At six-thirty in the morning, the city was already awake.
Which made this harder.
The bank hummed with ordinary life, soft conversations, the shuffle of feet against polished tile, the mechanical click of the queue system. Customers lined up beneath tall windows that flooded the lobby with sunlight, making everything look clean, open, and honest. Behind reinforced glass, tellers stifled yawns. Near the entrance, a uniformed guard cradled a paper cup of coffee like it was the only thing holding him upright.
Across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, Wolf adjusted his sunglasses and smiled as if the world already belonged to him.
"Alright, team," he said smoothly over comms. "Same rules as always. We walk in, we walk out, and nobody panics. Confidence is everything."
I straightened my tie and stepped toward the revolving doors.
Inside, I was no longer Prince.
I was Mr. Alaric Crown, regional auditor, mid-thirties, overworked, slightly annoyed, and absolutely expected. The forged badge clipped to my coat weighed just enough to feel real. The tablet in my paw displayed numbers that meant nothing and everything.
A lion in a tailored suit didn't raise suspicion.
He raised expectations.
Past the entrance stretched the lobby: teller counters straight ahead, a roped queue snaking through the center, and off to the right, a frosted glass wall marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Beyond that wall lay the restricted corridor.
"Good morning," a teller called as I passed.
I dipped my head once, professional but dismissive, and kept walking.
"Cameras are live," Webs murmured. "But they're seeing what I want them to see. Prince, you're clean."
Snake slipped through the security checkpoint unnoticed, already ghosting through the bank's internal systems. Piranha stood patiently in line, his fake mustache sitting crooked on his snout—unconvincing, yet somehow ignored. Shark, disguised in a guard's uniform that barely fit his massive frame, leaned against the wall between the lobby and the offices, close enough to intercept anyone who wandered too far.
Wolf entered last.
Relaxed, smiling and dangerous.
He struck up a conversation with the front guard immediately, charm bending gravity around him.
"Morning!" Wolf said cheerfully. "Beautiful day to guard money, huh?"
The guard laughed. "You have no idea."
"Front desk security's distracted," Snake reported. "Shark's in position."
I passed a mother tugging her child away from the candy machine. A businessman tapped his foot, eyes locked on his watch. The teller called the next number.
No one paid attention when I veered toward the frosted glass wall marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
They never do.
The door opened into a short transition space neither lobby nor back room. The air smelled faintly of printer ink and stale coffee. Beyond it stretched the bank's internal offices: cubicles packed tight, desks cluttered with paperwork, computer monitors glowing with spreadsheets and customer records.
Employees moved with the tired efficiency of people already thinking about lunch. A fox in a cardigan balanced a stack of folders against her hip. A badger argued quietly into a headset. Somewhere, a printer jammed and beeped in protest.
I walked with purpose not rushed, just another professional late for something important. No one questioned the lion in the suit as I passed between cubicles, tablet tucked under my arm.
"Morning," someone muttered without looking up.
I nodded back, already annoyed on principle.
"Prince," Webs murmured in my ear, "you're in the administrative offices. Cameras are looping. You've got eyes on you, but they're bored eyes."
At the far end of the office space stood another door.
No glass this time.
Solid, gray, unmarked except for a small keypad and a warning sign posted just above eye level:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
This was the real line.
A narrow hallway branched off behind it, no cubicles, no printers, no background noise. Just infrastructure, servers and security. The parts of the building no customer was ever meant to see.
An otter in a vest stood nearby, leaning against a filing cabinet and scrolling through his phone. He glanced up briefly as I approached.
I slowed not stopped.
Just enough to look inconvenienced.
"Network audit," I said, flashing the badge without breaking stride. "Shouldn't take long."
The otter squinted at the badge, then at my face. A beat passed.
Then he shrugged. "Figures. Everything's been glitchy all morning."
"Always is," I replied dryly.
He turned back to his phone.
"Restricted corridor ahead," Webs said quietly. "Prince, you've got a twelve-second window."
I swiped the card.
The lock clicked.
I slipped through the door and let it close behind me, sealing off the hum of the office in one smooth motion.
