You stared at the time. 12:39 in the morning. They’re three minutes late for the getaway. While not itself a bad sign, you know from experience that the five minute mark means something has gone wrong. You grip your hands on the steering wheel of the car: a rust-red junker with four torn leather seats and a big trunk. Your foot hovers above the accelerator.
Then, in the corner of your eye, you see them. Two hooded figures are climbing out of a busted window, and each one is holding a large burlap sack in each hand. They sprint over to you, tossing the sacks in the trunk and lurching into the back seat, where a change of clothing is waiting for them.
You slammed the accelerator and speeded out of the courtyard of Imaginetech Industries. Driving up to the security gate, you again slide an employee badge through the receiver. The metal gates swing open silently, and down the road you and your two partners go, illuminated only by the milky-yellow streetlights from above.
The rusty car pulled into a quiet and dilapidated neighborhood of foreclosed homes. A few turns through a cul-de-sac brought the three of you to an old and poorly kept house. Weeds were growing in disarray in the front yard, and tall grasses stuck out from cracks in the driveway. The lights were out and all windows were covered by thick curtains. As you pulled up to the house, you guided the car up a brick ramp leading to a large wooden gate with latches on it. A fourth figure, a young woman, unlatched the gate and pulled it inward, allowing you to maneuver the car into the side yard.
Having turned off the car lights, the scene was as quiet as one can imagine. It was like a dark phantom gliding into and out of sight for a moment. You parked the car and everyone got out with the sacks of stolen goods. The four of you then cast a large tarp over the car, covering it from plain sight, and then closed the gate. Finally, you all entered the house from the back door, which was less than a door and more like a gaping hole where a door should be.
“Holy hell, what took you guys so long?” The young woman asked, brushing hair out of her eyes and watching the three of you with marked annoyance.
“Don’t look at me Ames, they were three minutes late for the drop.” You responded, pointing an accusatory finger at your partners. “Three minutes!”
“Chill the fuck out Jake, we made it out safely.” Said the older of the two, Alex.
“Yeah, and you should look at all the stuff we snagged too! It was a huge success!” Piped up the younger of the two, Bernie.
“Whatever, let’s see what you got and then cheese it. Time is a valuable thing too.” Replied the young woman, Amie.
You retrieved some flashlights and candles from a cupboard and lit up the room.
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