(Edited with Grammarly on 10/23/25)
Heist movies had always been up there when it came to some of Albert's favorite movies. He enjoyed the intricate planning, the gadgets, the actual execution, and how the participants dealt with the upsets that were bound to happen. Sometimes, depending on the genre, there would be a varying degree of comedy to offset how tense the situation was. And of course, in movies like this, there would always, always be a betrayal at the very end. Whether by another member of their group or the actual client themselves. Sure, the remaining members are meant to overcome this and come out on top with happily ever afters with some of the more likable cast.
Alas, this was no movie. And even if it was, he would be considered a side character. Someone just meant to add to the ever-increasing body shield to protect the viewer's favorites. And combine that with the fact that he would be going at this alone, he needed to be prepared enough to the point where it really didn't matter what upsets came up.
'Clothes, check.' Huddled up in a back alley, hunched over in a small ball, the long list began to unravel in his mind. Donning simple street clothes, jeans, a plaid button-up with a dark grey shirt underneath, and, of course, dark brown gloves. Wearing all black is fine and all, but if he were to walk around the city like that, people would just automatically assume he was up to no good and keep a closer eye on him. Instead, just putting on normal everyday wear should be enough for his presence to be ignored. To the rest of the world, he was just some random young guy, with some light application of make-up, walking around early in the morning with a ratty backpack slung over his shoulder. If anything, he looked like the average young adult hustling to make ends meet. Like he was going to university classes or work.
Sure, he might've stuck out like a sore thumb in the endless crowd of people drinking away their worries. Passing plenty of clubs that had music with so much bass that it caused the simple black frames to nearly go rattling off his face. But in a good way, like how one would look at someone else just starting their journey through life. Coming up with a story just by looking at him, or maybe even superimposing their own tale onto him.
'Protection, check.'
Patting his side, he was met with a bit of hard steel being pressed deeper into him. And moving his foot just enough, he adjusted the cold plastic handle. While he was in no way trained, just showing his willingness to appear as though he was ready or eager to engage with someone in an up-close manner in this era of ranged combat should be enough to at least cause anyone to hesitate for even a moment. And that moment, he could flee before they realized it was just a simple bluff. But if they push the manner….if his system were to be believed, he was a very good shot.
He just hoped that if it came down to that, he wouldn't have to go beyond incapacitating anyone. Call him soft, but he really, really didn't want to have to kill someone tonight.
'Phone, muted...check.'
After all, having someone call him right in the middle of hiding somewhere would leave him very screwed. It was simply better for everyone involved if no one knew he was ever there.
'Flashlight,' Jiggling his book-bag, he could feel multiple items thumping against his back. Most cylinders are in shape. 'Plan C..check.'
A small thermos barely holding anything at all was filled with that special brew from that stubborn owner of 'Coffee Stains', Jeremiah. The old man had been very hesitant to give him more; maybe he'd developed a conscience or something. But whatever the reason, he only gave him this small dose. Not the powder but an already mixed concoction with a mere three scoops, and even that amount had been weaned out of him until he finally gave in.
Maybe it was for the best. Albert's last interaction with this brew had resulted in him puking his guts out, losing consciousness, dislocating his shoulder, waking up with a massive headache, and leaving his tongue feeling as though it had gotten transmuted into sandpaper. He'd overdone it that night and paid the price then, because it was somewhat safer than now. He didn't have three teammates who would drag him out of the fire in his severely weakened state.
A reduced dosage for something not so extreme was simply better for him in the long run.
'And my ace card.'
Down at the very bottom of his bag lay a round device with two bells atop its surface. Bright red and slightly rusted, two hands ticked rhythmically...at least they should've been. Twin batteries jingled slightly.
With everything accounted for, he continued out of the alley and began to follow the perimeter around the outer ring. Passing through multiple groups of drunks slouching against walls or drug addicts lying slumped against nearby dumpsters and bouncers that barely gave him more than a passing glance. Their bulk blocked everything but the occasional flash of light and flailing of limbs as the remains of clubgoers trickled out by themselves or with someone to accompany them.
Whether that be their friends, lovers, or an annoyed bouncer kicking them out after overstaying their welcome.
