Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Robbery Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 4, 2022

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Fan of soccer, you could assist a moment historic. You could gain the bill for the final of the Cup of the World of the FIFA 2006 with Visa. It's just to have a card of credit visa BMO for participate. Inscribe you at BMO.com bar-oblique concourse. The reglements of the concourse is applicable. You picked the wrong bank. I said to the man pointing a snub-nosed revolver in my face. Shut up.

You think I won't blast you? I'll fucking blast you, buddy. Now get out from that fancy office of yours and come sit with the others. I stood up from my desk, hands up, and looked hard at the man. I could tell, even through the ridiculous pair of Paniosi out on his head, that his nose was running. A wet spot glistened on the mesh women's wear just under his squashed down nose. The man didn't seem to notice because he never sniffed.

He just let it run. There were two other robbers, each with a different handgun. One of the weapons looked like it had last been fired during World War II. All three men wore tattered and stained clothing. Their leader, the guy ushering me out of my office and getting me to sit in front of the teller booths with the other employees, had a bright red flannel shirt on. Very subtle.

If these men had been professionals, I would have thought that the ratty clothes, and even the heavy smell of body odor emanating from them, were parts of their disguises. But the fact that they were robbing this bank told me that they weren't pros. Pros would know to stay away from this bank. No, these men were desperate addicts. They were about to get a very rude awakening.

Who's the manager? The leader said. I raised my hand. Get up, he said. Even though he just made me sit down. I got up. Is there anyone else here? He asked.

That depends. You mean employees? I asked. Don't fucking get smart with me, Mr. Manager. Employees, customers, your fucking whore of a daughter. Is there anyone else here? I don't have a daughter. The man's eyes shifted behind the panty hose.

His two buddies were fidgeting behind him, knowing that this was getting out of control. I didn't want to push them too far. Not yet. I looked around at everyone. No, I don't believe there's anyone else here, unless a customer ran in the back when you fellas came in. Nobody ran in the back, leader said.

Now, take me to the vault. I nodded and turned. Walking back behind the teller booths and through a code-locked door, the leader followed. Gun held just behind my head. When we were alone in front of the vault, I turned to him. You can leave now, and you won't be hurt. I won't even call the police.

But the moment you take the money from the vault, I can no longer guarantee your safety. The fuck you're going to do, Grandpa, he said, although there was no venom in his voice. Maybe he'd felt the change in the air. I certainly had. This is the ATC savings and loan, I said. Do you know what the ATC stands for? Does it matter?

The only thing I care about is the cash in the vault. Do you have cash in the vault? Yes, of course, I said. Good. Open it. Or I'll have one of my friends out there shoot one of the pretty teller ladies. If you think I'm joking, just try me. One more time. Try me. I said, turning back to the vault door. Don't say I didn't warn you. I opened the door and allowed the man in. Then I stood there as he filled a black trash bag with as much cash as would fit without tearing the bag.

When he was done, he urged me back out the code locked door. Yo, Sammy! He called over the teller booths. Come back and fill your bag. One of the other robbers, this one dressed in a stained gray sweatshirt and torn jeans, hurried back to us. The leader went to take his place on the lobby floor. As they passed, I heard Sammy whisper,

Why'd you use my name, man? We talked about this. Just go fill your bag, the leader said. Suddenly, the lights flickered in the bank, creating a strobe-like effect. It was irregular, causing certain corners of the large room to go dark, while others brightened. What the hell is this? The leader yelled, turning back to me, shoving his revolver in my face again.

What did you do? Nothing. I did nothing. You're the one that took money out of the vault. I had tried to warn you. What is this? A silent alarm or something? Some kind of security system? Sammy asked.

You could say it's a security system of sorts, I said. Sammy, stop talking to this guy. and go fill your bag, the leader said, Mr. Manager, punched the code in. I shrugged and punched the code in, letting Sammy into the vault room. Apparently, the leader didn't trust me because he put his bag of cash on the floor

and stood there next to me, pointing his gun at me from his hip. From where we stood, we could see the third robber out beyond the booths, pacing back and forth on the marble floor, keeping an eye on the other bank employees. The flickering continued, and it was clearly unnerving that third man. Get away from me!

