It wasn't always like this. We had better times. I first met him under unorthodox circumstances three years ago. Back then, I was homeless and trying desperately to make ends meet. I purchased a few ice hockey tickets and hoped to resell them to make a few bucks. It was a top-of-the table clash, after all, between the Metroplex Ice Cubes and the Citycom Defrosters, and I thought the tickets would sell like hot cakes. One of my potential customers was a swank, handsome young man about my age of 25. He was going through the seat numbers when someone patted me on the shoulder from behind.

"Thought I'd see you here. Let's take a ride downtown."

I uttered not a word, but stupidly hoped to will Sergeant Higgins away. Of course that didn't work. I followed him to his car, expecting to spend another night in the slammer, not that it was my first time.

For the eleventh time since I was 22, lockup attendant Johnson slammed the bars for me. "Back for another visit, eh Thorne?" The moron knew me by name! I laid down on the bunk, closed my eyes, and was about to fall asleep when the man who I tried to sell tickets to showed up. He said something to Johnson.

"You're free to go, Thorne." Johnson said to me.
"What?" I asked in confusion.
"This gentleman did you a favour."

I quickly got out of my cell, and went with the gentleman outside, where his car was. Overcome with surprise, I forgot to thank him and asked for his name instead.

"Joseph Logan. But please, call me Logan. I never liked my first name." He said coyly. "What's yours?"
"Greg Thorne."
There was a pause before he asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"
"Only if you count the alley." My frank reply.
"Do you have any money?"
"Spent the last of it buying hockey tickets."
"Would you like to stay at my place? I'm out most of the day anyway." He offered. At that point I nearly mistrusted him but his eyes told me that his intentions were pure.
"If you're willing." I had nothing left to lose anyway.
"Get in then." I got my first car ride in years. Along the way, I thanked him all I could.

He worked as an executive in a large company, so he was much better off than I was. Time passed and I have already stayed at his humble abode for six months. Then everything started to change.

One day he came back from work early, accompanied by three other men. He explained that he was laid off and replaced by younger entrepreneurs willing to accept lower pay.

"Meet your new friends David Jackal, Steven Zimmer and Eddie Balazar. They too suffered the same fate. But not to fear, we have a new business proposition." He elaborated, "Many people oversee the fact that bank-robbing is a job too, a job with great rewards and greater risks, but nevertheless still a career choice. And one we've made." The four of them, I presumed. "Are you with me?"

Waiting for a chance to repay Logan for his courtesy, I agreed in a heartbeat.

In the next two years, we would commit a string of armed robberies, all successful, due to careful planning. We were known as the "Universal Monsters" because of the masks we wore. I was Dracula, Logan was Frankenstein, Jackal was Mr. Hyde ("How convenient," he commented), Zimmer was the Mummy and Balazar was the Werewolf. Logan was our leader, and to signify that, he wore a silver cross painted red on one side. His house became our headquarters.

We also knew about the detective assigned to investigate our robberies, Jonas Cordello. He was obsessed with capturing us, but was not a problem. Not yet.

Then one day it happenned. In one of our robberies which seemed too easy, we headed out and were immediately ambushed by the police, led by Cordello himself. We were severely outnumbered and retreated hastily while they opened fire. Balazar was shot and we had no choice but to leave him behind. Cordello made no attempt to pursue us, satisfied with the capture of Balazar. As he shoved the Werewolf into his car, he stepped on something which made a clanking sound. It was Logan's silver-red cross. He picked it up, and smiled broadly.

"Werewolf Neutralised With Silver Bullet", said the newspaper headline the following day, which infuriated Logan. He strongly believed that either Jackal or Zimmer must have formed an alliance with Cordello because it seemed impossible that the police would arrive so quick and well-prepared. I shared his suspicion. He added that he suspected Jackal more since he told him about the heist in the first place. After our short conversation he bolted for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Business. Guard the house." That was his short reply.

That evening, Jackal, Zimmer and I were playing blackjack when out of nowhere Logan kicked open the entrance to headquarters and stormed right in with something under his arm. We stood up. Logan held up the answering machine, took out his gun from his coat pocket and pointed it squarely at Jackal. I wanted to speak but Logan hushed me.

