Hostage crisis

High beam search lights blasted through the windows. The deafening echo of "quiet riot" blasted through the bank, so that everyone was kept from their slumber. The stinging air, laced with pepper gas, lingered from the first attempt at ending the situation.
It was the eighth day of what the media dubbed "the crisis", with no end in sight. The News reports stated: Ray Berger, a refrigerator repair man from New Jersey was seen strapped with C4 explosives to his front. He had a machete to his back, gripping a Bushmaster and a Bible in each hands. One he obtained legally, the other he bought from the trunk of some funny looking asian guy near Canal Street, one was his grandfather's, and one he'd bought at the department store down the block.
Its been two days since he stepped through the door.
"What do you want?" The bank manager played spokesman for the rest of the hostages.
Ray Berger sat sweaty and dull eyed below one of the indoor ATM's.
"You need help Ray," said the pregnant hostage.
"Do you plan on us just sitting here?" The hostage in the expensive tailor made suit stood up in defiance. "You didnt come here to rob the place. If that was the case, you could've made it out of here with some cash. Instead, you just have us sitting here, not doing shit, just sitting here."
Ray Berger kept his eyes to the floor.
"Just sit down and be quiet," the bank manager said to tailor made suit.
"Shut the fuck up you small hearted, sniveling little coward."
"You... you shut up," the bank manager replied with a stutter.
"Everyone, just calm down..." The pregnant lady tried to keep the peace, but couldnt. The situation had spun out of control. Bank Manager and Tailor suit were trading profanities, the pregnant lady switched between holding her ears and holding her stomach, the security guards fought hard and loud with their restraints; while Ray Berger sat, dull eyed, with his eyes to the floor.
"Fuck yall, I'm leaving," Tailor made suit declared. He walked with his chin up towards the exit. A wall of Emergency Service shields, sirens, and spectators could be seen through the glass of the revolving door.
Ray Berger replied, "you leave and you die," without lifting his head.
"Yeah wateva." He opened his wallet, drew a crisp one thousand dollar bill, crumpled it, and pitched it towards Ray Berger. "You're all talk."
Tailor suit didnt make it to the exit. Ray Berger put two bullets in his leg, on to his thigh, the other was for his ankle. Nobody reacted well. The bank manager turned his head, screaming to "Jesus Christ."
The security guards screamed at Ray, urging him not to shoot.
The Pregnant woman hid her face in her shirt, hysterical, frightened, screaming for God. Ray wanted to let her go... but she was his greatest bargaining chip. Anyone else in the room would be expendable during an infilitration- "unfortunate, but unavoidable tragedies by the Police, who responded the only way they could."
Ray came to life, shooting to his feet. "I told you all... i'll let you go once my demands are met... but if you try to run, i'll shoot you."
The cell phone on the counter nearest to Ray began to rumble.
"There was shooting is everyone okay..." the voice on the other end was concerned.
"He'll live," Ray replied. "Is my request going to be available soon. Everybody here, including me, is getting restless."
"Yes. You're demands have been met. He's agreed to meet with you."
"How long?"
"Soon. Within half an hour."
"Good... Then this'll end within half an hour." Ray closed the phone, then slammed it against the ground.
"Hey Ray..." The bank manager spoke sheepishly.
"What is it?" Ray was sweating nervously, pacing back and forth, whispering to himself.
"What exactly are your demands?"
"Keep your mouth closed man!" One of the security guards screamed at the Bank Manager.
"No no. I will...not. We've been here for two days. We've followed every rule you've told us to follow. Now... I think we deserve a little something. At least give us that much."
Ray raised his bushmaster, aiming it at the Bank Manager's head.
"I wanna know," the pregnant woman agreed. If it wasnt for her, he'd have shot the bank manager for asking too many questions. He lowered his weapon, reaching into his pockets with his free hand.
"This is my demand." He threw a folded piece of paper on the floor. "You wanted answers, there's your answer.
The bank manager approached carefully, never taking his eyes off of Ray, swiping the paper from the ground. He stayed crouched as he opened the page.
The bank manager looked puzzled. "Renfero Emerson? Your demand is Renfero Emerson."
His confusion spread to the pregnant woman. "The billionaire?"
"And senior shareholder to this... to this bank. Tied for tenth richest man in the world, and rising." bank manager added. "Why him?"
Ray took his usual seat against the ATM. He smiled, loading a fresh magazine into his rifle. "That Emerson... He's not what he seems. He's a soulless, terrible creature. A demon."
"You dont agree with his business practices? He's one of the most honorable businessmen in the world, in charge of one of the, if not the most prolifc cancer research foundations in the world." The pregnant woman explained, still confused by his "demand."
"No No No... He's a false idol. He's a demon who'll bring about the destruction of the world. He hides behind a veil of righteousness and money. He's respected because he spreads money around."
