Chapter Text
Always scope the place first. That was a lesson you had to have drilled into your skull. If Biggie was a human, perhaps he would have heard this whole spiel many times over; for him, it took six near-losses to convince him of the benefits of abundant caution and preparation. Hold your breath. Freeze. Let a family of four walk by. Then across the street, quickly, into an alleyway. Here, where the whine of air conditioners covered his tracks, and pests hid among grime, was where he would begin his investigation.
“Someone there?”
Little paws scratched the asphalt, just past the trash heap. Cans and plastic bottles rustled softly, and a quiet breeze blew leaves from nearby trees past the back alley entrance.
“My heap. Go away.”
“I will in a bit. How many inside?”
The other rat twitched at Biggie’s intrusion, and his strange question. Climbing on top of the refuse pile, they turned their nose up at him, in a display of territorial dominance.
“How would I know? I’m just here because they throw food out next to this place.”
“You never went in here? Only the restaurant?”
“Yeah, that’s what it’s called. It has the food. Never the bank.”
Biggie thought them a simpleton. While fools groveled for scraps, he would grasp the stars. Leaving the little rat behind, he slipped into the back door in the few moments it was open for a janitor to toss that day’s wastebaskets out. In here, it was tile flooring, clean shaggy carpets, fancy paintings on the walls, fluorescent lights, and a severe and continuous lack of hiding spots.
But no one ever expects a rat to be in a bank. No sir, this would be a most clandestine operation, despite having to case the joint himself. This would be the heist of the year! He would always see the big flat rectangles, scattered on every surface from the insides to the exteriors to high up on the glass boxes that gave the city its skyline. Humans, always flying or running or otherwise escaping from a bank with bagfuls or armfuls of thin green slips, or uniform bars of shiny yellow. Then they would pawn it off for things; many, many things always shown on screen, only for them to be caught and taken away by those in flashy suits with powers that defied comprehension.
But he would make sure to not end up like his more human counterparts. He had no word in his vocabulary to describe “Villain”, for it was an unnecessary concept for rats to know. It was the best word to describe him, though, as he zipped from corner to corner, holding stiller than solid ice, hoping no one came his way. Around this time of day the vault would open for a moment, and he needed to know where the vault was if he wanted a golden bar of his own.
It was always risky, due to all the people around. Men with batons and guns and badges would patrol certain hallways, blank and white and impossible to camouflage in. Peer around a corner, make a break for it, repeat. Blind scampering? Nope. After many different robberies, from a myriad of small-time smash-and-grabs, he was ready for the big leagues.
It was all too easy to peek at the heels of guards on their way out, or reading their footsteps. Every scuff of someone's shoe left a mark, and as someone particularly close to the ground, he was suited for picking up on these tracks accordingly. In his mind, he slowly mapped out the patterns of the people responsible for keeping the vault safe, every line, every walk cycle. Even the elites had some measure of slothfulness about them, never bothering to switch up their movements or investigate the littlest of disturbances. For they had completed their circuits hundreds, maybe thousands of times, and never once had they seen anyone dumb enough to be roaming the clear and open hallways of the inner bank.
It was vital that Biggie knew the layout of the building like the back of his paw. Every nook and cranny cataloged in his little rat brain, carefully assembling a mental blueprint of his path to the prize. Then a sudden change; he froze for a moment, listening with laser focus. One step. Two. Louder. Front.
A guard just around the corner. He approaches, with the bored gait of a man who believes he has much better things to do, loosely clipped baton swinging on his left, gun on his right. Scanning the corridor he is passing by, he sees nothing, hears nothing. Strange. Wasn’t there a sound just now? Or just the makings of an exhausted mind in sterile monotony?
As the man continued down his hall, and his steps grew faint and far, Biggie dropped down from where he hid in the rafters, standing among the foam squares that made up the ceiling. Despite the more expensive and lavish appearance of the bank, and the dolled up lobby, some things never changed. Cheap ceilings saved money, and this was no exception. No one ever considered it when thinking about security, since a human couldn’t fit in there. One man’s folly, another rat’s opportunity.
He tried not to make any more sound than necessary as he skittered across the tiled floor. One encounter was more than enough for his little heart. He had faith in his ability to escape, but if anyone saw him it would be much harder to make it out with the goods. Though, soon enough, he caught a glimpse of a huge and heavy metal door, where two guards were amicably chatting. Nearly a miracle they didn’t spot him.
“I think I just saw something.”
“A person? Intruder?”
“No, more like a bit of brown. Like a rat or something.”
“A rat? In a bank? Maybe staring at the walls all day is just getting to you.”
“No, I’m sure I saw something…”
Uh oh. He could hear one of them stepping closer towards him. But then, a sudden interruption:
“It’s right here, sir.”
“EXCELLENT. PLEASE INSTRUCT YOUR EMPLOYEES TO OPEN THE VAULT.”
The guard standing out of place quickly stepped back into place, just off to the side of the door, while the other produced a series of intricately shaped metal bits. All eyes were on the door about to open, so Biggie got a long look as the hissing of hydraulics forced the reinforced metal alloy block out of its slot in the wall, revealing the interior. Safe deposit boxes lined the walls, and bricks of solid gold rested silently on a large table in the middle of the spacious treasury. Defenseless, almost.
Then he turned to the two new humans who had communicated to the guards to open the door. One, a short, portly man, a gleeful sort with a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step, adorned with tasteful symbols of his wealth upon all of his clothes. A bowler hat, ringed with gold, a watch that glowed with unearthly light, multiple peculiar rings with little gems attached, and a small staff of decorated titanium. To a human observer, they would say he was the banker. The bigwig of this branch of the business. Wearing an expensive suit and tapping the floor with his cane, it was clear he controlled all the goings on at this place.
