I turn my attention back towards the boy, saying softly and as calmly as possible, “Hi, what’s your name?”
“Andray,” he says, the guns point lessening from my side slightly as he started to relax, although still embedded in the flesh.
Good, I think to myself, relieved. All I have to do is get him talking and maybe he’ll relax some more.
“So, why’d you rob the bank Andray?” I feel him tense a bit and continue nervously. “I mean, a young man such as yourself doesn’t seem much like a typical robber. I’d assume you have a good reason for robbing.”
He frowned, and then shifted, relaxing a bit more. After a pause he opens his mouth, about to speak when all of a sudden there is another knock on the window. He sighs, grip tightening again, and the gun is jabbed into my side once again, hard. I roll down the window with an internal sigh as the words flood into the car again.
“Hi! I’m sorry to bother you again. Did I tell you before what a cute couple you were? So cute, really.” This guy was dense. “Anyways, I apologize but you two were truly honest last time so I’m here again to ask you what you think of my new outfit?” He appears to be wearing grey long underwear, with red and white polka-dotted briefs on the outside of that, and a white undershirt that looks like it was probably colored with markers saying “ME”. “It’s a bit itchy but it looks good right? It doesn’t does it? Maybe I should have gone with normal briefs? I’m a horrible superhero, I cant even get my outfit right, so how will I ever be able to save anyone? How will I be able to save the world?” He flies away again, oblivious to the damsel in distress right before his eyes.
I turn my attention back to Andray, “So how old are you?” I ask, trying to get him to relax a little, the gun making me nervous as it jabs into me evermore, and the sound of the sirens get closer and closer, technically supposed to be reasuring it was making him nervous which in turn was making me very nervous.
“Seventeen,” He grumbles. He looks closer to twenty.
“Um, so, why’d you do it?” I try again, hoping that it would help me understand him, and therefore sympathize with him better, “Why ruin your life at seventeen?”
“My mom,” he grunts, grimacing and a slight tear was detectable in his eye as he slammed his foot onto the gas trying to push the car even faster. I seem to have hit a touchy subject, but the gun isn’t as deeply jammed in-between my ribs.
“What about her?” I ask gently, needing him to talk more. The key to my getting out of this alive seemed to be keeping him talking. I’m also getting interested. though, why was a seventeen year old robbing a bank for his mother.
Just then Mighty Eminent himself flies back in, wearing an outfit that I can only begin to describe as an Elvis impersonator gone wrong, very, very wrong. He runs his fingers through his gelled hair. “How about this?” He asks doing a twirl, his silver sequined jumpsuit glimmering in the highway lights. “You don’t like it do you? Too showy? Not enough pizzazz?” He sighs and mutters flying off again, “Man being a superhero is really hard.”
This would almost be funny if it weren’t for the gun rammed hard into my side, and the sound of sirens almost upon us. I am on the brink of hysteria and know that Andray probably isn’t in much better of shape, so I try one more time to get an answer out of him, praying for no more interruptions.
“Why does your mom need the money, Andray?” I say softly, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
“She has cancer,” he says, getting paler by the second.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper the sirens almost deafening, they couldn’t be very far behind us now.
“We don’t have the money for the chemo,” he says, his face pale, the gun in his hand shaking out of control, pressing harder and harder into my skin. “I was just trying to get this money home to her.”
