Public Enemies No. 1-8
Chapter Three: Irony and Illegal Actions
Glorfindel and Ecthelion appeared on Earth in what happened to be the same city park that Fëanor and his sons had appeared in."So, where do we start?" asked Glorfindel after the two had finished inspecting their new hröa.
"I don't know," Ecthelion snapped. "Wherever there seems to be the most trouble, I suppose."
They started down the street, their robes drawing stares from those around them. Ecthelion's prospects were starting to get brighter, and he was regaining hope. Perhaps, if he managed to capture Fëanor and the others, Mandos would release his fëa and allow him to live again.
Perhaps, if Mandos was in a generous mood.
They stopped at a crosswalk and were waiting for the cars to finish passing when a diesel truck drove by, one that was extremely similar to the one that had hit and killed Glorfindel. It splashed them both with water that had pooled in the street from a rainstorm the previous night.
"Wow, isn't that ironic?" asked Glorfindel, grinning with delight.
"Life can be really, really cruel," Ecthelion murmured.
"My son is a failure," Fëanor said, his head hanging low.
"Father, I'm sorry…but if I'm dead, they can't let anyone to withdraw from my account unless they have special authorization," Maglor explained. "They think I'm dead, so they won't let me take money out, because I'm not supposed to be alive to take it out."
"Failure!" wailed Fëanor, throwing his arms to the sky.
Maedhros smirked and elbowed Maglor, who stepped on Maedhros' foot.
They began to walk away from the bank they had just entered, when a group of black-clad figures ran past them and banged their way into the bank. They automatically started shouting and pointing guns at people.
"What's going on?" asked Fëanor, fascinated.
"A bank robbery," Maglor explained, sounding apathetic.
"Which means?" prodded Amrod.
"That those men in black are trying to steal money from the bank."
Fëanor threw his arms up again. "Failure!" he screeched. "Why didn't you think of that, Maglor?"
"Because it's illegal, Father," Maglor said.
"Because you're a failure! It's a disgrace to call you my son!"
"Yes, Father."
As the bank robbers ran out again, now with a sack of money, Fëanor jumped on one of them and knocked him out with a swift blow to the head. The rest of the Fëanorians leapt on the remaining bank robbers, Maglor included. They took the guns from their hands, but there were only five guns, so Maglor, Caranthir, and Curufin ended up unarmed. Then, Fëanor picked up the sack of money and heaved it onto his shoulder.
And to his sons' shock and incredulity, he began heading back to the bank.
"What are you doing, Father?" demanded Maedhros. "We have the money!"
"I'm carrying out my plan," Fëanor said. "We will go inside the bank, pretending to be good citizens who are returning the money, then, we'll hold the place up and demand even more money, and then we'll make a run for it."
"We will never get away with this," moaned Amras.
"Tally-ho, boys!" cried Fëanor, waving his gun in the air. "Let us sally forth into the unknown!" He kicked the doors of the bank open and strode inside, his seven sons behind him.