The other was a tall, thin, and lanky person, with a voice too androgynous to make out a gender. Darkness obscured their facial features, and their skin was similarly totally non-reflective of light. Only the whites of their eyes and the clothes upon their skin indicated them to be somewhat human, rather than some otherworldly monster. On the topic of clothing, they wore only a large trench coat, one that slightly dragged upon the floor with every step they took. Someone of importance, apparently, as he was able to enter the vault.
Unexpectedly, instead of standing watch, the guards followed the two newcomers into the large room, leaving just Biggie outside, observing them. And against his better judgment, his eyes lit up with greed, and he felt electricity race through his veins at the sight of an easy snatch-n-dash. With the attention of the four now focused on the largest deposit box in the room, placed all the way in the back, he saw his chance, darting in to slip between the gaps between cabinets as he waited for the perfect moment to strike…
“I TAKE IT YOU ARE READY TO MAKE THE TRANSFER?” the tall figure questioned, a twitching hand reaching out from the depths of their coat. Reaching out, they gripped the handle of the safe deposit box that presumably belonged to them.
The Banker twirled his cane before resting both gloved hands on the golden ball that topped it. Closing his eyes for a moment, a ray of light sprung from the cane’s ball, spreading across the large handle of the box in question. Without hesitation, a series of locks and checks swiftly came undone, releasing the hatch to open the container in mere seconds.
“Here you go. I presume you have some method of reaching a safehouse with it? Or should I exercise [Authority]?”
“NO NEED. I WILL NOT BE SEEN.”
The hand of total black reached for its prize, coming away with a dazzling cube of intricate design. Lines and circles drew themselves all across the faces of the cube, which shifted between gradients of every color, emitting a soft light that covered every surface in a rainbow.
Biggie’s first mistake was entering the vault without preparation. His second was showing off his greed. He didn’t know what it was, but that cube clearly demonstrated a greater worth than anything else in the vault, despite being only two centimeters wide. Tiny, valuable, and the perfect size for him to
“Goodness?! A rat! How did it even find its way here???”
And by then it was too late. With a dash and a pounce, he’d already grabbed the cube and was scampering across the floor to the exit. Unfortunately for him, the ray of light he saw earlier manifested again, a strange power causing the giant metal door to begin to swing shut. It was obvious he could never make it. Humans always won, of course, being that they were Empowered. How could Biggie ever hope to beat an Empowered human?
With a moment of concentration, he sharpened his mind, feeling a familiar rush of strength flow through his body, seeping into his very core, touching every cell and every muscle. To those inside the vault, his body appeared to lengthen, as he suddenly SHOT forwards at an insane velocity, zipping out of danger just before the door shut. Thus, the frustrated Banker was left standing next to the slightly peeved dark figure who had just been robbed by the world’s only Empowered rat.
“YOU’D BEST SOLVE THIS PROBLEM QUICKLY, FOR YOUR OWN SAKE.”
The Banker said nothing and just pressed a button on a little remote he drew from his pocket.
.
..
…
….
…..
Out on the streets, Biggie threaded through chain link fences, broken down factories, abandoned warehouses, and the like as he zoomed away from the crime scene he had just created. Overhead, he noticed a costumed human fly by, intently watching the ground beneath them. Only his intuition saved him from being spotted, hiding under an upturned trash can as the person flew overhead. Not a moment too soon, for another person soon followed on foot, calling out to the person in the air.
“Spotted them yet?”
“Obviously not. How am I supposed to find one rat in a big ass city like this?”
“Put that flight to use. The big man said that the little guy should have some kind of speedster ability. Just look out for any bright lines or afterimages carving a path between buildings and you should be fine.”
The voices quickly faded into the distance as they continued the search, and Biggie dashed away under the cover of foliage and a rapidly darkening sky. For now, he had escaped with his prize. As for what to do with it, he soon arrived at a small shop, on the outskirts of the big city he lived in, windows stained with filth and a structure more fragile than a house of cards put through the washer.
Inside was not much better. Paint peeled from the walls, and shelves lined with knick knacks of dull complexion dotted the room. At the desk, the picturesque image of a deadbeat slob had his legs up on the counter, staring at the shitty phone he held in his right hand, held up in the air over his head, as he leaned back in his wooden chair. The door swung open, just a teensy bit, a quiet creak drawing the man’s eyes to the ground. Nothing there…
And then Biggie LEAPT onto the crappy wooden table, chittering and scratching the desk with his paws in front of him. He nearly fell off his chair in surprise.
“God, can you not? What would you do if one day I collapsed? Heart attacks are a thing, dude.”
Biggie rubbed his face with his paws before leaping off the edge.
“You got something else for me today? I don’t want to ask where you got all that cash from, but if you could keep that coming…”
He was absolutely unprepared to see the little cube he was trying to grip in his paws clatter onto the table like some common plaything.
“Wait wait what the fuck where did you get this? An AMPLIFIER? I don’t even… who’d you piss off to get this?”
Biggie stared at him expectantly as the man picked up the cube in two fingers, ever so delicately, inspecting it closely.
“Looks like the real thing, alright. It’s gonna be so much work to hide this from whoever’s probably gonna come to audit this place. Fine. Here you go.”
Finally he would get what he deserved. For his hard work, the pawn shop owner gave him not one, not two, but all the wheels of cheese he could eat. There had to be at least 13 of them, far, far more than he had ever seen. The man watched in horror as the rat dove into the cheese like a fish into water, practically swimming through every wheel as it all disappeared into his gullet.
“Enjoy. You earned it, Biggie Cheese.”
Biggie Cheese popped his head out from the top of the cheese wheel stack. He didn’t know what the man said, but it was probably praise for how awesome he was. He DID deserve it.