"Go go go! Cut that one open!" screamed Mr. M, returning fire at the SWAT to keep them at bay.
Clang! Mr. T. pries open the first wall locker, and out spill several vials of a frozen, white substance. They shatter on the ground.

"Aw, shit, the fuck is that?" yells Mr. F, running over to Mr. T. Mr. F. Slips and falls on the now re-liquidated substance, cracking his skull on the concrete floor.

"God... DAMNIT you shitbag!" Mr. M explodes over his shoulder, nearly catching rounds to his head, "Don't tell me you kook-headed fucks plotted a heist of a goddamn SPERM BANK!"

The SWAT teams rush in as the fire from the three bank robbers ceases. They are all taken into custody, and the event where three legendary bank robbers from Los Angeles robbed a sperm bank goes down in history as the one time they ever were caught.

I wouldn't call myself a criminal, others would I'm sure, and by the letter of the law that's the box that I would be dropped into. But I consider myself more of an opportunistic businessman not dissimilar to anyone in sales or the stock market, I just happen to disagree about where the line falls on legality. And I'd argue I have more morals than the average capitalistic, power hungry hoarders of wealth that seem to have weaseled their way into power.
I've been around awhile and have seen my fair share of the inside of vaults that I wasn't invited to see, but the last job has made me stop and consider my line of work, or at least caused me to pause and ponder about human nature.
I'm writing this less than 24 hours after the job, mainly to get my thoughts in order and try to capture the moment I had what I would describe as an existential crisis. As usual the plan was meticulously organised, crew acquired, time and date and location precisely picked. Everything was going smoothly and with hindsight I should have been suspicious at how well our scheming was working. The target was a independent bank called Duygusal PLC, operating for the last decade or so a few miles out of the town we were temporarily staying in. We had gotten in smoothly with little fuss, alarms were disarmed, no security guards and any cameras were easily spray painted over.
Our safe-cracker, Jane, was busy with acquiring access to the safety deposit boxes while we emptied the less guarded areas, a little cash, a few pieces of jewellery here and there. I sometimes wish my expertise was combination cracking, the tension that rose within me, despite the distraction of filling our bags, waiting for the more coveted prize of the well guarded safes deep within the vault is as intoxicating now as the first job I'd ever done.
When we heard Jane's voice ring out that she'd cracked it, we all rushed to see what our efforts had rewarded us with. This was the point that I can vividly remember and I'm sure it will stay burned into my memory for as long as I live.
The first drawer I opened didn't contain jewels or bonds or gold.
The only thing in there was a single photo. It was a shot of a man mid laugh, the kind that makes you clutch your belly and struggle to breathe and on the back in faded ink, it read; Stuart 1997. I stared at it confused. In all my years I had never come across anything like this. And were it not for the hundreds of other similar drawers I would have put it down to an oddity, it would have become an anecdote told at drunken parties and become a fond odd memory. Instead, I opened another drawer, disregarding the first and was welcomed by a folded piece of fabric. I pulled this one out, half surprised and curious as to what it could be, but also expecting to find riches wrapped within it. But it was a baby's blanket. It was old but had been obviously cared for, the balloons and teddy bear design had lost it's bright colour but it smelled fresh as if it had just been washed.
At this point I looked over at my crew and saw them in various states of confusion and disbelief, each one holding a random object or peering into a drawer with a frown.
We went through every single box and drawer. There were more photos, figurines, odd knick-knacks, bits of clothing and many, many letters. Some were just pieces of paper, others were postcards or carefully folded into envelopes. They were letters of love in different forms, from friends to lovers.
This was the moment I lost what little sense of reality I had. It didn't make sense. It was obvious that these items were of sentimental value but who would think to keep them in a bank? A mixture of emotions whirled inside of me, the brief disappointment from earlier had long since evaporated and I found myself feeling numb, as if I had just been dropped into a void. I turned my head sluggishly to see the crew starting to leave, a few slamming drawers shut, others swearing and gesturing angrily at me to go and I could only follow silently. Even though it was only last night, if anyone were to ask me how I got home or what was said, I honestly could not say.
But before that I not only remember it as pictures and sounds in my mind, but also as a full body feeling. I don't think that feeling has dissipated much and I'm sure it won't for some time. I tell myself that I'm an anarchist, that I earn outside of the law that's forced upon us within our society and without a lack or morals. I'm a good person. I would never hurt anyone and never have. But after last night, for the first time, I question whether I've been lying to myself. Have I been trying to justify my actions or do I truly believe in them? I can't decide and I haven't slept. I don't think it will be answer that will come quickly.

