Locution Contest: Robyn's Hoods

So, long time no see, eh? ;} In the end, it seems I haven't managed to start Roux's 30 Days of Editing. I still want to do it, but I felt that, despite the first 30 days, I didn't really have enough to edit. Plus, editing's hard. ^_^

This latest piece was written for a contest on Locution. The prompt was to write a modern myth, taking a myth, legend, fairytale, or folktale, and setting it in the present or the future. I chose Robin Hood, and this is a result.

I had a lot of fun writing this. I also found it a lot easier to write than previous contests, probably due to the 30 days challenge. Most of it was written in just one day, which is quite a feat for me.

I may just write some more. I think there may be some potential here, provided I get over my block with editing.

***

ROBYN’S HOODS

The guard took a sip of his coffee before setting it down. He turned to the array of CCTV screens and Robyn silently willed him to drink some more. She tried to remember the good doctor’s reassurances that simpler plans were best, but it was hard; after several minutes of waiting her heart had now found a new home somewhere in her throat.

Robyn checked her watch, ignoring Alana as she shifted in her seat, tapping a fingernail on the metal table. John was a comforting, solid presence on her right, silent as he watched the rest of the café clientele. This late at night there weren’t many people out, but there were workers coming off their shifts, hungry for a late-night snack, and others coming on, in need of preemptive caffeine to keep them awake until morning.

After much thought they’d chosen the café for several reasons. Its view was one; from her seat at the window Robyn could see across the road and into the foyer of the bank where the guard sat at his desk. It also made the current part of their plan that much easier; this particular guard was a regular at the café, and it was amazing what one could achieve with a simple sleight of hand.

The guard yawned and reached for his coffee. Robyn grinned. Several gulps later and his head lolled back, mouth open wide. He probably snored.

“Ready to go?” Her companions nodded and they rose to leave. Robyn dropped a few bucks onto the metal tabletop, and then they were gone.

Around the back of the bank Robyn couldn’t help feeling excited. So far everything was going to plan, and whatever was in that stuff the doctor gave them, it worked like a charm. She said so to Alana and John.

Alana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, great. One guard down. Now we’ve just got the cameras, pick-proof locks, silent alarm, and the rest of the guards to worry about.” She stopped in front of a plain metal door and took a small electronic device out of her rucksack. With its cable connected to the lock, numbers on the screen started cycling through combinations.

“Well, our man John Little can take them on, can’t you, big guy?” Robyn slapped him on the back. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. This was normal; John didn’t talk much, though when he did, you listened.

“Okay, so John knocks out the guards,” said Alana. “But you know who’s stuck with the rest? Me.”

The device beeped, and inside the door a bolt clunked open.

Robyn slung an arm over Alana’s shoulder. “That’s because you’re the best there is. Alana Dale—hacker extraordinaire.”

Alana couldn’t stop a smile from flitting across her lips. She pushed the door open. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The corridor was dim. Alana tapped into the security system and turned off the cameras and the silent alarm. With that taken care of, they found the nearest office. Apparently, while the system was impossible to hack from the outside, any computer inside the bank would do. Robyn didn’t really understand all the hi-tech stuff, but she trusted Alana to know what she was doing.

John stood at the door and Robyn took a place behind the desk, watching as Alana logged on to the computer and started to work, humming a tune softly. Her gloved fingers flew across the keys.

“Damn,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Robyn peered over her shoulder.

“The transfer.” Alana gestured impatiently at the screen. “It’s not here. Someone changed the schedule.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the transfer we planned to reroute isn’t going through tomorrow. It can happen sometimes; Midas Inc must have decided to change the day to discourage—well, to discourage people like us.”

John cleared his throat and they both turned to him. He peered through the crack in the door, one eye on the room and one eye on the corridor. “Guard changes in a few minutes,” he said. “We need to go now, before they find our sleeping friend.”

“Okay. Okay,” said Robyn, running a hand through her hair. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but that’s okay. Alana, are there any other transfers scheduled for tomorrow?”

Alana searched the records. “Yeah, one. Fifty million dollars from a company called Tri Corp, to be transferred to some unnamed account.”

“Sounds fishy enough to me. You said this bank has a lot of crooked customers?”

“Yeah, but we can’t know anything for sure. For all we know, we could be robbing from someone legit.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Robyn,” John said. “We said we’d only rob from the rich and corrupt. Doing this when they could be legit is just too risky. We can’t make a mistake on our first job.”

Robyn looked from John to Alana. “But the odds are against it, right?” she asked. “What’s the point of planning this and coming away with nothing? We know this bank is rotten. Isn’t that enough?”

