Chapter Text
He knew what he signed up for. But that doesn`t make it any easier. It is one thing to picture yourself walking straight into an armed robbery but quite another when you actually have to bring your legs to move towards the barricaded front door.
Behind him are his team and countless police officers with drawn weapons - watching him. Behind that door is a highly dangerous and delusional criminal, who is prying the door open – just enough that Reid can squeeze in. Once he is inside, the masked man presses the opening of his machine gun to Reid’s temple. Reflexively he raises his empty hands and closes his eyes. It’s always difficult to find the right words. It’s kind of like a game of hangman but you have to guess right in the first go, because if you don’t it’s already game over.
This man, Henry Roland, doesn’t rob banks and hold hostages for the money or the thrill. He is a victim himself. He is forced to continue his father’s legacy. A famous legacy, which involves many high staked bank heists and several dead hostages on the way. His father has forced him from a young age on to accompany his adrenalin trips. But the son has never really adopted his father’s need for thrill and become highly irritable and finally, schizophrenic. One word could tip him off.
Reid opens his eyes and swallows. “I’m here to help. I won’t do anything you’re not ok with.”
“Shut up and don’t move!”
The gun is removed from his head and Reid takes a deep breath. The game is afoot. Roland checks Reid for weapons without his trembling hands actually touching the agent’s body. Reid could have easily gotten away with a gun under his safety west. Roland is just ticking a box.
Then back under gun point Reid is lead to the other hostages who are crammed behind the counter. They are all men. Roland sent all the women out when he had begun his heist. Another thing his dad is famous for: he had been a gentleman.
Roland motions for an elderly man to bind Reid’s hands behind his back using plastic handcuffs. The man is very gentle and Reid thanks him with the reassuring nod he practiced in front of his bedroom mirror so many times.
Roland pushes the man down and turns his attention back to Reid. “Now you make them empty their safes!”
A short man in an expensive suit crouching between the hostages raises his head. “There is no other safe! You’ve got all the money, already!” He is rewarded with a burst of bullets to his head and slouches down dead. The men around him shriek away splattered with blood. Reid bites back a terrified yelp.
“See, they’re lying!” the gun is back in Reid’s face. “Now you open the save and no one gets hurt!” His voice is unsteady, stressed. Reid glances towards the bags behind Roland filled with money.
“Yes. There is no need to hurt anyone. I’m helping you.” How can Reid make him understand? “I’m honest with you, I swear.”
Roland’s face twitches nervously. "Shut up! Just do what I say!"
Of course, he doesn’t believe him. Reid continues anyway, his bound hands sweating.
“See, in the average bank there are only about 20,000 dollars in cash. And assuming that most banks mainly deal with 100 dollar bills and you have two bags of those you might already have all the money in this bank.”
Wrong words. The butt of the gun connects with his unprotected abdomen right below the safety west. His body heaves and struggles for air. He wishes his hands were free to clutch his stomach.