Lightning without Thunder

The High Priestess

On screen, I see two newsreaders, one male and one female, staring at the camera. They appear emotionless, and while I can't hear their voices, I imagine they sound similarly monotone. 

"Today, the famous music prodigy, known as Dragon, saved over twenty hostages during a bank robbery." The man speaks. "Two armed gunmen entered the district bank yesterday evening and held 20 people hostage for more than two hours. The police special forces attempted to negotiate with them, but to no avail. The situation nearly spiralled out of control." 

I pause the video. "I just shot a high-profile individual." I tell myself, "But somehow people care more about a bank robbery? Why did nobody care when I committed one?" 

I take a deep breath and unpause the video. The newsreader drones on. "The musician Dragon, who happened to pass by the scene, asked the police commander if he could speak with the robber instead. The officer initially refused, but after Dragon pleaded with him in the form of a short song, he agreed." 

I stare at my phone. It feels like my brain's cogs are turning. There is something strange about Dragon's music. Why do people immediately comply whenever he sings? 

The newsreader continues. "Then Dragon quickly improvised a song for the bank robbers. Telling them to surrender and let the police take them into custody. And they did. They walked out, hands on their heads, right away." 

The other newsreader laughs. "I am not surprised." She says. "If Dragon would write and sing a song for me, I would also do whatever he said." 

"I dunno." The first newsreader shakes his head. "Apparently, the two perpetrators were released on bail after attempting to rob the same bank last week. They don't seem to be the type of people who improves their lives." 

The second newsreader smiles towards the camera. "I would rob a bank if it meant Dragon writes me a song." 

The first newsreader rolls his eyes. "I would not rob that bank. Dragon has personally guaranteed that he will deal with anyone who attempts to rob the bank in the future. 

I toss my phone on the ground. "Okay, that is it." I say. "Dragon, let's see if you can stop me." 

I walk over to the wastebasket and turn it upside down. My bloodied clothes fall to the floor, and I grab the item I'm looking for. My gun. 

I take the small gun and place it on my nightstand. 

****

After grabbing some clean clothes, specifically my black pants, green hoodie, and spare black boots, and hiding my gun in my hoodie, I realise I don't have a scarf to obscure my face anymore. I decide I don't care. There is no time to lose. 

I leave my motel room and walk to the parking lot. When I see a police car approaching, I hide between the cars. I am wondering if they are here for me. Then I decide that I don't really care. More reason for me to leave as soon as possible. 

Fortunately, the bank is not far away, and I only need to walk for about half an hour to get there. I go stand in front of it and grab my phone. 

Then I realise my phone isn't there. The only thing in my pocket is my gun. 

I internally scream, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. "Okay, Marissa," I say. "Should I go back for it?" 

I look around and see a van with the words "Local News" written on it. I look at it and smile. 

"Okay, Marissa," I say. "You do not need your phone. I am sure the news will cover this in detail." 

I take a deep breath and enter the bank.