Time to take a break.

"Clocks ticking guys, we don't have all night."

The whispered words over our earpieces were level, but carried with them an urgency. Our crew was small, ill-suited to a active bank robbery. Our plan had started well, sneaking in in the dead of night.

Our intel had so far been proven correct. This was an unassuming building on the outside, a seemingly ordinary office building. But beneath it lay an ornate bank, holding a large vault with state if the art security. If the rest were true, this was where wealthy people held items of incredible importance. If they wanted it hidden, they had to be valuable.

"Got it!"

The vault door let out a hiss, swinging open slowly. The three of us gathered around its opening, peering inside. Inside we saw walls of safety deposit boxes, larger than what we knew to be the average size. Lights flickered on overhead, illuminating its interior.

We moved in, taking out sets of lock picks. With silent movements we split, tackling individual boxes. The air was filled with faint scratches, as we worked out their chamber and pins. It was oddly eerie, especially when the lights overhead flickered.

"What the fuck?!"

My head shot up, looking at Lock. Her face was faintly green, eyes transfixed on what lay inside. I gave mine a final twist, feeling the lock click, before giving in to my curiosity at what she had found.

I felt my stomach twist at what her one contained. A heart, lying on a soft black cushion. Despite being devoid of a body, it beat in a steady pattern. I saw her watching my reaction, and I gave a slow shrug. With a shake of my head I returned to my own, gently opening it.

Mine was also devoid of money, jewellery, or even gold. Instead it held a rough green crystal, producing a muted glow. I touched it, pulling my hand back almost instantly. It was cold,so cold it burned. I reached up to my earpiece, connecting to Jack.

"Jack, I'm not sure what to say on if we have items of value. Lock found a heart, and I've got some weird cold glowing crystal. Barrel, what have you got?"

I turned to our third member, who had managed to open his. He reached in, bringing out a swirling snow globe. Whatever was inside was obscured by the whriling clouds of white within.

"No idea Shock. Might be worth something to collectors."

"A fancy snow globe. Look, we will open more, but so far it's a bust."

Silence met me, which I found odd. Jack was normally good at think on the spot. I frowned, cycling through to Boogie.

"Boogie, you there? How we looking?"

I heard a faint sound, almost like a gasp. I didn't think we were being jammed, as previously it had been met with static. Not just dead silence.

"I'm afraid your friends are indisposed."

A cold voice met us, making my hair stand on end. A middle aged woman stood at the vault door, arms crossed. Her eyes flashed, and I could practically taste the malice pouring from her. She wore a sharp black suit, a simple golden necklace her only jewellery.

"In all my years, never have I known such an affront. Humans, in my hoard."

A rush of wind came from behind her, her shadow behaving oddly. It seemed to split, but a boink and it was back to normal. Barrel gasped, and I quickly turned my head to look. A man in a pure white suit had taken the globe from his grasp, face set in a blank expression.

"I... we..."

I tried to speak. I had to come up with a way to get out of this. But the woman fixed me with a glare, killing the words in my throat.

"Don't. Don't even try to lie to me."

I felt uncomfortably warm with her focus on me. She snapped her fingers, answered instantly by a trio of three.... things. Their top half was at least normal, wearing shirts. But their lower half was that of giant spiders. My breaths came faster, as I stared at them. I hated spiders. I hated spiders so much.

