Infinite Shadow Clones Mastery! Chapter 5: The Bank Job.

Chapter 5: The Bank Job.

-0-

Ray stared at his empty wallet, the reality of his financial situation sinking in like a lead balloon. His apartment had somehow followed him into the Marvel universe, complete with his couch, TV, and telenovelas, but his bank account? Nope. That had stayed behind in his old world, along with the life insurance money he’d inherited from his parents.

“Great,” he muttered, tossing the wallet onto the table. “No money, no snacks, and no way to sustain my glorious lifestyle of doing absolutely nothing. What am I supposed to do now? Get a *job*?”

The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed cash. Fast.

The bank it was. Maybe they'd give him a loan if he created an account with them. It didn't hurt to try.

Reluctantly, Ray pulled on his “don’t talk to me” hoodie, grabbed his keys, and created two clones to guard the apartment. “Don’t let anyone in,” he instructed. “And if the Avengers show up, pretend I’m not home.”

The clones nodded, their blank expressions somehow reassuring. Ray took a deep breath and stepped out into the world, grumbling under his breath about how unfair life was.

---

The bank was crowded, the line snaking its way through the lobby like a sluggish river. Ray tapped his foot impatiently, glancing at the clock every few seconds. He could be at home right now, watching *Amor en Llamas* and eating chips. Instead, he was stuck in this bureaucratic nightmare, surrounded by people who clearly had nothing better to do than waste his time.

“Come on,” he muttered, glaring at the teller who was taking forever to process a transaction. “How hard is it to count money?”

As the minutes dragged on, Ray’s frustration grew. He regretted not sending a clone to handle this. Sure, the clones were a little… unpredictable, but at least they could stand in line while he stayed home.

“I swear, if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to lose my mind,” he grumbled under his breath.

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for him to say those exact words, the bank doors burst open.

---

Five masked figures stormed in, guns raised. “Everyone on the ground! Now!” one of them shouted.

Ray froze for a moment, then dropped to the floor like everyone else. “Of course,” he muttered. “Of *course* this happens. I just had to tempt Murphy, didn’t I?”

One of the robbers, a burly man with a ski mask and a bad attitude, heard him. “No talking!” he barked, shoving Ray with the butt of his gun.

Ray winced but stayed silent. The robbers moved quickly, herding the hostages into a corner and emptying the tellers’ drawers into duffel bags. Outside, the sound of sirens grew louder.

“Cops are here!” one of the robbers shouted.

The leader, a woman with a sharp voice and a sharper glare, grabbed Ray by the hoodie. “You’re coming with us,” she said, dragging him to his feet.

“Wait, what? Why me?” Ray protested.

“Because you can’t follow simple instructions,” she snapped, shoving him toward the door.

The cops outside immediately raised their weapons, but the woman pressed her gun to Ray’s head. “Back off, or the hostage gets it!”

Ray groaned, realizing he was being abducted. “You know, you could just drop me off down the street. I live around the corner.”

The woman responded by smashing the butt of her gun into his nose. Ray stumbled, blood streaming down his face.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

---

The getaway car screeched through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic as the cops gave chase. Ray sat in the backseat, clutching his nose and glaring at the robbers.

“You guys are the worst,” he said, his voice muffled by his hoodie. “I hope you know that.”

The woman in the passenger seat turned around and pointed her gun at him. “One more word, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender but didn’t say anything. He was too busy plotting his revenge.

---

The car eventually pulled into a concealed garage, the robbers laughing and high-fiving as they unloaded the bags of cash. Ray sat on the floor, watching them with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’m happy for you guys. Really. But you owe me reparations.”

The robbers stopped and stared at him. “What?” the woman asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.

Ray stood up, wiping the blood from his nose. “Yeah. Emotional distress, physical harm, pain, payment for being your hostage, loss of hope in humanity… oh, and most importantly, time wastage. Do you have any idea how much *Amor en Llamas* I could’ve watched by now?”

The robbers burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?” one of them said. “What are you gonna do, beat us with your fists?”

Ray shook his head. “Not just my fists. 'Many' fists.”

Before they could react, he performed the hand seals. “Shadow Clone Technique!”

A hundred clones materialized in an instant, filling the garage. The robbers froze, their laughter dying in their throats.

“I told you to drop me off,” Ray said, his voice calm. “But you didn’t listen. Now you have no one to blame but yourselves.”

The clones surged forward, overwhelming the robbers in seconds. The woman who had broken Ray’s nose tried to fight back, but a dozen clones grabbed her arms and legs, pinning her to the ground.

When it was over, the robbers were tied up with duct tape, their bags of cash stacked neatly in the corner. Ray grabbed one of the bags and slung it over his shoulder.

“This is for reparations,” he said, leaving a note for the cops. *Missing bag is reparations for damages. If you have concerns, Tony Stark will pay it back for me.*

He walked out of the garage, his clones dissolving behind him. As the sound of approaching sirens grew louder, Ray couldn’t help but smile.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” he said, adjusting the bag of cash on his shoulder. “Now, let’s go home and catch up on my telenovela.”

---

Back at his apartment, Ray dumped the bag of cash on the table and created a clone to cook him some shawarma. As the delicious aroma filled the air, he settled onto the couch and clicked play on *Amor en Llamas*.

“Finally,” he said, grabbing a handful of chips. “Some peace and quiet.”

But as he watched the dramatic twists and turns of his favorite show, a thought occurred to him. Maybe, just maybe, he could use his clones to make a little more money. After all, if he could take down a group of bank robbers, what else could he do?

Ray smiled to himself. The Marvel universe was full of opportunities, and he was just getting started.

“But first,” he said, reaching for the remote, “let’s see what Rosalinda does next.”

And with that, Ray settled back into his couch, content to let the world wait while he caught up on his telenovelas.