Meanwhile ...

It was a clear sunny day with only a few wispy clouds in the sky. It was one of the first pleasant days for the season. Ben, a short, muscular man with short, curly hair strolled into the bank and quietly swore under his breath. He'd been hoping to spend his lunch break enjoying lounging about in the sun. Instead it looked like he was going to spend it waiting in line at the bank. He took his place in line, inwardly cursing his manager; Ben had wanted to take his lunch break twenty minutes earlier to beat the midday rush and avoid this exact situation. But his manager had given him a pile of paperwork and informed him that he had to finish that before heading off to lunch.

And now Ben was going to waste his lunch break waiting in line. He would be lucky if he had time to stop somewhere to get some takeout on his way back to the shop. The line moved forward half a step, and Ben continued to fume at his manager, wondering about the best way to get back at him. Everything within the law really didn't satisfy Ben, although he was sure getting his manager fired would actually be quite satisfying if that happened. Ben glanced at the clock on the wall and made a sound of annoyance. He was sure that he was going to be very late getting back from lunch.

"One of those days, eh?” A voice asked behind him.

“Uh? What?” Ben turned to look at the man who had asked the question, and immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He had no idea why though. The man looked innocuous enough in a fitted plain white t-shirt over a pair of navy blue cargo shorts. He wore a Dolphins baseball cap low over his face. Even though he was indoors, he was still wearing a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. He smiled disarmingly and gave a small shrug, looking completely harmless. But there was something about him that unnerved Ben. He took an involuntarily step backwards and almost tripped over the heels of the woman in front of him. “Sorry.” Ben mumbled, his eyes never leaving the other man, completely missing the icy glare the woman shot at him before she stepped forward a little.

“It's just one of those days, brah.” The man shrugged, continuing to smile disarmingly at Ben, who was starting to get the impression that this man’s smile was more like a wolf smiling at a sheep. He didn't like being the sheep.

Ben glanced along the line. It wasn't moving. He was sure that the tellers were also on their lunch break, and wondered if he should change jobs and become a bank teller instead. At least they got proper lunch breaks instead of having to wait in line in the bank.

The other man also glanced along the line, smiling broadly. There was no mistaking it this time. His smile was definitely that of a predator. And Ben was his prey. Ben held his gaze, trying to work out why this man was after him, but couldn't figure anything out. He had paid all of his debts. Well, most of them; there had been an unpleasant situation a few years back where Ben's debtor's had demanded that he work for them in order to pay off his debt. Ben had refused and been forced to go on the run when things turned ugly. Really ugly. That’s when he decided it was time for him to go to the police who very quickly redirected him to the FBI, who then put him into a witness protection program. He had fled the program, however, when the court case against them collapsed when what little evidence they had was destroyed. Then the detectives and the prosecutors in the case began turning up dead. It hadn’t taken Ben long to realise that there was probably a mole in the FBI and that he was no longer safe in the witness protection program. He was on the next bus out of town with his entire life packed in an old duffel bag. He changed his name several times before finally settling down and even managing to get his hands on the appropriate documents to make his new identity appear legitimate. It would take some serious deep digging to find out the truth about who he really was and his past.

Still smiling wolfishly, the other man glanced down at his watch. “Looks like it’s time to get to business, brah.”

”What are ya doin' here?” Ben asked suspiciously.

“I have business here.” The man quickly glanced around and then leant a little closer to Ben as the line moved forward another half step. “I actually have business with you, Ben”

Ben stared at the man with wide eyes. He took a step back and tripped over the heels of the woman in front of him again.

“Goddammit! What the hell is ya problem?” She demanded angrily, taking another step forward and glaring icily at Ben.

Ben didn't pay any attention to her, though. All his attention was on the man standing in line behind him. A man he had never seen before but who knew who he was, and claimed to have business with him. Ben glanced down at his chest. He wasn't wearing a name badge. This man was serious. “How d'ya know my name?” Ben was too afraid to ask what business the man had with him. There was a part of him that hoped that this had nothing to do with his old life he had been forced to flee.