John just shrugged and turned back to watch for guards. Alana made a face.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

It took less than a minute for Alana to change the number of the account the money was to transfer into. There was only one final thing to do—leave a calling card. Robyn slipped it under the keyboard and followed the others out the door. They would both think it too risky, but somehow she forgot to mention it.

The next morning found them back at their hideout. It was in the rough part of town, known as Barnsdale to the locals, a labyrinth of poky, rowhouse apartments and abandoned warehouses. It was in one of these warehouses, on Watling Street, that Robyn and her friends made their home.

Robyn was dozing in her bunk when Will Scarlet climbed up the ladder and rudely disturbed her. He’d been annoyed that she hadn’t picked him to come on the first job, and she thought his temper had finally flared as a result. As it turned out, he was angry for a somewhat different reason.

“What,” he asked, thrusting a newspaper into her hand, “Is this?”

Robyn stared at the headline blearily. She read it once, then blinked several times. She read it again, but sadly the words were still the same.

50 MILLION STOLEN FROM TRI CORP
MONEY INTENDED FOR LOCAL CHARITY

“Shit.”

“‘Shit’ is right! In what universe, exactly, does ‘Tri Corp’ sound like ‘Midas Inc’?”

Robyn sighed and looked past Will’s scowling face. Alana was at her computer, looking forlorn. John sat nearby, pointedly ignoring the scene as Doctor Saffiya Djaq bandaged his arm. They’d run into a bit of trouble on the way out of the bank, but he would be fine.

A door slammed open and Robyn jumped. John reached for his gun, but relaxed when he recognized the intruder. A blur of a boy slid to an abrupt stop at the foot of the bunk bed, breathing heavily. “Robyn, Robyn,” Much wailed, “Is it true?” A tear threatened to leak down his cheek, and Robyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Much Miller had found them like a stray puppy, and like a stray puppy he just couldn’t take a hint. He fancied himself one of the gang, but at 10 he was much too young, and much too small, and much too Much to be of any use. Alana encouraged him, to Robyn’s dismay, and the rest of them just observed him with faint amusement.

“It is true,” she explained to Much, though more for Will’s benefit, “But it was a mistake. We thought Tri Corp were bad guys. We didn’t know the money was going to charity. So we’re going to fix this, okay?”

Much sniffed and nodded.

“Why don’t you go over and help Alana research Tri Corp and this charity?” Robyn said.

The boy scampered over to Alana’s den of electronics, where he bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. Alana smiled.

Robyn turned her attention back to Will. He was still frowning, but past experiences told Robyn he would soon cool off. Which was good, because she would need his support if they were to sort this mess out.

“Mind if I read this?” she asked, holding up the newspaper. “Then we can start to plan.”

“Fine,” said Will grudgingly. He jumped to the ground and stalked away, leaving Robyn to the paper.

50 MILLION STOLEN FROM TRI CORP
MONEY INTENDED FOR LOCAL CHARITY

Last night, around one o’clock in the morning, three thieves broke into Doncaster Bank and stole 50 million dollars. They incapacitated one guard with a barbiturate, and two other guards were assaulted when the thieves made their escape.

The police say this was an unusual crime, in that no money was stolen from the vault. Instead the thieves hacked into the bank’s computer system and redirected a transfer that was going to be made the next day. The money belonged to local company called Tri Corp, and was destined for a city charity.

At this time the police say they have only a few leads. One is a card left by the computer that police suspect was hacked. On it is a robin, a red-chested songbird native to Britain. Lately there have been rumors of a female thief known only as “Robyn,” and although police have yet to name her a suspect they say the connection is suspicious.

“These thugs, these hoods, need to know they can’t cross us,” says Sheriff Nottingum. “If this ‘Robyn’ is involved, we’ll find her.”

The police say they have been unable to trace the transfer, and ask that anyone who has information about the money or the perpetrators to call the station. Tips can be anonymous, but Tri Corp has offered a $100,000 reward for any information that leads to the return of their money.

Well, Nottingum had made the connection. Robyn would have been surprised if he hadn’t, but now the job had gone sour this posed a problem. Taking credit for stealing from crooks and giving to charities was one thing. Being blamed for stealing from a charity was a different one entirely.

Robyn folded the paper and hopped down from her bunk. She walked over to see how Alana was getting on.

“Find anything?” she asked.

Alana shook her head. “Not really. I’ve checked news articles about both the charity and Tri Corp, and only one implied something might be going on. The rest say nothing but good things, about both the organizations.”

“Who wrote the article? What did it say?”

“Let me see.” Alana clicked her mouse. “It was written by a Marian Fitzwalter. In it she claims that Tri Corp’s books are fishy, but she couldn’t back it up. The paper retracted the story a few days later. Why, do you think she was onto something?”

