#cloaker payday

All you wanted to do was cash in a check, but now here you are, in the middle of a bank robbery. As you were waiting in line, the glass doors of the Harvest & Trustee bank were kicked open, leaving shattered remains all over the entrance. Everyone turned around to see a duo of robbers wearing clown masks; the fated Payday Gang. One of them fired a bullet into the ceiling and shouted,

"HÖRRUDU! ARMS IN THE FUCKING AIR! IF YOU LIKE LIVING THEN GET ON THE DAMN FLOOR!"

Hands flew up and panic filled the lobby. Being closer to the front of the line, you could see a small hallway behind the counter, to the right of the American flag. You could slip past, right? Surely there's a way out of this, you could handle two clowns. Testing your luck, you slowly and carefully shuffled towards the exit door as the clowns were shouting and tying the hands of the other poor saps who had previously been going about their day. Just as you were out of their sight, you swiftly rotated and lunged towards the exit door, reaching for the doorknob-

But just out of the corner of your eye, a third clown emerged from the neighboring security room and shoved you face-first into the wall, knocking over a potted plant.

"Sneaky, sneaky~ you're a brave one, aren't you?" Your body tensed as the clown leaned into your ear, "Well I don't like brave, now kiss the fucking ground before I fire a warning shot in your arse."

Your knees gave out and you slumped towards the carpeted floor, arms pinned behind you and bounded by a zip-tie.

"Good, now stay there and look pretty."

Eyes clenched shut, breath static, you've never felt more afraid in your life- more shots were fired and the security alarm started blaring. Soon enough, you heard sirens in the distance. Police! Thank goodness, help was on the way-

🚑 The Medic ⛑️

You heard everything and nothing at once; screams, alarms, radios, drilling, and gunshots flying overhead assaulted your ears with a violent ringing. As you slowly gained your bearings, you could almost distinguish the sounds of dozens of Swat officers running, vaulting through windows and shouting orders at their comrades. Someone, presumably an officer, to your far left muffled 'Get HRT on the scene,' or something to that effect. Feeling the light rumble of footsteps on the ground beneath you, you opened your teary eyes to a Swat personnel member sporting red and yielding medical equipment. Lifting your head, the officer spotted you and rushed to your aid.

"Help has arrived! Are you alright, any injuries?"

Crouching beside you, he pulled out a pair of scissors from his bag and snipped the cable tie that bound your wrists together. Grabbing your hands, he pulls them towards his face and inspects them.

"Seems like there's mild chafing, but otherwise you'll be a-okay."

You hadn't noticed before but there was a faint ring around your wrists that were slightly tender, possibly due to the tightness of the tie and the ferocity that it was tied together with. Rubbing them, you slowly got to your knees and stood up and as the medic got up and turned away in search of more captives you just stood there, in total shock. The medic saw that you weren't moving and turned to face you again, placing a gentle yet firm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, I know this is an intense situation, but you really need to evacuate the area. Stay low while our hostage rescue team finds you, everything's going to be alright."

You looked into his visor and leaped forward in an unyielding hug. The both of you stumbled to the floor but you couldn't let go, grateful for that small act of compassion on such a bad day. The medic pulled his hands away in surprise but then wrapped his arms around your back snuggly as you buried your face into his shoulder.

"Woah- it's okay, it's okay. I'm here for ya. Just breathe with me."

Taking a deep inhale, you drew in the smell of rubbing alcohol, almost akin to the scent of a hospital. There was a bit of gear strapped to his torso that pressed against your stomach uncomfortably, but the Kevlar fabric of his suit had a nice, rough texture almost akin to denim. Chuckling a bit, the medic pulled you both upright and cleared his throat,

"Heh, I'd love to stay longer but I have some Swat personnel that need treatment. Think you'll be okay for the time being?" he said, patting your shoulders.

Feeling much better, you wiped your eyes and nodded.

"Good, I'll see you around, alright?" and with that, the medic waved and stepped away.

---

☠️ The Bulldozer 💥

The chaos that surrounds you is almost incomprehensible- You could've sworn you heard the distinct crash of a Molotov cocktail shattering against the floor somewhere. With much difficulty, you scooted back towards the center of the lobby and peeked past the corner of the bank teller's counter. You could see almost a dozen other people tied up and terrified, all of them trying fruitlessly to call for help or break their zip ties. You've lost sight of the robbers but on the opposite side of the building in the office area, you heard them sprinting about. Outside, a police officer screamed into a megaphone, demanding that the Payday Gang free the civilians trapped inside the bank. Thinking this is a prime opportunity, you try to wiggle out of your restraints, but it wouldn't budge. Painstakingly, you flip over onto your side and try to angle the hands behind your back, under your feet and up to your face. (I don't think this is possible) After adjusting, you scramble to your knees, lift your arms into the air and with all might you can muster, snap them down and apart, breaking the cable ties around your wrists. You could hardly believe that even worked! But while inspecting your wrists, you failed to notice the clown creeping up towards you.

"We’re not playin' these games. You wanna get out? Well, I'm gonna take you the fuck out!"

The man pointed the barrel of a Reinbeck pump-action shotgun right between your eyes and you covered your head with your arms as he slid the fore-end backwards-

"I DON'T THINK SO!"

As you hear the click of a trigger being pulled and the sharp blast of a gunshot, a Bulldozer leaps between the both of you and tanks the shotgun shells. "YOU’RE IN FOR A WORLD OF HURT, JACKASS! SAY YOUR FUCKING PRAYERS!"

"Aw- SHIT."

