Author: Drac Von Stoller

Publisher: Drac Von Stoller

Published: 2024-06-05

Total Pages: 16

ISBN-13:

It was a dark and stormy night in the small town of Brimstone, as the winds howled and the rain pounded against the windows of the dilapidated bank. Inside, a lone security guard named Frank was making his rounds, his footsteps echoing through the empty building. As he turned a corner, he froze in terror as he came face to face with a group of four figures dressed in old-fashioned suits and fedoras. His heart raced as he recognized them - it was John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly, Pretty Boy Floyd, infamous gangsters who had been dead for decades. "You're all... you're supposed to be dead," Frank stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "We are, but we've come back for one last score," Dillinger said with a smirk, the light glinting off the barrel of his tommy gun. Before Frank could react, the gangsters sprang into action, holding him at gunpoint as they forced him to open up the bank's vault. The room filled with the sound of creaking metal as the massive door swung open, revealing rows of gleaming gold bars and stacks of cash. "Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys," Machine Gun Kelly grinned, his eyes glittering with greed. As the gangsters started loading up their bags with the stolen loot, Frank's mind raced with fear and confusion. How were these dead criminals able to come back to life? And why were they robbing banks again after all these years? "You're all dead, you can't do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of clinking gold. "Oh, we can do whatever we want now that we're back," John said with a wicked smile, his gun pointed directly at Frank's head. As they prepared to make their escape, the sound of sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer with each passing second. The gangsters glanced at each other with a mix of excitement and trepidation, knowing that the police were hot on their trail. "We need to get out of here fast," Pretty Boy Floyd said, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble. But before they could flee, the air grew icy cold as a spectral figure materialized before them. It was the ghostly form of Al Capone, another infamous gangster from their era. "What do you think you're doing, Dillinger? This town belongs to me," Capone growled, his voice echoing through the room like a thunderstorm. Dillinger's face went pale with shock as he realized that he had underestimated the power of his old rival. Capone's ghost raised his hand, and a wave of energy surged through the room, sending the gangsters flying backwards in a whirlwind of chaos. "Nobody steals from me, especially not a bunch of has-beens like you," Capone sneered, his eyes flashing with anger. As the gangsters struggled to regain their footing, Frank saw his chance and made a break for it, running towards the exit with all the speed he could muster. But just