Chapter 3: The World's Worst Bank Robbery Plan
A recreational vehicle sat parked along Corona Avenue in Queens, its faded paint job testament to years of wear and tear.
Rango squeezed through the narrow door, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the frame. His gaze swept over the compact interior.
On one side, a counter had been cleverly converted into storage space and a shoe rack. In the center sat a worn sofa and coffee table—the sofa clearly designed to fold out into a bed at night.
The entire rear of the vehicle served as a kitchen area, complete with a mini-fridge, sink, storage counter, and a two-burner stove. Everything was compact but functional.
Despite the cramped quarters, the interior was meticulously clean. Several small potted plants added touches of green throughout the space, making it feel less like a vehicle and more like a tiny home.
"Beer or whiskey?" Kevin asked, already heading toward the small fridge.
"Beer. I don't want to get drunk on my first day back in New York."
Catching the ice-cold can Kevin tossed him, Rango sank onto the sofa, looked around the modest space, and asked, "What happened, man? You used to have that house in Woodside."
"Bank foreclosed on it."
Kevin dropped into the seat across from him, his expression surprisingly upbeat. "A lot's happened since you left. My mom got hit by a drunk driver during her commute home from her night shift. She didn't make it. The insurance company dragged their feet on the payout, and I couldn't cover the mortgage on my own." He shrugged. "But hey, having an RV beats sleeping under a bridge, right?"
Rango's expression darkened. He sighed heavily. "Damn, Kevin. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
He raised his beer can solemnly. "To Dana. She was a hell of a woman. Best mom in Queens."
"To Dana!"
Kevin's face lit up with a genuine smile. He grabbed his whiskey glass and raised it alongside the two beer cans, then knocked it back in one gulp.
"So," Rango said after a respectful pause, wiping his mouth, "what was that little operation you had going in the park earlier?"
He smirked. "You used to be terrified of dogs when we were kids. Now you've got the guts to fence stolen merchandise in broad daylight?"
Kevin waved his hands defensively. "First of all, that jewelry and those handbags weren't stolen by me—Doug's crew boosted them. I just help move the merchandise for a cut. Second..."
He pointed an accusing finger at Rango. "That wasn't just 'a dog.' That was a Rottweiler the size of a small horse! I was nine years old! Wetting my pants was a completely reasonable response to facing down a demon dog!"
Seeing his passionate defense, Rango and Ted exchanged amused glances.
"How is Doug these days?" Rango asked casually. "After I left, I figured he'd be running half of Queens by now."
As one of the few white kids growing up in a tough Queens neighborhood, Rango had dealt with his share of bullies and street gangs during his youth.
But having lived two lives—and with the confidence his mysterious system had given him—he wasn't the type to take abuse lying down.
One night, after being shaken down for the third time that week, teenage Rango had pulled a knife and made it very clear that he wasn't easy prey.
From then on, he always carried some kind of weapon. Anyone who tried to mess with him quickly learned he was willing to escalate things.
Over time, his reputation grew. He earned respect—and made both friends and enemies—throughout Queens. By high school, he'd been known as someone you didn't cross lightly.
"Doug's running with a crew out in Brooklyn now," Kevin explained. "Works for some guy named Dominic who runs a chop shop and side hustles. They've been pulling in decent money, I hear. But listen, Rango..."
Kevin's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "That's not important right now. Do you remember what happened to your parents? When they disappeared?"
Rango's entire body tensed. He leaned forward sharply. "What about them? Did you see something?"
"No, not exactly, but..."
Kevin hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "After you sold your parents' house and went overseas, there were these weird guys hanging around the property for weeks. They wore dark suits and sunglasses—even at night. And I swear I saw one of them carrying what looked like... I don't know, religious stuff? Crosses, vials of what might've been holy water, weird symbols carved into wooden stakes."
He met Rango's intense gaze. "I always wondered if there was more to your parents' disappearance than just 'mysterious circumstances.' Those guys weren't cops. They were something else."
Rango slowly leaned back against the sofa, his mind racing. His fingers drummed absently on the armrest.
Nine years ago, he'd been just a middle school kid. He'd come home from school one ordinary Tuesday afternoon, opened the front door, and found the house in chaos.
The walls had been scorched black in places. Furniture was overturned. And his parents—who'd just returned from a business trip that morning—were simply gone.
The police had investigated. They'd called it a gas leak or electrical fire, but they couldn't identify an ignition source. The burn patterns didn't match any normal fire. And there were no bodies, no blood, nothing to explain where his parents had gone.
At the time, Rango had been powerless to push for answers. He'd been a kid with no resources, no connections.
Later, after his sister died from childbirth complications, he'd been so emotionally devastated that college felt pointless. That's when Cobb had shown up with an offer to work overseas, and Rango had jumped at the chance to escape.
"Forget it for now," Rango said, shaking his head to clear the dark memories. He crushed his empty beer can. "I'll look into my parents' situation when I have time. Right now, my priority is Emma."
He explained the orphanage situation—the Director's requirements, the need for stable employment and housing, all of it.
Kevin listened carefully, studying his old friend.
