She remembered watching them as they entered, guns ready, masks drawn down, voices powerful. Watched as her workers ignored her, she was just an innocent bystander which they'd take hostage, after they'd robbed the bank, of course. All according to plan. The four of them all pushed and bullied the rest of the bank tenants to the floor and her as well, gathering money and getting ready for the final phase: Escape. She remembered the bags so heavy, the M-16 rifles they had, unfired, the entire crowd terse and cooperative.
Then she remembered HIM. He rose from his knees, like a shadow rising during sunset, clad all in black, hands still above his head. She remembers her worker grabbing her and forcing her to her feet, but she couldn't take her eyes off HIM. Then one of the other men approached him and told him to stay down. Or he would have if he had been able to finish the second word. She remembered the speed, the veracity, the power which the man in black moved with. One second her four guys are in control and the next He is attacking like a well trained warrior, wise to the chase.
The first of her men went down in a flurry of limbs as the magazine from his rifle struck the man holding her in the face, she swears she remembers bones cracking before he slumped to the floor, screaming. The third took aim, but didn't have a chance to fire, the man in black whipped his hand out and with a flash of metal there was a knife stuck through her third man's hand, which gave Him the opportunity to close the gap and put her third down and retrieve his knife. Her fourth man rushed over and grabbed her arm hard, she didn't notice because she couldn't stop looking at Him, he made threatening remarks and brandished his rifle every which way.
She remembered the tip of the rifle being pushed against her ribs, then she remembers the warm spray of blood across her face. His long arm gently and swiftly lifting and turning her away from the grizzly sight he had just created as the body of her man fell to the ground. It was then and only then she was able to look into his eyes, light blue, sad yet jovial, gentle and fierce all at the same time, aged years beyond his youthful face. She plopped down on her bottom when he ever so gently set her down, right before he smiled and rendered the last of her men unconscious. Weeks later she'd found out everything about him. He was a no one. In the bank that day by accident, he disarmed the whole situation and killed one of the masked robbers, essentially saving her life. Not knowing that she was their ring leader all along. And not knowing He'd just cost her hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Still. She couldn't stop thinking about Him. The way he moved, the violence he wrought with the same gentle hands he used to cradle her away from the horror. She was a professional thief and Violence was a regular part of her life, but He was different. Then the weight of the money came into mind, a single job with a very large payout all gone in His swift actions. Her men demanded freedom and pay. So now she sits in her office staring at a text message, unsure of her answer, "Do we kill him or bring him to you?" She tried so hard to figure out why she kept thinking of Him, why her mind kept returning to that moment when she was in his arms, why she could remember the way he smelled. She looked at the screen and typed an answer then hit send. She gently put her phone on her desk and sat back, deep in thought and waited.
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