The first payday.

Wolf had never liked clowns. He wasn’t scared of them, he just didn’t like their stupid smiles or big red noses, painted like a target on their face. Wolf liked violence however, and the clown in front of him seemed almost too tempting to kill. He could visualise jumping up and hitting the target dead centre, but he couldn’t. He was tied to the chair. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” asked the man in the clown mask, in a heavy north-African accent.

“Because you’ve tied me up.” Wolf spat. “I’d be out that door, walking over your dead corpse and laughing if it weren’t for these ropes!” he struggled against the cable ties, but found no give. A small cough came from the shadows behind him.

“Man alive, I thought swedes were meant to be polite and nice?” came a voice, American, with a jokey tone. Another man stepped out the shadows, also wearing a clown mask with what looked like purple lungs painted on it. It had a long nose, and narrow beady eyes glinted out under the thick brow. He joined the African, and both masked men looked down at Wolf, still fuming in his chair.

“So?” he growled, “How many more of you freaks have you got hiding around this place? You a cult? You gonna sacrifice me or something?

“The only sacrifice here today will be your identity.” Said the long nosed clown, brushing a piece of lint off his pristine suit. “Take that how you will, but we want you to join us”.

“I ain’t joining your cult, lung face” Wolf suddenly laughed, cut short by the huge duffel bag of money dropping on the floor and spilling by his feet.

“We’re not a cult” came a third voice, muffled by static. Wolf realised it was coming out of a radio on a wooden crate to his left. “These fine fellows are known as Hoxton and Chains, renowned criminals and robbers, that I have brought together in order to pull off the most elaborate heist known to man.”

Wolf was shocked into silence. There must be over 20 million dollars casually scattered around his feet. Hoxton reached into a bag behind him, and Wolf saw a glimmer of chrome red. The mask was tossed to his feet, landing face up and staring at him. It was truly terrifying, still sporting the clown nose like the others, its eyes were pools of black and the mouth was pinched up into a smile. The bottom half was all red, and wolf felt a chill up his spine. He liked it.

“So will you re-think our proposal? We’ve accepted that you’re a liability, I’ve read your criminal record and it’s like a script for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but we could use your skills for our team.” The radio crackled. Silence crept into the warehouse. Hoxton brushed his jacket again. Chains scuffed his feet. Wolf looked up.

“I’m in.” he smirked, as his mask smiled blankly back at him.

The floor of the cell was cold, and Wolf fell on it hard. His suit was crumpled and torn, and the mask he had become so attached to had a long smear of dirt of it. He wished he could reach over and wipe it off, but he couldn’t. He was tied up again.

“You’re a real piece of work man.” Panted the police officer, still with his gun trained on him. “You’ll pay dearly for those men you killed today.” Wolf just chuckled, while Hoxton shoved him. He too was un-masked, and tied up.

“Please have a little decorum.” He sighed.  Wolf glowered at him.

“I’m not here to please you, I’m here to do my work, unlike you. We were so close to robbing that bank for all its worth, until you got caught by that security camera and sounded the alarm!” he sulked.

“Hey, we’re a team. We don’t point fingers, especially at the leader.” Hoxton smiled coolly.

“Leader!? As if! I’m totally running this, without me you’d...” Wolf was cut off by the cop.

“Stay quiet lovebirds, you’ll have all your lives together to argue happily in prison, unless you get sent to death row!” the cop smiled, enjoying his authority. He stopped smiling when the wall exploded, knocking him down. Bullets whistled through the smoke, and Wolf caught a glimpse of Chain’s mask as he ran to the cell. Keeping his shotgun aimed at the door, he cut his teammates bonds and swept the corridor as the others re-donned their masks.

“Nice entrance” Wolf chuckled, thumping his back.

“But how do we exit?” Hoxton asked, taking the gun off the downed cop. Chains sighed.

“Don’t all thank me at once then.” He huffed. “Don’t you worry your pretty head Hox, Bain’s set up an escape van, should be here in 10.” Wolf looked up.

