Hero Bank Heist Incident (1)
Having successfully escaped from the infamous South Prison by swapping prisoners, Wikaido Vinden headed to the Hero Bank with his comrades.
Of course, a bunch of guys going in together at once would draw suspicion, so they entered the bank at ten-minute intervals.
Here's the Hero Bank.
Plenty of villains had tried to rob the Hero Bank before. But none had ever succeeded. There were always three heroes stationed there around the clock, and above all, the Hero Association headquarters was right across the street.
The Hero Bank, known for never having been robbed even once.
This job has to succeed no matter what!
Surprisingly, the terrorist organization Vinden belonged to had cooked up a plan to hit this place. The group was running multiple long-term projects at once, and recent string of failures had put them under serious financial strain. Robbing just this one bank would lift that pressure.
Vinden rolled his eyes, checking the positions of the resident heroes and surveillance cameras. He hunched his body as much as possible to minimize exposure.
We could've just safely hit a branch.
While mentally simulating how to move once the operation kicked off, Vinden harbored doubts about the higher-ups' orders. The Hero Bank in District 7 was the main branch, with sub-branches in four other districts. Robbing all four branches wouldn't match the main one, but it sure as hell would've been safer. With Steel Armor stirring shit up, the Hero Association was already on high alert—no need to push their luck, in Vinden's opinion.
Speaking of which, that bastard was Steel Armor...
Vinden's thoughts drifted to Steel Armor. During the Sanctuary Corp terrorist attack, he'd taken one hit from Steel Armor, blacked out, and got nabbed by heroes. Tried and sent to South Prison, he hadn't known who Steel Armor was until just yesterday. He'd been sharpening his revenge blade, vowing payback after escape—only to learn his target was an S-rank villain.
Fuck, S-rank is no joke...
Vinden immediately scrapped revenge. How the hell do you beat an S-rank? Especially when the guy had beaten Jet Stream one-on-one. An A-rank like himself? Impossible against Steel Armor.
Focus! Focus!
Snapping out of it with a bite to his tongue, Vinden refocused. Steel Armor wasn't the priority now. Orders from above were to hit the main Hero Bank branch, and they just had to obey. That was how to repay God's love.
For the Lord, I shall nobly perish in flames!
Even if it meant dying here, he'd ensure his comrades robbed the bank!
...I'll perish later!
Of course, Vinden preferred his comrades perishing first, himself last.
Thus, unaware of who was currently inside the Hero Bank, Vinden steeled his resolve.
"Ugh... nothing beats bank cocoa."
The masked man sipped the cocoa the staff had brewed, lips curling up. Hot and sweet, it enveloped his tongue.
"Mmm!"
Brrrrrrumble—!
Bank cocoa was the real deal. The signal hit his gut right away. He tensed his abs before anyone entered, letting out the gas.
"Ahh, so refreshing... fuck."
It was his own fart, but damn, it was toxic. Fuck, bank cocoa was straight-up sarin gas!
"Don't drink it."
He set down the half-full cocoa. Appetite gone.
"Sorry for the wait... huh?"
A man entering the VIP room froze, sensing something. The cocoa fart hung heavy like fog at the bottom.
This was kinda embarrassing.
"Ahem! Looks like the vent fan's not working right."
Vrrrrrr—!
The man hit the wall switch, and the silent fan roared to life.
Oh shit.
The savory haze at floor level rose up. Making him sniff my fart again. But the fan was strong; the smell cleared fast.
With the air fresh, the man sat and handed over his business card.
"Hello, sir. I'm Yi-su Hwang, vice manager at the Hero Bank main branch. Feel free to call me Hwang Vice Manager."
"Nice to meet ya, Hwang Vice Manager."
"...?"
What? He asked to call him casually, so I did—and he stared like it was weird.
Why? What? Deal with it. I'm the king here!
He didn't seem thrilled with the title, but Hwang was a pro. No way he'd let a high-roller with at least five million dollars slip over a name.
"First, could we see the items you're depositing with us?"
"Here ya go."
"...Ahem!"
I stuck to casual speech, so Hwang cleared his throat and checked the bag. His eyes widened at the gold bars filling the bottom.
"Fifty 1kg gold bars. Total 50kg. Plus cash and jewels as you see."
"Items... confirmed. You're depositing these, right?"