The man smirked. “I know all your names, Ben. Or should I say Clark Menzies?”

Ben gaped at the man in horror. His mouth hanging open a little. Clark Menzies had been given to him when he had entered the witness protection program. He assumed that was still officially his name since he never officially left the program. A tightness was beginning to spread across Ben’s chest, making it difficult for him to breath.

“No, I guess I shouldn't. You made sure Clark Menzies died years ago, didn't you.”

Ben could feel the ground slowly disappearing from under his feet, and he swayed as blackness threatened to envelope him. If this man knew that he once had gone by the name Clark Menzies, then Ben was in some serious trouble. He tried hard not to think about the fate of the detectives and prosecutors. Some of them had suffered terrible, and most likely excruciating ends. Ben had little doubt that he was about to meet his end in a similar fashion. His mind clicked into gear and he realised that he was safe as long as he remained in public. He was determined not to be alone with this man under any circumstances. He had little doubt what would happen to him if he did.

“Maybe we should move this conversation elsewhere.” The man said, noticing how pale Ben was. “You look like you need to sit down and we don't want you collapsing on that poor woman after you've already stepped on her so much. How about over there?” He nodded towards the wall where there a long bench for customers to use to fill out their slips before queuing to see a teller. Ben nodded, barely aware of what he was doing. His mind was racing as he tried to remember names and faces of the people he had dealt with last time. He planned on going straight to the police the first chance he got. He was sure that this man, and anyone else working with the man, would do everything in their power to stop Ben and make him disappear. But Ben didn't plan on taking any of this lying down. He planned on fighting every inch until he was free and talking to the police and stopping these people. The man led him to the bench where people filled out deposit and withdrawal information. Ben leant gratefully against it, trying to clear his mind which was still foggy with panic. He was having trouble believing that this was happening. He had been sure that he had covered his tracks so sufficiently that no one could track him down.

“Judging from your reaction, you know who I work for. That's a time saver. Means we can just jump straight into business.” The man said, casually leaning against the bench and smirking slightly at Ben.

“Ben glared at the man. “I ain't doin' work for ya or ya buddies.”

“Of course you're not.” The man sighed, looking around. “And given your history with us and the police, you can be sure that we've taken steps to protect ourselves should you try talking to them again.”

Ben laughed humourlessly. “There's no threat ya can threaten me with. Ya tried that last time, and it didn't work. I’ll just disappear again.”

“Hmm, yes. I did read something about that.” The man conceded smoothly. “Here, can you hold this please? You should know that we have people on both sides of the thin blue line.” He pushed something cold and heavy into Ben's hand.

Ben automatically closed his hand around whatever he had just been given. He looked down at the cold, heavy object in his hand. “What the-?” His blood ran cold. He looked back up at the man in bewilderment. This was the last thing he had expected.

“Gun! He’s got a gun!” The man in the glasses shouted, sounding genuinely terrified and dropping to the ground. Everyone else in the bank looked around in alarm. A split second later there was a loud mass scream, as everyone else threw themselves to the ground with their hands over their heads. The bank tellers raised their hands up into the air. One was a little slower than the other.

“Wha-?” Ben stood loosely holding the gun at his side, staring dazedly around at the bank, unable to believe what he was seeing. It slowly dawned on him that everyone thought he was robbing the bank. He glanced down at the gun in his hand again, and then at the man who had given it to him. “Wait. No! This isn't a bank robbery!” Ben desperately shouted, waving the gun in the air and immediately realising that was a big mistake. Everyone screamed again and cowered even more on the ground. The man who had given him the gun smirked. “Fucker!” Ben snarled, landing a kick squarely in the man's side. He would’ve shot him, but Ben suspected that the gun wasn’t loaded. He ran for the door, pausing for a moment to watch the man he had kicked gasp for breath on the floor. He took no satisfaction in this though. He could already hear police sirens blaring, growing ever closer. He wondered what would happen to him once he was arrested. He doubted that he would be able to explain that he was set up, that he wasn’t trying to rob the bank; the man had said that they had had people on both sides of the thin blue line. He was definitely going to be locked up for this. From there it wouldn't be too difficult for his pursuers, people he thought he had shaken years ago, to get to him. He would have nowhere to run. He would be completely at their mercy, and it was evident that these people lacked any mercy. He had to run now if he wanted to live.