Swerving between a near line of drunks, the teen suddenly turned down a particular alley without even blinking. Confidence was key. Back straight, stride sure, he continued forward at a steady pace until his figure was engulfed by shadows. And in that split instance, he ducked low. Slinging his backpack down, with the chest thumping music still playing in the background to act as his cover, he unzipped its contents. Jeans slipped away, replaced quickly by a pair of black as night sweatpants, plaid button-up undid and replaced by a black sweater with not even a single logo in sight. Gloves were swapped with an equally dark color. Before, a simple skull cap was stuck on snugly without letting even a single hair out of place. Still crouched, he quickly folded everything into a somewhat neat pile before sliding it back into his bag along with those glasses.
Pulling on the top of his hat, he allowed it to completely cover his face. Leaving only twin holes for a pair of 'green' eyes to glare out into the world.
Almost instantly, his breathing grew somewhat uncomfortable. Sweat beading along his brow as his own warm breath was forced back into his face.
'Maybe I should've cut out a mouth hole as well.'
Slipping out into the starkly darker street, he skulked through that inkiness like a fish through water. Almost sprinting across the way while taking care to avoid the multitude of potholes and miniature ponds, he entered the adjacent alley with not even a moment to spare.
Forcing him back against the uneven bricking, he tried to resist wheezing as his ears strained to pick up the multiple pairs of steps coming his way. Ducking down low into a near ball, he waited. Eyes unfocused, using the remnant light leaking in through the adjacent alley-mouth, he spotted a group of three people. All dressed in some form of street wear while carrying flashlights that sent out beams of light in truly random directions...maybe not entirely random, those beams flickered multiple times towards many of the boarded-up windows or door-less entryways that in the daytime probably felt a tiniest bit spooky. But in this darkness? Without even a single, direct streetlamp to light things up? It looked downright eerie. Like some tall, humanoid creature would be standing in the doorway with an axe or machete in hand.
And with how quickly they were walking, it barely took them a few minutes to pass his location. Looking over his shoulder as they tried to look out for the crazed axe murderer or ghost girl waiting for them to let their guards down. Chest slowing, lungs returning to their steady rhythm, fingers snatched up a nearby pebble and palmed it gently.
With that group retreating, he crawled further into the alley and broke out into a full-out sprint through the second ring. Hopping over puddles and skittering around potholes, he didn't immediately make his way to the other alley mouth but instead, veered off to the right and hunkered down underneath a porch with a set of wooden cages to act as his cover. B
Beams of light suddenly flickered over to his spot. Footsteps freezing and voices hitching in tandem. Passing over him multiple times, he took one of the small pebbles and chucked it further down the street. Making sure it landed in a distant puddle with an audible splash. And just like that, three beams narrowed in one that puddled only to be met with nothing.
A moment passed before a low curse was let out.
"Nope!" One of the beams turned in the complete opposite direction, their voice deep and shaky. "Not today, Satan!"
"Hey!" Another spoke up, equally as unsure as their flashlight shuddered in their grip. "Where are you goin'? They're going to tear up a new one if we don't continue our patrol!"
"They don't pay me enough to deal with this spooky shit!" The first voice, this time distinctly further away, shouted. "If you want to die, go ahead! I will not be going to your funeral!"
Another pair of footsteps could be heard joining them in their retreat, rapidly fading away into the night. And just like that, the group broke. Sprinting rapidly away on heavy feet.
"…H-hello?" A voice hesitantly asked, causing the teen to freeze up in place as one of the guards, for some reason, stayed in place. "If you're that cra-uh sick homeless guy they...uh put to rest, just know I had nothing to do with it! I-I wasn't even there that day! So please, please don't haunt me!"
With that, the man's fleeing footsteps could be heard rapidly fading off into the background. And for a good minute, Albert stayed still as a statue. Mind turning over what he said, along with ticking away at the mental clock in his head.
It did make some sense. Probably, one of the first things The Circuit did when it set up these layers of perimeters around their base was systematically clearing out every homeless person from these rings. And he suspected that not all of them were all too willing to give up their spot. Police activity was low, and gangsters wouldn't really have a reason to come snooping around there. After all, what could be robbed or shaken out from a vagrant?