“Bain?” he asked. The others looked at him.

“You never thought to ask who was on the radio. The guy who plans our heists?” Hoxton asked, silently judging him behind his mask.

“Our own little mastermind” Chains sighed wistfully. The radio on his lapel crackled.

“Awh shucks guys, that’s really sweet” came Bain’s voice, “and I hate to break the moment but you’ve got swat teams massing in your area, and the van’s right outside. You sure you wanna stick around?” the team looked at each other, and dashed out the crumbling hole in the wall, Wolf laughing over the blaring alarms.

Former convictions against Chicago mobs, bouncer turned hitman, hunted and feared by many, Bain knew he had found his man. This crew he had assembled, Wolf, Chains and Hoxton, they were good but they lacked unity. He needed them to have a superior on the scene, a leader, a motivator and an icon to rally behind. Bain turned to the last unpainted clown mask still half in its box. It smiled up at him, almost calling to be worn. Then he had a brainwave. Unity. The American flag. Chuckling to himself, he swivelled back round to his monitors. He just needed to make a few calls now, it wasn’t long. Payday was coming close.

Wolf had once questioned why the classic ‘secret base’ was in a dry cleaner’s store, and not an off-shore untraceable high-tech bunker. The others had laughed, and Bain had simply said ‘suits are classy’. Now, sitting in said dry cleaner’s store, Wolf had questioned why the others looked so scared of the man who had walked in. He wore a lightly patterned brown suit, and had slight grey stubble over soft features. Chains and Hoxton, unmasked, inhaled in unison as he placed a box on the table and opened it. Hoxton drew a pistol, expecting the man to draw a weapon, but the he only retrieved a mask. A clown mask. Everyone stopped, and stared at the menacing grin emblazoned with the American flag.

“Hello gentlemen.” The man said. “I’m your new leader. You can call me Dallas.”

“Oh no you don’t, that’s my role!” protested Hoxton, gun still raised, but Chains lowered it.

“You know him, Nathan Steele, he’s more wanted than all of us combined, and you know Bain only employs the best.” He reasoned, and Hoxton sighed, holstering his gun.

“What the hell are you lot on about!? Are you crazy, I’m the leader here, I haven’t even heard of this Dallas guy or whoever you are!” wolf started shouting. Dallas smiled.

“Wolf, I presume?” he asked, then punched him square in the face. Wolf went flying, and sprawled into a rack of dry-cleaned suits. Dallas calmly put his mask to his face, pulling the thick straps snugly over the back of his head. He walked over to where Wolf lay groaning on a pile of bags, and thrust his masked face menacingly close.

“When Bain gives an order, we follow. That’s our job. You want to get paid, you do the job.” He stood up and turned away, “Even a mangy wolf can understand that you stick with the pack.” Wolf growled, but stopped. Wiping blood off his lip, he stood up and stayed quiet.

“That’s a good boy, heel.” Chuckled Dallas, and Hoxton smiled.

“You’ve tamed the wolf, that earns my respect.” He scoffed, nudging Chains. Dallas turned to them, and they snapped to attention.

“Right, I’m here because I like violence and money. I’m assuming you’re the same. We’ve all done terrible things, and that’s ok because we’re going to do worse. Bain has a little surprise in store for the Harvest &Trustee bank, involving their gold, a safe-cracking thermal lance, lots and lots of shooting and four bad ass clowns. Who’s in?” he pulled his gun from his holster and shoved in a fresh clip. Hoxton and Chains followed him out the door to the van waiting outside, Chains pulling on a bullet-proof vest. Wolf growled to himself, and stooped to pick up his mask, which had fallen to the floor with him. Adjusting the straps and straightening his tie, he picked up the biggest and baddest shotgun he could see on the rack. It was time to take some anger out. Despite being on Dallas’ leash, Wolf still loved his job.

“Are you coming then or what?” called Chains from the back of the van. Wolf let out a huge howl, than ran straight for the van.

He was happy, he was going to get to get paid.