Origins of a Grenadier Fox (Part 1: Not Your Typical Desk Job...)
Chapter 1--Modern Day--Cormac sat on a metal bench, in a rumbling van barreling down the road, his associates sat across from him, their backs straight against the wall behind them. There were two others: a rabbit with grayish-white fur, a tigress, and himself. They didn't know each other's names, nor cared to find out. In such a business you didn't want to grow attached to the people you worked with. Seeing as how they might die on the next job, so they referred to each other by their apparent species. With this creative naming method, he was known only as 'fox'.The van bumped as it passed over an indentation in the city road at high speed. Cormac couldn't see the driver. There was a sheet of metal between the cargo area and the cab of the vehicle. He instead focused on the two other beings inside the van. The rabbit was loading his gun. A submachine gun, of a model Cormac wasn't familiar with, it was bullpup in design, which was the extent of the fox's knowledge of the weapon, although it looked relatively new, or well kept. The tigress did the same with her own prefered weapon, loading her pump-action shotgun with red shells. Followed next by her sidearm, and finally then she checked the pouches on her bullet-resistant vest, making sure she had all ammo she would need. Although it wasn't as if she could fill them if she had neglected to do so earlier. As the van was bare. The three beings were the only things occupying the cargo area of the vehicle. It would have sucked if one of them needed to go to the bathroom.Cormac didn't know what he should have been doing during this time, it was his first job in this business. He had experience in the field of course, but this was not the same. The grenadier fox was sporting a bullet-resistant vest and helmet, the helmet with a tinted visor. The vest had straps that ran across his chest vertically on either side, each strap held a grenade of some type or another some types were carried in more frequency than others. Each with its own circumstances and utility to the fox.He decided to look busy, for the sake of not being the odd one out in the van. He pretended to inspect the arming levers and safety pins on his grenades while the others finished what they were doing. As the other two concluded their last minute inspections the van grew silent. Each occupant became lost in their own thoughts. Cormac's were about the plan, and the potential reward if
everything went well. He couldn't guess about the mental musings and ponderings of the other two.A single loud knock echoed on the wall opposite of the double doors. Coming from the area that the driver's cab was located.They would be thirty seconds away from their target. The grenadier fox's hands started to shake a little, as they did before any confrontational job, he was a little nervous to say the least. His role was pivotal in the plan, more important than the other two by far. He was expected to do his job right, and quickly. With little room for error. Otherwise it would all go donw in smoke.Everyone counted out the thirty seconds silently, then felt the van slow and come to a stop. Before beginning once more, Accelerating quickly, the driver redlining the vehicle. The engine roared as the vehicle's limits were pushed. The van's front end jolted upwards as it started driving up a set of stairs, amazingly gaining speed while climbing. Not but two seconds later it rode on nothing but air, having reaching the top of the stairs and vaulted over. Everyone clenched their eyes shut and braced. Waiting for the jarring impact.The huge vehicle crashed through a wall and came to rest. Everything silent for another half second as the three armed allies recovered. Then they scrambled for the doors, remembering that they had a job to do. It was time to go to work. The rabbit exited first, The tigress next, and final himself. As he left the humid and sweat-smelling confines of the sealed metal van. He looked around at the interior, of a bank. A large and successful one if the architecture, and detail of the interior was anything to go by. Large marble pillars outlined the huge lobby. While golden arches held up the roof and rested atop the white and black stone pillars. Giving the building a very professional and fancy aesthetic.A burst of gunfire rang out towards the front of the van as the rabbit killed the only guard in the lobby, the poor wolf having already surrendered his weapon, yet receiving shots to the face regardless. He made a mental note to keep an eye on that grayish-white psychopath. Lest he get stabbed, or more likely, shot, in the back when it was time to leave. The tigress took up a watchful position near one of the lobby windows, keeping an eye out for local law enforcement to arrive, it would only be a matter of minutes from those shots. Cormac jogged over to the front counter and vaulted over it. At the same time the rabbit was yelling commands at the
tellers and other civilians, spiced with profanities. The fox opened the elaborately carved door behind the counter, displaying a long and bland hallway with an intersection at the end. He ran to the intersection and decided to go left, seeing as he was left handed himself, hoping that his logic would lead to him getting lucky. Not but a couple seconds later, after rounding a corner, the main vault was stumbled upon. The intended target. The orange fox went to work, pulling the pack off of his back and placing it on the ground. Cormac inspected the door, its composition and material makeup being of vital importance. It looked to be outdated by quite a while, perfect.Gunshots echoed down the hallway he came from. The cops had arrived, but it sounded like the tigress was doing her job, as a retaliatory shotgun blast, followed by another, chased the previous sounds down the corridor. He worked quickly. Removing the melting charges from his back and sticking them to preplanned positions on the door, where the locks would be placed on the opposite side. Then wired all six charges to one long fuse. He extended the fuse around the corner. Then lit the wire and waited. A loud pop sound, followed by burning could be heard over the machine gun fire and shotgun blasts coming from the lobby. The heat could be felt even this far away and around the corner, the ordinance doing its job at melting through the metal .The fox waited until the sound dissipated to take a look around the corner. As was expected, the vault had been melted right through. With six small holes where he had placed the specialized ordinance. He was about to open the door, but decided better of it. In case the alarm was rigged with an internal trap system. He went to the last office at the end of the hallway before the vault, and snatched a fancy looking pen off of the desk. Cormac dashed back to the vault and pressed it through one of the small holes made by the incendiary devices earlier. Letting it drop to the ground on other side of the door. He heard the soft 'clink' of the pen landing on the steel floor. Followed by loud bang that came from the vault. Slightly louder than a gun blast, leaving his ears ringing in the corridor. So there was a trap in there... It was a good thing he hadn't strolled right on in. As he opened the door he saw a sprinkle of metal fragments all around the entrance of the vault, and a few metal tiles missing on the opposite wall of the vault. It was a trap hidden behind the wall paneling, that exploded to kill anyone in the doorway of the vault. Good thing the door had been there to
protect him, and he had thought of the pen idea. It was days like these that made him believe he survived upon luck alone, as it could well be. Maybe he should buy a couple lottery tickets instead of being a demolitionist? Who knows? What if he actually won?Fat chance of that happening. If he was lucky then he wouldn't have to be in this business to begin with. Although the pay was nice, and it was fun. The benefits and retirement plan sucked.He refocused on the loot piled neatly before him, in bundles and stacks, on tables and laying on the floor, were pallets of representational money. In both solid metal and cloth form. He had his choice of either one, and of course he chose the metal, as its value was more stable than its flimsy counterpart currency. Not to mention easier to smelt into something a bit less conspicuous. The grenadier loaded his bag full with as many as he could carry in weight, even dumping some of his other equipment to carry more weight. The gold was worth way more than a few unstable chemicals and empty grenade shells. Though he did not neglect to burn those incriminating objects in the corner of the vault, with the activation and lobbing of an incendiary device as he exited. Why make the job for the police any easier? Now they had to make sense of a pile of slag in the vault. He started chuckling at their imagined looks of confusion, upon discovering the pile, and how they would try to analyze its chemical composition, that would be hilarious to watch. Cormac made his way out of the vault, carrying his bag of gold back to the lobby, with it hung over his shoulder. Smiling the whole way, it was going great so far. ~End of Chapter 1~