Right, fifth and last chapter...! Get ready for the big climaxe, if it so can be called... Also, I knicked a little joke from The Curse of Monkey Island here, see if you can spot it... Enjoy!
***
"Uhm... Gene? Mate?"
I managed to make him look in my eyes, instead of on his gun and my head, which he was pointing it at. "Yeah, what?!" he cried. Now I could clearly see a tear preparing to leave his eye.
I looked at Gene, and then back at the gun. Gene, the gun, Gene, the gun. Was I right?
I looked at the gun one more time. Yep. I was right.
"Where did you aquire your weapon, Mr. Bullett?"
"What?!"
"Your gun, man. Where did you get it?"
"None of your damn business!" Gene cried to me. "I've told you to stop talking! You're gonna die now, you know?!"
I lifted my hands in the air, as if to calm him down. "Hey, relax, I just wanna know where you got your little plaything there. Where d'you get your gun, Gene?"
His eyes squivering, trying to fight the tears, he replied to me, "I got it from a big dealer, kid! He sells plenty of guns! He's a bad guy, you don't wanna mess with him. Now shut up, let me concentrate on killing you!"
I looked suspiciously at both Gene the Bank Robber and his little gun. "This dealer of yours... Where does he work? Like, in a toy factory?"
Gene's face instantly changed shape, and he lowered the weapon immediately. "What?" he said, his voice shaking.
I shrugged. "It would seem as though this little handgun of yours is from a toy factory. You know, a children's plaything. Know what I'm saying?"
"No!" he beamed, and raised the gun again. "And this is your last warning! One more peep out of you, and I'll shoot you!"
"Peep," I said. "There. Fire at will. Go ahead. Finish me off."
"Oh, I will!" Gene squealed. "You shut up, or I will!"
"Fine, go ahead, I wanna die," I sighed. How long would it take him before he realized what I'd realized? I guess his fear and obsession and madness made him ignore the truth for quite a while.
"YOU'RE DEAD!" Gene cried, his voice more filled with rage and insanity than ever before. At this moment, I believe he really did lose it. His entire body was shaking, and his face was dripping in a combination of sweat and tears. I think my provoking him had been too much, because at that moment - he pulled the trigger.
And I had my theory confirmed.
A small beam of water flew at full speed directly towards my face, and left me wet and a bit put out. I'd seen correctly. Gene's fearsome weapon from the dangerous gundealer was in fact a water pistol.
Gene stared at his gun, and at my wet face as I wiped off the water. He didn't say anything, or do anything sensible. He just started shouting uncomprehensible noises and squeals, more bisarre than those he'd made earlier that evening.
"Gene, Gene, Gene," I sighed as I'd wiped my face dry. "You shouldn't have fired. Maybe you'd gotten away if you hadn't."
I noticed the two terrified hostages behind me lowering their hands, talking like crazy, clearly shocked that no one had noticed this fraud earlier.
Gene collapsed. He dropped the water pistol to the floor, and followed it shortly after, falling into a pile of legs, arms, torso and head on the bank floor, crying and screaming and whining.
I sighed. What should I do now? It was all over. It felt kind of weird, if I may say so. Suddenly, we weren't in mortal danger anymore. Gene Richard Bullett the bank robber had finally lost the little sense he had left. He was crawling about on the bank floor, screaming profanities to his useless gun.
"He shouldn't have fired," I sighed again.
The two other hostages, who by now had calmed down and manged to get pretty angry about the whole thing, stared at me. The most sane of the two spoke to me. "What are you saying, kid? If he hadn't fired, we wouldn't have known it was a water pistol!"
"What if it hadn't been?" I said and shrugged. "I would have been killed."
"No way to know that for sure," he answered. "But it WAS a water pistol, and we could have gotten out of this mess a lot quicker if you had provoked him more from the beginning, then he would have fired sooner."
"Yeah, nice job, kid," the other, crazy guy said. "I could have had dinner with my wife if it wasn't for you. Good going."
And with those words, the two guys walked out of the bank as if nothing in particular had happened. I started at them, then changed my focus to Gene the Bank Robber. He was no longer a Bank Robber, just a poor, insane Mr. Bullett. It almost made me feel sorry for him.
But just almost.
After all, he HAD ruined my potensial date with Polly. Nothing could excuse that, not even a lunatic with a water pistol.
I checked my watch. The film had just finished. Polly and her friends were probably heading home by now. So much for my happiness - and most importantly, a date.
I sighed and strawled out of the bank as the police men ran inside to arrest Gene. I walked away from the scene of the crime, but to me it was no longer a real crime, not the type of crime police men wants to prosecute. Gene the Bank Robber wasn't a criminal any longer, just a madman.
But the crime comitted, was denying me my date.
And no lawyer would prosecute that.
***
Well, that's it then! The story of the Hostages is finished... What do you think? I really enjoyed writing about both Marco and Gene the Bank Robber, so if anyone would like a sequal of some sort, maybe I'll write one if I get any requests... Well, please review my little story!