The third robber called out suddenly. What is it? The leader asked, stepping away from me. What are they doing? The third robber didn't answer. He just stood there in the middle of the floor, mumbling to himself, looking at nothing. Talk to me, Jason. The leader said.

Hearing his name seemed to snap the man out of it. He turned toward leader and said, He won't leave me alone. What won't leave you alone? He asked, What the hell are you talking about? There's nothing there. Jason spasmed and then went stiff,

arms at his side and standing on his tiptoes. What are you doing? Jason's head shook him possibly fast, the movement turning his skull into a tan blur, the limp panty-ho's legs whipping back and forth over his head. This went on for about three seconds before he stopped suddenly. Jason?

The leader asked, fear in his voice. Who's wrong with you? Jason didn't answer, not with words. But it became clear soon enough that there was something really wrong with him. His face seemed to stretch out in the middle, his nose and brow and mouth pushing outward at a sharp point. The panty hose stretched with it

until the middle of Jason's face split open with the force of it ripping the pantyhose. The two halves of his face separated like butterfly wings. Blood spewed out as his facial structure ripped apart, revealing another face underneath. This underneath face was not even close to human. Two blood-coated eyes bulged out. Their red irises glowing like car cigarette lighters.

Instead of a nose, there were two wide slits, situated above a mouth, crowded with needle-like teeth. It was a scrunched up face, but it seemed to expand as it moved out of Jason's skull, recruiting forward, staring at the leader. The leader screamed and raised his gun, firing at the demonic figure three times. None of the shots even came close. close. Black tentacles shot out of Jason's hands and feet, causing him to drop the gun he'd held in one hand. He launched into the air and stuck to the high ceiling with the slimy black tentacles, those terrible eyes never leaving the leader's face. He scurried along the ceiling toward us,

and the leader fired three more times, emptying this gun. Sammy rushed out of the door to the vault room with a half-full bag of cash. Before he could get a word out, he spotted the thing on the ceiling and screamed. He dropped his bag of cash and vaulted over one of the teller booths. He stumbled on the other side, but kept his balance as he ran for the doors. He pushed and pulled on each of the forefront doors, glancing over his shoulder at each one. Meanwhile, the leader took off, leaving his own bag of cash behind. He joined his friend at the doors, but none of them would open. When they realized that there was no way out, at least not there,

turned around. What had once been Jason scurried along the ceiling toward the two men who stared up at him in shock. The demon dropped down and onto Sammy, clamping onto the man's face with those needle-like teeth, wrapping his limbs with those black tentacles. The leader backed away slowly, as if afraid a quick movement would bring the demon's attention to him. Sammy screamed as much as he could before the creature ripped off his face with its mouth. It then pulled all of Sammy's limbs off at once with its powerful tentacles. The leader ran back into the middle of the lobby, scooping up the gun Jason had dropped during his transformation. He then ran up to the tellers who had been sitting where they'd been told, watching the terrifying scene play out. He yanked a

pretty girl named Selena up from the floor, putting the barrel of Jason's old Ruger pistol to her head. Let me out of here, man, he said to me, keep that thing away from me, still standing behind the teller booths, I looked beyond him to see the demon tearing Sammy apart bit by bit. I don't think you need to worry about that one for a little while, I said, coming around from behind the booths, a small smile on my face. Just let me out, man. I'm not taking any of your money. It's all in those bags back there. It's too late, I said. I gave you ample opportunity to leave, but you didn't. You did this to yourself. Just let me go, or I'll kill her, he said. If he had noticed Salina's utter calmness and the blank expression on her face, he didn't show it.

I smiled wider. Have you figured out what ATC stands for, or what makes this bank different from other ones? Just cut this shit, man, he said. I'll kill her. I swear to God I will. That made me smile even wider. swearing to God will do you no good here, not in this place. This is the Antichrist Savings and Loan.

Not only do we serve a unique clientele, but, as you've seen, we have a unique security system. I paused, turning my smile to Selena, and we have very unique employees. The leader's face fell under the ridiculous Pani-Hose mask, and his gaze went from me to Selena. The pretty young woman's head twisted impossibly around to look at the leader, giving him her best. Welcome to ATC Savings and Loan smile. But her smile didn't stop. It kept going, stretching up past her temples while leaders stood there in horror. His left hand still on her shoulder, right hand still holding the seemingly forgotten gun.

