In the early morning, the bustling New York City paused briefly as chaos erupted inside a local bank.
The armed robbers commanded attention immediately, and panic painted itself across most faces in the bank. Not everyone was scared, though. Noah was calmly assessing the situation, keenly watching the expressions of everyone nearby.
Only one other man appeared unbothered—a tall, muscular guy in the back, whose right hand subtly hovered near his waist. Noah figured he was likely involved in similar "business" himself. Maybe a gang member from another outfit here to scope out the scene.
"Quickly, get the cash in bags. Don't slow us down," barked one of the robbers, directing his accomplices to speed up. Meanwhile, Noah joined a group of hostages, hands over his head, silently chuckling at the irony of it all.
In fact, Noah wasn't concerned at all about losing his money in this robbery. After all, it wasn't as though they were taking money from his own account—it was the bank's loss, and in the end, this was practically an insult to the crime syndicate that operated this bank.
To Noah, it was only a matter of time before these rookie robbers would be hunted down by mutant enforcers, crushed, and have the stolen money returned to the bank within hours.
These guys are out of their league.
He found himself hoping they'd wrap up their little "job" quickly and get out, so the fallout could proceed in peace.
"Open the safe, and don't press the alarm, or you're dead!" the lead robber shouted, waving a submachine gun menacingly at the terrified teller.
Just then, a loud gunshot rang out, and the bank descended into screams and more confusion.
A security guard, attempting to pull his gun from the shadows, had been shot by one of the robbers, but not without getting his own shot off first. The robber yelped in pain, clutching his bleeding side.
"Scott!" cried one of the robbers, abandoning his post by the counter and rushing to his injured partner.
"Hurry up, grab everything! We don't have time!" a different robber yelled from near the vault.
"I'm not doing this anymore. Scott's hit! He needs a hospital!" the guy named Aris shouted back, hoisting his injured friend up.
"Oh, come on!" Noah muttered under his breath. These guys weren't just inexperienced—they were downright amateur. Were they even going to finish the job?
After a bit of back and forth, the robbers finally got their act together, moving step-by-step toward their goal. They held the manager at gunpoint to open the vault and began stuffing cash into sacks.
Noah almost felt his blood pressure rising, watching their terrible technique. The robber handling the cash pile seemed oblivious to the basics of bank robberies. He grabbed entire stacks of cash without checking for alarms or counters.
In most banks, bills at the counter have trigger alarms underneath. Experienced robbers usually keep a lookout for this. These guys? Not even close.
Sure enough, within moments, police sirens blared outside the bank. The robbers had only been inside for a few minutes, and now, half of New York's finest were arriving.
"Boss, the police are here," one of the robbers said nervously, peeking through the window.
"Damn it! Didn't someone say the cops were busy with a press conference today?" growled the leader, scratching his head.
"Wow," Noah muttered, rolling his eyes. He realized these morons actually planned the heist assuming all police would be at a press conference.
At this point, Noah's curiosity got the better of him. He observed in silence, squatting with the other hostages while the robbers scrambled, fumbling with their loot and their weapons.
"Come out! You're surrounded!" an officer shouted over the loudspeaker, demanding that the robbers surrender. Panic spread among the robbers, whose tough facades were rapidly cracking.
"What do we do now, boss?" one of the robbers whimpered.
"Tell them to prepare a van for us, or we'll start shooting," the leader said, scanning the crowd of hostages, finally resting his gaze on Noah.
"You, stand up!" the robber leader pointed his gun at Noah, his face a mix of confusion and determination.
"Me?" Noah echoed, mildly surprised. He hadn't expected to be singled out but played along, rising slowly.
"Yeah, you. You're gonna be our ticket out of here. Stand at the door, and tell the cops what we want, or you're dead," the leader hissed, clearly panicked.
Noah shrugged, calmly moving forward. "Sure thing, I'll be your hostage."
Meanwhile, across town, on the grand stage of Times Square, reporters had gathered around New York's Police Commissioner, George. The director stood poised on stage, fielding questions from the media when his deputy frantically approached and whispered in his ear.
"What? A bank robbery in progress at Lanshe Bank?" George confirmed, eyes widening slightly.
Flashbulbs and camera clicks erupted, and the expressions of both the commissioner and his deputy were instantly caught on film.
As Noah stepped up to the bank's door, he could hear the radio calls from officers outside. "Shots fired at Lanshe Bank, armed robbers inside, and at least one injured. Proceed with caution."
Through the glass, Noah caught sight of the SWAT teams setting up a perimeter and the negotiation team preparing to speak.
Here we go, Noah thought, an amused grin sneaking onto his face as he was nudged forward by the panicking robbers behind him.
These guys thought they'd planned a professional heist—but here we are.
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