Hands Up

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Nadja smiled to herself. The NAU had managed to close in a deal with De Tünnel Ormar, the notorious Xentheridan gang. The next stage of the plan could go ahead.

Fritjolf walked around the corner, where a Tünnel Ormar member stood in a doorway.

‘That’s her. Katarina Hauser.’ said the Tünnel Ormar, gesturing at a heavily pregnant woman before handing over a pistol to Fritjolf.

Fritjolf quietly cocked the pistol. His target was in sight, now, unloading multiple bags of baby clothes into the boot of her car.

‘Ma’am, let me help you with those, please.’ he said, rushing towards her.

‘No, no no, it’s quite alright.’ Katarina said, dismissing him without so much as looking over her shoulder. But still he strode over.

‘But ma’am, I insist.’ Fritjolf exhorted, pressing the pistol barrel into her back. Katarina took a sudden breath of shock, and her heart skipped a beat.

‘Now think of your baby, and you will survive.’ he said, his voice reassuring despite the gun. ‘Get in the car.’

'Where- where to?' she mumbled under hear breath as tears began cascading down her cheeks.

'Your husband’s bank.'


The Tünnel Ormar gangsters began disguising themselves, slipping on blue overalls and taking an MP5 each. They bundled into a van marked PTRA - a building company used as a front for the gang’s operatives - and began to drive.


As they drove through the streets of Marcadia, Fritjolf turned to Katarina as she drove. 'Give me your phone.' he demanded, and she fumbled around her handbag before her trembling hand relinquished control to Fritjolf.

He dialled a number, and spoke. 'It’s me. No, it’s safe. Everything is in place. I have her now. Are you ready?'

'Yes, comrade, I am ready.' came the reply at the other end, and Nadja stepped out of the car, clad in a black overcoat, sunglasses, and gloves, before walking across the road, towards Solar Private Bank.

The van, in the meantime, came to a grinding halt by the bank. Inside, the gangsters prepared for what was to come; checking their weapons, masks, and drilling the plan into their heads. They would go on the signal.


'Ah! Ms Asplund!' said Kurt Hauser. 'It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I am Kurt Hauser, the manager of this bank. Please, let us talk in my office.'

'Thank you for meeting at such a short notice.' said Nadja, slipping into her false identity as they entered Kurt’s office.

'Of course. I am always happy to assist the government. How long have you been working in the Treasury?'

'I’m not from the Treasury.' said Nadja, sitting down in the comfortable black leather seat as Kurt did the same.

'Oh. I understood that you were a new worker, assigned by the government?'

'No. On the contrary, the government would be quite shocked if they knew I was here.'

Kurt hesitated for a minute, then tried for a smile. 'But… but the reference code you gave-'

'Was a little old.' interjected Nadja. 'You should be more careful, Mr Hauser. You’ve become… complacent.'

Kurt inhaled heavily. 'Ms Asplund, I don’t quite understand what you-'

'It’s very simple.' said Nadja, cutting Kurt off again.

'You are going to give me the contents of this safety deposit box.' Nadja said coldly, taking a small slip of paper from a pocket and placing it on the table between them.

Kurt took the paper, unfolding it and reading it before exclaiming in disbelief, 'I will do no such thing!'

'Oh yes you will.'

Nadja stood, and stepped to the side, giving Kurt a clear vision of his wife standing in front of Fritjolf, who was discreetly pressing a gun into her back.

'KATARINA! No! What are you doing with her?' he yelled, as he ran towards his wife.


The signal had been received. The sixteen Tünnel Ormar gangsters exited the van, each clad in their blue jumpsuits. One entered the building first, and began to talk to the guard.

'Hi there, how are you doing?' he said.

'Yes, hello?' replied their guard, utterly perplexed.

'Someone called us.' continued the gang member. 'We heard there’s a water leak on the second floor. We’ve just come to fix it.'

Suddenly, the other members stormed in, clad in goblin masks. 'Put your fucking hands up!' yelled one, before shooting the guard twice in the head with an MP5, the lifeless body crumpling to the floor in a heap.

The first member stripped off his overall to reveal a fake guard’s uniform beneath. As the body was hidden, and the other gangsters walked further into the bank, the 'guard' strode towards the door, closing and locking both, before standing outside, deterring civilians from entering.

