Sooo this is is my 10th Larry story and I'm a bit nervous to post it because it's a bit unlike everything I've written so far. I'm not sure the first chapter is that interesting, but I've got so many ideas for this story and I think it has so much potential I'd love to continue it if it sparks interest.

You guys voted on my poll for me to focus on this story, so I did :)

It's inspired by the Netflix series "La casa de papel" aka "Money Heist", obviously a bit different than the actual story, but the idea is based off of it. If you haven't watched it, I strongly recommend it because it's one of the best Tv Shows I've ever watched.

P.s. There is gun use and not too graphic descriptions of violence in the story, so please do not read if it's triggering. I do NOT condone gun violence and if it were after me, I'd end people's ability to purchase guns. Everything is fiction.

Let me know what you think of it :) (Also watch the Trailer because I made it and it would give a basic idea of what the story is about)

Happy reading and let me know what you think about it throughout the story :D

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Louis Tomlinson got his first tattoo when he was fifteen. It was a small bird on his ribcage, symbolizing his need of freedom and his longing for greater things. When his father saw it, two hours later when Louis was changing into his pajamas, he screamed for five days straight and grounded Louis for a month.

His second tattoo came six months later: a compass to represent the fact that he will go wherever life takes him. His father flipped out again and slapped him across the face as he yelled.

When he got his third tattoo, eight months after the first one, two days before his sixteenth birthday, his father beat him senselessly. It wasn't because his father had always been the typical communist type, but because Louis was the only one out of their five kids who didn't do as he was told.

After the beating, he ran away from home and actually managed to stay away for two days, until he got way too hungry and tired of sleeping under bridges.

He remembers the day he went back home even now, as if it happened yesterday, not five years ago.

He remembers ringing the doorbell and waiting five minutes for someone to answer. He remembers trying the front door, only to realize that it was open all along. He also remembers finding his entire family on the living room floor in a pool of blood. They've been stabbed to death; all six of them, their bodies aligned neatly next to each other, right next to the couch.

The first thing he did was throw up all over his sneakers. The second thing was crying and yelling and screaming, all at the same time.

His oldest sister let out a cry and Louis fell down to his knees, getting blood all over his pants, as he shook her shoulder. He took the large knife that lied next to her head and looked at it, still not comprehending what had happened.

"Lottie. Fuck, Lottie, what happened? Who did this?" he pleaded and froze when he heard police sirens blaring, getting closer.

"Run." Lottie managed to choke out.

Louis did just that. He ran out of the house through the backdoor, and didn't stop until he reached the woods, heavily panting and crying.

And he's been running ever since.

He's seen what people have been saying about him: that he's crazy, that he used drugs and killed his whole family because he was high, that he would get tried as an adult if he ever got caught by the police, because his fingerprints were all over the murder weapon.

He's been running since he was fucking sixteen year old, only getting by because he was stealing food, crashing in empty, abandoned houses and shoplifting with every chance he got. He befriended a tattoo artist on the outskirts of Cardiff, hours away from his hometown in Doncaster, and slept over at his place for a few years, hiding.

Now, five years later, he's on the run again, because he almost got caught robbing a supermarket at gunpoint a month ago. Of course something had to go wrong, because he lost his wallet in the process, which contained his old ID. The press had a field day, running headlines like 'Child murderer Louis Tomlinson resurfaces in Cardiff' and 'Louis Tomlinson, the child murderer, holds cashier at gunpoint' or "15-year-old murderer who killed his own family is spotted in Cardiff after a robbery gone wrong".

They don't have his picture, only the one when he was fifteen years old, which they used on all the 'WANTED' posters and in the news back then. Now, the same picture is being broadcasted, along with a picture made on the computer, with the words 'this is how he might look now' under it.

Louis always laughs when he sees the picture on the TV or in someone's newspaper, because although it's kind of accurate, the neck tattoos aren't shown, although 'heavily tattooed' is one of the 'features' people should be looking for (or so the media says).

He is heavily tattooed, because he's always thought of tattoos as a way to embody a memory or a moment. And a lot has happened in the past five years; the bird and the compass were just the beginning. Now, a hundred and twenty tattoos later, he's almost run out of skin. And patience.