Ted still looked like an oversized plush toy, nothing unusual there. But Rango...
He wore a simple brown canvas jacket over a faded black t-shirt and dark jeans. The watch on his wrist looked nice but wasn't anything flashy—definitely not a Rolex or anything Kevin recognized.
It seemed his childhood friend hadn't struck it as rich overseas as Kevin had assumed. No wonder he was stressed about the house and job requirements.
Thinking he understood Rango's financial troubles, Kevin suddenly stood up. He checked outside the RV windows carefully, making sure no one was watching, then quickly pulled the curtains shut and locked the door.
"Kevin... what are you doing?"
"Hold on."
Kevin reached into a hidden compartment beneath the shoe cabinet and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper.
"I have an idea," he said seriously. "If we can pull this off, it'll solve your housing problem AND set us both up for life."
"Uh..."
Ted's eyes widened as Kevin spread the paper across the coffee table, revealing a detailed floor plan of the Roslyn Savings Bank.
"Are you... are you seriously proposing we rob a bank?"
"Exactly!" Kevin's face broke into a confident grin. "I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. I've been planning this for years, and I've created the perfect heist. Zero flaws. Completely foolproof!"
Before Rango or Ted could interrupt, Kevin launched into his explanation with the enthusiasm of a man presenting a brilliant business plan.
"First, we get jobs at this bank. Doesn't matter what—janitors, security guards, tellers, whatever gets us inside!"
"Then, we show up every single day and do our jobs. We work hard, gain everyone's trust, become indispensable members of the team. They'll never suspect a thing!"
"Okay..." Rango raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. So far, the plan sounded... well, it sounded like having a job, but he'd let Kevin finish.
"And then what? How do we actually get the money? Wait until everyone goes home and crack the vault?"
"No, no, no! That's the genius part!" Kevin threw his arm around Rango's shoulders proudly. "The bank will transfer money directly into our accounts! Every week! Every month! They won't even realize they're being robbed! And after twenty or thirty years of this, we just walk out the front door with our heads held high—completely legal, zero risk!"
"..."
Rango and Ted stared at Kevin in stunned silence.
Something was very, very wrong with this plan.
"Kevin," Rango said slowly, taking a deep breath. "I want to make sure I understand this correctly."
He turned to face his friend, whose expression still radiated misplaced confidence.
"Did you just confuse the concept of 'robbing a bank' with 'working at a bank'? Twenty or thirty years? Have you ever heard of a bank robber who stays at the crime scene for three decades collecting a paycheck?"
"Well..."
Kevin's confident expression crumbled. After a long, awkward pause, he laughed sheepishly. "Okay, yeah. I guess I'm really not cut out for a life of crime."
Rango couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You misunderstood my problem, man. I'm not broke. I've got money. I'm just... lost. It's my first day back in New York after years away, and I don't know how to navigate the system anymore."
Ted chimed in, "That's right. The work we did in Africa? One job could buy ten RVs like this one. Rango's not worried about money—he's worried about legitimacy. He needs the kind of job that'll make him look stable and responsible."
"A job?" Kevin blinked in confusion. "What's so hard about that? Businesses on Roosevelt Avenue are hiring constantly. With your skills and background, Rango, you could get hired anywhere."
"As what?" Rango shot back. "A dishwasher? Retail clerk? Night shift cashier at a convenience store?"
He leaned forward. "You really think if I show up at that orphanage with a minimum-wage job, that hard-ass Director is going to approve me to adopt Emma? The guy already thinks I'm irresponsible."
"Oh. Right. Yeah, that's... that's a problem." Kevin nodded, seeing the issue now.
In New York, especially in cases involving adoption, the screening process was notoriously strict—even for blood relatives. They'd want to see career stability, financial security, and a safe home environment.
"Wait!" Kevin's face lit up suddenly. "I just remembered—my uncle works at a museum in Manhattan. They're hiring a new night security supervisor. The pay's supposed to be really good, and the museum Director is this well-connected socialite, really respected in the city. If you got the job and she vouched for you, the orphanage would have to take you seriously!"
"Security supervisor?" Rango frowned.
He hadn't spent years in Africa building his skills and bank account just to become a night watchman. But then again, if it meant getting Emma out of that orphanage and into a real home...
It would be temporary. Just long enough to satisfy the adoption requirements. Once Emma was officially in his custody, he could figure out something better.
"Alright," he said finally. "Where is this place?"
Kevin grinned. "Manhattan. The American Museum of Natural History."
Ted looked up at Rango as they walked back toward where they'd parked. "You're really going to interview for a security guard position? You? The guy who used to handle armed extractions in hostile territory?"
"It's temporary," Rango said firmly. "Just until I get Emma home. After that, I'll figure something else out."
"Sure," Ted said skeptically. "Nothing ever goes according to plan with you. This museum job is probably going to turn into some insane adventure involving ancient curses and animated dinosaurs or something."
Rango stopped walking and stared down at the teddy bear.
"That's ridiculous, Ted. It's a museum. What's the worst that could happen?"
Ted's button eyes seemed to gleam with knowing amusement.
"With your luck? Everything."
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