Selina's face hinged open where the gruesome smile stopped at her forehead. Her human face flipped up, revealing a sudden. spiral of undulating teeth behind it. Since her body was still facing the other way, her arms shot backward, grabbing the leader and pulling him into an embrace against her back. He screamed and struggled as that gaping maw of moving teeth settled on his face like a buzzsaw. When she was done with him, she let his headless body fall to the floor, then untwisted her head and popped her arms back into the normal sockets. Great job, everyone, I said. Lots of excitement for one day.

But we still have a bank to run. Let's get this cleaned up. The employees got to work, cleaning up the messes. I watched with the pride of a man who knows how to run a well-oiled team. Oh, and before I forget, I said, The Dark Lord has graced us with another excellent addition to our team. Let's welcome him with warm wishes of more carnage to come. Everyone paused what they were doing to welcome the demon who had inhabited

Jason's body, the demon stopped gorging itself on Sammy's left leg to wave a tentacle in thanks. See? I told you, Mike says. Right on time. I nod, keeping my eyes on the headlights as they pause at the end of the driveway. Then they swing out into the winding woodland road, heading away from us. Mike and I sit in the woods across the road and down about 30 yards from the driveway. The thick bushes and the cover of darkness make it impossible for anyone to see us unless they're looking. Our truck is parked a mile down the road on a seldom used turnout. It's probably a driveway that never got finished because it leads a little way into the woods and just stops. Each time we've come up here to case the house, we've used the turnout. And we've

used darkness and the woods to our advantage. Walking the mile up here in the woods parallel to the road, even though it was slow going. It isn't our first home robbery, and hopefully it won't be our last. We can't see the house from where we are, but that's okay. We're here to make sure they leave. We've already spent hours watching the house from the surrounding woods, making certain that it will be worth our trouble. We sit in the woods for another ten minutes, giving the owners enough time to come back

in case they forgot something. When they don't, we grab our backpacks. head across the road. The house is massive. It's a combination of a mansion and a cabin. It's three stories, made out of wood and glass, with a stepped roof and a wraparound porch made out of finished logs.

We know it has an alarm system, but they never use it. Each time we watched them leave the house, they walked right past the keypad on the wall and out the door. And we even tested the theory one night, Picking the lock on the front door and opening it, then waiting in the woods to see if the cops showed up. They didn't.

We could have gone in and taken everything that night, but we still didn't know their schedule well enough. And our golden rule is we never do a robbery when people are home or may come home. That's when things get messy. Mike works on the front door while I keep watch. It doesn't take him long to unlock it. We step inside and check the alarm keypad.

Nothing. Of course, it wouldn't tell us anything if it were a silent alarm. Still, it's a chance we have to take. I close the door behind me and turn away. I hear a soft clicking sound and turn around to make sure the door is closed. By the time I lay eyes on the door again, the sound is gone. It was just for a split second. I whisper, we're still not totally sure there's no one home, and we'll be quiet until we check all the rooms. You're what? Mike says, putting away his lock-picking kit. Nothing, never mind. The inside of the house is immaculate.

The cabin motif continues, but it's more of a modern look than a rustic one. Rich hardwoods make up the walls and floors, giving the place a comforting feel, but everything also seems kind of sterile, like people don't even live here. It's a strange combination. I'll go down, you go up. Mike says, I nod, and we move off into the house. I haven't even stepped on the stairs yet when Mike shouts from behind me. I head toward the sound, fearing the worst, which would be a man with a big gun.

I turn the corner and see Mike standing in front of a closed door, looking down at his latex gloved hand. His palm had been cut open. What the hell happened? I asked, seeing that it's a fairly deep cut. I don't know, he says. All I did is touch the nose. damn doorknob. What? I say, bending down to inspect the knob for a jagged piece of metal. It's not a smooth, one-piece doorknob. It's got lines and designs in it, making it look fancy,

but I see nothing sharp. You're going to be okay? I ask. You want to go get stitches or something? No way, he says, taking his backpack off. Just grab me my spare shirt out of there. I dig around in his backpack, pulling out a t-shirt and handing it to. to him. He rips a strip off of it and wraps it around his hand. My favorite shirt, he says, shaking his head. I help him bind the cloth around the cut. You want me to open the door for you? I ask with a smile. Fuck off, he says, using his other hand to open the door without any issues. I laugh, heading back over to go upstairs. I get to the stairwell, taking two steps before a terrible pain erupts on the outside of my right foot. I scream, looking down.