***

Harry Styles got his first tattoo when he was eighteen, right after he got into law school. A small, open birdcage on his ribs, because he's always dreamt of being able to make his own decisions, without his father ordering him around. He got into law school because his father told him to do so, and threatened to disown him and throw him on the streets if he applied for anything else.

Harry's always wanted to be a journalist. Or a chemist. Or a criminal investigator. At one point, he wanted to be everything in the world, because he thought it was possible. But years passed and his father continued to push his dreams into an imaginary cage, making them smaller and smaller until he couldn't find them anymore. Hence, the open birdcage. All he needs is a bird.

When he got into law school and moved into a dorm, he got a ship tattooed, because he thought he'd finally sail away from his father and be who he wanted to be. At least, he thought he'd be who he wanted to be in law school.

Over the years, he realized that there isn't a subject in the world that doesn't interest him: he likes crime documentaries and the laws of physics and the way chemical elements mix with each other and everything else. The only thing he doesn't like is studying law.

One day, he thinks, he's going to stand up to his father, he's going to say everything that's on his mind without being afraid of the repercussions. But until that day comes, he'll have to keep his childhood fears at bay and go on with his life that doesn't feel like it's his anymore.

***

November 24th

It's the 24th of November, which means that London is pretty fucking cold; way too cold for Louis to be wearing a pair of joggers and a T-shirt. He spots a small shop nearby and adjusts the cap on his head before he enters.

The problem with being a wanted fugitive is that he's always paranoid. He's gotten used to it, but still. Ten minutes later, he comes out of the store with a pair of gloves and a scarf tucked under his T-shirt.

He hits Victoria Station next, looking out for men in expensive suits that could potentially fund his sleep this week.

Bingo, he thinks when he sees a group of three men with their suitcases standing next to a coffee cart, idly chatting as they blow into their hot coffees. He pretends that he has no idea where he's going and accidentally bumps into them, spilling a coffee on one of their suits.

"Shit, I am so sorry Sir." He apologizes and grabs a napkin from the cart. "Thank you." He adds when one of the gentlemen hands him another napkin to clean his friend.

"I am so sorry." He apologizes again and throws the used napkins in the bin.

"It's alright." The man says and shakes his head.

"I am truly sorry." Louis says and pats him on the shoulder, before he's off.

He hides behind the next corner and pulls out three wallets from his large pockets.

"Fuck yeah." He breathes after he's counted all the money. Four hundred pounds. It's rare to see so much money after a bit of pickpocketing, but then again, winter is coming, and he's not going to feel bad.

He looks around the corner to see the three men patting themselves down and looking around alarmed. Then they go up to talk to a guard, which is Louis' cue to leave.

On his way towards the exit, he drops the empty wallets off at the Information desk, only mumbling a quick 'found these on the floor'. He always makes sure to give the wallets he steals to someone who will return the IDs, drivers' licenses etc.

He's a thief, but he's a nice one, yeah?

Louis knows there's a hostel a few metro stations away, so he asks for change at the nearest shop and buys himself a one-way ticket for the Underground.

Five minutes later he's in a subway, on his way to the nearest hostel.

"Awful, what happened to those people." A lady across from him says, looking in the paper. There, on the front page, it reads: Only survivor of the Doncaster massacre needs help for follow up operations

He sees Lottie's face in black and white, and his knees go weak. He hasn't spoken to her in years, actually since that day, five years ago.

Louis finds a telephone booth as soon as he gets out of the subway and dials Lottie's old number from memory. It rings three times and he thinks it's changed, but then she answers.

"Hello?"

"Lottie." He breathes.

"Louis?" she asks. Surprise and elation are clear in her voice. "Oh my God, Louis!"

"Shhh, shh. Someone might hear you."

"How are you? How have you been? Oh my God-"

"Lottie. Are you okay? I'm sorry I haven't called I just...I was scared the police might track your phone."

There's silence on the other line, which is unusual.

"Lottie? What's wrong? Are you there?"

"Yeah." She says, hesitating, and Louis knows. He knows that the police are tracking the phone and that the headlines were just a way of getting him to bite the bait and fall into their trap.

