Robber Outfit Novels & Stories

S) “Roby…should we just get the hell out already…I got a bad feeling about this..”. (Rabbit Masked Robber) There’s 3 robber in the room, 2 of them were in a prone positions, on top of the table, aiming at the outside of the building. One wearing a rhino mask, another wears a fox mask and the one who act nonchalantly and loud mouth was wearing a rabbit masked, following the other 2 the rabbit masked were the one who’s the closest to the door. He lean on the wall next to the door, whilst whining to his colleague.

"How long have you been here?" "Since last night," he said, taking off the itchy outfit he was wearing and stepping into a pair of soft blue pants, pulling the shirt over his head. It fit him in a strange way, so different compared to the usual garb he wore on a daily basis, but the people I had seen in the square had been wearing similar fashions of loose, flowing fabrics that were lightly dyed. He shrugged, looking at himself in the mirror. "What happened to you and Robbie?"

Streamers of smoke rose from its edges as I ran my hands through the strange raiment, gaze lingering on it as it gleamed blue-black in the moonlight, just like a raven's wing. Smug, he watched me study the garment in awe. I glared back, half-expecting to see a rib-cage where his robe should be. Instead, there was most definitely flesh, and well-muscled flesh at that, decked out in an outfit that would make a biker cry. Red pinstriped pants over combat boots battled to tame a Count of Monte Cristo-esque ruffled white shirt into submission. He wore a fitted leather jacket over the ensemble. The chain of a pocket-watch dangled from his breast, and a studded belt flashed silver in the moonl

I yank the cloth tie off my eyes and meet two sets of ocean blues waiting for me. One of them runs a hand through his semi-long black hair, his hands, neck and every other part of him except his face marked in abrasive black-ink tattoos. The other robber is modestly lean in muscle, his frame differing from his partner that ushered me into the vault. He has blond, unruly hair. They both pause for a minute. They didn't anticipate my determination to get a look at them, and honestly, I didn't anticipate feeling the way I did upon seeing them.

The robber rolled on the ground while wincing and groaning in pain, holding his abused leg. The robber raised his head on the man. “What the fuck?! What did you do?!” The man smiled at him. He’s wearing faded jeans, black leather jacket with a white hoodie jacket underneath. A normal guy, so to speak. “Not bad, you’re fast. Such a shame you have a passive sense that you didn’t even sense my presence.” The robber glared at the man and as he’s limping, he stood up and was about to attack the man but the man swiftly turned to avoid the robber’s attack. He grabbed the robber’s arm and swiftly pinned him on the ground and handcuffed him.

Sighing, we let go of each other. When we got of our hiding place, we saw a dead man on the floor. It was the robber. He was quite skinny. Even though I couldn’t see his all of his face, I could tell by the soft features and clothing that he was just a kid. The way he had done things was a sure sign that he was an amateur.

"You look beautiful if you don't mind me saying." I almost laugh then realise he's not in a joking mood; so I clear my throat, "Good morning Mr Rogue Von Quaint, you don't look bad yourself," I respond, finally catching my breath. He's wearing a vest made with navy blue Ankara on top of a navy blue long sleeve the difference between the two fabrics obvious, but a masterpiece. He looks very fine in this attire and I can't remember when last something Rogue wore didn't fit him. His beards are shaved leaving his face much more different from when I last saw him. His black hair is in a neat bun and only a lock falls to his face and I'm not sure if he did that on purpose or if the lock is just as

“You can touch me when Nessa is not about to walk onto my lot with a ghost.” “How do you know?” Rook’s voice from the bay. “Because she is here.” Nessa stood at the fence line with sunlight on old pack colours. In her hands, a jacket. Not mine. Not the one I rode in. His spare. The one that had lived in a yard before a till girl. It looked smaller. Meaner. Like it remembered other shoulders. She hung it on the chair just inside the open bay, careful, almost tender. “It still fits a real rider,” she said. “I checked.”

He saw a rogue in ripped clothes bearing skulls and bones, more like in Gothic fashion. Beside him another rogue stood, he was huger, and looked dangerous than any rogue he had ever seen. He wore golden rings in the shape of a skull. His ten fingers were covered with rings, his bare arms head cross bones tattoos with a giant Python head and a nicked woman with long hair.

“No…no. How can we go past the guards?” Even in the dim lighting, I could see his bright smile of relief washes on his face, and then he placed a lingering kiss on my forehead. “Leave that to me, and don’t say anything.” I simply nodded without raising any objection to whatever plan was hatching inside his head. A shiver ran down my spine soon as he placed his large hand on the small of my back and guided me through the walkway. Right past a shady lamp post, just then, I noticed that Nikolai had changed his clothes to one of those similar to what the guards were wearing. A black combat pants and a sturdy coat with a multitude of pockets on the sides and chest. In addition to that, he wore a