"Smith, I think taking just one hostage would suffice, let the others go. They're nothing but a burden," suggested the front robber, clearly understanding his leader's mindset.
Smith considered this briefly before nodding. He began scanning the bus, evaluating the children as potential hostages.
Teacher Bailey, still at gunpoint, raised a trembling hand. "Take me instead," she pleaded. "These are just children. If you take one of them and they start crying... it won't be easy to quiet them down."
Her voice faltered, betraying her fear despite her brave front.
Meanwhile, driver Paul remained hunched in his seat, head lowered in quiet submission. He had children, a wife, and elderly parents who depended on him. Though guilt gnawed at his conscience, self-preservation won out. He couldn't bring himself to volunteer.
"That makes sense," Smith acknowledged, visibly persuaded by Bailey's reasoning.
A child hostage would offer minimal resistance, true, but a crying child would complicate matters considerably. Since the hostage's primary purpose was deterring police pursuit, not someone they planned to eliminate outright, practicality mattered.
"Smith, I think her suggestion is excellent," the two rear robbers chimed in, eyeing Teacher Bailey's attractive features and curvaceous figure with unmistakable malice.
Bailey noticed their predatory gazes and trembled but maintained her resolve. She stood and moved beside Smith, accepting her fate.
"Wait."
Jerry, who had been quietly observing from the back, sighed audibly before rising from his seat.
"I believe I'd make the most suitable hostage," he announced with remarkable composure. "My father is the Queens County Sheriff, likely the one coordinating your pursuit operation. I'm just a child with no ability to resist, and I promise to be completely cooperative."
Teacher Bailey was a dedicated educator who genuinely cared for her students. Jerry couldn't bear the thought of her falling into these criminals' clutches.
More importantly, if he accompanied the robbers, he could act without concern for collateral damage, making his decision simple.
"Jerry! What are you saying? Sit down this instant!" Bailey's expression transformed into one of horror and disbelief. "Mr. Paul will take you all home shortly."
Jerry was renowned throughout the school, not only for his academic excellence but for his exemplary character. He was among Bailey's favourite students, which made his self-sacrificial gesture both touching and alarming.
Smith's attention, however, had been captured by Jerry's mention of his father. The sheriff's son would make a far more valuable bargaining chip than an elementary school teacher. Additionally, a child posed less risk of resistance than an adult woman.
"Bring him over," Smith ordered the nearest robber.
"Smith, I still think the woman would be better," the subordinate protested, his intentions transparent.
Smith, knowing his underling all too well, delivered a swift kick. "Money can buy any woman you want. Take the sheriff's kid and let's evacuate immediately."
"Brother!" Aisha cried, grabbing Jerry's hand as she realized what was happening. Though only a middle schooler with typical adolescent concerns, she wasn't naive. She understood that if her brother were taken, something terrible might follow.
"Aisha," Jerry said softly, gently removing her hand. "Your brother is going to send these demons back to hell. I'll return soon." He winked reassuringly. "Listen to Teacher Bailey and don't worry, your brother is a demon lord himself."
With that, he walked toward the waiting robber.
"Little bastard, behave yourself or I'll blow your head off!"
Once off the school bus, the robber attempted to kick Jerry viciously, but the boy evaded with a nimble forward leap.
When the thug prepared for a second attempt, Smith sharply reprimanded him from behind.
After securing Jerry, the four robbers methodically shot out all four bus tires with their rifles before disappearing into the roadside forest with their hostage.
They soon reached a black off-road vehicle that had clearly been positioned in advance.
"You guys came prepared," Jerry observed as he was sandwiched between two burly robbers in the back seat, inwardly calculating his options.
The vehicle roared to life, weaving through the grove before emerging onto a hidden access road. After several minutes, they merged onto a main thoroughfare, instantly becoming indistinguishable within the traffic flow.
An hour later, the black SUV pulled up before a dilapidated warehouse on the city's outskirts.
The four criminals herded Jerry inside, carrying their substantial haul of stolen cash.
"Click"
Jerry eyed the wooden door as the robbers secured it. "Seems they don't plan to keep me alive," he murmured under his breath. "Can't say they weren't warned."
Immediately upon entering the warehouse, all four men removed their masks—a subconscious action that instantly revealed their intentions regarding Jerry's fate. But the robbers, intoxicated by their successful heist and narrow escape, hadn't yet processed this critical mistake.
By the time they realized their error, Jerry knew it would be too late.
"As they say, strike first and you gain the advantage. Strike later, and you suffer," Jerry whispered to himself. "If not now, when?"
The sound of raucous laughter filtered through the door as the robbers celebrated their windfall, precisely the moment when their vigilance would be at its lowest. Perfect timing.
"Vera Verto"
Extracting the wand concealed in his waistband, Jerry cast a Transfiguration Charm on a broken chair leg he'd spotted in the corner, transforming it into a razor-sharp dagger.
The transfiguration would last approximately ten minutes at his current skill level, barely sufficient, but it would have to do.
"Alohomora"
Jerry pointed his wand at the locked door, and the mechanism clicked open. Gripping both wand and dagger, he carefully eased the door ajar and slipped outside.
The warehouse was cluttered with discarded junk and debris, providing ample concealment. In the center of the open space, the four criminals guzzled beer while counting their stolen cash, clearly in a celebratory mood.
"Time to use those Little Red Stars."
Rather than immediately casting a spell, Jerry first activated the "refreshing" function on his panel.
His nightly good deeds in town, culminating in preventing that robbery on his final evening, had earned him over fifty Little Red Stars. Activating this reserve would sustain the "refreshing function" for more than fifty minutes, more than enough time.