“It is well enough that people of the nation do not understand our banking and monetary system, for if they did, I believe there would be a revolution before tomorrow morning.”

― Henry Ford

As the new night security guard at First National Bank, they told me three rules: never enter the vault alone, never use the old pneumatic tube system, and never, ever respond to sounds coming from the safe deposit box room after midnight.

I should have listened.

The bank’s marble halls were different at night. The grand columns cast shadows that seemed to move when you weren’t looking directly at them. The brass fixtures reflected things that weren’t there. But it was the constant clicking sound from the safe deposit room that got to me – like thousands of tiny keys turning in their locks.

Last night, during my 2 AM rounds, I heard sobbing coming from behind the vault door. Not the theatrical wailing you’d expect from a haunting, but the quiet, desperate crying of someone truly trapped. When I checked the security cameras, they showed nothing but static.

Against protocol, I used my key. The vault door opened with a whisper, not its usual heavy groan. Inside, the walls of safe deposit boxes stretched impossibly high into darkness. Each box had a number, but they weren’t the usual sequential order. Some showed dates instead – future dates.

The crying grew louder. I followed it to box #19421929 – October 29, 1929. The day of the stock market crash. It was slightly ajar.

Inside was a single piece of paper: a ledger sheet showing transactions from that fatal day. But the entries were still being written, the ink flowing across the page by itself, recording the financial devastation in real-time, over and over again.

Then I noticed other boxes opening, each containing similar ledgers from different financial disasters throughout history. The papers began to float, swirling around me like a cyclone of monetary misery. Through the maelstrom, I saw figures in dated business attire – bankers, investors, brokers – their faces frozen in expressions of horror as they relived their financial doom.

I ran, but the vault door had vanished. Instead, I found an old teller window. Behind it sat a skeletal figure in a green visor, counting stacks of worthless stock certificates.

“Would you like to open an account?” it asked, its jaw clicking like a cash register. “We have some very special long-term investment opportunities.”

I’m still here, watching new boxes appear with tomorrow’s dates, listening to the sound of financial futures being sealed away forever. If you’re reading this, remember: banking hours are 9 to 5 for a reason.

Some transactions should never be processed after dark.

With this map you get:

• grid & gridless variations
• PNG files, low (70 PPI) & high (140 PPI) resolutions
• closed, splatter & abandoned variations
• floor plan
• dd2vtt files for FoundryVTT & Roll20
• High-resolution WebP files

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Day

First National Bank – Basement

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Night

First National Bank – Basement – Heist

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Splatter – Day

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Splatter – Night

First National Bank – Basement – Splatter

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Abandoned – Day

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Abandoned – Night

First National Bank – Basement – Abandoned

First National Bank – Ground Floor – Floor plan

First National Bank – Basement – Floor plan