The Gentle Sniper

Chapter 9: New Players In The Game

A gasmask wearing man ran into the Bank just as the first police cars pulled up, joining the four criminals; three gunmen and one "hostage" within.

He carried another duffle bag and a Benelli M4 Shotgun, with each of the four identical gasmask bearing men who were present all turning to face the door, minus Finn, who was already facing the door when he entered.

"Great, now we're stuck in here with our getaway driver and no escape route," groaned one of the criminals, the one with a gun to Finn's head.

"Quit complaining. Remember, we have a plan B," said the leader of the crew.

"There's no way he'll help us. He's busy with something, isn't he?" Asked their getaway driver.

"Don't worry about all that. Just get those nitrogen canisters out so we can smoke them out," the leader continued, nodding at the cashiers.

"On it boss," the man nodded, placing his shotgun on the ground and opening his duffle bag. Taking out one of three canisters, he approached the cashiers, locked away in their booths.

"What I've got here is nitrogen, ladies. Which, in case you don't know, likes to react with oxygen to form what we usually breath in. However, in a closed room like yours, it will prove fatal for you both as you struggle to breathe and suffocate. Now, I'm sure you don't want that, so why don't you get out of your booth and show us the way to the safe of this fine establishment?"

"There isn't a safe here. Please, just let us both go," the cashier who had spoken to Finn earlier, begged.

"Tsk, tsk. We know for a fact that there is a safe here. We've seen the same armoured truck pull up here once a week, 8am every Wednesday, like clockwork. But if you want to suffocate, then who am I to refuse you?" As he finished, he began to unscrew the lid of the canister in his hand.

"W-wait, I-I can help you! S-she doesn't s-speak for me!" The other cashier wailed suddenly, half yelling and half sobbing as her resolve shattered.

The man immediately stopped undoing the lid of the canister. "A wise choice. C'mon out then."

"What are you doing?! He'll kill you!" The first cashier whisper-shouted at her companion.

"I'll die either way, so shut up!" The second cashier shot back, tears streaming down her face as she snatched up a key and left her colleague there.

"T-this will get y-you into the safe room, but the s-safe itself is locked d-down as soon as the a-alarms go off. H-however, there a-are deposit b-boxes in the s-safe room as w-well.

"So this heist is more or less a bust then. Very well, show us where those deposit boxes are. It's better than nothing," said the leader.

"I-I will..." murmured the cashier.

"Good. In the meantime, I have some texts to send. Nobody bother me for a while, unless we get more problems."

"Yes, boss," was the chorused reply.

...

When Johann regained consciousness, he found his arms and legs were bound, with chains, to a chair in an abandoned warehouse somewhere.

Krogan was present, staring at him as he sat in a chair not far away, his tranquilizer gun in his lap and a ford transit van parked behind the chair, taking up the space of one warehouse door. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he muttered.

"Why am I here?" Johann demanded.

"Cutting to the chase? Good. You're here because Drago Bludvist wants you on his side, or you won't live to see tomorrow. It's as simple as that. I'd recommend you do that, instead of refusing again, for your own sake. But I'm not fussed about what decision you make."