The Bank Job by GeekSeven -------------------------------------------------------------------------- DOWNLOADED FROM http://www.superwomenmania.com/storybank ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Statement given by Mitch Hawkins to Special Agent Jane McKenzie of the Federal Bureau of Metahuman Affairs. 2/12/2009. ***** It was one of Spike's plans, so it wasn't very subtle: hit a small bank in a small town where the cops would probably be too busy getting cats out of trees or helping old ladies across the street to respond in time. The idea was to go in hard and heavy with big guns and scary black outfits to intimidate the yokels and come out with as much cash as we could collect from the tellers in five minutes. It wouldn't make us rich, but it would give us a couple of months of walking around money while we put together a bigger score. Sprinkles was the wheel-man on account of his tricky bladder; he parked the SUV across the street from the bank and kept the motor running. The rest of us - Jacko, Spike, Casey and me - were the strike team. As we approached the bank and pulled on our masks, I noticed a fancy sports car with California plates parked outside the bank. Jacko's job was to cover the door and make sure nobody got in or out. The rest of us were supposed to herd the customers and staff over to one corner of the lobby where I would guard them while Spike and Casey collected as much money as they could and stuffed it into a pair of duffel bags. There were about half a dozen customers and a pair of tellers in the bank. There was no sign of the manager; I think she was probably out back having a smoke. I noticed one of the customers immediately. She was a young, African-American woman with long dark hair. She was wearing tight blue jeans, long black boots and a yellow top. She was talking to one of the tellers and she had her back to me. Bitter experience has taught me never to get too excited about the view from behind, but she looked pretty damn good. The tight jeans clung to her perfectly shaped, rock-hard butt. We started waving our guns around and Spike starting shouting for everyone to go over to one side of the lobby. Casey shouted at the tellers to stay away from the silent alarm and to give him all of their keys. Everybody hurried to do what Spike said, except for the young woman I had noticed. She turned around to see what was happening, but made no movement to obey Spike's orders. The view from the front was just as stunning as the view from behind had been. Her face was beautiful and her body was just perfect; her jeans showed the nice curves of her legs and her top flattered her slender torso and full breasts. I would have placed her in her early 20's and she could have been a model or an actress. She seemed annoyed, but she definitely wasn't frightened. The other customers and the tellers were gathered in the corner where I stood guarding them by the time Casey and Spike noticed that the pretty young woman wasn't going anywhere. Casey stormed up to her and pointed his gun right at her lovely face. "You were told to move, now move!" The woman seemed a little bored. She didn't move; instead, she raised her left hand and placed one of her fingers in the barrel of Casey's gun. "What are you going to do if I don't, big man?" she asked. "You feel like a big man with your little gun?" Casey got mad real quick; he has never needed much of an excuse to get physical with a woman. His face went red with anger; he moved closer to her and threw his hardest off-hand punch at her head. I've been punched by Casey and I can tell you that he's a strong son of a bitch. I flinched a little inside at the thought of that fine woman being on the receiving end of one of Casey's pile-drivers, but I needn't have worried. She didn't move an inch. If it hadn't been for the sickening crunch, I would have thought that he had pulled his punch at the last moment. He screamed in pain and I realized that the crunch had come from his knuckles breaking when they had hit her face. "What the fuck? What the fuck did you do to my hand, bitch?" shouted Casey. He stepped back a pace and pulled the trigger of his gun, not realizing or caring that the woman's finger was still in the barrel. Her hand should have been blown off by the soft-point bullets that Casey favored, but instead the end of the barrel split into several fragments and the gun flew backwards, hitting Casey in the chest and throwing him to the ground. Two of the fingers on his firing hand were bent back at sickening angles and from the way he held the front of his chest, I figured that the recoiling weapon had broken a few of his ribs. The woman walked over to his prone figure, leaned down and smacked his forehead with the palm of her hand. Casey slumped into unconsciousness. From where I stood I had a perfect view of her glorious cleavage as she was leaning over. "I really don't like