"Listen to this, my friend." He said to me, eyes still fixed on Jackal. He pushed the 'play' button. The four of us heard a voice clearly belonging to that of Jonas Cordello. It said:

"Jackal, you did one heck of a job. Everyone here would like to thank you. I know you put your life on the line doing this, but..."

"He's so right." Logan interrupted, and threw the machine towards the floor where it shattered to pieces before my feet. He cocked the gun and closed in on Jackal. Zimmer and I were still too shocked to do anything and stood where we were. Jackal was a terrified wreck and pleaded in vain for his miserable life. His last words were "I can explain", unless you counted the screams and gurgles afterward.

There was another murder in the city that night. That of Logan's former boss, whose building we robbed months ago. Logan and I only found out about this when we watched a news report. His body was sprawled on his office floor with a knife in his back. We had little sympathy for him, he was a greedy corrupt man after all, but what the newscaster said later on horrified and outraged us to no end. Logan's trademark, the silver-red cross, was found next to the body, making him the prime suspect. The mayor promptly announced that the "Universal Monsters" were wanted with a price tag over our heads, to the sum of $500,000 each. Even worse, our full names were revealed thanks to David Jackal, who even in death made sure we were not going to live easy.

The question of Steven Zimmer's loyalty to our group was answered the very next day. While coming back from a my apartment, Logan and I saw a note nailed to his front door. He tore it out and read aloud:

"To my former colleagues. You saw the news last night. The way I see it, we cannot work as a threesome. I'm sorry I had to take all our loot, but it is to make sure I flee this God-forsaken country with proper documents. If you are smart you would do the same. Don't bother trying to find me."

We rushed inside the house, and saw the wooden floorboards pried open. There was a space where bags of money used to be in. This coming at a time when we thought things could not get any worse. Three became two and Logan and I were forced to do one final heist so we can escape ourselves.

An hour later, with the car stopped in front of Green Acres Bank, we donned our masks for the last time. This was to be a 'quick in, quick out' affair. We sprinted in and did what we do best. Even with three members short, the bank staff knew who they were dealing with and would not take any chances. Two bags were filled with money. We took them and headed for the exit, when we first realised our former colleagues were sorely missed. We failed to pay attention to every detail, and this gave a clerk the chance to sound the alarm. I pointed my gun at him and watched him beg for his life. But the truth was, we were not killers, and chose to run instead.

I drove for 10 minutes, heading outside the city, when I took a right turn at the traffic lights. The wrong turn. Two police cars, one with Cordello in it, were in the opposing lane, and we saw each other at the same time. Cordello and his team took a screeching U-turn while I sped up, recklessly overtaking what few cars there were.

The car chase ended when I lost control and the car spun off the road, colliding with a fire hydrant. Logan's leg was bleeding badly and Cordello was closing in. I helped Logan out, got our loot, and we headed for the nearest building as the sirens grew louder than ever. It was an abandoned warehouse. We went behind some crates where I sat him down. I was checking his injury when he patted my shoulder.

"Take the money and run out the back door. I'm only going to slow you down." He said calmly.
"What are you talking about?" I could not believe what he was saying.
"You heard what I said. I'll meet you at the train station tomorrow morning at ten. I promise I'll be there. Now go."
"There is no way I'm leaving you behind! What kind of friend would I be?" I argued, close to the point of tears.
"If you consider me your friend, go, please! Before it's too late! I'll see you tomorrow! GO!!!" A couple of tears dampened his cheeks.

I did not want to argue with him anymore. There and then I made the toughest decision of my life.

"Alright," I replied, "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck."
"You too."

I took the bags and ran outside through the back door, never once looking back.

The day after at ten sharp, I waited at the train station, hoping against hope that Logan would fulfill his promise. He never arrived. It was only two days later that I learnt that he was sentenced to life imprisonment. Cordello successfully framed him for the murder of his former boss, and got away with it. I walked away from the train station with my head down.