***
"Uhm... Gene? Mate?"
I managed to make him look in my eyes, instead of on his gun and my head, which he was pointing it at. "Yeah, what?!" he cried. Now I could clearly see a tear preparing to leave his eye.
I looked at Gene, and then back at the gun. Gene, the gun, Gene, the gun. Was I right?
I looked at the gun one more time. Yep. I was right.
"Where did you aquire your weapon, Mr. Bullett?"
"What?!"
"Your gun, man. Where did you get it?"
"None of your damn business!" Gene cried to me. "I've told you to stop talking! You're gonna die now, you know?!"
I lifted my hands in the air, as if to calm him down. "Hey, relax, I just wanna know where you got your little plaything there. Where d'you get your gun, Gene?"
His eyes squivering, trying to fight the tears, he replied to me, "I got it from a big dealer, kid! He sells plenty of guns! He's a bad guy, you don't wanna mess with him. Now shut up, let me concentrate on killing you!"
I looked suspiciously at both Gene the Bank Robber and his little gun. "This dealer of yours... Where does he work? Like, in a toy factory?"
Gene's face instantly changed shape, and he lowered the weapon immediately. "What?" he said, his voice shaking.
I shrugged. "It would seem as though this little handgun of yours is from a toy factory. You know, a children's plaything. Know what I'm saying?"
"No!" he beamed, and raised the gun again. "And this is your last warning! One more peep out of you, and I'll shoot you!"
"Peep," I said. "There. Fire at will. Go ahead. Finish me off."
"Oh, I will!" Gene squealed. "You shut up, or I will!"
"Fine, go ahead, I wanna die," I sighed. How long would it take him before he realized what I'd realized? I guess his fear and obsession and madness made him ignore the truth for quite a while.
"YOU'RE DEAD!" Gene cried, his voice more filled with rage and insanity than ever before. At this moment, I believe he really did lose it. His entire body was shaking, and his face was dripping in a combination of sweat and tears. I think my provoking him had been too much, because at that moment - he pulled the trigger.
And I had my theory confirmed.
A small beam of water flew at full speed directly towards my face, and left me wet and a bit put out. I'd seen correctly. Gene's fearsome weapon from the dangerous gundealer was in fact a water pistol.
Gene stared at his gun, and at my wet face as I wiped off the water. He didn't say anything, or do anything sensible. He just started shouting uncomprehensible noises and squeals, more bisarre than those he'd made earlier that evening.
"Gene, Gene, Gene," I sighed as I'd wiped my face dry. "You shouldn't have fired. Maybe you'd gotten away if you hadn't."
I noticed the two terrified hostages behind me lowering their hands, talking like crazy, clearly shocked that no one had noticed this fraud earlier.
Gene collapsed. He dropped the water pistol to the floor, and followed it shortly after, falling into a pile of legs, arms, torso and head on the bank floor, crying and screaming and whining.
I sighed. What should I do now? It was all over. It felt kind of weird, if I may say so. Suddenly, we weren't in mortal danger anymore. Gene Richard Bullett the bank robber had finally lost the little sense he had left. He was crawling about on the bank floor, screaming profanities to his useless gun.
"He shouldn't have fired," I sighed again.
The two other hostages, who by now had calmed down and manged to get pretty angry about the whole thing, stared at me. The most sane of the two spoke to me. "What are you saying, kid? If he hadn't fired, we wouldn't have known it was a water pistol!"
"What if it hadn't been?" I said and shrugged. "I would have been killed."
"No way to know that for sure," he answered. "But it WAS a water pistol, and we could have gotten out of this mess a lot quicker if you had provoked him more from the beginning, then he would have fired sooner."
"Yeah, nice job, kid," the other, crazy guy said. "I could have had dinner with my wife if it wasn't for you. Good going."
And with those words, the two guys walked out of the bank as if nothing in particular had happened. I started at them, then changed my focus to Gene the Bank Robber. He was no longer a Bank Robber, just a poor, insane Mr. Bullett. It almost made me feel sorry for him.
But just almost.
After all, he HAD ruined my potensial date with Polly. Nothing could excuse that, not even a lunatic with a water pistol.
I checked my watch. The film had just finished. Polly and her friends were probably heading home by now. So much for my happiness - and most importantly, a date.
I sighed and strawled out of the bank as the police men ran inside to arrest Gene. I walked away from the scene of the crime, but to me it was no longer a real crime, not the type of crime police men wants to prosecute. Gene the Bank Robber wasn't a criminal any longer, just a madman.
But the crime comitted, was denying me my date.
And no lawyer would prosecute that.
***
Well, that's it then! The story of the Hostages is finished... What do you think? I really enjoyed writing about both Marco and Gene the Bank Robber, so if anyone would like a sequal of some sort, maybe I'll write one if I get any requests... Well, please review my little story!