A knife to the gut or bitten by a pair of rotten teeth. They might not have a lot, but it was pretty common knowledge that they would fight tooth and nail for the little property they owned. And a lot of the time, it wasn't really worth it in the end. Steal, what? Five bucks, a few cigarettes, and a shopping cart? Only the stupid, sadistic, or desperate tried robbing a homeless person.
If the guy thought this street was being haunted by this same person, then it probably meant that at least one of the guards either dealt with a particularly stubborn and/or dangerous homeless person, or they were intoxicated by the power they held over them and took their life just to prove a point.
'Enough, time's up.'
With a shake of his head, he crawled out from underneath the porch and dashed into and down the next alleyway. And quickly came face to face with a rather glorious and concerning sight. There, directly across from him, was a lone light being lit over a security door. Its bulb was a dull yellow; it barely illuminated halfway across the back street. And with the fact that it was the only building showing signs of habitation, it was pretty clear that this was the Circuit's headquarters.
Just one hiccup, a very minor thing. The blue-painted door, surrounded by a tall fence, itself had no handle. Only a massive keyhole. And even from this far away, he didn't see anywhere a key could 'manifest'. No dumpsters or anything that someone could accidentally drop the key without realizing it. There wasn't even a doormat that just so happened to hide a spare. It was a truly barren location.
Peeking his head out, he turned every which way. Making extra sure that the patrol wasn't anywhere near him currently. He knew that so far, he'd been able to slip between gaps in differing patrol groups, but knew his time was ticking away with each passing second of inaction.
Pulling more heavily on that ethereal cloak, he ghosted across the open street. Moving from ball to hell, allowing only the outside of his foot to just barely scrape against the ground. In mere moments that felt like eternity against that rapidly dwindling internal clock, the teen finally arrived at his destination. Not in that small but well-lit back of the building, more off to the side, filled with weeds and overgrown bushes, he forced his gaze quickly to the ground. Resisting the urge to scan the sides.
Resting his palm against the building, he felt for that intangible button deep within him. Felt for those grains of providence churning forward, lashing out in a bewildering pattern at an even more unknowable foe.
[LCK: 35/45]
And just like that, he could feel his Luck surge. Rising from his feet, pulling away from his head and chest, it all coalesced atop his right hand. Leaving only a thin barrier to sluggishly bat against the world itself, he could feel them morph before slamming against the building with so much force that he knew it would've shaken the glass if it was even the slightest bit tangible. A wave splashed against the surface once before it rebounded and slammed back into him with enough strength to nearly tip him over. Silently staggering, he leaned more heavily on the building as his skin cooled. Sweat was sticking to his back like glue, and with a steadying breath, his eyes finally rose up.
There were many windows before him, going on into the distance. Some were boarded up, others covered with curtains, while others even gave the viewer a clear look into the awe-inspiring landscape. A neighboring brick building, with a massive hole exposing a crumpled set of stairs that now led off into nowhere. But that wasn't what caught his attention; instead, it was an inconspicuous window that was held slightly ajar.
'Thank you, Resourceful!' He swore that talent had been carrying him heavily ever since the beginning of this new life. Falling forward, he snuck under each window sill without anything but a passing shadow to spice things up. Until eventually, he found himself standing on his tiptoes as he peered inside the slightly ajar window. From a passing glance, the interior looked to be a bathroom. Male, if the multiple urinals along with the stalls were anything to go by. A set of six sinks was built into the wall, each with a crystal clear mirror reflecting the rest of the room. That iconic blue and white tiled floor made it seem more sterile than he knew it was.
That was when he got before a whiff slipped past his ski mask and trapped itself inside his nose. Skin growing green, he immediately clutched his poor nose and ducked back beneath the sill. Lifting the bottom of his mask up, he took in silent gasps of cold night air before forcing it back in place.
'Why does it smell like something died...twice? Yeah twice in there?!' Whatever the case, this was his way in. And so with a force of will and lungs full of 'fresh' air, he quickly slid the window open wider before sending in his backpack in first with extreme carefulness before he quietly hopped through the window. But just as he was prepared to skuttle out of that room of death and decay, a sudden shadow from beneath the door made him freeze in place.
And without a second thought, he slid into a nearby stall. Locking it behind him and sitting on the toilet, it was just in the nick of time.
He could hear the bathroom door open before a loud exclamation echoed across the tiled room.