The sound died instantly.
Cool air pressed against my fur. The lighting shifted, whiter, harsher. The hallway ahead was narrow, built for security, not comfort.
This was where the bank stopped pretending to be friendly.
I didn't hesitate.
"Lasers ahead," Webs warned.
The corridor was narrow, its ceiling low. Thin red beams crisscrossed the space, some ankle-high, others chest-level, turning the air itself into a lattice of invisible danger.
"Step left. Two tiles forward. Stop." Webs guided.
I moved without thinking, my paws finding their marks like muscle memory had already mapped the path. The beams passed inches from my suit.
At the far end, the vault chamber waited.
It was wide and circular, its walls thick and unyielding, the ceiling rising nearly two stories high. Maintenance rails and vents webbed the upper corners, just out of sight unless you knew to look.
The vault door itself sat dead center, massive, round, arrogant.
I reached the control panel and paused.
From my sleeve, I slid out a palm-sized device, flat, matte black, easy to miss. I pressed it against the keypad. Magnets clicked softly as it locked into place.
The screen flickered.
Code poured across the display, scrolling too fast for anyone else to process.
"Device synced," Webs murmured. "Give it a second."
I waited.
Three seconds... four.
The scrolling slowed, then stopped. A string of numbers appeared. I pulled the device free and keyed the passcode in manually.
A clean string of numbers appeared.
I removed the device and entered the code manually.
Beep.
The vault responded with a deep, satisfied hum. Heavy internal locks disengaged, and the door rolled open just enough to invite me inside.
"Vault open," Webs said. "You're golden... Literally."
The room gleamed.
Gold bars stacked with military precision. Bundled cash sealed and sorted. Wealth sitting patiently, waiting for someone who knew how to take it.
"Moving." I said.
I pulled reinforced bags from my coat. Gold went in first, solid, unforgiving weight, followed by stacks of cash. The load dragged at my shoulders, but I adjusted, centered myself, and kept moving.
Out front, Wolf worked the room.
"So you're telling me," he said to the teller, leaning comfortably on the counter, "that my transfer didn't go through and I have to come back later?"
The teller blinked. "Sir, please—"
"That's alright," Wolf said warmly. "I understand. These things happen."
People relaxed around him without knowing why. Conversations slowed. Attention drifted.
"Prince," Wolf said calmly on the coms, "time to wrap."
"On my way."
A shadow shifted overhead.
Snake uncoiled from the vent above the vault entrance, his scaled body moving with liquid precision. Thick muscles wrapped around the frame as he lowered himself, tail dangling within reach.
"Hurry up," he said.
I sealed the bag and slung it over my shoulder. Snake's tail cinched firmly around my waist. His muscles tightened like tensioned cables.
"You trust me?" he asked.
"Not even a little."
"Good."
With a controlled lift, he hauled us upward, guiding us into the ceiling vent. We crawled only a short distance before Snake eased the rear vent cover loose.
Darkness swallowed us.
"Clear," he whispered.
We dropped into a narrow service alley behind the bank, concrete warm beneath my boots. Generators hummed nearby, and the smell of oil hung thick in the air.
Shark waited near the backdoor, his massive frame blocking most of the alley light. He relaxed the moment he saw us.
"Took you long enough."
I slid the duffel off my shoulder and passed it over. He tested the weight once and nodded.
"All accounted for?"
"Not a single bar left behind."
The backdoor cracked open just enough for us to slip through and then we were on the street, blending back into the morning like we'd never left.
Wolf waited by the car.
"Got it?" he asked.
I adjusted the strap beneath my coat. "Every last bar."
Wolf smiled.
The crew regrouped naturally. No rush. No panic.
Inside the bank, a guard frowned at his monitor.
"…That's weird."
He jogged down the hallway, stopped short at the vault—
Open.
Empty.
"…Oh."
The alarm screamed.
Red lights exploded across the lobby. Customers shouted. Coffee shattered against tile.
Outside, we were already moving.
Wolf was in the driver's seat. Shark piled in beside Piranha. Snake and Webbs followed, laughing breathlessly.
