BULLET-CITY

Nitro-Part 2

          Vince ignored his partner's complaint. He was too busy envisioning himself already accomplishing his next target, as if it had already happened. Something he had picked up in training. Another thing he lived by was always ending on a good shot. In other words, during target practice, if he fired five rounds with the first four being bad, but the last one being good, he would stop his practice on the last one in order to build up his muscle memory.
          Vince pulled a silver silencer out of his vest pocket. After attaching it to his gun, he looked down the barrel to eyeball its accuracy. He then entered into another practice ritual. Imagining himself putting on his yellow Sony Walkman with black bass boosters on the front. Connected to the Walkman was usually a cheap pair of old-school foam-tipped headphones. Music was a part of his five-sense muscle memory as well. Music of choice? Please...Metallica of course.
          "Aww, come on," Frank said. "Where did you get a silencer, man? You'd better not do what you're thinking about doing. And I don't know how that music is going to settle your nerves either."
          Frank looked down and hesitated for a moment, "Listen man, I know you feel like you've got big shoes to fill with Bishop being gone and all, but it's like you're chasing a ghost. Someday it's going get you killed."
          Vince could barely hear Frank over the tune playing through his head. He simply looked at Frank and winked. "Don't worry, Frankie-boy. Just follow my lead."

#
"Every sensor beam has a main brain. Sometimes the brain that's connected to the laser sensor of the bomb is hooked up via Wi-Fi to one motherboard. However, sometimes each sensor runs independent of its mainframe by generating its own power. Theoretically, by taking out that brain it should deactivate the sensor. The trouble is, you have a fiftyfifty chance of what type of C-4 sensors you're dealing with. If you shoot the sensor itself, you may earn yourself a one-way ticket to kingdom come. Hey, no one ever said this business was easy . . . or safe."

#

          The music helped steady Vince's hand as he peaked around the side of the hall. Sweat poured around his eyes as he steadied his gun on the first sensor. There were no wires crawling up the walls or over the floor. His assessment had him leaning towards it having an independent brain that was connected via Wi-Fi. Vince was positive he was right . . . probably. A tiny red light flashed on the sensor, daring him to test his luck. Vince took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Frank simultaneously backed away from the hallway. Once he had a positive lock, Vince took another breath and released.
          The bullet made a sound like a dart being blown out of a straw. Both Vince and Frank held their breath as the bullet zoomed towards the sensor. It was a direct hit. The brain of the sensor let off black smoke as the lens shut down, making a sound like a small set of keys hitting the ground.
          Vince's luck hadn't run out just yet. He smiled and turned around, but furrowed his eyebrows when he saw his trusty friend leaning against the farthest wall from him. Frank shrugged his shoulders.
          One by one, Vince took out the other three sensors as they slowly made their way up the hallway. Vince squinted his eyes as he focused on some white letters stamped on the sensor. He cocked his head curiously.
          "These sensors are Russian made. Not just Russian made, but Russian homemade," Vince whispered to Frank.
          Vince could speak and read passable Russian, though it hadn't started out that way. In high school, he'd signed up for Italian, but had shown up at the wrong class. He'd stuck with it over the years, and later had even perfected it with some help from his late ex-green beret mentor.
          Vince's curiosity was cut short by the sound of close footsteps. Vince pressed his back flat against the wall. Several other thugs were roaming up and down between the prisoners, their guns held at the ready.
          Vince counted four men who were dressed in expensive suits and two women with fur coats. Each were decked out in the finest decor.
          "No wonder Nitro chose to strike now. It's right after the richest folks in town came to personally deposit their greedy loot into their own personal vaults." Vince thought to himself.
          Two of the thugs began a conversation.
          "Are you sure the boss knows what he's doing?" said the short man.
          "Listen, if we want to make it in the big time, we're gonna have to prove to the higher ups we can be trusted." replied the taller man. "So if they want us to rob a bank out of the blue, then that's what we're gonna have to do. So just be patient and shut up, will ya."
          The short man shrugged his shoulders and looked around.
          "Hey, where's Diamond? He's been gone a long time."
          "You're right," replied the taller man. "You better check it out, make sure he's not slacking off. And don't forget, avoid the sensors."
          The short man nodded and walked towards the hallway. He stopped short of the sensor and curiously looked down at it. Vince looked at Frank. This was it, they thought, their cover was blown for sure.

          "What! They're not sure if they can come up with the cash that quickly!? Those idiots!" Came a whiny voice from one side of the room.
          The short man stopped assessing the sensors and turned towards the whiny man as he came into view. The man had dark baggy, shiny jeans on, with a black hoody and a green ski mask. A tan canvas bag wrapped across his back with one strap.

          "They refuse to bargain, so we're going to have to show them we mean business. Grab one of the prisoners and take him to the window," commanded the man in the green ski mask.
          The short thug grabbed the nearest hostage, an old man with short white hair, and dragged him to the window. The old man struggled to no avail. The man with the green ski mask walked over to the man and pointed a handgun at his head.
          "Time to say goodbye, fool!"