The gang walked into a new corridor, and as an unsuspecting guard turned their head in their direction, they were quickly mowed down by a barrage of automatic fire. Another guard, noticing this, drew his pistol and yelled 'Drop your weapons' in a futile attempt to quell the threat. They too were quickly shot down by more bullets from a gangster’s MP5. With little resistance encountered, the gang entered the main lobby.

Civilians in the bank were now hostages, and began ducking onto the floor. Screams pierced the air, only overpowered by the bang of bullets firing. Another guard fell, toppling off their chair at the security desk, the last breath of life escaping them. Nadja calmly stepped out of the office, and took a security pass from a fallen guard.

'Go, secure the way to the vault.' she commanded to two gangsters.

More hostages were frogmarched from upstairs, and dragged into the main hall, where more civilians lay on the cold marble floor. The gangsters stood, some reloading clips, and waited for more orders.

'No one else needs to get hurt.' said Nadja. 'We’re only here for one thing.'

Kurt nodded, his wife cowering into his shoulder. 'Yes, we’ll do anything.'

'Take us to the vault.'

Nadja, Fritjolf, Kurt, Katarina, and six gangsters descended the stairs. A lone guard sat at a desk behind bulletproof-glass doors, and, upon seeing the group descend, discreetly pressed the alarm button. This was not an alarm that would cause klaxons to wail throughout the bank, but would silently alert the nearest firearms unit - based in Marcadia - to an emergency in the bank. It would only be a matter of minutes before they arrived.

The guard turned to face the group, hands raised in the air, as they entered through the doors, but he was torn down by two shots from Fritjolf’s pistol, he too crumbling onto the cold marble floor, blood slowly dripping from the wounds to the chest.

Turning the the left, the group found themselves at another set of bulletproof doors; doors that would lead to the vault.

“If you would be so kind, Mr. Hauser.” said Nadja, a smirk upon her face.

“It doesn’t matter if I open these doors, I can’t open the vault itself!” exclaimed Kurt.

“We don’t need you for that.” Nadja said.

Kurt hesitated. There was not much of a point resisting; Katarina and his unborn child would be killed, and all for a vain cause. The door would be breached quickly, anyway.

He turned and placed his hand on the scanner beside the door, the door verifying him quickly. The door unlocked.

In front of them stood the entrance to the vault; many centimetres of steel-reinforced concrete that made up the door. It would be tough to break through it.

“Quickly! Bring the acetylene and torch.” said Fritjolf.

Four bags were placed at Fritjolf’s feet by the other gang members. Fritjolf opened the first and put on a pair of welding goggles and gloves; the second was opened, revealing a blow torch; the third contained two canisters of acetylene, and the fourth contained a lighter.

“Let’s begin.”

The alarm rang inside the dispatch room of the Marcadia Police Station. A bank robbery was in progress at the Solar Private Bank. Firearms officers were to be immediately dispatched to the scene.

Jordan Odinsson and his partner, Klaus Svenson, suited up and ran to their police cruiser and sped off to the scene, with other officers in pursuit behind them.

Weaving around the traffic was a pain, but after five minutes, they finally pulled in front of the bank, blocking the street in the process. They stepped out of the vehicle, G36C's in hand, and kicked open the glass door, shattering the windowpane all over the ground. The "guard" standing out front was a robber, little to Odinsson and Svensson's knowledge.

He looked at Odinsson and Svenson and said, "If I were you, I wouldn't go in."

He quietly withdrew his pistol, and shot Constable Svenson in the thigh. Odinsson shot him in the chest before he could fire another shot at Svenson.

He frantically radioed the dispatch center to get several ambulances and a coroner's van to the bank. As he opened the double desk, he could see a corpse lying on the ground next to the receptionists desk.

The blowtorch was hooked to the canisters, and the lighter was lit. Fritjolf ignited the blowtorch with the lighter, and the acetylene erupted into flames, bathing the room in a bright glow of white-hot fire. Fritjolf brought the flames towards the vault door, and with a crackle, a small hole began to be bored into the steel-reinforced concrete.

Two holes were bored, now, but as Fritjolf moved onto the third hole, gunshots rang out through the building.

“On the scene already? Remarkable of them. Still, they won’t stop us.” said Nadja. “Keep going.”


Three holes melted in the vault door. Four holes melted. Five holes melted. And just as the second tank of acetylene finished, and the flame fizzled out, the sixth hole was melted.

“Bring the box!” shouted Fritjolf, and almost instantly two robbers brought a small metal box to Fritjolf’s feet. It was opened, revealing six small cylindrical blocks of C4. Fritjolf took each block of C4, slotting them into the holes with the fuse end exposed.

