of security.
This is very common.
This is not a big deal.
But the key point is that I suddenly remembered the moment this bank manager appeared.
He wasn't the one who was behind the counter from the beginning; he came out wearing a manager's name tag when I said I wanted to see the bank manager.
He is not a bank manager.
I made the decision almost instantly.
As soon as this thought popped into my head, I noticed that the fingerprint on the tip of his index finger showed obvious signs of wear. Considering the context, perhaps he was also a skilled gunman.
I fell into deep thought, "..."
London said I would have my throat slit by flying gun barrel fragments within three minutes, and I would suffer high-temperature burns, while the thug would be fine.
I thought I was just unlucky due to unforeseen circumstances.
What if I was deliberately persecuted by this "bank manager"?
Why did you hurt me?
At that moment, London suddenly reminded him that "only one minute left."
I immediately said, "I think I can hear police sirens. Manager Ryan, is that right?"
The thug was stunned, and the bank manager also turned around.
However, the first thing he looked at was me, as if I were the most dangerous person and the one he should be most wary of.
Because I know I am a law-abiding citizen, his attitude towards me only makes me more and more suspicious of him.
Just as I was about to put on a composed expression, London's voice entered my mind.
"forty"
I immediately winked at the bank manager.
The bank manager, after receiving my hint, seemed confused for a moment before finally agreeing, "I heard that too..."
The thugs were absolutely furious.
Even if you can't hear it yourself, there's no need for three people to make a false accusation; two people testifying at the same time is enough.
He simply refused to deny the possibility.
They haven't gotten the money yet, and the hostages have changed from everyone in the bank to just the two in front of them.
The police cars were already approaching, and I had no idea if I could escape.
"You've all conspired to deceive me. I'm going to kill you all!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the assailant pulled the trigger, and the dull thud of a malfunctioning gun pressed against my head echoed once more. The assailant's furious roar exploded in my ears.
The sound overlapped with the "ten" of the London countdown.
My blood instantly turned cold, and I felt the people and things around me slowing down at an incredible speed.
The "bank manager" in front of me didn't move at all, as if he was watching me die.
My blood boiled again, and I shouted, "Hurry up and help!"
"Five seconds left."
I'm about to make a last-ditch effort.
However, the next second, a blurry image flashed before my eyes.
Before I could even see clearly, my neck felt lighter.
A strong, powerful hand, like an eagle seizing its prey, gripped my shoulder and then flung me aside, leaving me behind.
Before I could fully react, the "bank manager" had his knee pressed against the assailant's back, one hand pressing down on the assailant's shoulder blade, and the other hand twisting the assailant's wrist behind his back, locking him firmly behind his back.
And that inferior gun was thrown far away.
His whole body was tense, his suit clinging to his strong thighs and shoulders. Every muscle was taut with each movement, the lines firm and smooth, his movements crisp and clean, as if he had undergone extremely high-intensity physical training.
The thug, a frail body, groaned and tried to struggle, but was too weak to turn over.
London's inorganic voice rang out—"Zero," much like the tone indicating the end of the match.
*
Four minutes later, the police finally arrived at the scene.
I calmly dusted myself off in the lobby, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the "bank manager" hand his nameplate to a bank employee, and my movements froze.
But the staff there kept thanking the smiling brown-haired man.
…pretending.
It was really boring to watch, so I looked away.
At this moment, the real bank manager came over and thanked me, "Sir, thank you so much for your courage! In this situation, you actually provoked the criminal so many times in order to distract him and give us a chance to escape. We were all terrified watching it."
He patted his chest, still shaken, and asked with concern, "Are you alright?"
I said, "It's nothing, a piece of cake." Then I stared at his nameplate and saw that it read "Rich Tucker".
Manager Richie said, "Could I ask you for your name and address? Our bank would like to send you and Mr. Albert a small gift as a token of our gratitude."
After he said that, I looked at the brown-haired youth again.
So his name was Albert…
I don't mind giving my name and address, since I need to rent a safe here.
However, they won't be operating today after the police arrived.
Before I could look away, the brown-haired youth noticed my gaze and strode towards me. "When did you find out I wasn't a bank manager?"
Apparently, when he handed back the nameplate, he realized that the name on it didn't match the name I had used when I called him to cooperate.
"This isn't even worth discussing," I said, seeing that he still dared to confront me. "Isn't the point that you seem to be willing to stand by and watch someone die?"
Albert smiled, but his eyes were devoid of warmth. "I'm sorry, but your composure makes me suspicious. In the lobby, the transition from the robbery counter to the bank's underground vault was so seamless, it seemed like you were leading the operation, which made me wary."
He even bluntly stated, "When I noticed that you were deliberately testing my name, I thought you wanted to know if I was a bank manager, and in doing so, you were willing to sacrifice your ally to save your own hostage status."
"Is that so?" I said coldly, showing no respect whatsoever.
Albert said, "I was scared at the time and didn't know whether I should help you. But when I saw that he really wanted to shoot you and kill you, I felt relieved."
"I'm definitely overthinking it."
How can someone with a 37-degree mouth say such cold words?
Is this British humor?
Hahahaha, that's not funny at all.
"What's your name?" Albert reached out his hand toward me, his gentle demeanor masking a wariness and a probing intent.
Clearly, he still had no doubts about whether I was an accomplice.
I shook his hand in return, “Charles Augustus Milverton.”
As soon as that name was mentioned, I could clearly feel his hand movements freeze.
"I suggest you go back and read more news and newspapers. Maybe they will tell you whether I need to put on a show here."
After saying that, I shook off his hand.
Once I was seated in my £9.1 million bespoke Rolls-Royce, London suddenly asked me a question.
"I see you know Sherlock Holmes, but do you know Moriarty?"
"Of course, that's the criminal Napoleon who rivals Sherlock Holmes."
"What if he sets his sights on us?"
I laughed out loud: "I'm not stupid. I definitely won't associate with him."
London responded with an "Oh".
I waited for most of the day, but there was still no follow-up; it felt like they were just toying with me.
I:"……"
A note from the author:
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