Post by rayc5678 on Jun 1, 2023 4:14:32 GMT -6
I did this story as a commission over on DeviantArt. Let me know what you think.
It was a cloudy day in Gotham City, and a frail, 85 year old woman, dressed in conservative clothing, white hair up in a bun, glasses on her wrinkled face, and flesh colored hearing aids, made her way towards a bank on a mobility scooter. Approaching the bank, a woman held the door open for the elderly woman, who went inside. Once inside, she made her way over to the teller. The bank itself was relatively empty, with the exception of the teller, a male in his late 30s to his early 40s, and a security guard standing by the door.
“Hello and welcome to Gotham Bank. How may I help you?” The teller asked, looking at the woman.
“What?” The woman asked in a frail voice, not hearing the teller.
“I said, hello and welcome to Gotham Bank. How may I help you?” The teller asked again.
“What? Speak up, I can't hear you!” The woman exclaimed, looking at the teller.
“I said, hello and welcome to Gotham Bank! How may I help you?!” The teller repeated once more, speaking up.
“I'd like to make a withdraw,” the woman answered, finally hearing him.
“What's the name ma'am?” The teller asked, now knowing to speak loudly so she could hear him.
“Harley Quinn,” she said, squinting as the teller, as her vision wasn't the best.
“And how much do you want to withdraw?” He asked.
“All the money in the cash drawer,” Harley answered, which caused the teller to be confused.
The teller couldn't tell if the old woman in front of him was being serious or had gone senile. He did, however, wave the security guard over, just in case. “I'm not sure what you mean by that ma'am.”
“You heard me. Give me all the money in the cash drawer,” Harley told the teller.
“I think it's time for you to leave ma'am,” the guard said, speaking loud enough for her to hear as he approached Harley.
“I ain't leaving here without the money,” Harley said, as she backed up and turned to face the guard. Once she was facing him, she reached over with a shaky finger, and pressed a button on her scooter. Just then, a barrel appeared from armrest, and bullets flew out, striking the guard in the leg, causing him to fall onto the ground, withering in pain. Once done, she turned and faced the teller, who had a panicked look in his eyes. “Give me the money or you'll get it too!”
“Yes...ma'am...” The teller said, clearly nervous as he proceeded to fill up a bag with money from his drawer.
“After that, fill up the bag with the money from the other drawers,” Harley told the teller, who nodded and proceeded to do so. Once he was done, he handed her the bag with the money. “Good, now open up the door for me,” she said, watching as he came out from behind and headed towards the door. As she followed, she ran over the guard's leg, causing him to scream in pain. Exiting the bank, Harley turned to the teller. “Since you were a good boy, I ain't going to kill ya,” she said with a smile, before pressing the button, shooting the teller in the leg, laughing as she did.
Pressing another button on her scooter as she turned around once more, the barrel retracted, and she made her way down the street. “I should have enough now for my heart medication,” Harley said. “Those damn medications are getting expensive. This is the fifth bank I've hit this month.”
It was a cloudy day in Gotham City, and a frail, 85 year old woman, dressed in conservative clothing, white hair up in a bun, glasses on her wrinkled face, and flesh colored hearing aids, made her way towards a bank on a mobility scooter. Approaching the bank, a woman held the door open for the elderly woman, who went inside. Once inside, she made her way over to the teller. The bank itself was relatively empty, with the exception of the teller, a male in his late 30s to his early 40s, and a security guard standing by the door.
“Hello and welcome to Gotham Bank. How may I help you?” The teller asked, looking at the woman.
“What?” The woman asked in a frail voice, not hearing the teller.
“I said, hello and welcome to Gotham Bank. How may I help you?” The teller asked again.
“What? Speak up, I can't hear you!” The woman exclaimed, looking at the teller.
“I said, hello and welcome to Gotham Bank! How may I help you?!” The teller repeated once more, speaking up.
“I'd like to make a withdraw,” the woman answered, finally hearing him.
“What's the name ma'am?” The teller asked, now knowing to speak loudly so she could hear him.
“Harley Quinn,” she said, squinting as the teller, as her vision wasn't the best.
“And how much do you want to withdraw?” He asked.
“All the money in the cash drawer,” Harley answered, which caused the teller to be confused.
The teller couldn't tell if the old woman in front of him was being serious or had gone senile. He did, however, wave the security guard over, just in case. “I'm not sure what you mean by that ma'am.”
“You heard me. Give me all the money in the cash drawer,” Harley told the teller.
“I think it's time for you to leave ma'am,” the guard said, speaking loud enough for her to hear as he approached Harley.
“I ain't leaving here without the money,” Harley said, as she backed up and turned to face the guard. Once she was facing him, she reached over with a shaky finger, and pressed a button on her scooter. Just then, a barrel appeared from armrest, and bullets flew out, striking the guard in the leg, causing him to fall onto the ground, withering in pain. Once done, she turned and faced the teller, who had a panicked look in his eyes. “Give me the money or you'll get it too!”
“Yes...ma'am...” The teller said, clearly nervous as he proceeded to fill up a bag with money from his drawer.
“After that, fill up the bag with the money from the other drawers,” Harley told the teller, who nodded and proceeded to do so. Once he was done, he handed her the bag with the money. “Good, now open up the door for me,” she said, watching as he came out from behind and headed towards the door. As she followed, she ran over the guard's leg, causing him to scream in pain. Exiting the bank, Harley turned to the teller. “Since you were a good boy, I ain't going to kill ya,” she said with a smile, before pressing the button, shooting the teller in the leg, laughing as she did.
Pressing another button on her scooter as she turned around once more, the barrel retracted, and she made her way down the street. “I should have enough now for my heart medication,” Harley said. “Those damn medications are getting expensive. This is the fifth bank I've hit this month.”