(5/10)
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Chapter 21 – Buzz Buzz Bank Heist
First-Person POV – Terrence B. Wallace, Jr. (Hostage / Accountant / Sufferer of Great Misfortune)
Let me just say—if I survive this, I'm switching to online banking.
There I was, minding my damn business. Wearing my good loafers. I had my deposit slips, my bonus check, and even a half-melted protein bar in my pocket like a civilized man.
I even told my wife, "Today's the day we refinance."
Refinance.
You know how sexy that sounds in a marriage? I was ready to be fiscally responsible and emotionally available.
Then the doors flew open like we were in a Wild West reboot.
"NOBODY MOVE! THIS IS A ROBBERY!"
Four guys storm in—wearing masks made of what looked like used underwear and holding guns that screamed "we bought these on discount from Craigslist."
One dude yelled, "Empty the drawers!"
The other one shouted, "Where's the crypto vault?!"
And the third just kept screaming, "I'm vegan! I'm vegan!" which, honestly, wasn't relevant to the moment.
One was missing... It seems like he's hiding somewhere.
Somebody behind the counter fainted. A toddler laughed. I blinked seventeen times in disbelief.
I did what any reasonable man would do—I lay flat on the ground and mentally updated my will.
Then things got worse.
The robbers, geniuses that they were, started arguing over Spotify playlists mid-robbery.
"Play something hype, bro!"
"I said no more Doja Cat! She gives me flashbacks!"
"Bro, it's 'Paint The Town Red' or I quit."
"Still better than Lil Nas X."
Gun still in hand.
And while this circus unfolded in high-def, something… changed.
There was a buzz in the air. Not like a phone buzz. No. Like a weird, supernatural "your-day-is-about-to-get-weirder" kind of buzz.
The ceiling tiles above us started to tremble. Dust sprinkled down like low-budget snow.
And then—
CRASH-KABLAM-KRSPSSHH!
A human being—no, a teenager in a paper bag and Jordans—violently descended from the heavens like a divine punishment sent by confused anime gods.
He didn't land. No, no. He phased halfway through the roof, got stuck like a cork in a wine bottle, wiggled, and then finally plopped onto the floor like someone hit CTRL+ALT+DELETE on gravity.
Everyone stared. Even the robbers. Even the kid with the juice box.
The new guy—paper bag still on his head, pizza grease stain glistening—stood up, cracked his neck like this was just Tuesday, and said:
"Yo. Is this the line for the DMV?"
"..."
"...."
"..."
Silence. Deafening. Absolute.
Then the vegan robber screamed, "WHAT THE F—"
But before he could finish, the paper-bagged mystery boy raised a single hand and—pop!—Vegan Man was GONE. Not dead. Not hurt. Just gone. Poofed like a fart in the wind.
At that point, I decided maybe God wasn't ignoring me. He was just bored.
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Leon's POV
Okay.
So.
Maybe dropping into a hostage situation wasn't the smartest move I've made. But hey—who plans these things?
I'd just tested my "Buzz Buzz no Jutsu" like a normal emotionally unstable teen with weird powers, and boom—straight through the crusty roof of a bank.
I blinked.
People were screaming.
One dude was just lying flat, whispering what sounded like a Chick-fil-A order.
Three robbers stared at me like I was the human embodiment of malware.
I stood up slowly. My paper bag mask slid halfway off, so I yanked it back down with maximum ninja grace (read: nearly poked myself in the eye).
"Yo. Is this the DMV?" I asked.
Classic. Dry. Iconic. I feel proud.
One of the robbers shouted, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
Another one cocked his gun. "GET ON THE GROUND, SPIDER-GIRL!!"
Wow. Spider-girl? I mean, I wish—but thanks, I guess?
"WHAT THE F-—"
But before he could finish, I raised my hand for dramatic reasoning and with a plop, he was gone... Now I shit you not, I did not know what button I pressed on the Buzz Buzz no Jutsu, but my guy just– He disappeared.
I can't allow myself show surprise, so I tried acting it out.
I dusted myself off and cracked my knuckles like I knew what I was doing.
My heart? Beating like a meth-powered drumline. My brain? Fully buffering.
Still, I had to flex a bit like I own the streets.
(Reminds me of the time Ashton fell when racing Speed 🤣🤣 comedy gold.)
"You guys ever heard of the Paper Bag Man?" I said, putting some extra bass in my voice.
"That urban myth?"
"Heard he's a menace."
"Heard he wears crocs." I shamelessly boasted of my own legend.
…Okay, so I might need a PR team.
They aimed their guns. Guns. Again.
Like bullets work on a guy who accidentally slips through floors and glitches like a badly patched Fortnite update. But I'll be damned if they do.
So I did what any bugged-out protagonist would do.
I vanished.
Literally flickered out of existence. I could hear someone scream, "NOT THE VAULT FLOOR TOO—"
I re-materialized right behind one of the robbers—dude smelled like expired ketchup and regret—tapped his shoulder, and said,
"Boo."
He screamed, tossed his gun up, and tried to run. I poked his back mid-sprint—pop—gone. Like deleted files. Man just alt-F4'd from reality.
The second guy swung around and fired.
Bad choice.
The bullet froze mid-air like time stuttered. Then it compressed and fell. Like it was embarrassed.
"You missed," I said casually, catching a few in my hand.
"But that's okay. So did your dad."
That hurt him more than any punch could. Man let out a spiritual "damn."
Then he fainted.
Now all that was left was the third guy—Vegan on crack—who had apparently come back from the ether, still shouting, "I AM VEGAN!!!" like it was a battle cry.
He lunged at me with a metal chair.
Where the hell did he even GET a metal chair?
I did a little sidestep (shoutout to Saturday night DDR practice) and tripped him.
He landed face-first in a tray of lollipops.
The worst fate.
I looked around. Everyone just stared.
No claps. No applause. Not even a "yo, cool paper bag."
Tough crowd.
A little girl raised her hand like we were in algebra class.
"Mister Paper Bag?"
"Yeah?"
"Why do you smell like cheese...?"
Rude. But accurate.
"Because heroism... stinks," I replied, dramatically, before walking toward the vault like I had any clue what I was doing.
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