to see that my two little toes on that foot have been chopped off along with that portion of my shoe what the fuck i yell stepping back and then falling on my ass at the bottom of the stairs i grab my foot in both hands looking in shock at the bloody nubs there mike appears from around the corner stopping short when he sees my toes on the second stair there was nothing there i say i didn't see anything suddenly a little panel on the face of the bottom stair opens up out comes a knife and a little torch on mechanical arms. The torch clicks, lighting automatically. Its blue-white flame, heating the top three inches of the knife to an orange glow. What the hell is this shit? Mike says, looking around. Should I use it? I ask, clenching my jaw against the pain. My foot's still bleeding like a bitch.

I don't know, man, he says, we're pretty far from a hospital. I growl, reaching forward to yank the knife from its little arm. I put the orange tip to my bloody nubs, screaming as it burned. burns the flesh there, cauterizing the wound. I slammed the knife down on the floor, cursing. Mike heads back toward the front door. He reappears a moment later. I can't unlock it, he says. It's stuck or something.

I think of the little click I heard just after I closed the door. Who told you about this place again? I ask him. That guy, Caesar. And how did he hear about it? I don't know, man. Mike says. I don't ask him where he gets his information.

Allsy said is that they had a bunch of jewels and shit here. Jesus, this is a fucking setup, man. No way. How could it be? I mean, why? Mike says. I don't know. But normal houses don't cut your fucking toes off when you walk up the stairs.

Or give you the tools to cauterize the wound afterward. All right, all right, I get it. We just need to get out of here. That's all. Funny, I say. Adrenaline building up in my bloodstream. I just thought you were a little bitch for getting cut on the doorknop. Turns out this place is deadly.

I laugh shakily, but it's clear that Mike doesn't find it nearly as funny as I do. He walks gingerly away from the staircase, toward a doorway that leads to the kitchen. I can see the sink and some cabinets from where I sit on the floor, still clutching my foot. He places one hand against the door jam, leaning cautiously into the kitchen to look around. In the blink of an eye, something shoots out of the other side of the door jam, something shiny and metal and sharp. Mike senses this movement and pulls his head back just in time. But he doesn't get his hand out of the way, and the door-sized blade slams into the appendage, slicing his hand in half just behind the four fingers.

He stumbles back, mouth and eyes wide, staring down at his bloody half-hand. Mike! I scream at him. He's backing up right into me, and I'm trying to get him to stop. but he doesn't. He's too focused on his gruesome injury. I squirm to move out of his way, still screaming his name, but I can't move fast enough. He trips over me and falls butt-first onto the second stair. I hear the low hum of the saw mechanism as it comes out of its hidden panel, but the sound that's more apparent is the wet rending of flesh as the blade rips into Mike's ass.

He screams, rolling on the stairs. Somehow, he stands up, limping and bleeding severely from his two major wounds. He walks a few paces, blood pouring out of him as if he's a broken faucet, then falls flat on his face. Oh, fuck, is all I can think to say. Mike? Mike's dead. Or if he's not, he will be soon. But I'm not, and I'm still trapped in this death house. I sit on the floor, unmoving for a long time, thinking.

The front door is locked. The kitchen is a no-go. In fact, going through any doorway is probably a bad idea. Finally, I come up with a plan. It's not a good one, but it's all I've got. I crawl over to Mike's body. I try to drag him toward the stairs, but he's just too heavy. I can barely move him, and I certainly won't be able to take him up the stairs,

using him as a test dummy of sorts to locate all the traps. So instead of using his whole body, I decide to do the next. best thing. I use his leg. The saw that came out of the stairs already did most of the work for me, slicing deep into the back of his right thigh. Luckily, I still have the cauterizing knife nearby. It takes me about an hour and two vomiting spells to get Mike's leg off. Using his leg as a tester, I find that three different stairs have hidden blades in them. At the top of the stairs, A dart shoots out of the banister and into Mike's leg. I probably would have fallen backwards down the stairs if I'd been hit with the dart,