"Yeah. Nowhere safer or more trustworthy than Hero Bank."
"Exactly. No place safer than a bank guarded by heroes themselves. You've come to the right spot."
Hwang nodded along.
"By the way, for ID verification, could you remove the mask?"
"Nah!"
"Pardon?"
"You ever see Steel Armor unmasked? He never takes it off, no matter what!"
Except when banging my girls.
"Haha... you... really like Steel Armor, huh?"
Hwang stammered, flustered.
Like Steel Armor? Of course!
"Duh! I'm one with Steel Armor! Rock-solid body! Massive cock! Handsome looks! Cool personality! He's perfect! Steel Armor's the truth of life!"
"Haha..."
Hwang laughed awkwardly. Why? It's true!
This fucker doesn't believe I'm Steel Armor.
Even I'd doubt it. What lunatic villain deposits big cash at a Hero Association-run bank?
Hwang probably pegged me as a diehard Steel Armor stan.
Whatever, doesn't matter to me.
As long as my money's safe, believe what you want.
"Alright then... understood. Normally other banks require ID, but Hero Bank doesn't strictly enforce it. We just need to safely store our customers' money, right?"
"Perfect!"
I clapped at his words. That's the ideal banker attitude!
"Anyway, I'm busy—how long do I gotta stick around? Already over an hour waiting here."
"Sorry! I'll escort you to the special vault right now."
"Special vault?"
"Yes. For VIPs only, custom-made safes for your assets. This way."
"Mm."
I nodded and followed Hwang underground.
Special vault, huh... wonder if there's pricey stuff there?
Gotta deposit this quick and go on a date with Yuna.
A urgent tip-off call came in to the District 7 Hero Association.
"Damn! Heroes, dispatch immediately!"
Hearing about superpowered terrorists taking hostages, the on-standby heroes mobilized.
Soon, another tip came in.
"A villain?! Got it! Dispatching now!"
This time, a villain attacking crowds at bustling Siat Plaza. Heroes mobilized again.
Then another call.
"..."
The operator, dazed after three back-to-back reports, glanced around. Other colleagues were fielding calls too.
She muttered, "What the hell's going on?"
Time for the plan. Screeech—Boom!
"Eek! What was that?!"
"An accident!"
"What the—?"
A hero at the bank entrance rushed out at the explosion outside. A half-smashed car had plowed into a tree. The driver, out cold, slumped over the wheel.
"Shit!"
Heroes weren't just villain-catchers. Protecting citizens was their job. The bank guard dashed to pull the unconscious driver free.
"Someone call 119—huh?"
Asking nearby civilians for help, his eyes widened. Boom!
"Kyaaah!"
A dump truck flipped in the road for no reason. Drums from the back crashed open, spilling black liquid.
"Oil?" the hero muttered unwittingly.
Fwooooom—!
The truck exploded, flames engulfing the hero.
The special vault had rigorous entry protocols. Over ten security steps, password reset each time.
After procedures with Hwang, I scanned the room.
Nothing... special?
Like in movies: hundreds of small drawers filling the space. But bigger than films—thousands maybe?
"Depositing the bag as-is?"
"Yeah."
"This way then."
Hwang led deeper. Paintings, books, jewels stacked there.
What's that? Kids' drawings? Why so weird?
I chuckled at a painting. Fragmented people in some unknown place, drawn freakishly. Eyes like flounders, proportions fucked—huge right hand, tiny left. Even I'd draw better.
Why's this crap here...?
Price tag at bottom: I blinked. Rubbed eyes, checked again.
Ten, hundred, thousand, million, ten million... nine hundred million six million dollars?!
Fuck, that shit?! Am I art-blind? Nine hundred mil for that?!
I was stunned. Fuck villainy—I'm switching to painter. Art's the way.
Thud!
"Huh?"
"What?"
The ground shook. I eyed Hwang; he looked baffled, glancing around.
Thud!
Shook again. Hwang pulled his walkie from the guard.
"Thanks. Sorry, sir. Something outside, but no worries. Not a big deal. And even if it is, no one's getting through that door."
"Mm."
Hwang reassured me, but... dunno?
My nose is a bloodhound.
Sniff sniff—Smells like trouble... incident smell!
Brrrrrrumble—!
Fuck!
Fart smell.