"Listen, Lottie. Are you okay? I read about some operations-"

"Yeah...yeah. I...the knife dug too deep into my organs and now there are complications-"

"How much does it cost?"

Louis can hear her hesitating. "A hundred thousand."

"Fucking hell."

"Yeah. Louis, listen. They offered to pay if...if you would just turn yourself in. I've heard people-"

"They're there, aren't they?" Louis dryly asks.

He can't blame her though, because from what he's read on the news, five years ago, after they found her alive, Lottie had extreme PTSD and couldn't remember anything because her brain blocked everything out. Or at least, that's what the doctors said, and the police understood that they couldn't trust what she told them.

"Louis, please. I want you to be safe."

Louis' heart is breaking because he hates the situation he's in. But he can't. Turning himself in means admitting to something he hasn't done.

"I can't. You know I can't. I need to find out what happened to them. Until then, I can't."

"Louis-"

"I'm sorry." Is all he says before he hangs up, and then leans his forehead against the glass, taking a deep breath.

Fuck his life, honestly.

He looks at the gold watch on his wrist (something he swiped from a guy two days ago). It's nearly five, which means that it's going to get dark and cold pretty soon. But hey, he's got four hundred pounds now.

He can spare twenty for a couple of beers.

***

Harry groans and closes one of his many Law books with a thud.

"I am fucking DONE." He says, almost screaming, which catches Niall, who just came through the door, off guard.

19-year-old boy explodes from too much stress, he thinks. That's what the papers would say if he could actually physically explode right now.

"Are you okay?" Niall laughs and drops down next to him on the couch.

"No. I hate Law."

Niall nods. He's been hearing about Harry's hate for Law ever since they moved in together a year ago.

"How was your day?" Harry asks, trying to change the subject.

"Good. Cowell asked about you."

Harry makes a face. Simon Cowell is the man in charge at the Bank of England, and Harry's supposed to be having an interview with him a month from now. 'Supposed' is the right word, because he has to, but doesn't want to. His father called him a week ago, telling him that they're looking for an intern who studies law and that he pulled some strings to get him on the list. Everyone knows that it's one of the highest paying internships in London, if not the whole country. But Harry doesn't want to fucking go to the interview.

"And what did you say?"

"What could I say? I said you're okay, that you're looking forward to it. You know, the usual lying protocol and whatnot." Niall laughs and Harry smiles.

He met Niall a year ago during fresher's week at King's College, and they moved in together a month later because they both lived in awful dorms with awful people. To some extent they're the same, because neither of them know what they want to do with their lives. Niall studies Economics and managed to get an internship at the Bank of England a few months back, but he only studies Economics because it's the basic thing to study if you have no idea what you want to do.

The only difference is that Niall chose himself, whereas Harry was made to choose Law.

"Hey, think about it. We're going to be work buddies as well." Niall says, trying to lift his mood.

"Yeah, because seeing you at home all the time isn't enough."

"I saw a cute girl today by the way." Niall says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Hazel eyes, brown hair. My type you know."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Everybody's your type."

"Yeah, but she was beautiful man. And her friend was beautiful too. Kind of looked liked models to be honest."

"Did you get her name?"

Niall shakes his head. "She wanted to change some money and asked me on which days I have work. I told her I'm an intern. I think she was a bit crazy though, because she kept looking up every five seconds, like there was a fly going past her head or something."

Harry is zoning out now. He never really listens to Niall talking on about girls he's too afraid to talk to.

"So anyway, I talked to some friends of mine from Uni and he told me about this pub crawl they're doing tonight."

"And?" Harry asks, even though he knows where this is going.

"And we're going with them. You need to get out of the house."

When Harry finally caves, Niall smiles, delighted, and then walks to his room to change into some going out clothes.

They leave for the pub around half past nine. It's a bit crowded and it smells like booze the moment they walk in, trying to get past the people smoking outside.

Niall's mates are waiting for them at a table and Harry offers to go get their drinks for them, because he isn't in the mood to make small talk right now.

After he orders five beers, he sits down on one of the seats and goes through his Instagram feed as he waits.

When the bartender places the five glasses filled to the brim in front of him, Harry has no choice but to take two at the time over to the table so they won't spill over.