and that would have been it. There's a wide open room at the top of the stairs, with windows facing a sloping awning over the wraparound porch outside. I'm amazed to find one window that opens onto the roof. I take Mike's leg with me, testing the steps ahead of me as I move toward the edge of the roof. Below me, there's the well-kept lawn of the roof. backyard. If I can just make it down there, I'll be home free. It's about a 10-foot drop, no problem. I leave Mike's leg on the roof. I have no more need for it. I think about how I'll land

to try and protect my wounded foot. There's no way around it. I'll just have to grin and bear it, using both feet to break my fall. Here we go, say to myself, sitting down and hanging my legs off the edge. The pain in my injured foot is immense as I land on the lawn feet first. then roll forward to dissipate the force. I come to rest on my back on the lawn, looking up through the gap in the trees at the night sky. I almost want to laugh, but can't bring myself to do it. Little pinpricks of pain erupt in my shoulders and my butt.

I scramble up and look down at the lawn to see sharp metal spikes coming slowly up through the grass. They're placed evenly at two-inch intervals, a blanket of spikes covering the whole lawn. I turn to run, stepping forward, and impaling my foot in several places on the emerging spikes. I scream out, pulling my other foot forward as spikes dig up through my feet. There's nothing I can do but try to run, but I know it won't get me anywhere. It's a good 15 feet to the edge of the lawn.

Still, I step forward, trying and failing to put my toes down on the little bit of grass between four spikes. They're about three inches up now, and they keep coming. I feel my balance teetering, and the realization that I'm about to fall forward is even more terrifying than the pain in my back foot. I yank my back foot off at spikes, tearing gaping holes in the already injured appendage. I swing it forward wildly, trying to keep myself from falling, but it doesn't work. The toes I have left get caught on a spike and I tumble forward, putting out my hands to break my fall. As the spikes pierce my hands, I feel as that they belong to someone else. These aren't my hands. They can't be.

My knees come down on other spikes, and the pain there is so great that I vomit. The spikes keep coming up, stabbing into my thighs and my upper arms and my chest. They tear through my flesh, the currents of pain causing me to convulse. I turn my head and wait. I can't watch the spikes come at my face. I just can't. I hear a humming above me, and I look up to see a drowice. drone flying low over me, a camera lens fixed on my impaled figure.

Suddenly I understand that this whole place is for someone's sick entertainment. As I feel the spikes press against my left cheek, my temple, my ear, piercing the skin. I wonder how much Caesar got paid to send us to this house of horrors. Lazzang sur-gilled, puissance-moined, for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo. Prere to play a pleasure with the Ojo. The casino in line that proposes the most recent

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Shut up and you won't get hurt. I said to the security guard. As I tightened the zip ties around his wrists, I then pulled a gag around his head and got it as tight as I could. Next to me, Blake, codename Spider, was doing the same with his security guard. Both uniformed men were on their bellies in front of their shared desk. Once I finished zip tying my guy's ankles, I looked up at the monitors on the desk. Each monitor screen was split in fourths, each quarter showing a different part of the facility. On one screen, I could see two men I knew, Panther and Scorpion.

They were dealing with the other security guards, whose job it was to patrol the facility. Once I saw that they were done, I unclipped my radio from my belt and spoke into it. All clear, come on in, Gator said over the radio. I watched the corresponding screen to see Gator and Shark, driving the van through the gate I'd forced one of the security guards to open when I first came into the room. They parked the van near the main entrance and got out, opening the back doors of the vehicle and pulling out a large black case on wheels. I wondered briefly what was inside the case, but supposed I would find out soon enough. Working with a new crew always took some adjustment, and the way that Gator compartmentalized everything was smart, but also frustrating for me. I liked to know every facet of a job.

What's in the case? I asked Blake. He shrugged. He'd got me into the crew, but he'd also only done one job with him. A job that, apparently, hadn't involved whatever was in the case. One of the security guards spoke against his gag, and I kicked him to keep him quiet. I looked briefly for any emergency switch located anywhere near the guards, but found none. Okay, Blake said. Let's go join the others.

We left the security room, confident that the guards wouldn't be able to free themselves. and headed to join the others. I was curious to see how they were going to get into the room with all the uncut stones we were after. We met up with Gator, Shark, Scorpion, and Panther in the hallway outside the secure room. Gator and Shark got to work taking a side panel off the black case. I was on the other side of the large case,

which was probably about five feet long, three wide, and three tall. They set the panel aside, and then Shark stepped up. back. Gator spoke into the case. Out, he said. It was a command, and I expected to see a dog or another animal come out. I was not prepared at all for what actually came out. At first I thought it was some kind of deformed, hairless monkey, but I quickly realized it was a small child whose legs had been removed at the knees and the left arm at the elbow. The boy got awkwardly out of the case, walking mainly on these three amputated appendages, using his intact right arm, mostly for balance as he moved. He wore ratty underwear and nothing else.

What the fuck? I said. I looked over at Blake. Even through his black mask, I could see he was surprised. You got a problem, noob, panther said, stepping up to me. What the fuck is that? I asked. As I said this, another of these deformed children got out of the crate and sat down next to the first. They both looked up at Gator, as if waiting for their next command. They couldn't have been older than six or seven. Really, they were no more than skin and bone, clearly having survived a little more than scraps. These are our way into the room, Gator said, looking at me with hard eyes from the eye holes in his black mask. We all had masks on. And I'd never seen their faces.

They'd never seen mine either. That's the way they wanted to do things. And I was fine with it. But now, I wasn't so sure about this job. Things had changed. In other words, Gator said, these are how you're going to get your half a million cut. What?

Do they go through the vents or something? I asked. That's right, Gator said. This isn't the movies. Vents can't fit a grown man, not even close. So these guys will go in there and then open the door from the inside. They can do that? Don't they need a code? Yes, they do.

That's why we're extorting the manager of this place. I've been training them for the last two weeks with the exact layout and code to get us in there. Jesus, I said, my mind racing. Panther was still standing right next to me. Is MP5 not quite pointing at me? but certainly too close for comfort. Let me ask you again, he said. You got a problem?

Blake shook his head slowly, warning me. No, I said. It's just a shock, that's all. I didn't expect them. They're kind of freaky looking. Can we get on with the fucking job now? Gator said. Is that okay with you?

Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Go ahead. Shark pulled a step ladder out of the crate and set it up. under a small vent grate. He got to work unscrewing it. It certainly wasn't big enough to fit a man, and it even looked tight for these small children, even with a significant portion of their body mass gone, thanks to the amputations. Gator stood, watching Shark. The two children

sat in front of the man, waiting. Panther and Scorpion stood near me and Blake, still on alert. Once Shark was done, Gator spoke in low tones to the children. They listened with rapt attention until he was done. Then they scrambled up to shark, who lifted them one at a time up into the vent. Once they were in, we headed down the hallway, turning the corner, and stopping in front of the door that Gator had trained the children to open. Now that the prize was in sight, Panthers' attention wasn't only on me. Slowly, I stepped back so I could see the whole crew in front of me.

I rested my hands casually on my Beretta PMX submachine gun, and I stood there listening hard for the sound I assumed the door would make when it unlocked. Sure enough, a clicking sound came from the door. I was ready for it. I clicked my safety off at the same instant and pulled my trigger, spraying the hallway with bullets fired from the hip. The men jerked in surprise as the bullet, bullets punched into them. Blood splattered the walls. The smell of gunpowdered

the hallway. I stopped firing. My clip empty. The big metal door swung slowly open on its hinges, revealing the two children where they perched, staring unseeing at the carnage in the hall. The first thing I did was step over to Blake. Sorry, buddy, I said, looking down at him, he was dead. I felt bad about it, but he'd been right in the middle of the rest of them, and it wasn't like I could warn him. Killing the others was something that needed doing. I had no regrets about them. Come, told the children.

They didn't move and just looked up at me. Come on, I said, opening the door all the way, pushing Gator's body aside with my foot as I did so. They didn't want to move. So I ran back down the hallway and grabbed the crate, wheeling it around the corner. I asked them again, gesturing at the crate. When they refused a third time,

I grabbed them one at a time by their little necks and threw them into the crate, putting the panel on again when they were in. I then loaded up the stones in my bag and wheeled the crate back to the van. It was tough to get it in without a second person, but I managed. I headed back into the facility and got the keys off of Gator's body. Not only had I made a ton of money, but I also managed to snag myself a couple of kids who would make me even more. Sure, eventually they would grow up and would have to be discarded, but until then, I could make millions.