*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BE-*

A groggy hand lifts up from a still mound laying on a bed, covered in blankets and lightly attempts to turn off the alarm. After missing two times it finally roughly lands on the off button on the alarm, causing it to shake on the bureau. The mound lifts the blankets off of itself to reveal a middle aged man of about forty. The man slowly sits up, and grabs a pile of clothes, and walks into a bathroom to change. After several minutes he emerges wearing a dark blue suit jacket and pants including a white collared shirt with a plain red colored tie, loosely tied around his neck. He then enters a small hallway connecting to the bedroom, and leisurely steps down a set of stairs and enters a kitchen with white walls and beige tiles.

The smell of coffee from the coffee machine enters his nostrils as channel 6's morning weather report begins with Bryan Johnson, the stations meteorologist talking about how wonderful the weather is supposed to be today:

"...and starting this morning the weather should be surprisingly warm starting at about sixty degrees-"

He puts the remote control back down onto the table, and then pours steaming coffee into a travel mug, and as he takes a sip he opens and removes a plain bagel from the microwave just as it announces its completion. He puts the coffee mug back down onto the table, and picks up a black travel bag, and slings the strap over his shoulder. After that he picks up the coffee mug again, exits his condominium, locking the door behind him and walks down the three short steps. He pauses to breath in the air and to observe the busy nature of Queens. He lifts his arm up and looks at his watch sitting on his wrist that reads 6:30.

"I've got time." He mutters to himself as he turns to the left, and continues walking on the sidewalk.



Twenty steps later a police cruiser slows as it passes, and the officer in the passenger seat whose badge reads "Smith" calls out:

"Hey, Mr. Adams, what brings you up and about at this hour? You usually don't leave until eight."

"New job," replies Mr. Adams and nods towards the other officer: "Officer Miller."

"Morning."



After goodbyes are exchanged, the officers continue their patrol, and Mr. Adams continues his walk to work. He comes to a crosswalk and as he waits for a red light, he counts the cars that pass and names the brand.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Chevy. Kia. Toyota. Nissan-

The light turns red, he and several other people on their way to work advance across the crosswalk from 83rd Street onto Theatre Avenue. Adams crosses the street again to the right, and continues walking forwards passing a variety of stores including simple, unoriginal clothing stores, each selling the same junk, a parts store, and a Subway that appears to have built into what was an alleyway. Across the street, a group of skateboarders attempt to do tricks while two guys with cameras record the scene. The skateboarders seem fairly decent until one accidentally crashes into a nearby parked car, causing the alarm to go off. However, the upcoming yelling from the owner of the car is even louder than the alarm. As Mr. Adams rounds the corner as a red Sudan comes speeding by, followed by two police cruisers. A taxi with its cab sign shining brightly slowly approaches and Mr. Adams calls it over. The taxi stops and Adams opens the door, and plops down in the brown seat with a soft thud to see a Spanish looking man in a Chicago Bulls sport jacket and a pair of light blue jeans staring at him.

"Where to?" Asks the driver, in a strong Spanish accent.

"Bank of Queens, North Street." Replied Adams, with his light English accent.


As soon as he finishes his reply, the taxi driver flips a switch, turning off the light on the cab sign. After that he firmly steps on the accelerator pedal and the taxi sets off. It swiftly rounds the bend, passing other condominiums as it advances towards the main road and into the thick traffic that lays within. The taxi turns right and is quickly swallowed by the traffic. Within a few short moments the speed that the taxi is traveling at diminishes more and more until it is almost not moving at all. A green light up ahead quickly turns red, and doesn't change back as if mocking those who didn't make it through the light in time. Mr. Adams's iPhone 5 buzzes in his pocket. Taking it out, he presses the power button with his pointer finger to reveal a tab labeled 'Rick', with a message on the right that says:

Almost here?


Adams slides the little rectangle to the right, unlocking it, types in his typical four number pass code, 0666, his birth date, also considered the number of the devil. After he unlocks the phone, he opens up the 'Messages' app and steadily replies:

Yes. I'm on 76th street. I'll be there in about ten minutes. The traffic is unsurprisingly thick today.


He turns off the phone, puts it back into his pocket, and looks out the window, observing the numerous lanes around his. The large assortment of cars around his include many different cars with many different brands in many different colors. Throughout the crowd are yellow taxis adding to the crowd of many colors. The red light finally changes back to green, allowing the trapped cars through. Adams looks ahead as the taxi turns right onto North street. It continues past several buildings before the yellow car parks in front of a large two story building with a sign on the second floor labeled "Bank of Queens". Adams lightly tosses a crumpled Benjamin towards the cab driver whose eyes widen with surprise. Adams tells the driver to keep it, opens the door, and gets out. He waits for the taxi to drive away before moving towards his destination.


In between the bank and a small bakery is a narrow alleyway. Mr. Adams walks into the alleyway, turns the corner to left, continuing to walk against the wall of the bank. He continues walking through the tight passage past countless liter and graffiti covered walls. He turns another corner to the left to meet the barrel of a revolver.


Mr. Adams finds himself looking at three men, all wearing plastic masks, hiding their faces. Each mask has a different colored design. All of them have body armor and guns. Behind them is a door marked 'Staff Only' which was presumably, the back door to the bank. A camera in the corner hung low, with a bullet hole in it, and on the ground, a man, seeming to be a security guard, laying still. His pager lying on the ground beside him. The two men in masks next to the door each have silenced weapons, one an M4, the other an MP5.

"Might want to put that down, Rick, we don't want you alerting every officer in Queens." Commands Mr. Adams.

The man puts the revolver into his pocket and lifts up his mask, revealing an African American face with light stubble.

"Sorry, sir, didn't know it was you," Says Rick. He picks up a silenced spas-12 that was leaning against the wall and holds it in both hands. "Almost ready?"

"One moment." Says Adams, as he puts down his bag, and zips it open. He takes out and puts on a black mask with a red design resembling the devil. After that he takes out a silenced M1911 and a UCV jammer, smiles behind his mask and asks:

"So, who's ready for a bank heist?"