He grabs the last one and is about to turn around and join the others, when someone crashes into him. His beer spills over his shirt.

"Shit, fuck. Sorry." The guy who crashed into him says and looks up at Harry.

The first thing Harry notices are his piercing blue eyes, then the soft fringe coming out from under his hood. He's not sure, but he swears the guy also has a tattoo on his neck. It's all very well hidden under his hoodie.

"Uh...it's fine." Harry says and looks away from the guy so he can look down at himself.

"I can pay for...uh, your beer?"

Harry shrugs. "Really, it's fine."

The guy turns to the bartender anyway and lifts one finger up. Harry watches his profile and he swears he's seen the guy somewhere before.

"What's your name?" Harry asks.

"Uh...Louis." He says and looks at something behind Harry's shoulder. "Yours?"

Before Harry can open his mouth to answer, Louis places a five pound bill on the bar and leaves. Harry looks over his shoulder, just to see Louis talking to an older woman wearing a white lab coat, who definitely looks younger than she actually is.

Finally, he grabs his beer and returns to the table. When he looks around to find Louis again, he's not there anymore, and neither is the woman he talked to.

***

November 25th

She's there. Louis can fucking see her, even though she thinks he can't. The woman in the white fucking lab coat, who's been following him for the last three days. When he approached her in the pub yesterday, all she did was ask him whether he's the Louis Tomlinson, which made Louis panic and leave.

Now she's here again, sitting in a car by the side of the road, a few hundred feet from where Louis is sitting on the bench, smoking.

Fuck this, he thinks and stands up from the bench.

"What the fuck do you want from me? Are you with the police or something?" he asks in a raised voice and leans down when she rolls down her window.

There it is. There's no turning back now. He either runs now or he's going to spend the rest of his life in prison.

"No. I have a question for you." She says.

When Louis doesn't say anything, she continues.

"How does a life where you don't have to run and look over your shoulder every day sound?" she asks.

"Pretty fuckin' good." Louis answers. "So?"

"What if I told you that I could make that happen?"

"Are you a genie or something?"

"No. But I can help you. If you get in the car."

"Why would I get in the car with someone I don't even know?" Louis asks, crossing his arms. He spots two policemen at the end of the street, staring at him like they know him.

"You've got nothing to lose." The woman says and Louis finally gives in.

Once they're in the car and she starts driving, he asks her to explain why she'd help him without getting anything out of it.

"If everything goes as planned, I'll get three hundred million pounds out of it. And so will you."

"What? Are you planning on robbing a bank?" Louis jokes but turns serious when he sees the expression on her face.

"No, I will not rob a bank. But you will. Alongside six other people."

"And why would I do that? Why would six other people do that?"

She stops at a red light and looks at him.

"Because they've got nothing to lose either."

Louis stays quiet for the rest of the trip and falls asleep at one point, only to wake up when the car screeches to a halt.

"Where are we?" he asks when he sees a giant, ancient house in the middle of nowhere.

"The outskirts of London. Everyone else is inside already."

"So did six people actually agree on doing this?"

The woman nods, and Louis realizes he doesn't even know her name.

"Who are you?"

She smiles as she pushes the door open.

"Just call me The Chemist."

December 20th

Boy, unable to stand up to his father, ends up living a life he hates, Harry thinks as he enters Simon Cowell's office on December 20. If his interview goes well (which, to be honest, doesn't even matter), he'll start his new job at the Bank of England at the beginning of next year.

He's in no mood to do any interview, but right now he's staring at Mr. Cowell who's staring right back at him with an expectant look on his face. He hates this look, because it means that his father talked great things about him and he always hates to disappoint.

"Good morning." Mr. Cowell says and Harry greets him back before shaking his hand and sitting down on the seat in front of him.

Simon starts asking him questions that they both know he knows the answers to, but they do this whole question and answers game just for the sake of it.

The phone rings but Simon ignores it. It rings two more times and Simon finally answers with a sigh.

"Yes?"

Harry watches his expression change from confusion to fear.

"In my office." Simon answers and motions for Harry to stand up. "Okay."

He hangs up and looks at Harry, who's as confused as anyone could be.