"Bind them, prep them for interrogation, along with the others. I want to know exactly how they found this place, and how they broke in. Tell Philius I expect him in my office in five minutes, and he had better have a damn good explanation as to how he missed this."

The woman rubbed her head, as the monsters crawled in. I leapt forwards to bolt, fear overcoming my instinct to stay still. But before I got more than a step one of the spider-things leapt onto me. I felt a horrible sticky substance hit me, as it manhandled me around.

"I'm going to have to comp those three so much."

Her tone was filled with rage. I knew much was aimed at us, but I felt some was just general at the act of paying out. I tried to struggle as I was wrapped up, but it was useless. These monstrosities were fast, cocooning us efficiently. They carried us from the room, taking us deeper into the bowels of this place.

I knew then I would not see the sun again.

The roof broke of the sewer, falling neatly into the preplanned hole that had been dug underneath it.

"Alright lads, stage one is complete, we have no comms and nothing has triggered the alarms so we have 2 hours before sunrise and the doors open, get in there and start cracking those boxs"

The crew climbed up without any fuss except Mr Brown who took an injury, a small scrape on his hand from some sharp concreate, he quickly made up a improvised bandage to stop the bleeding.

Each of them taking a wall of safe deposit boxs they started cracking them open with crowbars.

Mr Brown taking the left wall, Mr Green the far wall and Mr Blue the wall on the right, Mr Black (the leader) offering up a hand to unload each box as its contents spilled out.

"Ha boys we are rich" cried out Mr Green waiving a handful of papers above his head, "look at this a whole box filled with Blockbuster stock" he fell back laughing at the faces of the rest of the crew his joke breaking up the excited murmurs that the rest of the crew had started to comment.

After only an hour nearly all the boxs had been opened a horde of gems, jewels and cash but 5 remained, two on Mr Browns wall, one on Mr Greens and the final two on Mr Blue's.

The crew knowing they had more them enough time started to speculate what riches these ones would contain had tried in vain to open them with hammers, crowbars and had to bring out the Dimond drill to try crack them.

Each member agreed to put the level of security into these boxs they must have something very valuable in them.

Mr black looked over each box in turn, they all sat on the same level, and now that he looked over them each box had the same pattern etched into the front of it - which made sense as they all resisted the attempts to open them in the same way.

His thoughts drawn away as Mr Green spoke up, " I think I hear voices down the tunnel boss, I will just go have a quick look" he jumped down the hole in the floor.

Mr blue spoke next " now that I'm close to it, I don't think this is a pattern boss, it looks more like very elaborate Letters, give me a second see if i can figure it out" Mr Blue pulled out a small note pad and started to write down "LO" and that looks like B" he started to mutter to himself.

Mr Black turned to Mr Brown " Hows the drill going?" he asked, Mr Brown looked up "I think ive made progress" He moved the drill back and went to wipe the build up that had formed from the drill attacking the metal away with his hand scratched hand bandage .

The same time Mr Blue spoke up " ok what is a LOBADI? any one know? maybe if i move it around?

Mr Green chose this moment to pop back up "boss its odd the voices? they get louder the closer I get to the vault and you guys, it must be a weird echo or something"

Before Mr Black could say anything Mr Brown started to stammer out "Boss...Ah Boss, Boss you got to look at this" and he pointed to the smear on the box front where he had wiped it. "watch, he then rubbed his bandaged hand on the front of it, leaving a faint trail of blood"

The blood then seemed to vanish, slowly like it was being sucked into the front of the door.

"it must be biometric" Mr Brown said at last, after he placed another smear on the door.

ABDILO? Mr Blue asked to the group, almost to himself.

Mr Black was about to tell everyone to pack up and leave, Mr Green spoke first "boss someone is coming up the tunnel, must be using some weird night vision light as its glowing red"

"Boss" Mr Brown started "the box is opening..."

"Hey Ive got it" Mr Blue exclaimed triumphally "DIABLO"

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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