"What the hell?!" Steps stumbled away, their shock and disgust clear for all to hear. "Man! What the fuck did you eat? It smells like something died in here!"
Only silence met the cry, and even though Albert didn't cause the haphazardness, he still couldn't stop the heat rising to his cheeks.
The man sighed in defeat before his steps clattered over to one of the urinals, a zipper sound filled the bathroom, and a trickle occupied the silence.
"…." There was a hefty quiet between the pair, almost suffocating. Awkwardness and bathroom etiquette were battling it out like old rivals before one side broke. "Was it the pizza?"
"…." The teen didn't dare respond with words, only grunting. Whether it was taken as a yes or a no, it didn't matter to him. Whatever was needed to get this guy to leave as quickly as possible.
"I knew it!" The guy replied, sounding really proud of himself just then. "You must be lactose intolerant, right? My kid gets like this whenever she eats ice cream. Nasty stuff, but every time, she swears up and down that she can handle it this time around...News alert, she can't, but I can't really tell her now, you know?"
"…"
Another grunt was all he received.
"Oh, you can't poop when other people are nearby either? Yeah, my oldest son is like that too, man..you really did get the short end of the stick!" Again, the man sounded somewhat jovial. Zipping himself back up, he clattered over to the sink before the sound of running water entered the fray. He even had the gall to begin whistling! "Don't worry, you probably want to keep your face hidden. No worries! Since you had the decency to open up the window, I'll steer everyone from here for a while. Just promise me this."
"….."
One last grunt, this one he tried making himself seemed pained.
"Avoid the pizza next time, for all our sakes!"
The guard chuckled and left the bathroom with an audible clatter. The door swung closed and finally left Albert in peace. Boots could be heard stomping away, growing more and more faint as the seconds ticked by.
Lungs burning, but still not daring to breathe in those toxic fumes, he stumbled out of the stall and staggered to the door. Pressing his ears up close, he tried to gather anything of note, only to hear absolutely nothing on the other side, and without another thought, he cracked the door open and peered out into the dimly lit hallway.
There on the floor lay a deep red carpet with 'golden' marks across its edges to give off a sense of royalty. But other than that, there really wasn't anything else present. Sure, a few doors along each side of the hall, but nothing that warranted further inspection.
'There you go.'
Roughly a few doors down, thankfully in the opposite direction of the chuckling father, there was a simple entrance way leading to a barely lit stairway. With that goal in mind, he stepped out into the hall before breaking out into a silent dash. Only halting in his flight when he finally found himself encompassed in that 'comforting' darkness that clung to his clothing like a second skin. Peaking up through the tall stairway's gap, his shoulders slumped as he thought of the work ahead of him.
'Six A.M.'
That was his cut-off point, the time in which these sleep-deprived guards would finally be swapped with groggy but energized sentries. Just a single cup of coffee away from being awake enough to catch skulking about. But at least he had a general idea of where to look. From his previous stakeout, he noticed a distinctly decreased number of shadows prowling the top floor. So, it was safe to say that if there was ever going to be a place where the main office was located, it wouldn't be a massive leap in logic.
Just getting there undetected was going to be the primary obstacle.
***
"Look sharp." A low voice murmured from the darkness, and without even a moment's hesitation, his spine straightened and body jolted to attention. Rising off the wall, he puffed his chest out and tried to look ahead through blurry eyes. Even a lone finger began to subconsciously inch closer to a hefty bit of metal tucked into his side. "Watch it, Chicken Fingers. You fuck up and shoot one of us, and it'll be you we dump into the sewer instead of some homeless guy."
"You know it was an acc-"
"An 'accident'." The large man, dressed in a rumpled suit, mimicked while rolling his eyes. Not even trying to hide the derision dripping out of his lips like venom. "We get it, Chicken Fingers. I'm not here for that, doing the final rounds before shift change. Report."
"Nothing of note...sir."
'Chicken Fingers' teeth ground together, face growing red from both embarrassment and anger at being dismissed so casually. Did they honestly think they would do better in his position? How else was he supposed to respond? Some naked homeless guy came charging his way in the middle of what he'd been told was an abandoned house, and they honestly expected him not to pump the junkie full of lead? Hypocrites, the lot of them.