"Something happen?" Harry asks and Simon nods. Then he points to something behind Harry.

When Harry turns around, his whole body goes numb. His blood runs cold and he feels a rush of adrenaline rush from his head to the tip of his toes, because he's staring into the end of an AK-47, held by someone with an Anonymous mask on.

***

December 20th 

So as it turns out, 'the Chemist' had a pretty elaborate plan on how to rob the Bank of England, which was supposed to be one of the only buildings in the world where one couldn't get in. Apparently she spent the last two years looking for the right people to help her and the right tools to do so. In the end, she put together a team of seven people (including Louis), to pull of the most notorious money heist in the history of the UK, if not the world.

I mean, they were talking about a billion fucking pounds, and Louis isn't sure what the penalty for such an amount of money is, but add hostages and guns to the mix and it won't be a slap on the wrist from the police.

A month ago he was running away from the police and pickpocketing so he could live another day, and now he's in a truck with six other people dressed in red jumpsuits, wearing Anonymous masks and holding AK-47's.

"I'm reconsidering this." Neon says and looks at him.

"The first thing we need to make sure of if we want to pull this off is that all of our names will stay anonymous. From the police and from each other." The Chemist said as soon as she sat everyone down in a room filled with floor plans and papers related to the heist.

They all looked at each other.

"But you know our names. How do we know that you won't turn us in?" the guy in the back of the room with the olive skin and tattoos asks. It's the first time Louis has ever heard him speak.

"I want the money as much as you do. And there's no reason for me to turn on you. Therefore, each one of you needs to pick an chemical element and that will be your name until you're out of that building on your way to freedom."

But Louis wasn't one to be played with, so at night, when everyone went to sleep, he snuck into the Chemists' office and rummaged through the piles of papers until he found what he was looking for. Everyone's names, except of the Chemists'.

So the next day when they were all back in the planning room ready to get more instructions, he already memorized everyone's sheet, including the words scribbled in red by the Chemist which highlighted their strength.

Neon, also known as Eleanor Calder, was 21 and was charged for a diamond heist in Paris. She was an expert in digging through almost everything, even iron. She escaped from prison and that's why she had people looking for her. "The Gold Digger."

Silver, also known as Gigi Hadid, was 19 and wanted for posing as a prostitute just to steal from rich men. Also wanted for counterfeiting money. "The Money Maker."

Oxygen, aka Hailee Steinfeld, was 20 and wanted for illegal gun smuggling and posing as a prostitute to steal from the rich. "The Gun"

Iron, aka Liam Payne, was 20 and wanted because he beat up and tortured guys for the mafia. "The Muscle."

Zink, aka Zayn Malik, was 21. He had the FBI looking for him because he hacked into NASA, CIA and their own servers several times until he slipped up. His IQ was 149. "The Brains."

Mercury, aka Nick Grimshaw, was 27 and wanted for stealing, drug dealing and money laundering. "The Leader."

Then there was Louis, who was Hydrogen, who was wanted for the murder of his entire family-allegedly. "The missing piece."

Louis wasn't going to reveal to anyone that he knew their names, but it was good leverage in case any of them would recognize him from the papers at some point.

"I'm going to go through the most important rules for you to follow during the heist, the first one being the most important, and I mean it. If you disobey this rule, you're as good as dead and I will not hesitate to turn you in."

Everyone looked at each other.

"First rule. Do NOT kill any hostages."

"Stop whining and get to it, we're here." Nick says and pulls the mask over his face just as the truck comes to a halt in the back of the warehouse.

They've managed to exchange their truck with the actual truck that was supposed to enter the Bank and drop off Gigi and Hailee at the entrance so they could lock the main doors from inside. Louis hijacked the police car together with Liam, meanwhile Nick was driving the truck with Eleanor and Zayn, following suit.

They managed to get past security and once they're inside in the Bank, Louis gets out of the car and signals Nick to signal Zayn, who's on his laptop, hacking into the servers, to lock the door. His heart is beating fast as the giant door comes down and reaches the floor with a loud thud. There's a locking sound.

They're in.

Louis and Liam quickly change into their red suits, before Eleanor opens the back of the truck and they pick up their rifles from one of the many boxes filled with guns.