Fritjolf took the detonator from the box, and, with Nadja, took cover behind an alcove between two pillars in the wall. Katarina, Kurt, and the robbers all sheltered in the corner of the room.

Fritjolf pressed the detonator.

BOOM.

As the smoke cleared, Fritjolf and Nadja made their way to the vault door, wide open and almost blown off its hinges after the blast.

They were in.

Milo knelt on the floor, his eyes on focused on its marble. Yet, his heart was racing; his mind was panicking in spite of his inaction. His palms were sweaty; knees weak; arms were heavy. There was vomit on his sweater already: mom's spaghetti. Who would've thought: a month of living in Xentherida and he was already amid what seemed like a bank robbery.

"Note to self," he thought, "switch banks. Another note to self: change cities." He glanced at his tan messenger bag, then at the crooks holding their weapons like it was Togbata 1979. If god served him right, in one the pockets is a very useful item: an apple. The regurgitation had left an emptiness in his stomach that couldn't leave unaddressed. He'd have had to wait for the robbers to turn their heads before completing a feat. One dead move could've cost him his life.

So he waited patiently for any distraction to occur.

Thomas Fellder was another officer in the Firearms Response Unit who had been alerted to the crime. He quickly threw his gear on and grabbed his G36C hopping into an armored truck. Another officer was sitting in the passenger seat of the armored truck, Evelyn Dihrn. There were other officers in the back of the truck. They arrived on the scene, after pushing through traffic quickly. He saw two other officers. One seemed injured and the other was in the entrance. Fellder and Dihrn hopped out of the truck and walked inside behind Odinsson. Fellder tapped his shoulder gently to let him know that he had backup now. Fellder raised his G36C and scanned the area, while Dihrn had her's raised as well, watching behind them in case anyone tried to sneak up on them.

Erik Lundgren, an officer part of the Firearms Response Unit, was off duty at the police station when he had been alerted to the crime. After he was ordered to deploy to the bank, he hastily put on his gear, and quickly jumped into an armored truck, with a G36C in hand. Alongside Lundgren, who was in the passenger seat, was his partner, Nickolas Anderssen, and three other officers in the back. As they were arriving, the two were having a short conversation.

Anderssen: "So, what are going to do?"

Lundgren: "What do you mean by that?"

Anderssen: "I mean you been quiet lately. It's not like you to not say anything. Hello?"

Lundgren: "Just get us to the bank, will you?"

Anderssen: "Okay."

After quickly pushing though traffic, the group arrived at the bank. They see that units have arrive. Lundgren and Anderssen come out of the truck to support the officers already at the entrance. Lundgren gently tapped Fellder's shoulder to let them know that additional backup has arrived. They raised their weapons, watching behind them.

"What the f-ck." Craig Erickson muttered under his breath as he lay crouched down, nervous and at the same time, recognizing the impedement this would have on his day. He was a real-estate broker and had a huge deal to close with the Van Houten family this evening. It was supposed to be the deal of his young career thus far and now he was being delayed because of such a rare and improbable cause, he couldn't help but feel agitated. "If I miss this deal, I swear to God..."

Vasco sat in the back of the truck silently cursing to himself and his bad luck. It had been his first day off in who knew how long, but being the fool he was he had left his wallet and phone charger in his locker the day before. What harm could there be in driving back to the station to collect it he had thought, well here was the harm, some idiots had decided to rob a bank while he was in picking up his stuff. So now here he was, unwillingly sacrificing his free time because he had the misfortune to be still in the building when the sergeant had run around organising a response team.

The truck quickly made its way to the crime scene, and while the driver and his partner ran for the entrance, Vasco took his time. He hefted the large heavy ballistic shield onto his arm and readying his sidearm. As he hopped out of the truck he grumbled to himself, the rest of the FRU always seemed to forget how heavy and awkward the shield was and almost always left him behind. Well he'd see who was left behind when the bullets started flying, he was always the odd one out as he didn't have any marksman badge, but as soon someone needed mobile cover they all wanted to be his friend. He knew none of it was true, doctrine actually called for the first units to advance rapidly, but he was still pissed about his day off and grumbling made him feel almost a little better.
Finally reaching the entrance to the bank, he quirked an eyebrow at the collection of officers. "So anyone care to fill me in on what's going on?And do we have a plan? Cause I have a six pack in the fridge, a carton of icecream and all of season 6 of The Crown Competition waiting for me at home."