“Maybe. Can you look into their financial records?”

Alana cracked her knuckles and grinned. “Have I ever let you down?”

Robyn patted Alana on the shoulder, leaving her to her work as Much watched on with wide eyes.

Doctor Djaq had finished bandaging John’s wound and was putting her supplies away when Robyn joined them.

“Thanks, doctor. For that stuff you gave us, and for this.”

The doctor frowned. “Just be careful, Robyn. If I hear you’ve had a fight with the Sheriff and got yourself hurt, I might not be able to help. There are only so many laws I’m prepared to break.”

Robyn put a hand over one of the doctor’s and smiled. “Don’t worry about me so much,” she teased.

“Ha, worry!” Doctor Djaq lips quirked into a wry smile, but she sobered quickly. “What are you going to do? The public will be against you from the very beginning.”

“Well, first I’m going to have a little chat, maybe make a new friend.” Robyn looked at Will and John. “Want to come along, you two?”

Marian Fitzwalter, it turned out, lived in a house on Leaford Lane. The garden was neat, with rose bushes lining the path to the door. The door was blue, and it had a brass knocker. Robyn stood on the step, with Will and John behind her, and rapped the knocker twice.

It was still morning, but a Saturday, and luck was with them. A woman opened the door and peered out. She had dark, shoulder length hair and silver-rimmed glasses.

“Miss Fitzwalter?”

“Yes, but I’m sorry; I’m really not interested in whatever it is you’re selling.”

“Oh, no! We’re not selling anything. I came to talk to you about a story you wrote on Tri Corp and their financial situation.”

Robyn got a quick glimpse of Miss Fitzwalter’s eyes widening before the door slammed in her face. She knocked on the door again.

“Miss Fitzwalter, I don’t mean any harm. My name’s Robyn, and I just wondered if there was anything behind your suspicions. I—I have an interest in seeing Tri Corp discredited.”

The door slowly opened a crack. “Are you the Robyn everyone’s talking about?”

“Maybe.” Robyn shifted on the step. “Look, if I get you some information that proves Tri Corp is crooked, will you get it printed?”

“I can try.” The door opened a bit more. “If you are who you say you are, how come you don’t already know what they’ve been up to?” she asked. “You stole from them, didn’t you?”

“Well, let’s just say that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Miss Fitzwalter agreed to do her best to get the story printed, and Robyn, Will, and John, returned to Barnsdale. Much had gone home to his mother, but Alana was still glued to her computer screen.

Robyn pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. “How’s it going?”

“You’ll see,” promised Alana. She hummed a bar of music, then looked up. “Oh, before I forget, they’ve named us.” She waved at the TV nearby. A woman reporter stood in front of Doncaster Bank, microphone in hand. The sound was off, but subtitles crawled along the bottom of the screen. “They took your name and Nottingum’s quote about hoods, combined them, and came up with Robyn’s Hoods,” she scoffed.

Robyn pretended to think about it. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like it. What do you think, Will?”

Will laughed. “Us, hoods? If they ever catch us, they’ll be in for a surprise. Still, it does sorta have a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Aha,” exclaimed Alana. “I’ve found something. Take a look at this, Robyn.” She pointed at a bunch of numbers on the screen, and explained. “The charity that money was supposed to go to was a fake. They’ve done something like this before. See this? They donated ten million a year ago, and got a tax break. But since the charity doesn’t technically exist, they pretended the charity bought goods from them with the money. They doubled the money, just with a little bit of paperwork.”

“Where did the money end up?”

“Offshore accounts, it looks like. But that doesn’t even really matter. This proves they were up to no good.”

“That’s great. Not only are they discredited, but this also means the money we stole was dirty. Can you get that to Marian Fitzwalter?”

“No prob.”

“Here that, boys?” Robyn called to John and Will, grinning. “Problem solved.”

The next day, Sheriff Nottingum was sitting in his office reading his morning paper when there was a knock at the window. It was opened before he could move, and in clambered a woman dressed in green. He started to call out for help, but the gun trained on him convinced him otherwise.

“Enjoying your paper, Sheriff?” The woman smirked and snatched the newspaper from his hands. She shook it flat dramatically. “I particularly like the headline: ‘TRI CORP INVESTIGATED FOR FRAUD,’ although LOCAL CHARITIES RECEIVE ANNOYMOUS DONATIONS; DONATIONS TOTAL 50 MIL, ROBIN CARD MAILED TO EACH’ is quite nice, too.”

“Who are you?” the Sheriff demanded. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The name’s Robyn, and I just wanted to get acquainted; that’s all. I think we’re going to be seeing quite a lot of each other from now on.”

THE END?