Heist Gone Wrong

Sometimes you can't plan for everything and have to make do. Writer's Cramp Winner!

The moment I woke up, I knew something wasn’t right. My head throbbed like I’d been hit by a freight train, and the cold, hard floor beneath me sent a chill through my spine. I groaned, shifting slightly, my cheek peeling off the cool metal surface. Then it hit me;I was still in the vault.

Panic jolted me upright. The dim glow of the emergency light flickered above, casting eerie shadows against the thick steel walls. I reached for my forehead, feeling a sticky warmth. Blood. Then, memories rushed back like a flood.

Franklin!

That snake.

We had planned this job for months. We knew the bank’s night security rotation, the way the cameras looped every twelve minutes, the precise moment when the alarm system had to be reset. It was foolproof; until Franklin decided to play me for a fool.

- - -

I staggered to my feet, ignoring the dull ache in my limbs. The vault door loomed ahead, shut tight. I stumbled toward it, pressing my ear against the surface. Silence. He was gone. And he had left me to rot.

I cursed under my breath, my mind racing. Franklin must have knocked me out, taken everything, and left me here as the fall guy. That bastard had always been too smooth for his own good, too charming, too slick.

I checked my pockets. My phone? Gone. My gun? Gone. Even my damn watch was missing. He stripped me clean. Or so he thought.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push down the rising fury. No time for anger. I had to get out before morning, before the guards arrived and found me locked inside the very bank I was supposed to be protecting.

Then, something caught my eye. A small, folded piece of paper near the vault door. My name was scrawled across it in Franklin’s unmistakable handwriting.

"Sorry, buddy. Nothing personal. Enjoy your stay. F"

I clenched my jaw, my fingers crushing the note. Oh, he was going to pay for this.

But first, I had to find a way out.

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself.

Franklin thought he was smart, thought he had it all figured out. But he had no idea I’d been onto him for weeks.

I’d seen the little signs; the way he avoided eye contact when we talked about splitting the cash, how he started asking too many questions about the security system, and the way he’d been a little too eager to be the one to "handle" the getaway. I wasn’t stupid. If there was one thing my old man taught me, it was that greed makes men predictable. And Franklin? He was the greediest man I knew.

So I set my own plan in motion.

I reached into my boot, fingers closing around the small, sharp piece of metal I’d stashed there. A lockpick, just in case things went south. And, well, here we were.

First things first; I needed to make sure Franklin didn’t get too far.

I smirked, picturing his face when he opened that duffel bag. I had switched out half the cash with blank stacks of paper, just enough to throw him off. The real kicker? The bundle of ink packets hidden beneath. The second he unzipped the bag, he'd be blasted with enough dye to make him glow like a damn neon sign. Every cop in the city would be looking for a man covered in bright red ink.

But my personal favorite part of the plan? The tracking device I slipped into his pocket.

I pulled the small receiver out of my sock; another precaution; and flipped it on. A tiny green light blinked. Franklin was still moving, but he wouldn’t get far before the cops got curious.

Now, all I had to do was get out of here.

I moved to the vault door, examining the locking mechanism. It was a state of the art system, but every lock had a weakness. I knelt down, working the pick into the keyhole. My hands were steady, my breathing controlled. Click. Click. A few more seconds...

A noise outside. Footsteps.

I froze. My heart pounded in my ears.

Damn it. The night guard was making his rounds.

I needed to move. Fast.

I pressed my ear against the vault door, listening. He was close, but not close enough to have noticed anything unusual. I glanced at the air vent above the deposit shelves; not big enough to crawl through, but maybe...

I grabbed one of the smaller cash drawers and wedged it beneath the vent. Balancing on it, I reached up and twisted the vent cover loose. Inside, the wires to the bank’s internal systems snaked along the wall.

Perfect.

I yanked a handful of them free, then twisted two together. A spark flashed, followed by a low hum.

Outside, the lights flickered.

The guard cursed, his footsteps pausing. A power surge; it would trigger a mild system reboot, just long enough to temporarily disengage the vault’s electric lock.

I dropped back down and went to work. One more turn of the pick; click. The door unlocked.

I exhaled sharply. Time to go.

I eased the vault door open, peering out into the dimly lit hallway. Coast clear. I moved quickly, sticking to the shadows, heading toward the emergency exit at the back of the building.

As I reached the door, I checked my receiver again. The green light blinked rapidly; Franklin had stopped moving.

I grinned.

The cops must have had caught him.

I pushed open the exit door, slipping into the night, and disappeared into the city.

Franklin had tried to play me.

But in the end, I had played him.

And I still had my cut.