Super Granny and the Tone Deaf Bandit

Chapter 3 - Agatha

If there's one thing you need to know about Bartholomew, it's that he has a weak stomach. Too much spice in his food and he's at the mercy of the porcelain throne. A fast-moving vehicle sends him into a state of despair. Rollercoasters were his greatest nemesis. In the excitement, Agatha momentarily forgot about this. She remembered when he upchucked while doing roughly 125 mph down the freeway. Somewhere, somebody was going to be cleaning vomit off their car and they probably weren't going to enjoy it.  

It wasn't long until they reached their destination. Maybe five minutes at most, but that was five minutes to many for her poor son, as he had to take a moment to compose himself after rolling off the scooter. Literally rolling, his legs had timed out and by composing himself I mean dropping enough swears it would have made nuns roll in their graves. As much as Agatha wanted to scold him for such untasteful language, she figured that he earned this one and turned away to give him a moment. While Bartholomew slowly lost the will to live, Agatha surveyed the area. She had parked behind the bank, giving herself room to formulate a plan and avoid the eyes of the public.

The bank itself was older, and while there had been renovations that didn't change the fact the structure itself had been built prior to 1980. This served as an asset to Agatha as older banks typically had larger than normal night deposit chute and were big enough for a shorter person to crawl through. Seeing as Agatha was 5'2, it worked out in her favour. The chute was looking to be her way in. However, what she would find inside concerned her. She had no idea how many gunmen there were, what kind of weapons they had, or where they were placed. She didn't even know exactly where the chute ended. She had a good idea, but an exact idea would be far better. Seeing as she hadn't made any contact with Charles yet, Agatha was going in blind. It was extremely risky and potentially deadly, but it was a risk she was going to take.

"Mum, why are we parked behind the bank?" groaned Bart as he stood up and slowly made his way over to Agatha. You'd think his first question would be How the fuck did we just go that fast but let's be fair, throwing up twice doesn't put you in a great state of mind.

"I'm surveying and formulating the situation dear. I can't rush in without a clue of what to do. I'll get myself and someone else seriously hurt if I do," responded Agatha as she opened the chute, checking out the dimensions. "So far it's looking like I can get in through this chute and I'll likely come out somewhere in the back. If I can make contact with Charles inside then he can do a bit of light hacking into the security cameras and let me know where all the baddies are." As Agatha talked she watched her son's face contort into a deep frown which was disheartening, to say the least.

Agatha knew perfectly well that her son was angry with her, but the anger was more of a cover for his fear. A fear that she would get hurt, or that she was losing her mind. They were legitimate fears, she understood him to an extent. What he didn't understand was that Agatha had spent far too much of her life doing what suited other's needs instead of her own. She had given up jobs, opportunities, dreams, and passions because someone else needed her more. You can only give up so much before deciding enough is enough before taking what you have left and running with it. Agatha had hit that point. She was old and reaching the end of her years. She never wanted to die with regrets but at this point, if she could die with fewer regrets then why not? Perhaps she might get hurt, but she was far from losing her mind. If only she could get Bartholomew to understand her point of view, maybe he would support her rather than try to limit her. 

Batholomew opened his mouth to object but didn't get the chance as Agatha walked over to her scooter and pulled out a few gadgets. Some looked like peppermint candies, a few resembled medicine bottles, and there was one retractable cane. They weren't candies or bottles, rather very creative tools that Charles had made during his free time. Fortunately or unfortunately, Charles had a crooked sense of humour and every tool he made for Agatha looked like 'anything you'd find in every old person's home.' Except himself, you could count on finding asshole rats and a weird amount of glitter in his room. Agatha carefully placed each item in one of her many pockets before returning the chute and preparing to enter it. It would be a bit of an awkward crawl, but doable.

"Bartholomew dear, I need you to stay here and man the scooter. You'll be my get-away ride. If you're not sure how to drive it, do some quick skimming of the instruction manual. It's in the little cubby, make sure not to bump the green button otherwise our get-away car will explode." Agatha said cheerfully as she started to make her crawl into the chute.

"That's it! That's enough! This has gone on too long! You're going to get yourself killed, and I will not have that!" Bartholomew yelled in anger. He turned his back to Agatha and made a scene of storming to the scooter and grabbing the keys. Agatha simply shrugged and continued on her way.

"You are going to crawl out of that chute, we are going to get on this scooter, and then we are going to slowly make our way back home right damn now!" He had only turned his back for a few moments but when he turned back, she had already made her way in and was long gone.

"SHIT!"