"So what do you want with him? I mean, what happens when he gets here?" The bank manager was growing even more frightened with Ray. It was a fear beyond the automatic rifle.
"you fuckin bastard, you shot me..." tailor suit repeated, weeping and holding his leg on the ground.
"Dont worry..." Ray said to him. "This will be over long before you bleed to death. Just keep pressure on the wounds."
The phone behind one of the teller counter's began to ring. Ray motioned for the bank manager to answer it. The bank manager took the receiver, spoke to the person on the other end for a few seconds, then hung up with a nervous look on his face. "Emerson's... here."
"Good," Ray replied. He reached into a pouch connected to his waist. He placed three bottles, one was red, the other two clear on the ground. He moved hurriedly, spreading the clear liquid about the ground like a janitor with ammonia. The red substance was in a squeeze bottle. He used it to draw a large circle around him with a star in the middle. Once he was done, he laid his rifle on the ground, and removed his shirt. His body was populated with tattoos of symbols and letters from an unidentifiable language. The most noticeable; the star within the circle covering his back.
"He's coming in..." an officer bellowed through a megaphone.
Through the revolving door entered a tall, well dressed man in a black trenchcoat and gloves, with slicked back hair, and a politician's "all is well" smile.
"Thats really Renfero Emerson, he's actually here..." the hostages thought collectively.
Ray Berger's rifle was raised and at the ready long before Renfero Emerson strolled calmly through the doors. He hadnt left the circle since he created it moments earlier.
"What's the problem Ray?" Emerson spoke to him in a soft, charisma laced tone, seeking to relax his vigilance. "Why are you keeping these nice people from their families?"
Ray's moment had arrived. He wasnt as brave as he thought he would be, disgusted that his hands trembled in the presence of that man he thought terrible. He had nothing to say.
"Why dont you let these people go Ray? That lady's pregnant, this guy's bleeding to death... This situation's gotten out of hand hasnt it? See... I'm here..." He walked towards Ray as he spoke. "... You've went through a great deal of trouble to get me here, now I'm here. What do you want to talk about?"
"I know you... I see your true face."
"Do you? What does that mean? You leave these same cryptic, confusing messages at my office, at home with my wife? I thought if i came here you'd give me something more."
"You dont need explanations. You know what you are. I know what you are."
"Just give me the gun Ray. Lets forget all about this."
"No!" Ray unloaded a clip on Emerson, tearing his expensive trench to shreds of black dust. Ray kept a squeeze on the trigger long after the gun was empty.
Everybody kept cover. The pregnant lady lost her breakfast on the ground beside her. The bank manager hurt his forearm, taking a dive over the counter once the bullets began to fly.
Ray smiled. "You can all leave now. Its over. The world doesnt have to end."
Emerson rose to his feet, removing whats left of his jacket from his shoulders.
"No friggin way," the bank manager couldnt believe his eyes. Every bullet struck the billionaire industrialist from his head to his feet. It had to be at least 100 shots, all hitting their mark. Not one drop of blood left his body.
Emerson walked towards Ray. He stopped just outside the circle. "Nice try repair man." He reached out to grab Ray Berger, but his hands stopped short of the circle lines.
"Your notes are outdated." Emerson balled his fist. It sounded like crushed concrete within his palms. He reared back, then struck, shattering the invisible barrier between him and the gun toting refridgerator repair man. "Thank humanity's cynicism and hate for my latest increase in strength. Couldnt have dont it without all of you."
Ray drew a machete, swinging it towards Emerson's neck. Emerson caught him by the wrist, bending his arm backwards until he heard snaps- one, two.
The hostage's were afraid to move. Emerson... wasnt human. Maybe he was a demon indeed...
Ray used his functioning hand to push a button on the side of his waist. "You wont kill the world.
The lights on his C4 lit up like a dance floor.
"That has nothing to do with me..." Emerson replied.
Emerson raised him the air with a single hand, then slammed him to the ground, breaking his neck, shattering his skull.
The C4's went off...
The bank manager reached to the floor, helping the pregnant lady to her feet.
The Pregnant lady asked him,"What happened?"
"We have to get out of here," the bank manager replied.
The bank manager guided her the best he could through the thick gray smoke.
"Cover your face," he told her.
"Okay," she replied within a cough. "Is Ray..."
"Yes," the Bank manager replied.
"Emerson too?"
"Yes."
They stumbled through the shattered front, into the street, where a swarm of cops divided them in different directions.
"Any survivors?" The cops screamed to a paramedic over the sirens and helicopters.
"Yeah two... no no wait! Three..."
"Three?" The bank manager was confused. Only him and pregnant woman were out of restraints, and able to take shelter beneath a tellers station during the struggle.
A man stepped clear of the smoke... Emerson.