"You ready guys?" she smirks and pulls the mask over her face. The others follow her motion and put their masks on as well, before running around the truck to get to the workers.

"Nobody fucking move!" Liam shouts and the three workers in the warehouse nearly shit themselves as their hands fly up in the air, shocked.

For a moment, Louis feels bad, and then he remembers that he's doing this for Lottie and maybe a good lawyer for himself, and a better life in which he doesn't have to run for no reason.

They follow the workers through a couple of doors and hallways, and it would be really hard to remember the way they took to get to the main lobby from the warehouse, but they're spent the last month studying the blueprints.

When they get to the main lobby, the main door is already shut, locked tight. Gigi and Hailee are holding sixty-two people hostage, sixty-five counting the three workers they've just brought in.

"Put these on." Louis instructs and they hand out sleeping masks for everyone to put over their eyes. He can literally smell the anxiety and the fear in the giant hall as everyone puts their masks on with trembling hands.

"Where's Harry Styles?" Nick asks, looking around.

The Chemist places a photo on the board and writes down a name next to it.

"Harry Styles." She says. "Son of Des Styles, Her Majesty's attorney general for England and Wales, with connections to the police and the British Intelligence. He has an interview scheduled on the day you're going to break into the Bank, which means we've got leverage."

Eleanor raises her hand and asks why they would need leverage.

"Because as long as he's in there, the police will not take any drastic measures and will most likely not send squads to try and break into the Bank, because there's a chance that he'll get hurt. Also, he's our key out."

"How is he our key out?" Louis asks, confused as to why his face seems quite familiar.

"We'll take him hostage and threaten to kill him if they try to follow us. It's simple really. All we have to do is keep him hostage until we're out of London and then let him go. So whatever you do, Harry Styles cannot be hurt. Do you get that?"

"Got him." Louis hears Liam's voice, before he sees two people in red suits with their masks on walking down the stairs towards them, pointing their guns at Harry Styles and Simon Cowell, the man in charge.

"Sit down and put this on." Nick says, pushing the barrel of his gun against Harry's back, who falls to his knees and takes the mask. Simon does the same thing and then they're pulled in line with the other hostages.

"Mercury, don't be so harsh." Hailee tells him and then starts counting. "Sixty-seven hostages."

"Sounds about right." Nick says and they all take their masks off once Zayn confirms that the cameras have been disabled, staring at each other in disbelief. They did it. Almost. They've got one more job to do to make sure that they'll be here for the next ten days.

Eleanor and Gigi emerge from a side door, holding four bags filled with cash, smirking, so Nick presses the button on his Bluetooth earpiece. "Got the money. Part 3 is a-go."

Zayn nods from his place at the front desk and types something on his laptop, before the alarm starts blaring through the entire Bank.

"Two minutes until the police get here. You ready?" Nick asks, looking at Louis, who picks up two bags with one hand and nods.

They get in line by the front doors, waiting for the signal that will let them know the doors are opening.

"One minute." Nick says and they pull their masks back onto their faces.

"We're going to trick the police into thinking that we only went in for a robbery, and that they caught us while we were trying to flee." The Chemist says on their fourth day. "You're going to shoot at them ONLY if they try to shoot you, before you slowly retreat back inside and close the doors, so they think they've got you trapped in like rats. If they think that, they're never going to suspect that that was our plan all along, nor that you're trying to counterfeit money and escape through the vault."

Louis has no idea why they picked him to be the first one to exit the bank, but he went along with it anyway.

"Ten seconds." Nick says and there's a loud commotion before the doors automatically open thanks to Zayn's handiwork and Louis runs, Liam and Hailee in tow. As expected, two police cars come up around the corner and come to a screeching halt by the steps.

Two policemen get out of the car and take shelter behind the car doors. The first shot goes right past Louis' ear, so he fires shots in their direction, alongside Hailee and Liam. He can hear the hostages screaming in fear as shots are being fired and he feels guilty just for a split second.

"Fuck!" Liam yelps and Louis turns his head to see him falling to the ground, blood oozing out of his shoulder.