Maybe they were just jealous! He'd at least shown his willingness to do the dirty work no one else wanted to do, and look at him now! The higher-ups promoted him! Instead of patrolling outside in the cold, he could now spend his nights in a nice, warm spot! If he really messed up that badly, then would he really be where he is now?
He was getting paid more to do less, and he knew they just hated him for it! That's probably why they gave him that damned nickname. But he would show them, who knows, maybe he'll turn that name into something to be feared in the underworld?
"Good." The man, Dwayne, nodded a balding head slightly before he shoved the small bundle into his hands. "Go put this in the boss's room, you remember it, right?"
"I do." Chicken Fingers responded through gritted teeth at the obvious jab thrown his way. The future hadn't been so bright when he shot down that crackhead; they'd been pissed at having to clean up the mess, and that weasel-looking office drone had been all too happy to tear him a new one. That and being stared down by that absolute monster bound in human flesh…. There were times when, if he closed his eyes on a quiet night, with no booze, drugs, or women to fill in the silence, he could see those hard, beady eyes glaring a hole into him as though he was nothing at all.
Pushing that aside with a shake of his head, he looked down at the small and light bundle in his hands. The bag was made of a sort of black material that was silky smooth to the touch.
"What's in it?"
The question was out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue, a rookie mistake. Something he knew Dwayne wouldn't hesitate to miss.
"None of your goddamn business!" Despite biting that out, he still had the nerve to look gleeful. Stepping forward, the two were nearly nose to nose. Those hard eyes forced the guard's gaze to fall first. Much to his chagrin. "Listen up, Chicken Fingers. A shallow grave is probably already in your future, but going on asking questions is a sure-fire way to bring that date up ahead of time. Now go be a good errand boy, and drop that off."
With one more disdainful shove, his boss turned and stalked down the hall. Turning the corner, his large frame disappeared from sight.
Chicken Fingers stood there for a solid minute, just still as a statue, before a scowl broke out across his squarish face. Muscles flexing in time with heaving breaths, his vision began to turn crimson at the edges. A fury so hot that it would've melted steel, bubbling up to the surface, it took all of his self-control not to just crumple the bundle and destroy the presumably precious cargo.
Instead, he murmured a soft curse.
"Bastard."
Turning on his heel, he nearly stomped down the boring-looking hallway. Mumbling obscenities that would've earned him a bar of soap in his mouth, he passed a multitude of empty rooms. Most of them were used for storage or 'secret' spots his fellow guards and frisky maids went for a quickie in between shifts. Just that single thought sent his already foul mood into something darker.
He did not have a chicken finger! Nor did he look like one!
How dare that fucking whore call him 'snack size'! She was just loose, that's all! It wasn't his fault she couldn't feel anything!
Something, sudden and blurring out of the corner of his eye, snatched up his attention in that instance. And turning around a full one-hundred and eighty degrees, he was met with only a dark and creepy but empty hallway.
Heart thumping wildly, he stared off into the darkness. Both hoping and praying that he wouldn't see anything skulking about.
Only after scanning for a good few seconds did he feel the need to chuckle as he shook his head. It must've been the trick of the mind. He was about three energy drinks and two large cups of coffee in, and the effects of sleep deprivation were beginning to sink in. It didn't really matter how much sleep he got; night shifts always took it out of him. Hell, everyone he knew thought the same. It was strange to come across someone who had grown truly used to being on a completely opposite sleep schedule than the rest of humanity.
He really needed to crash for a good few hours and picked up his pace. Turning down a dead end of a hallway and stopping at the fourth door, he couldn't help but let out a breath of relief as he opened up the door and quickly placed the small bundle against the nearest wall.
But as he bent down, a noise caught his attention once more. Snapping his head up, he glared down the hallway and spotted one of the doors creaking open ominously. The sound of un-oiled hinges made itself known as he could do nothing but stand there. Heart thumping, face draining of color, Chicken Finger truly wanted to do what his namesake entailed and get the hell out of dodge. Or maybe let bullets fly and hope that'll solve all his problems.
Straightening himself to his full height, he called out down the hall.
"Whose there?!" He tried to sound intimidating, but his voice cracked right in the middle of his question. Coughing, he made another attempt. "Show yourself! If it's you, Dwayne, it's not fucking funny! Stop messing around!"
