Robber Outfit Novels & Stories

I tried to hide all my money then I heard someone stamping on the door trying to open it forcefully. "Who was here?, show your face or we will start shooting " said by the robbers "It's me!, I am here" I replied with tears A torch light was pointed at us where we are hidden, I feel uncomfortable and undecent. I was half naked, wearing my nightgown. Which was made with net and soft materials. "Where are your money" asked by the robber's, "here" I replied.

Plus it only works on werewolves so if I am fighting a human nothing will happen. After the match I quickly grab the money I earned for the fight then move to the cleaning supplies closet. I grab my bag that I hide behind a box and empty it out. I quickly change into my bartender outfit and sigh when I look down my body. I hated the bartender outfit. I looked so - slutty. The outfit consists out of black converse , black jean shorts that stop just under my bum and a black crop top that showed most of my flat stomach. The crop top had the bars name on it in gold 'the ring'.

I wondered who this person could be. My eyes trailed down, taking in his attire. He was dressed in a magnificent ensemble befitting royalty. He wore a regal robe, its fabric a deep shade of crimson that draped gracefully around his frame. The robe was adorned with intricate patterns of gold thread, adding an opulent touch to his attire. It seemed to shimmer with every movement, catching the light and commanding attention.

There seemed to be nothing else. Robbie was different from other agents who cherished their lives. He never carried those adept secret weapons to preserve his own life. Robbie had always been upright, so he did not like the idea of keeping lethal weapons. He just kept some simple clothes and a mask. It made their image of Robbie incomparably radiant. The sisters suddenly let down their defenses and burst into tears.

However, opportunity depended on luck, and very often, it would end up with other people after searching for a long time. In comparison, robbing was easier. Various treasures could end up in their hands without any effort. Moreover, these arrogant talents more or less had good things in their hands, and they could also replenish supplies. However, they picked the wrong targets this time. These people had just been ransacked, and they looked worse for wear, only left with a pair of underpants like skinned animals. Bobby said angrily, “Do we look like we have treasures on us?” The masked man chuckled, which made him feel like he was being mocked.

The robber walked among us, taking items, putting them into a large bag. When he approached Alexandro, he stopped. "You! Your wallet!" Alexandro looked at him. He didn't move. He didn't take out his wallet. "I said take out your wallet!" the robber pointed his gun at Alexandro's face. I almost screamed, but Alexandro just blinked. "I don't have a wallet," he said flatly. "Liar! Look at your clothes! You must be rich!" "Clothes aren't an indicator of wealth." The robber growled in frustration. He aimed his gun at Alexandro's forehead.

That he'd actually have a normal job? I yawned and stretched my body. I slowly removed the ribbon of the robe I was temporarily wearing, and there my all-black nightgown was revealed. After breathing, I also put the black robe back on and tied the ribbon again. It's ugly if I wear other colors because it won't match the motif of the entire mansion anymore.

I asked, still laughing. He looked down at his outfit, an expression of mock offense crossing his face. “Hey, now, I happen to like this robe,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yours is over there, you will have to put it on too,” he added, a hint of mischief in his voice. I stopped laughing, my smile disappearing as I realized I will also have to put it on. I slowly picked up the robe, turning it over in my hands. It was made of the scratchiest fabric I had ever felt, and the colors were even worse up close.

Ava spun around to see a chaotic struggle unfolding before her. Carver was there, clad in plain black clothes and a baseball hat, his face a study in focus and determination. He moved with swift precision, a force of nature as he took on the robber. The elegance and refinement she associated with Carver had vanished, replaced by something raw, something primal.

I didn’t see any security cameras in the store, but even if they were rolling, they couldn’t possibly make out my face. The “Grim Reaper,” they call this costume, complete with a plastic sickle, but that cheap plastic part I threw straight in the trash. The robe itself will completely cover Christian’s body features, and the deep hood will entirely block any view of his face while still allowing him to see out. It will be flawless. Directly below the hanging robe sits a brand-new pair of Paul Roy Peak Explorer boots, size thirteen—Christian’s exact shoe size. I bought those in cash, too, at a discount shoe outlet on the other side of town while wearing a completely different disguise.