Calder Holbrook

Okay, let’s get this heist meeting going. The job is a hard one, some say impossible. But we’re going to do it, because you’re all the best at what you do.

Razor, our wheel man. He can drive anything on Earth. His mess-up with the Mars rover does spoil his perfect record, but not relevant to this heist.

Snake, our gunman. He has a mystical gun bestowed on him by a mysterious stranger one day: it hits anything he aims it at with 100 percent accuracy, BUT: every time he uses it, somewhere someone he doesn’t know dies. Not the person he shoots, a second person. But since he’s a ruthless murderer and we all are generally amoral, it’s not an issue.

Tarzan, our apeman. No one is better at commanding the loyalty of the animals, outside of perhaps the Beastmaster. Oops, sorry T-man. I know I said I wouldn’t mention him. Anyway, he’s dumb. Who wants ferrets? Apes are better.

Carly Simon, our singer. Nobody does Nobody Does It Better better. Admittedly that has limited value, but Carly really came to us and is working pro bono. She can… be a distraction? Sure. Good deal.

And that brings us to me: What do I do? Well, let’s just say I’m the best me there is. That’s what my mother says anyway. Though dad says my brother of the same name who died before I was born was better. Debatable. I’m alive, he’s dead.

Anyway, let’s rob this racetrack.

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