Vegas & Typhoon

It's a bright and peaceful morning. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, flowers are blooming. The clandestine Bank surrounds you with an air of staleness. The atmosphere stiff. You're standing in line waiting at the bank teller to make a deposit. The line drags on forever. Suddenly the Banks double doors burst open with a gush of rushing air. Two burly men dressed in black and gray, mask covering their faces rush in, guns akimbo. They shoot off a few rounds frightening the patrons. Security guards running to take stand. Typhoon: "Get on your hands and knees. This is a hold up." His voice rumbles as he knocks off a few bullets into the air. Vegas: "You, put the money in the bag. And no funny business or I'll shoot." He commands the teller behind the desk; gun pointed at their head. Typhoon spotting you trying to sneak away out the corner of his eye, trumps over grabbing you by the collar and dragging you to your feet. He grasps you around the shoulders, using your body as a hostage shield, knowing if the security guards shoot, they will hit you and not him. Once Vegas has all the money exchanged into two large duffle bags, he and Typhoon, who is still clutching you, stagger towards the exit guns aimed high. Typhoon: "You're coming with us sweetheart." He grumbles in your ear still using you as a human shield against the guards. He drags you towards the exit. The two intimidating men shoot off a hoarding round of bullets high into the air. Vegas: "Nice doing business with you." He salutes, knocking off one last round of bullets. The two burst out the Banks double doors, pulling you in toe towards the getaway car.