Seth was on the floor, his hands above his head. He was taking very shaky breath. This wouldn't exactly be the best time for his asthma to act up. He slowly shifted into a more comfterable position, feeling his pocketwatch move around in his pockets. It was a family heirloom, given to him by his father before he decided to leave on his trip. He only wanted to visit a few countries, and when he comes to the bank to exchange some notes so he could explore Xentherida, a bunch of criminals come and rob the place. He felt like he was about to vomit. Gunshots were both echoing from outside and inside the bank. Seth just wished the police were here already.

David Drake was one of the officers who made it last second into the back of an armored transport, since it usually took him longer to get geared up, and he was busy at target practice when the alert happened.

By the time the transport made it to the scene, David had finally adjusted, buttoned, and/or strapped down all the loose ends in his tactical armor. He preferred keeping close and ready with his teammates, and so followed after them as they converged on the entrance. "Officer Drake reporting. What's the current situation?" He asked, looking between the others up front for someone in charge, while checking his rifle in case anything was out of place.

In all honesty, he was very nervous. Being on the team for little over a month, David was as green as a rookie could be. He'd done all the exercises/drills/practice one could do. But this was his first real test - a real bank robbery, a real hostage situation...! He silently prayed to God to help him get through today, alive.

Nadja and Fritjolf - carrying yet another bag - entered the vault, the door was still smoking slightly as it swung outwards slowly on its hinges. Inside was a cool, well-lit room with red safety deposit boxes lining the walls, and with a checkered floor utterly spotless; the entire interior of the vault felt almost clinical.

Another robber stepped in, and the three’s brief search reaped them their reward. Box 242. Nadja opened the bag Fritjolf had carried, and took out the drill, lifting it to the height of the box, and began to drill the lock.


In the main lobby, the robbers had heard the gunshots outside and began to assume their positions, weapons ready, with the hostages all huddled on the floor in the middle of the room. They were ready for the Firearms Response Units.

With a crack, the last pin was destroyed in the lock, and it took just a simple turn with a screwdriver to unlock the box. Nadja set aside the drill, and took out the box, lifting to confirm what was inside.

A classified dossier.

Perfect.

Donning gloves, Nadja took the book out, discarding the box. She took out a camera, and flicked through each page, taking a photograph of each one. Once done, she replaced the book and box. Now, it was time to conceal their true intents. This was a bank robbery after all, was it not? They had to steal “stuff”. Lots and lots of valuable “stuff.”

It was time to begin the drilling of over a hundred boxes.

As the medic tended to his partner's injury, Odinsson entered the lobby of the bank. He walked past the front desk, and turned into the hallway behind it. A robber was standing there. Odinsson fired a shot before he could get him. He prepared to call the rest of the response unit in, as they prepared to take the rest of the bank.

Lundgren was about to answer Drake and Vasco's questions when suddenly, he hears a gunshot inside the the bank. He moves into the lobby, past the front desk, and into the hallway behind it. Anderssen, who tried to stop him, follows him into the bank, and into the hall.
There, Lundgren see that Odinsson was the one that pulled the trigger.

What was the point? Why did he even bother showing up? These cowboys didnt care about proper procedure! They hadn't even discussed a plan and they were just wandering into the building all willy nilly! flipping down the visor on his helmet he hiked up his shield and readied his side arm. he didnt care that a number of the team had already gone around the corner, he wasnt a fool, he was taking no chances. Advancing with his shield i fron and in a slight squat he quickly advanced to where Odinsson stood. whispering angrily to thoe who had rounded the corner he chastised them "You absolute idiots all of ye. We have hostages in there. No time to lose now, If we stop now they'll likely start shooting hostages cause of you, if they havent started already. stack up!" Reaching the next corner he planted the shield down, and waited for the team to stack up behind him

Odinsson moved up to Vasco. He advanced foward, into the main hall. He began firing rounds at the robbers, and a firefight broke out among the response officers and the robbers.

Thomas, unlike his other teammates, hadn't rushed ahead. He had waited for Vasco to move up, and followed behind him with his G36 raised. After moving up a bit he got behind cover behind a pillar and began to fire at the robbers, before getting a simple idea. He stopped firing for a moment, grabbing a flashbang off of his belt. He pulled the pin, but held onto it for a second. "Tossing a flashbang!" He tossed it towards the robbers, looking away until it exploded.

