Jewelry Store Heist
Working at the jewelry store is a boring job for the most part. The prices are so high that three sales is a good day, so most of your time is spent standing around and waiting for well heeled customers to come in the door. It is well past the peak ski season in the mountain town, a quiet time of year between the busy winter months and when the hikers come out in the summer.
You glance at your watch. Fifteen minutes until close on a sleepy Thursday evening. There are three of you in the store. Mrs Jackson is the owner's wife, she just stepped into the back office, probably making preparations to close. Rumor has it she started out as an employee at the store more than a decade ago and ended up marrying the owner... ending what had been his second marriage.
Pretending to wipe off a case near the front of the store, but in reality just lingering closest to the door in the hopes of snagging the sale if someone comes in at the last minute, is Chloe. Chloe is a blonde woman in her mid twenties. The reason why her sales always dwarf yours is no secret. She's very attractive. Somehow the black skirt suit that should be conservative business wear seems damn near obscene the way it is tailored to her curves.
Just then the door chimes. You look up. Two women come through the first set of double doors, and then the second. The first thing that strikes you as odd is the way they are dressed. The taller woman in front is dressed in black leggings and a black puff jacket with a fur collar pulled up around her face and large sunglasses. It's cool outside, but far from cold. Perhaps enough to justify the jacket as a fashion statement, but not enough to have the collar zipped up. The woman behind her is dressed in jeans and a hoodie with a surgical mask covering most of her face and a beanie pulled down so far as to almost cover her eyes.
Just as you are starting to put two and two together, the woman in the hoodie pulls out a huge, shiny, stainless steel revolver and points it in Chloe's face and the woman in the jacket produces a sawed off shotgun.
"Hands in the fucking air!" the woman in the jacket and sunglasses demands.
Chloe stammers something and belatedly overcomes her shock and puts her hands up.
You:
You glance at your watch. Fifteen minutes until close on a sleepy Thursday evening. There are three of you in the store. Mrs Jackson is the owner's wife, she just stepped into the back office, probably making preparations to close. Rumor has it she started out as an employee at the store more than a decade ago and ended up marrying the owner... ending what had been his second marriage.
Pretending to wipe off a case near the front of the store, but in reality just lingering closest to the door in the hopes of snagging the sale if someone comes in at the last minute, is Chloe. Chloe is a blonde woman in her mid twenties. The reason why her sales always dwarf yours is no secret. She's very attractive. Somehow the black skirt suit that should be conservative business wear seems damn near obscene the way it is tailored to her curves.
Just then the door chimes. You look up. Two women come through the first set of double doors, and then the second. The first thing that strikes you as odd is the way they are dressed. The taller woman in front is dressed in black leggings and a black puff jacket with a fur collar pulled up around her face and large sunglasses. It's cool outside, but far from cold. Perhaps enough to justify the jacket as a fashion statement, but not enough to have the collar zipped up. The woman behind her is dressed in jeans and a hoodie with a surgical mask covering most of her face and a beanie pulled down so far as to almost cover her eyes.
Just as you are starting to put two and two together, the woman in the hoodie pulls out a huge, shiny, stainless steel revolver and points it in Chloe's face and the woman in the jacket produces a sawed off shotgun.
"Hands in the fucking air!" the woman in the jacket and sunglasses demands.
Chloe stammers something and belatedly overcomes her shock and puts her hands up.
You: