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// 1 - For He's A Jolly Good Felon 
// Story: Paycheck 
// by Union Jake 
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A few minutes later, I’d cooked up my master plan (to a limited degree) and gathered the two mares, whose names I learned were Trixie and Pennywise. Both had looked down on their cash, so I had decided to intervene. The four of us were sitting around a much larger table, discussing the prospects in hushed tones over a couple more mugs of cider (which had been given free of charge by the waitress). 

Each of us only brought one or two skills to the table. I had my natural weapons and a knowledge of most bank security systems, Pennywise was good with cons (not to mention packing a .44), and Pixel Byte had an extensive knowledge of computer code including security software loopholes. Trixie was flashy and loudmouthed, leading to an excellent decoy, but she really would be useless in combat.

“Okay, I don’t exactly know how we’re going to rob the Royal Canterlot Mint yet, but I know we’re going to. For now, how about this very bar?” I noted.

“You crazy?” Pennywise whispered harshly.

“Yes.”

“The owner’s most likely packing, and the bouncer on the right has a pistol. You’re crazy.”

“And?”

“She has a point, Gas.” Pixel slurred. “They’re armed.”

“So are we. I have my claws, and Penny has her gun. You and Trixie can serve as a diversion.” I retorted, unsheathing my claws to punctuate my sentence. “We can do this.”

“We just need to form a plan.” Penny added. “Gaspard and I are the only sober ones here, so we’ll handle the robbery itself. Pixel, you and Trixie pretend to start a fight. That’ll get the bouncers’ attention long enough for us to pull it off.” A fake fight followed by a stick-up. Plain but effective.

“All opposed?” I asked. No hooves were raised. “All right then. Let’s do this.”

As if on cue, Trixie and Pixel began to get into a drunken argument, which slowly escalated into a scuffle, then a struggle, then a full-blown fight. Penny and I backed away from the table and sat at the bar as the minotaur bouncers attempted to restrain our fight-feigning friends and drag them from the bar. They were met with heavy resistance to say the least, with Trixie putting up a hell of a fight and Pixel managing to get a few good shots in even though he was sloshed. Once the bouncers were occupied, part two of the plan was initiated.

Penny gradually reached into her coat and yanked out her revolver and levelled its barrel to the bartender’s face, demanding all her cash. The bartender responded in kind by pulling her shotgun from under the bar, a move both of us had expected. It was a tense standoff, with the bartender’s feather slowly clenching around the trigger, before I snatched the shotgun’s barrel and lifted the muzzle to the ceiling just before she fired, which hit a hanging lamp and dropped it onto the more heavily armed bouncer.  The further diversion caused by the crashing lamp allowed me to snatch the gun from the bartender and chamber another round before taking her hostage, attempting my best to hold the shotgun one-clawed (not an easy task, the thing weighed close to eight pounds.). The other bouncer came in through the side door, a police-issue nightstick in his ham-sized fist, but froze at the sight of the holdup.

“Don’t make a move and nopony gets hurt. Drop the baton and back away.” The visibly scared minotaur did as I commanded, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly in power. “Where are the keys to the register?”

“They’re behind the shotglasses in the back of the cabinet behind you.” I could plainly hear the jingling of the keys in the bartender’s pocket, and the bouncer’s eyes were laid upon his fallen friend. He was bluffing.

“You’re not going to fool me. I can tell you’re trying to fake it so you can grab his gun.” An expression that was a combination of anger and fear crossed his face once he realized I caught onto his ploy. “Penny. Go over there, get the pistol, and slide it over here. And make sure that minotaur doesn’t try anything stupid.” She trotted over, keeping her pistol trained upon the bouncer’s head in case he attempted to make a break for the gun. Pennywise used her magic to float the gun onto the counter, and after dragging the bartender over to where it was, I set the shotgun up against the bar before taking the handgun. “Okay, keys to the register. Hand them over.” I let one of her hooves go, pistol against her temple in case she had a sudden compulsion to punch me.

She fished the register keys from her pocket and put them in my claw. “Penny. Hold the bartender for me, I need to unlock the register so we can take the money and get out of here.” The steady thrum of telekinesis magic intensified as Pennywise took hold of the bartender’s wings and pinned her to the rack behind the bar where the kegs were stored. I kept my gun trained on the bouncer as my other claw worked to stick the key in the lock and get the register open. I wanted to get out of this mess as soon as I could, and having to aim with one claw while undoing a lock with the other was NOT an easy task.

The tumblers slid into place with an audible click, a tangible sign of success. The drawer slid open, revealing stacks of ones, fives, tens, and more, along with entire rolls of bits. “Uh, Penny. Have we got any sort of bag?”

“There’s one behind you, Gaspard.” I turned to where she had gestured with a foreleg and spotted a burlap sack lying on the floor, where it had presumably been used to store cleaning supplies or something of the sort. I snatched it and crammed as much cash as I could into it (which was all of the money in the register, the sack was quite large), and was prepared to leave when I heard sirens in the distance. “We have to go. NOW.” she stated sternly as I grabbed the shotgun from its position at the bar.

“No shit, Fetlock.”