I took the passenger seat.
The engine purred.
"Timing?" Wolf asked.
"Impeccable," Webs replied. "Police units dispatched."
Sirens wailed behind us.
One by one, we lifted our black sunglasses.
Click.
Wolf hit the gas.
The car surged into traffic just as the first cruiser burst onto the street behind us, lights flashing.
"Looks like we've got company!" Piranha whooped.
Wolf laughed. "Good. I was getting bored."
We tore through the city, tires screaming as Wolf threaded between buses and delivery trucks. A cruiser clipped a corner and spun out.
Snake hissed approvingly. "Oh, that was pretty."
"Left turn ahead," Webs said.
Wolf yanked the wheel, diving into a narrow alley between a warehouse and a shuttered diner. Sparks flew as mirrors shattered. Sirens echoed then faded as we burst back onto the main road.
"They're losing us," Shark said calmly.
Wolf grinned. "Not yet."
Smoke and steel swallowed us as we hit the industrial district. Wolf killed the lights and slid the car behind a moving freight truck. Police cruisers sped past, chasing nothing.
Silence.
Then laughter.
The warehouse doors opened just long enough to swallow us whole.
Wolf cut the engine and leaned back.
"Another successful withdrawal."
Inside, the space opened wide, dim lights, concrete floors, and the comforting sight of gold and cash stacked everywhere, spilling out of crates and duffel bags like the place itself was hoarding sins.
Piranha hopped out first, laughing. "Man, nothing like a successful morning crime to start the day!"
Shark hefted a bag of gold onto a growing pile with a satisfied grunt. Snake was already counting, coils flicking with interest. Webs rolled in on her chair, parking herself near the central table, screens lighting up the dim room.
Prince slipped out of the car last.
He stretched once, rolled his shoulders, then spoke casually, like this was just another part of the routine.
"I'll be using the toilet."
No one stopped him.
He disappeared down the short hallway toward the bathroom.
Piranha watched him go, tilting his head. "You know," he said, lowering his voice, "Prince really has the patience to put that dye powder on and remove it every time after a heist."
Wolf dropped one of the gold bags into a corner, straightening up. "You know him," he said easily. "He doesn't want his face tied to this life. Especially if he wants to be a singer."
Shark frowned slightly, genuine confusion crossing his face. "I don't get it. He's already famous. I mean he's with us."
Wolf chuckled and moved toward the couch, sinking into it. "That's exactly why. There's a difference between being known for being bad… and being loved for something good."
He picked up the remote and flicked on the TV.
Static crackled once before a bright news studio filled the screen.
"And in other news," the newscaster said energetically, "today marks the first round of auditions for the nationwide singing competition RisingStar! Aspiring performers are already lining up outside the Calatonia Arena, hoping for a chance to impress the judges."
The screen cut to footage of a massive crowd, animals of all species clutching instruments, sheet music, and dreams.
Webs leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"…Isn't that the one Prince mentioned?"
Piranha glanced at the screen. "Didn't he say he was auditioning today?"
Wolf's ears twitched.
He shot up from the couch. "Prince!" he called out. "Hurry up! The audition's already starting!"
From the bathroom came a muffled shout.
"ALRIGHT!!"
Ten minutes passed.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Prince stepped out and for a moment, no one spoke.
Where once stood a yellow-furred lion in a tailored suit, now stood a pink panther, fur, a soft but unmistakable shade of rose. His mane was gone, replaced by sleek, smooth fur. His posture was lighter, looser and less guarded.
In one paw, he held a guitar case.
He adjusted the strap over his shoulder and smiled faintly. "I'll be going now, guys."
Piranha blinked. "Whoa... Every time, it still freaks me out."
"Me too" Shark said.
Wolf raised a paw. "Good luck."
Snake smirked. "Try not to get arrested on the legal side."
Webs gave him a small nod. "Break a leg. Preferably not literally."
Prince paused at the door, fingers tightening briefly around the guitar case.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Then he was gone.
Out into a world where no one would recognize him not as a criminal, not as a legend. Just another pink panther chasing a voice he'd been hiding for far too long.