A young woman in a white, two door sporty car pulled up to the curb near where he was. It wasn't a car he would've liked to flee in, because it stood out so much, but it was a car and that was exactly what Ben needed at this point. He could always ditch the car and get a less conspicuous one later. But first he had to put as much distance between himself, the bank and the approaching police. He crossed the pavement in three quick steps, and opened the driver side door. The young woman looked up at him with alarm.

“I'm commandeering this vehicle, ma'am.” For less than a millisecond, Ben smiled at what he had just said. He had always wanted to say that to someone. But he could hardly believe that he chose now of all times to do so. He was running for his life and it just didn’t seem like an appropriate time.

She looked at him blankly, showing no signs that she was going to leave the car. Her eyes widened with fear, and she cringed back when Ben waved the gun under her nose. But she remained inside the car.

“Seriously? I have to spell this out? Get out of the fucking car!” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out, shoving her towards the curb before leaping in. He felt a pang of guilt as he saw her stumble to the ground. But he didn't have time to feel guilty. The police sirens were getting closer and closer every second. “I really am sorry about this.” Ben said apologetically as he jumped into the car. He quickly reversed away from the curb, almost crashing into a red SUV. The driver blared their horn angrily as Ben swiftly changed gears and sped away from the bank, fervently hoping that he wasn't heading towards the police cars. He hoped that he could put enough distance between him and the pursuing police to give him time to empty his bank account and swap cars. He was going to have to swap cars a number of times before he could stop running. But he now knew that he wasn't safe, that he would never be safe again. He was going to have to keep looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He could never stop moving. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, swerving wildly across the road as he did so. “Fuck!” His driving was drawing attention to himself. If he kept driving like this he was going to have to swap cars sooner than he would like, which was something he wanted to avoid because then he probably wouldn’t be able to get money from his account. He wound the window down a little and tossed his phone out. It was clear that these people could easily track him down, but Ben didn't want to make it too easy for them.

Ben stopped at a red light, keeping an eye on the rear view mirror. He was relieved to see that there weren't any police cars following him. But he knew that he wasn't safe from pursuit until he was well and truly out of town. The light turned green and Ben continued to drive towards the edge of town. He didn't see the police car pull out behind him until the siren sounded and the blue and red lights were flashing in his mirror. For a second Ben froze, his mind going blank. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “Shit! Shitshitshit!” He forced himself to fight down the overwhelming panic that was bubbling up inside him and causing everything to fade into darkness with flashing red and blue lights. He forced remain calm so that he could weigh up his options. By the time he had calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings once again, Ben was alarmed to find that he had already made a decision; he was speeding wildly along the road, fleeing the police car that was now in hot pursuit. “FUCK!” He screamed, pulling out into the oncoming traffic lane to overtake a much slower moving car. It wouldn't be long until there would be more police pursuing him now. He recklessly turned right, barely avoiding a head on collision with a blue sedan. He fishtailed along the road, only jus keeping control of his car. A couple of heart stopping seconds later he had managed to regain control of the car and was speeding along the road once again. He was alarmed to see that there were now more police cars in pursuit. That hadn’t taken long at all.

There was a lot of traffic on the roads, which forced Ben to take dangerous risks in order to keep the following police cars at a safe distance. He constantly pulled into the oncoming traffic lane, weaving between the cars on both sides of the roads, even driving through the middle of them a number of times. The intersections caused him the most alarm. The lights were always red when he reached them, which meant that he was forced to speed through them and hope that he wasn't t-boned by another motorist as he did so. There was one such incident, where he barely avoided a collision, which shook him so much that he actually slowed down, considering just giving up … except what would happen to him then?

