For true_writers Picture prompt.

[call_me_snake]

Snake wasn't so sure about meeting in this place. Then again Snake didn't care for meeting anyone any where. Too many years of being ambushed and betrayed would easily explain away the tension if Plissken cared enough to think about it. The door was open or rather the glass was broken out. Plissken walked in to the semi-lit building. Light filtered in through the many windows onto the dusty and ransacked main room. Something was familiar about this place though it was not immediately clear. Plissken walked in and pulled out one of the chairs from the junk which he placed against one of the pillars to sit and wait. His eye kept roving over the place with curiosity.

The place had been less beaten when it happened. The bank not bustling at closing time when Plissken was last here. Never wanted a busy bank for a heist. He'd been in the vault when the call came from Taylor. Sirens were coming. He didn't hesitate. Half a bag of greenbacks was better than nothing. Up the stairs he ran two at a time and slowing only when he got to the gated entrance to the below ground vault. The bronzed gate still swung free and unlocked. Heavy foot steps were moving at the far end, slapping heavy on marble. Plissken hazarded a glance and really wished he hadn't. Blackbellies were crawling in through the front. Escape couldn't wait. Plissken bolted for the back door only to find it locked.

"Damn it!" Snake cursed and headed back toward the main room. A suit caught his attention in the office just before the exit into the main room. Plissken barged in and hung up the phone he was holding.

"Keys." Plissken demanded from the shocked middle aged man.

"What?" He put up his hands in relent.

"Back door. The keys." Snake growled the words knowing every second wasted was one second closer to jail or worse. IRS was emblazoned below the name plate sitting on the desk. There were few things that turned Plissken's stomach faster than the tax man. Plissken grabbed the reluctant man and yanked him over the desk.

"You better have them." He didn't wait for an answer as he started pulling him down the hall.

That was the moment the blackbellies decided to show in the hall. Down at the far end they filed in like sardines, filling the hall from wall to wall. Snake turned and on instinct started rummaging in the IRS man's pockets. He needed those keys. Snake was now as panicked as the man between him and the advancing black dogs. Still he managed to keep his cool. He found the keys and snatched them from the coat pocket. Guns came up, AR's instant death with nowhere to run. Snake bolted for the door. It was better to run and take the chance of getting winged than die.

The gunfire exploded in the hall as Plissken jumped down the five steps to the lower door. He slammed hard into the wall but his own sounds were drowned by the screams of the IRS man he left behind. Snake swiped the small key and dropped them when the door opened. Out on the streets there were lights blinding him but no one seemed to notice. Snake was glad for that moment because it was all he needed to get away. At a full sprint he made for where Taylor was waiting in the car. He wasn't going to slow for anything, not even the cars moving along the busy streets.

Those were old memories of this place. Taylor had been gone almost a year now and those memories were from years before that. There was irony now to Hauk and Cronenberg asking him to meet here. For some reason that settled his nerves. Perhaps it was an understanding of that sick humor that developed through years of cynicism or maybe it was something else. It didn't matter right now but it was enough to crack a small smile into Plissken's other wise tense expression. Once again his eye was working over the large room. The place had been gutted. All the wood probably stripped out for fires in winter if he had to guess from the ashes and scorch marks on the previously white marble floor.

The memories made the place surreal. He wondered what happened to it. Why did it close? It had been a government bank. It didn't make much sense to close one of their own. Shrugging he figured the thought wasn't worth his time. Foot steps struck the marble sending Plissken to his feet and on guard. Old memories died hard but the two slender figures stepping through the doorway certainly weren't blackbellies, at least not now even if they once had been.

"Plissken?" Hauk's familiar voice seemed to fill the entire empty space. Plissken froze for a second still cautious about the man who'd double crossed him in the past.

Snake slowly moved out of the shadows and toward the two men. He didn't say anything as he approached though they all knew why they were here. This was a deal. Snake had busted Cronenberg out in exchange for his ID chip being reprogrammed.

"The machine is in the van." Cronenberg hadn't changed. He was still an honest looking man that watched Plissken like someone would watch a lion that was claimed as tame. It wasn't a bad way to deal with Plissken. His mannerisms did relax Snake. He wasn't nervous like he had been in New York when he injected the explosive in his neck on Hauk's command. He eyed both of them cautiously and followed when Hauk turned back toward the door. Outside an unmarked van sat. Cronenberg made for the back and opened the rear door. Plissken followed even when Hauk hung back. Someone had to watch. Snake was still a blimp on USPF radar. That feeling alone was discomforting. Like his body was betraying him ever second with a random beep he couldn't hear or muffle.

"It'll only take a minute." Cronenberg took a seat in front of a computer. there was a chair beside it which he motioned toward while starting to type with the free hand.

"How do we know the frequency won't show?" Plissken asked curiously.

Cronenberg kept typing though Plissken watched as he took his seat. "I'm going to set it for a pre-existing ID that belongs to a dead officer."

"A cop?" Plissken wasn't sure he liked the idea but the plan sounded solid.

"Exactly." Cronenberg picked up a small black wand that resembled a tattoo gun in a lot of ways. "How often do people search for dead police officers?"

"Never. Unless they're murdered." Snake replied watching as the wand passed back and forth over the area where he'd been pricked by a dart two weeks earlier. The thought of that needle in his arm caused an involuntary shiver even Plissken couldn't control.

"He wasn't murdered." Cronenberg smiled despite the appearance of resistance. "He was executed for insanity."

"That is definitely better." The sarcasm was unstoppable. He was now an insane and dead cop running around. Maybe that would have advantages later.

"There." Cronenberg sat back. "It's done."

Snake rubbed over the arm wondering how he could be sure it was really changed. Then again Cronenberg had wanted to be straight with Plissken in New York about the explosives. He was relatively trustworthy. Plissken nodded as a thanks. Even if he wanted to say "Thanks" Cronenberg was still too close to being a blackbelly for Plissken to say it. Plissken stepped back out and glanced at Hauk. There was a choice rolling around in his mind. They never would've made a good police team. As criminals however Plissken paused to think while lighting up a smoke. That was a thought worth consideration.


Words: 1315