Hailee shoots at the police car, hitting the driver's side window, which comes shattering down. She holds up the police while Louis struggles to pull Liam back up the steps and inside the Bank. He sees Hailee getting angrier and angrier,

"Close the fucking gates!" he yells at Zayn and watches Hailee run back inside, still shooting at the police, before the gates close with a loud thud and then a locking sound echoes through the room.

Zayn rushes to Liam's side and curses, placing his hand over the wound. Louis frowns, but doesn't say anything.

"You hit one of the policemen!" Nick yells at Hailee, who huffs.

"Fuck you, they shot Iron! What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and pretend to fire shots towards the sky?" she yells back, tacking off her mask.

"Pretty much, yeah!"

"Fuck you."

"Take him to the office." Louis tells Zayn, who helps Liam up and watches them struggle up the stairs towards the first floor, where they set up an office with an untraceable home phone so they could get in touch with the Chemist.

Zayn and Liam disappear and Louis changes his mind, following them to make sure Liam is okay.

***

Harry Styles, 19, dies during hostage situation in Bank of England, Harry thinks as he tries to see something, anything, through the sleeping mask he was forced to put on his eyes. His body still hasn't come down from the adrenaline rush he got from having a gun pointed at his face and then against his back.

"You can take your masks off." A female voice says and then the dark before Harry's eyes is replaced with light. He takes in the scene before him. There are people on their knees or sitting down next to him and in front of him, all looking absolutely terrified and confused, not comprehending that this is all happening to them.

Niall is standing to his right, two people away from him. The people in the red suits have their masks on top of their heads and Harry is absolutely shocked to see that they're probably three years older than him, at most. There are three girls and one older looking guy.

"Oh my God." He hears Niall gasp and he turns his head, locking eyes with him. "That's her."

"What?" Harry asks in a hushed tone so the red suits won't hear them.

"That's her. The girl I told you about." Niall whispers, nodding his head over to one of the girls in red suits. Harry remembers Niall telling him about a beautiful girl coming in a month ago that seemed psycho because she kept looking up. Probably checking where the cameras were. Huh.

"Stop talking." The guy warns him, waving his gun.

Harry leans back and shuts his mouth, heart beating faster in his chest. A guy with raven hair, olive skin and dark eyes comes down the steps with a duffle bag and hands it over to the older guy.

"I'm going to collect your phones and I need your passwords. And names."

"Just to this side Mercury, and I'll do this one." The raven-haired guy says and Mercury nods. Okay, so they're not using their real names. Clever.

They take everyone's phones one by one and write the passwords on stickers, which they tape to the back of the phones. Once they're done, Mercury turns to the raven-haired guy.

"Zink, take these upstairs and place them on the table."

Harry frowns. Are they all named after chemical elements?

"Everyone who works in the money factory or the warehouse, stand up." one of the girls says and about twenty people stand up, shaking. "Follow me."

"Silver, wait." Niall's crush says. "Take the guys from the warehouse as well."

"No, I'll take them." The third girl says as the warehouse workers stand up. She points her gun at them. "Take me to the room closest to the ground." Before she starts walking though, she turns to Niall's crush. "Oxygen, don't forget him."

Then follows them out of the main hall and Harry keeps looking around confused.

"Harry Styles, come with me." Oxygen says, looking at Harry, who stands up, heart beating out of his chest.

He follows her upstairs and through some corridors until they're in front of a door that reads 'Office'.

There's a big table in the middle of the room, filled with papers and blueprints and cigarette packs. In the corner stands another table with the phones and the names of whom they belong to. In the other corner, on the couch, lays a guy in a red suit stained with blood on his right shoulder.

"Fucking hell." Zink says as he comes into the office with a wet rag. He stops when he sees Harry and then looks at Oxygen, whose gun is still pointed at Harry.

"Is he going to be okay?" Oxygen asks him and the guy nods, before handing the rag over to the wounded guy.

"We need to go downstairs and make a list of their names and their allergies and stuff." Zink says and the wounded guy stands up. "You need to rest."

"No, I'm gonna be okay." The guy insists as he holds the rag against his shoulder. "Neon can pull the bullet out later. We need to stick to the plan right now."