Jail, for sure. Ben knew that it was unlikely that he would be able to successfully claim that he had been framed for the bank robbery. Even if he did, he would still be facing charges for stealing the car and the pursuit.

And what would these people, the ones who had just successfully framed him for an attempted bank robbery, do then?

Ben didn't want to find out. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and tore through a gas station parking lot, almost hitting a man who was walking back to his car. “Oh, god, help me!” Ben muttered, watching one police car follow him through the gas station while the rest of the squadron stuck to the road. Ben shot back onto the street, swerving frantically between cars as he tried desperately to lose the pursuit and avoid being penned in by the squad cars. It was slowly dawning on him that this wasn't likely to happen and that if he kept going the way he was he would probably end up crashing. He needed to get onto emptier roads, find somewhere he could ditch the car and continue to flee on foot. If he managed to out run the police on foot, he knew it would be simple enough to get his hands on another car and leave town. But he was probably going to have to rough it for a night or two before he could do that.

It didn't take Ben long to find some quieter streets with only a couple of other cars. But as he sped along these lush green tree lines roads, he realised that he was now facing another danger; the less traffic now enabled to police to use slightly more aggressive tactics, like the P.I.T. manoeuvre or box him in and force him to a stop that way. Ben glanced in the rear view mirror again. Sure enough a couple of the squad cars had sped up and were gaining on him. Ben pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drifted into the middle of the road, hoping to avoid any such tactics. Ben crested a small hill, and briefly caught a glimpse of flashing blue and red lights ahead of him before they were lost from view again. “Oh, shit.” Ben sighed. He knew that spike strips had been set up on the road ahead. There was a street to his left. At his current speed, Ben wouldn't be able to safely take it. He would have to slow down, which would allow his pursuers to catch up to him. But that was still preferable to facing the spike strip gauntlet, which would be difficult to avoid. Ben slammed on the brakes and turned. He was barely in control of the car. He gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. He was half convinced that he was going to crash this time. Everything outside the car was a green blur as his tyres squealed against the road.

He straightened up the car with a relieved whoop. A second later, there was a terrible crashing sound of metal on metal, and Ben was thrown violently in his seat. He fought desperately to regain control of the car as it spun out. It came to rest on the grass beside the road. He had a clear view of the road as he was very quickly boxed in by squad cars. Police officers quickly leapt out of their vehicles with their guns aimed at him. Ben held the wheel loosely in his hands, his shoulders slumped down in defeat. He couldn't hear what was being shouted at him. All he could hear was a buzzing sound as the realisation that his past had finally caught up with him and there was nothing he could do to fight it. Not anymore. Not now that he was captured. He was trapped. He was going to be killed, possibly horribly, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He glanced up despairingly at the policeman directly in front of his car and gasped, his hands tightening into a death grip on the steering wheel. He was looking at the same man who had given him the gun and framed him for the attempted bank robbery in the first place. But now he was wearing a navy blue police shirt and was now longer wearing the Dolphins hat. “You bastard.” Ben growled, reversing the car a little and lining it up. He was only going to have one go, and it was most likely going to cost him dearly. But if he was going to have a chance of getting back at the man for all this trouble, Ben wasn't going to miss it. He changed gears, steeling himself for what he was about to.

There was a loud bang. Ben's windscreen cracked. There was a round hole in the glass where the bullet had struck. He was going to have to move fast if he was going to do this. However, he didn't move fast enough. There was a quick succession of gunshots, shattering the windscreen and showering Ben with glass. Feeling weak, his vision rapidly fading to blackness, Ben glanced down and saw that his chest was now red. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the same red dripping onto his lap from his head. He could feel a numbing cold spreading through his body starting from his chest, which he found odd because his chest was ablaze with pain. Ben was sure that he was falling. He tried looking up at the man who had just shot him, who had framed him, but didn't have the strength. “You basta-” Blackness engulfed Ben, and he slumped forwards onto the steering wheel.