being called 'Bitch', bitch." she said to the unresponsive Casey. She stood straight again and looked at Spike. Spike didn't hesitate: he raised his gun and opened fire on the woman. I could tell that he hit her several times, because ragged holes appeared in her top, but there was no blood and it didn't seem that the bullets were having any effect on her. I knew that Spike usually loaded up his assault rifle with armor-piercing "cop killer" bullets that could punch through a bullet-proof vest, so the idea that they couldn't penetrate her skin was unbelievable. "You little shit," she swore. "You've ruined my favorite top! Do you have any idea how much this cost? Damn it!" She walked towards Spike with a firm, purposeful stride. He kept firing and hit her a couple more times - once between her breasts and again in the thigh - to no effect other than to expose some more of her creamy, light brown skin. She reached forward and wrapped her right hand around the end of the assault rifle and yanked it out of Spike's hand. His trigger finger got tangled up in the mechanism and he lost the end of it up to the first joint. He was staring at his mangled finger in horror while the woman swung the rifle and smashed it into the side of Spike's torso. He flew threw the air and slammed into one of the teller windows. He crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Jacko didn't want to stick around after seeing that and he turned to leave. "Oh, you're not going anywhere." she said. She snapped off the end of Spike's rifle's barrel and threw it like a dart into the back of Jacko's right leg. It pierced the leg and speared his kneecap from behind. He fell to the ground like a wounded deer. She slowly walked over to him and kicked his other knee. Her leather boot struck his kneecap and it cracked loudly. Jack wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Then there was just me. I only had an automatic pistol, but I was pretty sure that nothing short of a rocket launcher would do anything against that impossible woman. I did the only thing I could: I grabbed the nearest person - one of the tellers - and held my gun up to the side of her head. "Please," I said, "let me leave and I won't hurt her." The impossibly strong woman looked at me and laughed. It was a nice laugh, but under the circumstances it chilled me to the bone. I pushed the gun tight into the side of the teller's head. "I swear I'll do it if you don't let me go!" "You are in way over your head," she told me. "You already know that I'm super-tough." As she said this, she put two of her fingers into one of the bullet holes in her top and pulled it apart to show the perfectly smooth brown skin of her flat, completely unharmed tummy. "You already know that I'm super-strong." As she said this, she held up the rest of Spike's assault rifle and twisted it into a 'U' shape with her bare hands. She tossed it behind her casually. "There are two things you need to ask yourself. First of all: am I super-quick? Am I so fast that I can pull that gun out of your hand and shove it down your throat a nano-second after you decide to pull the trigger? Secondly: do I care about your hostage? Am I so far removed from mundane humanity that I'll let you pull the trigger and then kill you when the hostage is dead? Are you feeling lucky, punk?" My mouth was dry and I could hardly speak. "I, I, I..." I stammered. She took a couple more steps towards me. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. "The only way you are going to get out of this alive and not crippled is to let her go, drop your gun on the floor, get on your knees in front of me and beg for your miserable life." I tried to meet her gaze to judge if she was bluffing, but I could barely look into her dark brown eyes for a second before I had to look away. She was like steel, inside and out. I released the hostage and dropped my gun. I threw myself to the ground in front of the woman and groveled for my life. I kissed the tips of her black leather boots. "Get up on your knees," she ordered. I raised myself to my knees so that my face was level with her stomach. That close I could see that her skin was flawless and that her body was perfectly toned. In spite of the danger, I imagined what the rest of her looked like underneath her clothes and groaned slightly. She reached down and grabbed my head between her hands. She started to squeeze and the intense pain is the last thing that I remember before waking up in the hospital with concussion and skull fractures. ***** Note from Special Agent McKenzie: After knocking out Mr. Hawkins, the woman left the bank. She crushed the gang's getaway vehicle with her bare hands until it was so badly mangled that it took the fire department six hours to cut Mr. "Sprinkles" out. She then drove away in her sports car. This is the seventh confirmed sighting of subject UG4. Her current whereabouts are unknown.