"The plan has already gone to shit, Iron, in case you haven't noticed." Zink tells him and Harry has a hard time remembering all the names. Their faces, however, will never fade from his memory. He's quite good with faces, but really bad with names.

The two guys leave the room and Oxygen instructs him to sit down on the chair against the wall and call the police, so he can let his father and the whole world know that he'll be okay. The girl takes his phone from the table and punches his password in, before she opens his contact list and dials 999.

"You're going to tell them who you are and that we've been nice and didn't use violence." She tells him before pressing the call button and handing his over his phone.

Harry gulps and does as instructed, voice shaking as he talks to the operator. Once he hangs up, the phone is being snatched out of his hands and placed back on the table. He watches her walk over to a storage closet and pulling out something, before she walks back over to him.

"Put this on and wait here." She tells him and places a wrapped, transparent package in her lap. "It's a red suit."

Then she leaves him alone. Harry looks over at the table with the phones, contemplating whether he should turn his back on and send his father a quick text. He keeps thinking about it as he strips down to his underwear and pulls the red suit over his legs. He stops, bare-chested, and walks over to the phones, trying to find his.

His heart is beating out of his chest as he spots his name on one of the stickers and reaches out to grab it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice behind him says and Harry's heart falls into his pants. He turns around, hands gripping the red suit.

There's a guy standing there, in his red suit, a neck tattoo peaking out from under his collar. He looks familiar. He's also one of the most beautiful people Harry has ever seen in his life and he thinks that if the circumstances were any different, he'd be drowning in those eyes.

"I was just...I'm sorry." Harry panics. This guy looks dangerous, and it's not just because he has an AK-47 in his hands. He's got something in his eyes; a mixture of darkness and sorrow. Harry's seen him before.

He zips up his suit once he remembers that he's half naked with a gun pointed in his direction.

"I've seen you somewhere before." Harry tells him and the guy cocks his head to the side, and Harry swears there's fear in his eyes for just a second.

"I don't think you have." The guy says.

"So what's your name then?"

"You've got some balls, don't you?"

Harry shrugs. "No. I know you won't tell me your actual name. I meant what chemical element are you?"

The guy raises an eyebrow with respect. "Hydrogen."

"Nice." Harry says, leaning against the table, still thinking about his phone.

"You're quite relaxed for someone who has a gun pointed at them."

"You won't shoot me." Harry dares, hoping Hydrogen (or whatever his name is) can't tell he's shitting himself right now.

"Wanna bet?" the guy dares, a smirk spreading over his lips.

Okay, why did Harry think that talking back to a guy with tattoos all over his body and a gun in his hand would be a good idea?

"No, you're just...your eyes."

"My eyes." Hydrogen states. "What about them?"

"There's no trace of evil in them. Not like the ones 'Mercury' has."

"Listen kid, I don't know what kind of adrenaline rush you've got going on right now, but I'm warning you. Stop talking shit or I'll blow your brains out."

Harry licks his lips. He knows he's right, judging by the way the guy just let his gun hand at his side.

"I don't think you would hurt anyone."

So Harry never had the guts to talk back to his father in the past nineteen years but he thought it would be the right moment to finally have the courage and talk back to a tattooed guy holding a gun? What is his life, honestly. What is he.

Hydrogen looks down at his feet for a moment, which is a textbook sign of someone with insecurities. The eyes never lie.

"Do you want to test out that theory?" Hydrogen asks, regaining his tough guy composure.

"Uh, no."

"Thought so." Hydrogen says and then motions with his gun towards the door. "Now c'mon, you have to get back to the hostages."

Harry obliges and looks back at his phone one last time before he walks over to the door, trying to search his brain of any type of memory that would help him pinpoint where and when he actually saw this guy. Because he never forgets a face.

"Oh my God." He says and stops when he's halfway down the hallway, turning around. He bumps into Hydrogen and takes a step back.

"I met you at the pub a month ago. Your name is Louis."

The guys' expression changes completely, from determined to absolutely mortified, and Harry knows he's right. The name of the guy who's currently pointing a gun at him, the guy who calls himself Hydrogen with the hopes of keeping his anonymity for the whole duration of a clearly planned heist, is Louis.

----

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