At five in the afternoon, Elyon finished his shift and made his way to the closest state bank, located near Valen Street on Birchwood Avenue in the port district.
After a quick change into casual attire and a splash of cold water on his face, Elyon set out for Birchwood Street.
The bank in the port area was a four-story white edifice, its facade graced by four grand marble columns. A blue tiled roof crowned the structure.
Elyon entered through the double glass doors and glanced at his pocket watch: it was twenty past five.
A middle-aged security guard decked in a black uniform, clutching a nightstick, stood by the entrance, keeping watchful eyes over the lobby. Divided into sections for deposits, withdrawals, and other services, the hall was relatively empty due to the approaching end of a workday.
The deposit window was deserted, but the withdrawal queue hosted a few formally dressed men and several women in frilled and lacy long skirts.
Approaching the deposit window, Elyon tapped on the thick glass to catch the attention of the female teller engrossed in her newspaper. She had short black hair and bright eyes that suddenly flickered to life with a smile showing eight gleaming teeth.
"Good afternoon, sir. Are you here to make a deposit?"
"Yes, I am."
"Do you have an existing account with us, or is this your first time?"
"I'll need to open a new one."
"Alright, sir. Could you provide an identification card issued by a governmental body, such as a military, soldier, police, or other public service ID?"
"Will this do?" Elyon said as he produced his police credentials.
"Just a moment, please." The teller examined the ID closely and compared it to Elyon's face.
"Elyon, a chief at just 21 years old? Hard to believe."
"Perhaps I matured well. Any issues?"
"Oh no, not at all. Just hold on a moment." The teller fetched a small red passbook, inserted it into a typewriter, and began tapping away the details from Elyon's ID.
After a couple of minutes, she finished typing and lifted her gaze to Elyon.
"And how much will you be depositing today?"
"One hundred and fifty pounds."
Elyon handed over the envelope from his pocket, sliding out fifteen ten-pound notes and passing them through the teller window's transaction slot.
The teller meticulously examined the notes for security features, then counted them and placed them in a drawer.
"Deposit of 150 pounds received. Please write a six-digit withdrawal PIN on this piece of paper," she said, sliding pen and paper through the slot.
Elyon scribbled his usual PIN used back on Earth and handed the slip back.
The teller then pulled out a ledger-like book, switched to a larger typewriter, and began a new round of typing, occasionally glancing at the passbook and ID. Five minutes later, she handed back Elyon's ID along with the red passbook.
"Here you are. We hope to see you again. Just a reminder, it takes two weeks for the passbook to be operational nationwide, but it will be ready for use within a week in the Kalonge area."
As Elyon was about to leave, four men with black masks over their heads burst into the lobby.
The leader pulled out a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun from beneath his cloak, while the others brandished revolvers. The last man, appearing nervous, fumbled with a bag.
The security guard barely had time to react before the leader struck him with the butt of the shotgun, sending him tumbling to the floor.
With a deafening boom, the shotgun discharged, black smoke billowing from its barrel, eliciting screams throughout the hall.
"Everyone stay calm and crouch by the nearest wall with your hands over your heads. We are but righteous men driven to despair by a corrupt government. We're here only to reclaim what's rightfully ours. Cooperate, and I assure your safety, as well as the safety of your belongings. But if you resist, I'll have to see if your head is harder than my shotgun shells," the leader shouted from atop the counter.
As the female teller began to call out to Elyon, he silenced her with a shushing gesture and frantic winks.
She got the message, quickly complying with the robbers' demands and crouching against the wall.
Elyon and the other seven or eight customers were herded into a corner. The lead robber smashed the lock on the door leading to the teller area, where three tellers and a middle-aged man huddled in fear.
"You all join the customers, and where's the manager's room?" he barked, pointing his gun at the middle-aged man, who stumbled out of the teller area after being kicked.
"Freeze, what are you waiting for? Follow me," the lead robber bellowed in annoyance at the slower accomplice. They burst into the manager's office, followed by a cacophony of items crashing to the floor and a gunshot.
The tellers beside Elyon trembled even more. A disheveled middle-aged man emerged from the room, his cheek flaming with the imprint of a slap. The leader aimed his gun at the bank manager and demanded, "The vault—where is it, and the keys are on you, right? There should be the weekend's deposits still in there. Take us, or your head's going to bloom."
Quivering, the man handed over a heavy set of keys. "Here, take them, just don't kill me."
"I don't have time for this. How am I supposed to know which key opens what? You're coming with us," the robber spat.
"I can't. If I help you open the lock, I'm complicit in the robbery. Even if I avoid police charges, the bank will fire me," the manager argued.
The robber prodded the manager's head with his gun, coercing him to his feet and towards the vault at the back of the bank.
"Keep an eye on them. If anyone tries anything, don't hesitate," the lead robber commanded his accomplices.
Then, the leader, the man with the bag, and the trembling manager disappeared into the steel-gated vault, vanishing from the sight of the hostages gathered in the lobby.