David was very nervous at this point. "There's already a firefight?!" he thought to himself, trying not to be left behind. Sweat trickled down his face as he took cover behind the wall, behind the others.
As soon as the flashbang was over, David carefully- very carefully, G36 aimed and ready, peeked out, checking the area. His blood ran cold as he saw the hostages and the robbers. "Damn it, damn it, damn it...!" He kept mentally repeating to himself. David wanted to make sure, above all, that he DIDN'T hit a hostage!
Seconds felt like an eternity, he wanted to support his team though, damn it. Trigger close to being pulled, he rescanned, making quick mental notes where the robbers were... And then came the familiar sound of the G36, booming in his ears, small bursts, just like in training.
Whether he actually took anyone out, he didn't wait to see, hiding back behind the wall, panting quickly. He did it, he actually contributed to the team during a fire-fight! ...Um, but what now?

The flashbang exploded four feet from his face. A sickness washed over Seth as his vision turned white and a loud ringing in his ears occured. He violently vomited onto the floor. He wiped his mouth and his eyesight returned. Everything was blurry and a ringing still went around in his ears, along with the echoing of gunfire
"Dammit, are they shooting at me or at the robbers?" he mutters to himself as he flattens himself onto the floor, on top of his own vomit, to avoid being shot.

As he heard his comrade screaming "flashbang out", Odinsson hit the deck and closed his eyes, so as not to blind himself.

While they were blinded by the flashbang, the response units had already lost their advantage with their utter lack of coordination. Three robbers were down, now, there were still another seven fighting. One robber, crouched behind the desk, took some potshots at one officer holding a shield. Others crouched behind pillars at the other end sent suppressive fire down towards the entrance from the front lobby and towards the pillars at the top of the hall. "Get back! We'll shoot the people!" shouted a robber, and fired a shot that bounced off the floor next to a hostage, before resuming firing towards the officers.

One robber dragged out a hostage by the arm to the side of the room, and caught them in a headlock, bringing the civilian close. "I'll fucking kill him!" he shouted, gesturing wildly with a pistol. A bullet glanced off the marble pillar in the hall, and another robber took shots at the firearms officers bunched up towards the entrance to the main lobby. The robbers were holding tight angles, in an intention to stall the officers as much as possible. They fired shots into the walls, as they tried to hold back the officers.

In the meantime, seventy five boxes had been drilled, and millions in jewels had been stuffed into the bag. They had been careful to restore the box the book was in, going far enough to replace the lock on the box with a lock from another safety deposit box, attempting to cover their traces. The gunshots were louder now, but they were so close to their goal. Not only would those documents be invaluable, but the jewels would sell for millions on the black market. More funding for their cause.

It would not take much more time before their objective was complete. Whether they had enough time was the question.

When Feklor Frochtermann had caught up with the others he was able to get behind a pillar. After being there for 10 mins one of the robbers had noticed him and being shooting. "I need backup NOW". Using a lighter he waited for the robber to get to the other side of the piller and he lit the robber's throat on fire. He then took hi weapon and ran back to where the others were.

Seth was dragged away, vision still blurry. Were the cops pulling him to safety? He got a clear answer, no, when he was put in a headlock, and felt a cool circle being pressed against his skull, the barrel of a gun.

"I'll f*cking kill him!"

He went limp, vomit dribbling down his chin. Any sudden moves would mean certain death. He was dragged behind a pillar. Bullets flew over his head in both directions, and the gun remained pointed to his head. Would this be how he would die? Without any sort of fighting chance. He felt the urge to sob, but he held it back. Any sudden moves would mean certain death.

With the team already losing a advantage due to the lck of coordination, Lundgren was thinking, "Why the hell is this happening?!" All while Anderssen was calling him, "Erik! Erik! ERIK!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?"

When he snapped out of his trance, he started shooting at the robbers that were blinded point blank, before ducking again to reload.

"Now... or never... Now... or never." kept ringing in David's head, as he sat there behind the wall under the barrage of enemy bullets. He took the time to reload, then sat there for a minute - or five? He wasn't sure, it still seemed like time was slowing down around him.
David could feel every heartbeat he had, every drop of sweat on his skin, even the weight of his armor and rifle, since he sat down. His hearing was deadened, to the bullets at least.
But when David heard one of the robbers threatening to kill one of the hostages, something in his mind tripped, a need to take action before it was too late. He got up in a crouched position, switching his firing pattern to semi-auto. And then, locked- loaded- and ready, he took a deep breath, swung around, aimed down the sights of his rifle, and looked at the head of the captor. "Now...-" resounded one more time, no regrets, no more hesitation.
David's trigger finger squeezed twice, and out of the rifle came two 5.56mm rounds, flying faster than a blink of an eye. One entered the forehead of the captor, the second, into the temple. By luck, the now-dead robber didn't execute the hostage on reflex.