The Bulldozer used the butt end of his own gun and struck it against the robber's skull, knocking him to the floor. As the clown clutched the injury, writhing in pain, the Bulldozer lifted a heavy boot into the air, ready to stomp out the criminal, but suddenly froze in place as he felt you hug him from behind-

"THE FUCK?? DOWN! HEEL!" His neck snapped backwards and he reached over his shoulder to brush you off. Quickly, you released your grip and stepped down from the tips of your feet (He's quite a bit taller than you.) Seeing the two of you distracted, one of the clown-masked robbers rushes to his cohort's aid and they flee. Turning, the Bulldozer towering over you puts his hands on his hips and looks you down. "HEY! CAN'T YOU SEE I WAS ABOUT TO -eh?"

His words are cut off as you plunge in for another hug. The dozer stops in his tracks as he feels your arms wrap around his plush yet firm bomb suit. He's warm and smells heavily of gunpowder, smokey and metallic. Flushed, the stunned dozer's hands start to hover over you but hesitate. It's only when he feels you tighten your hold that he leans down and hugs back.

"Heheh, well- WHAT CAN I SAY, THE BULLDOZER’S HERE TO HELP!" What was once a gentle embrace quickly turns into a full-on bear hug. He's almost crushing your bones- like a session with a bad chiropractor. But before the pain gets too uncomfortable, he tosses you up into the air, hooks a hand under your knees and one behind your back, and picks you up bridal style.

"AUTOGRAPHS LATER!"

The bulldozer carries you into the small and now empty security room, stepping over a duffle bag with a strange liquid leaking out of it. He lowers himself onto one knee and sets you down, gently this time, onto the cool-grey floor.

"ALRIGHT, NOW BACK TO BUSINESS! STAY HERE AND PLAY DEAD BEFORE YOU’RE DEAD FOR REAL!"

You nod your head and the bulldozer stands up and hoists a shotgun from his waist. As he makes his way out of the room, he stops under the doorway and looks over his shoulder.

"SEE YA' SWEETHEART!"

He gives you a quick salute, and with that he's back into the fray.

---

🩸The Cloaker 🚔

Choosing to brave the storm, you lie in wait until the police can finally come to your aid. Soon enough, a group of Swat units push through the front entrance and spread out. Stepping into the corner of the bank, past a vending machine, an officer spots you and holds a finger to his radio earpiece. "Civilian spotted, bring in the Hostage Rescue Team. One is located west of the front door."

The cop leaves the area as someone from the extraction team takes his place. As the HRT officer releases you from your cable ties and gives unintelligible instructions to exit the bank before rushing off to the other detainees in the bank lobby. Still in shock and not fully understanding, your head darts back and forth, looking for a safe escape. Your gaze latches onto a doorway beside a water dispenser, seeing a giant printer inside, you rush inside thinking it's a good-enough hiding spot until you can get your bearings. But once you've made your way in, you're even more confused as the presumed printing room is actually a bizarre miniature hallway, almost like a closet with two doors. Shelves filled with files and paperwork line the walls of the cramped area, providing zero spots to hide in. You rush to the opposite door but pause when you hear strange metal rumbling from above, like an animal crawling in the vents. Looking up, you can see the screws holding the grated ventilation cover in place fall to the floor one by one. Bracing for the worst, you step back far away from the vent and hide behind the doorframe.

Suddenly an officer that looks more like a ninja than a cop, leaps down from within the ceiling and lands with the precision and skill of an acrobat. Crouched down, with one hand on the floor holding himself steady and the other wielding a baton, the Cloaker holds his stance. You step forward from the doorframe but just then, the man's head jolts freakishly towards your direction, and his previously dark night-vision goggles glow a bright green. Before you can run away, you hear a deafening squeal as the Cloaker lunges upward and dropkicks you right in the chest-

"THINK YOU CAN PULL A FAST ONE ON ME?"

Your back is slammed against the floor, the air in your lungs being forced out all at once. Gasping, you try to push yourself upwards, but the Cloaker grabs your jaw and pushes your head back down. He raises the baton over his head but before it can come down onto your skull, the Cloaker pauses and leans down not even an inch away from your face.

"You're not one of the clowns."

Frantically, you grab onto the hand still firmly clenched around your jaw and shake your head no. The Cloaker releases his grip and leans back onto his haunches, giving you a moment to sit upright. Still trying to catch your breath, you start to tear up from the pain and hide your face in your knees.

"Don't be dramatic, you're not gonna die. Just rub some dirt on it. And I better not hear a report about this from the chief-in-command."

You stay there, unmoving, and the Cloaker huffs out a heavy sigh.

"God damn it-"

Unexpectedly, the Cloaker lifts you chin up and wraps his arms around you, less than gently.

"You're fine, kid. Suck it up."

He doesn't seem to know how to comfort people very well, but he does this best by giving your back a few awkward pats. Compared to his legs and torso, his arms aren't very heavily armored, and you can feel them snug against you. His chest plate however is quite rigid and presses against you almost uncomfortably. Seeing how not long ago he just came crawling out of a vent, the Cloaker is coated with a layer of dust that almost makes you sneeze. You're not quite sure what to make of this but try to hug back anyway. Before you can do that however, he grips your shoulders and pulls back.

"There, all better. Now stop crying."

Still dazed, the Cloaker wipes your face with a leather-covered thumb. Then he gets back on his feet and walks away without another word.

---

(+ a surprise Taser!)

🔋 The Taser ⚡️

You run up to a Taser and go in for a big ol' hug! The Taser hears you coming and turns around, holding his stun gun. "Huh?- PULL BACK, PULL BACK!-" Owie! You're electrocuted by 50,000 volts!

"SHIT- I'm so fucking fired."

Based on this meme: