Catch up with Chapter 2 with this handy link.
Captain Hank had worked his way up through the ranks of the federal police department ever since enrolling at the age of 18. It was all he'd ever wanted to do; following in his dad's footsteps who had followed in his dad's before him. He had a surname, Captain Hank, but he wanted to seem more chummy with his colleagues in this new role than he had done at his former so he didn't use it, because while he had got quite high in the US police, he wasn't there anymore, not after the 'incident.' So Captain Hank it was, or just Hank to friends, but right now he wasn't being anyone's friend. Right now he was on the hunt, the hunt for crime.
Of all the cases he'd ever worked on, Hank had never once encountered anything that rivaled what he was being briefed with now. People don't just disappear; that's mental. Hank didn't believe in mental, not when practical, logical and well thought out could all do a much better job. Unfortunately bank robbers vanishing into thin air at the blink of small girl didn't fall into any of those categories. Mental would have to do. Upon hearing of the news of such a mystery Hank was quick to jump into action, he just wasn't all that sure what that action would be. He picked up his jacket, step one, and made his way out to his aging saloon car in the parking lot. He'd owned a sports car in the States; it did 0-60 in a time that would make car nerds happy and looked nice enough to make easily pleased women happy too, which all meant it was a winner in the Captain's eyes. That, alas, was all old news now, after what happened. His new life involved doing 0-60 in a slower, less nerd delighting time and only attracting old women who needed a lift to the shops. The Mexican police force didn't pay as well as his old job used to, and he lived in a neck of the woods where anything nice would get stolen in an instant. Stereotypes - truth. In that old banger he'd made his way down to the bank where just a couple of hours earlier a trio of out-of-their-depth gang members had been attempting to rob a bank, only to be defeated by an infant. Ha. That told them.
Upon arrival there was one thing that shot out straight away to the unsuspecting law enforcer: the still very visible glow around the building. It was as if the image had been chopped out of something bright and crudely pasted onto something less so by someone with harshly limited Photoshop skills, only this was real life and not a metaphor. Hank had to shield his eyes as he approached the front doors, more so than usual in sunny Mexico, and the situation was even more evident once inside.
"Hey boys," he shouted, in that New York accent you'll definitely know he possessed if you'd read chapter 2. You should read chapter 2. None of this will make any sense without chapter 2. "Get in here, fellas, I want forensics, photographs, you know, all that shit real police do." Hank's plan to make friends failed whenever it came to him speaking out loud. A lack of surname would have to do the trick for now. Several officers duly followed his orders and went about taking pictures of the slightly shiny interior of the bank, while others took swabs of the floor and did other stuff they'd seen in the movies. Did they need to cordon anything off? Probably not, but they were going to do it anyway. It was during this cordoning that one officer spotted something untoward. With a hint of panic in his voice, partly due to his discovery and partly due to how his boss would react if he got it wrong, he beckoned Captain Hank in his direction.
"Hey boss, sir, meeestaaa," he said, because he was Mexican and we all know that's how Mexicans speak in this story, "Look at theeess, boss." He pointed to the wall of the safe he was inspecting. Hank walked over and put his hand out to touch it.
"Well well well boys," he stroked the wall, tenderly, "look see what we've got ourselves here." As the other police surrounded him it became apparent that the bank robbers had not vanished at all. They were still there, just as they had been before, but they weren't people anymore.
They were pictures of people, imprinted on the bricks. Surprised? So were they. Couldn't care less? Well think about someone else for a change, this is their life we're talking about! Come back tomorrow to find out if it gets any better. Both their life and this story.