Two bullets flung just inches from his head, and the man holding him collapsed with Seth on top of him. Seth, still woozy, managed to roll off his body, and tried to hide behind the body, his eyes squeezed shut. A bullet flung inches from him, again, and hit the hostage behind him. He wasn't safe here. He opened his eyes and found a man staring back at him, face frozen in suprise.
Two holes littered his face, and he remained motionless. Seth felt the urge of hurl again, but there was nothing left in his stomach to hurl. Crawling commando style, bit by bit, until he was behind a pillar. His back to the robbers, he could see some of the cops a few yards away. He wanted to drag himself towards them, but he knew that where the police were was where most of the bullets were flying to. That would be like him purposely jumping into gunfire, so he curled into fetal position and cowered behind the pillar.

Vasco shielded his eyes as he looked away from the officer who had once again run into the middle of the situation with no coordination once more. As the hail of gunfire intensified, Vasco braced his shoulder against the impacts. Still squatting he managed to advance a few painfpainful steps at a time, each step met with the resistance of metal jackets projectiles slamming into his personal wall. Watching the criminal who had only moments before held a hostage slump to the ground, Vasco came to the conclusion that there was no longer any semblance of a rescue taking place. There were few options left but to take command of the situation himself. Without warning his comrades he unclipped another flashbang and released the spoon behind his shield. On the count of 3 he hurled it straight at the criminals before it exploded in mid air. Trying to take advantage of its effects he stood and sprinted straight past the hostages, skidding to a halt he slammed his shield on the ground and crouched behind one more. Not knowing or caring if he'd left any criminals behind himself, he began to engage those in front with his pistol, praying that his colleagues (despite the ineptitude thus far displayed) would take the opportunity of the distraction to extract the hostages

Lundgren, who was crouching got up, and saw Vasco engage the robbers at the front with his side are. He also saw that the hostages were in the line of fire. Realizing that they may get hit, he decided to tell the rest of the team that they need to get the hostages out of the line of fire, while Vasco provides a distraction.

Conrad nervously paced 5 steps forward to the edge of the wall and then back to the original spot he had been tersely assigned to cover. Even wearing a balaclava, the irritation from being slighted read clearly upon his brow and crinkled eyes.

"You know, this is about ridiculous. I've been part of the gang for what, 6 years now? And here I am on lookout patrol on the back of the damned bank with you Kato, a damn rookie."

Kato rose from the squatting position on the opposite corner of the bank and began a slow shuffle toward Conrad.

"Look man, I didn't ask to be assigned this job with you. I'd much rather be back here with Bjorn, Carney, or hey, even Simone, you know what I'm saying? Heh. Trust me, it's not a good sign to be stuck on a detail with a loser who can't rise above a basic lookout in 6 years."

Conrad bristled at the idea that he could be a loser. Hell, his brother built this gang from the ground up. He has to be given some kind of respect, even if it is built on legacy alone. He whipped around, primed to lay into Kato with a flurry of verbal barbs when his eyes caught movement from the area Kato was meant to be watching. The instantaneous wave of black-clad SWAT officers completely overtook the unprepared lookouts and within seconds the two were in a prone position with their hands zip-tied behind them.

.

"I've been hit-!" David yelled out, as a sudden sharp and burning sensation came over the lower side of his stomach. He'd been shot, an enemy bullet having clipped the edge of his Kevlar vest, tumbling into his unprotected area. He then fell back, wincing from the shock of being shot for the first time in his life (he was always a wimp with pain), G36 falling on the ground next to him.
Another went into his lower left leg, telling David that they weren't just lucky hits - he was that much in the open. "You damn idiot!" He screamed in his mind as he tried to drag himself behind the wall again.

He'd barely started to get out of there when Vasco threw something - another flashbang grenade. "Shit-" David mumbled to himself, stopping to cover his eyes as it exploded, filling the room with a large flash and a deafening bang... At least it worked, as those who weren't in cover already were stunned and/or fell back into cover. "-but thanks..." He later thought to himself, the sudden silence of enemy guns being a welcome change.