Despite his bluster, only silence met him. He could've called for backup; his walkie-talkie was just a mere touch away, but if it was really nothing, then it would only provide those assholes with more ammunition to poke at him. They already thought him to be a scaredy-cat; a coward would only seal the deal. Maybe it would even get back to the higher-ups, and just like that, his new comfy job would poof into a cloud of smoke.
Collecting himself, he 'confidently' swaggered down the hall. Trying to put out as much self-assurance as he could, his hand itching towards the small bit of steel pressed firmly into his side. Feeling its frigid surface, bravery pooled in the pits of his stomach. Something that only grew with each step as he finally came across the fully opened door, and just as he got close enough to peer behind it and inside, he suddenly dashed forward. Leaping in a blur of movement and yanking on the door handle hard enough that maybe he should've worried about it ripping itself out of the door frame.
But to catch the fucker messing with him, it would've most assuredly been worth the price.
Instead of catching guard hunched over with a stupid grin on their face, or even a maid wanting to try out his 'chicken finger', only an empty broom closet met him. Even through the darkness, he could make out the entire interior of the small room. Barely large enough to fit his frame fully, there was a simple mop and bucket with a few cleaning supplies.
"Whew." A breath of relief automatically escaped from him, and a sudden, self-deprecating smile spread across his lips. It was probably just the building settling, or maybe the cleaners hadn't fully closed the door, or maybe it was just the fact that these hinges hadn't been changed out since...well, forever! Anything could've made this door creak open, and he was just being ridiculous. Kicking the bucket, he was just preparing to turn back around when he suddenly felt something cold slip under his arm and press firmly against his kidney.
Freezing, his hands raised high in the air. Bumping his knuckles against the low doorframe, biting back the curse of pain, he stood as still as a corpse...for he knew even if he tried turning around quickly, he would bleed out in minutes with just a simple thrust forward. He'd seen it...and had held the knife at the time.
He waited, not even daring to breathe, for his captor's demands. That's what's supposed to happen, right? But instead, fingers roamed over his side, slipping in his jacket and clumsily extracting his gun. Sweat dripped down the side of his head as he felt it replace the sharp implement against him.
Soon, he was stripped of his walkie-talkie, keys, wallet, and phone. Before being forced deeper into the closet, the force against him was lifted, and he was finally allowed to turn around.
There had been plenty of people he'd expected. Some ambitious guard wanting to get rid of him, a grizzled army vet with a bone to pick, or even a costumed freak! But instead, what met him was a rather short figure, dim light exposing just enough for him to see loose strands of blonde hair peaking out from underneath a black ski mask with two holes cut out for the pair of cold green eyes looking down at him like he was some sort of lab rat ready to be dissected on a table.
Wearing full black, they look more like a burglar than a vigilante.
"Y-you-" He cut himself off as that damned stutter made itself known. Showing weakness now wouldn't help him. "Do you know who you're messing with? They won't just kill you, but everyone you ever loved!"
Instead of replying, they only gesture HIS gun down, and it was clear what was expected of him. Seeing no other viable option, he slid against the back wall until he was sitting with his legs scrunched together. His captor leaned slightly out of frame, arm reaching behind the wall with the gun still trained right in the center of mass, before they tossed him a simple gray roll.
Fumbling to catch the object, dread filled him as he looked at the familiar roll of duct tape. They gesture first to his mouth and then his feet, the message clear as day. Clear pricked at his eyes as he ripped off a piece and secured it firmly over his lips.
He was so getting fired.
(A/N: Thank you guys for reading! While writing this, I was debating on whether or not to try and end the heist this chapter and just make it into a massive chapter but for pacing sake, I think it's best to end it here. I had a lot of fun imagining this scene, him sneaking through back alleys ducking behind cover and even using pebbles to distract people! If you couldn't tell, I took heavy inspiration from The Arkham Knight series. You know, minus the take downs, aerial maneuvers and high-tech gadgets. Anyway, enough of me gushing over that game series, thank you all for your support! I really couldn't have gotten this far without you guys! I hope you guys enjoyed! And I will see you guys next week!
PS: I used Grammarly to help with my piss poor grammar, so it should be more palatable now. Tell me if you guys can read the difference but if it makes things worse, I do have an unedited version that I can upload instead.)