Try Harder

8:30pm

Dwayne had some pretty severe burns along the side of his face. The skin was pink and blistered, slathered in blood. He looked positively ghoulish, like an extra in a gory zombie movie. The pain was tremendous, but the young man didn't show it. He fought it back. He didn't have time for pain. He needed to find this guy.

For him, the fight was personal. He was going to find the creep who murdered his brother, and he was going to reach down his throat and rip out his stomach. Literally. As furious as he looked now, fuelled by vengeance and adrenaline, he could probably do it.

He'd rampaged through most of the fifth floor, leaving a terrible swath of destruction in his wake. The offices there looked as though a wild bull had charged through them.

Canadian farm boys have a reputation as being sweet, well-meaning hosers who are generally pretty harmless. Dwayne was proving just how wrong that stereotype was. He was more like one of the jacked-up, fist-swinging brutes that filled the rowdy Sudbury bars on Saturday nights.

***

Upstairs, Buff wandered into the vault room to check on Beka and Doug. They were standing on either side of the Strongbox safe, working furiously on the security system. Doug's tools were strewn about the floor. They were clearly nowhere near finished.

"How are things going?" Buff asked, masking his impatience.

Doug turned towards him and stood up.

"Smooth as frozen silk, dude," he replied. "We just need another five, maybe ten minutes."

"Good. Keep me posted."

He gave them both a nod and went back out into the hallway. Doug returned to work.

Buff walked back into the executive office Marcus had kicked open. It had since become the team's unofficial base of operations.

It belonged to one of the firm's main partners, and looked like the inside of an old Norwegian stave church. Everything was made of wood – from the polished floors to the high ceilings, to the big desk in the middle of the room. Each piece of furniture was ornately carved, and appeared hand made. There were two spacious leather couches on one side of the room, and two more chairs on the other. There was a small window looking out over the west end of Toronto, but most of the light came in through a massive skylight above.

N-Dig was resting on one of the leather couches, and Marcus was watching over him. Both of them looked ragged and exhausted. Fou was there as well. He was standing in the corner, looking down at the parking lot through the window. No one gave Buff as much as a passing glance when he came in.

One look at his crew and he knew they were all losing faith in his ability to pull off this heist. He wanted to give a rousing speech to inspire the troops, but he didn't have it in him. At this point, he was just as pessimistic as the others.

It had been a while since he'd heard anything from either Dwayne or Big Frank, and he was starting to worry. These were the two strongest men he had on the team. If this armed old man could take them out, they were in serious danger.

He looked down at his radio. He was going to have to try and talk to this guy. He knew it would piss off Marcus, but he had to take the chance.

He clicked the transmit button and cleared his throat.

"I would like to speak to whoever has been running around the building with a gun," he said.

Marcus's jaw dropped. He came charging over and tried to pull the radio from his friend's hands.

"What are ya doing, b'y?!"

Buff pushed him back.

"Relax," he commanded, throwing his hand up in the old man's face. "I might be able to buy us some time."