Officer Lundgren's order was loud and clear: Get the hostages out of here!
David took the time to check his wounds. They were painful and wet with blood, but nothing preventing him from getting up and running 'into the oven', so to speak. He'd be damned if he was going to lie there and bleed to death!
Taking a breath and steeling his resolve, David followed Lundgren closely and provided covering fire with his P39 side-arm. By luck or fate, one of the 9mms tore through the neck of one of the remaining robbers.

A bullet smashed off the pillar above him, and a chunk of it flew down, hitting him and bringing a sharp pain into his shoulder blade. Seth reached behind him and felt, he felt no blood, but the pain was intense. He looked up from his crouched position, and saw a man with a large shield run past and set up near him. Painfully, he uncurled and layed flat on the floor, stomach down. As he crawled towards the police, the pain in his shoulder exploded, and he tried to scream, but his throat was too dry and it came out as a quiet wimper. Another bullet flew towards him, and it went into his waist. All he could feel on the left side of his body was pain, from his shoulder down to his hip. What was he thinking, crawling out of his hiding place? He couldn't move, his body refused, so he tried flattening himself against the floor, hoping someone would drag him out of trouble.

David looked for hostages that were in the most danger - namely, one that's right on the edge of the firefight between Vasco and the remaining robbers. This particular hostage was laying flat on the floor, and it'd look like he'd been shot in the waist. David crouched down and used the pillar to avoid getting shot even more.
When David got close enough, he holstered his pistol and grabbed onto the hostage's wrists with both hands, carefully dragging him out to David's side of the pillar. All this movement was exaggerating the pain in his still newly minted wounds, but he needed to get this guy out of here and into some medical attention.
At least, David hoped there was an ambulance coming...

"Still awake, sir?" David spoke to the hostage. "Because I'm gonna carry you over my shoulder, and we're gonna get out of here, alright?" At this, he took a deep breath. "On a count of three, I'm picking you up, and we'll run." David began to get into place to perform a slung-over-carry.

"One- two- three...!" David picked the hostage up and over his shoulder, then turned to the entrance and started sprinting as much as he could, till he rounded the corner behind that old wall again.
But then he stopped there, letting the now saved man down to rest against the wall. David himself sat down and checked his gut wound, which had been antagonizing him since he got it. It was still bleeding - not a good sign... David turned to the man. "Think you can make on your own now? Or do you need me to limp with you out of here?"

As the last vault was drilled, and its contents unceremoniously dumped into another bag, Nadja and Fritjolf examined their work. One hundred and fourteen boxes of jewels, money, and gold, stolen. That should cover it up and provide some funding on the side. All that was left was to retreat.

Fritjolf strode out of the vault, followed by Nadja, and together they took out the documents, scanning through the details.

“Yes! This is it. What we need for the next stage of our plan.” Nadja said. “Now, our escape route.”

Fritjolf nodded, and walked over to Kurt, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to a section of the wall.

“Come here. I need you to unlock the door.” said Fritjolf harshly.

“But there’s nothing there!” Kurt protested.

“LIAR! I know there’s an exit!” Fritjolf yelled, forcing Kurt’s hand to an inconspicuous brick in the wall. He pressed it, and a small hand scanner revealed itself, to which Fritjolf pressed Kurt’s hand to. The brick wall slowly churned open, exposing a secret exit route. Below, more robbers waited beside motorcycles and SUVs. The extraction team had done their job.

There was only one more thing to do.

Fritjolf cocked his pistol, aiming at Kurt, and fired. Kurt collapsed to the floor, a bloody hole in the middle of his forehead, and hit the ground. Katarina screamed, but she too was cut down by a storm of bullets.

Nobody would know their true intentions.

Above ground, there were only five robbers left, all stunned from the flashbang. Their number falling quickly, and having received the new orders, they began to slowly retreat downstairs into the vault, firing wildly to necessitate the cover they desperately needed. As the last gang member crouched down out of the line of fire, they set a full on sprint, rushing past the security desk - stealing the dead member’s keys on the way - into the vault room, where they locked the bulletproof doors separating the vault from the lobby. Despite the five that had fallen, their job was done.

The group got into their vehicles, and set out through the secret exit, one typically reserved for deliveries of jewels, diamonds, gold, and other riches. Only this time, riches were not being deposited, but instead taken.

It was not long before the vehicles blended into the Marcadian traffic, and soon, they were gone without a trace.