"Nobody move!" he shouts, stepping through the automatic door and holding his gun in the air. Behind him, Timmy and Jeff fan out, covering the lobby. They picked a good time, so there's only a handful of people waiting in line for the tellers.

Saþel is standing in line, nervously checking that they have all their receipts.

Upon hearing the shout, they straighten and turn toward the door. Their demeanor shifts, and they calmly asses the scene.

"What is the nature of the emergency?" they ask, although it doesn't seem to take them very long to say.

"This is a bank robbery," he replies, gesturing with his gun for emphasis. "So nobody get any clever ideas. If you all cooperate, you can all go home safe."

He strides past the customers and towards the teller windows, trusting the others to have his back in case of any funny buisness. Something about the situation is setting him ill at ease, though. People aren't reacting right.

"Hey! Woah, careful with those," Saþel exclaims. "You could hurt someone."

"That's the idea, isn't it?" one of the other masked figures growls. "Why the fuck are you wearing a robe? Are you some kinda monk?"

Tsanek has worked as a teller at the Central River City Bank for about 5 years now, and in that time she has handled a decent number of unusual situations — clients who can't remember their passphrases, accounting discrepancies, even a tax bracket reorganization. So she knows just how to react when a customer shoves their way to the front of the line, shoving aside her current customer and the tushot man behind them.

"I'm sorry, but it's bank policy not to serve customers who skip the line," she tells him. "If you wait behind the tushot gentleman, I'll be with you in a moment."

Mike stares blankly at her for a moment, his expression concealed by the cheap black mask pulled over his head. Now that he's closer, he notices that the tellers are all wearing purple togas, which is ... not normal banker attire.

"... I have a gun," he points out. "This is a robbery."

"I don't see how an exception to the policy would follow?" she responds. "It really will be just a moment. My current customer was nearly done."

Timmy has been having equally little success with Saþel.

"Hey, stay back! I damn well know it's dangerous. That's the point, you fucking loonie!"

Mike decides it's time for a little visceral clarification. He grabs the person in the floral-pattern dress who had been at the front of the line and puts his gun to their head.

"Let me clarify. You are going to calmly follow all my instructions, or I am going to shoot this nice lady in the head."

"I don't approve of this, and would prefer if you didn't touch me!" the person he grabbed exclaims.

"Look, I think something has gone fundamentally wrong here," she tells him. "I think you're not thinking straight. Firstly, my customer is clearly not a woman. Secondly, how would shooting them with a gun make me follow your instructions? That makes no sense."

Tsanek half turns to call to one of her colleagues. "Saŋ, would you put in a call to emergency services?"

"Hey now! No calling the police!" he objects. "I will do it!"

"I'm finding this overwhelming and aversive. In a moment I'm going to prefer hurting us to make it stop," the person he has in a headlock notes.

"Oh, so you'll call them?" Tsanek clarifies. "That's fine, as long as someone does. If you let go of my customer, I can finish up with them while you're on the phone, and then I can help you?" she offers.

Working in customer service is all about finding reasonable compromises.

"No, I'll shoot her, you moron!"

He lowers his gun, makes sure the muzzle is well away from his own foot (his dad learned that one the hard way), puts his finger on the trigger, and blows a hole in the customer's kneecap, making them sag against him as their leg gives way.

"Like that! The next one will be in her head."

"You shot me!" Metekra exclaims, shoving their weight against him and then hissing in pain. They click their tongue. "Emergency!" they sing, gasping for breath.

Their pocket and Tsanek's lanyard beep. "Voice command: Emergency. Calling emergency services ..."

"Are you all goddamned crazy?" Mike shouts. He shoves the customer away, and turns his gun on the teller. "Look -- I'll make it simple. Empty out the till into this bag, or I blow your fucking brains out."

The original plan had been to try for the vault, but he has the serious heebie-jeebies about this place.

"Why would you want to kill me?" Tsanek questions. "Look — I think it highly likely that you will later come to regret any actions other than putting down the gun and waiting for medical attention. On my oath as a banker."

"You're the one who's going to regret," he begins, before he's distracted by the sound of another gunshot from behind him.

"I said nobody leaves!" Jeff says from his position by the door. "Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He has had a long day, and this was his last stop before being able to go home and get tied up for a little while. He just wanted to get a new phrasebook, because he's down to the last page after getting groceries yesterday, but this is all too much.

He tries to move past the man at the door again. Why is he talking to him? Can't he see the hairclip?

Jeff shoves him back towards the center of the room.

"Look boss, I think we might be made," he calls out to Mike.

Sameli can't handle the stress, so he retreats. Lhali takes his place, re-centering her body and considering the problem.

She ducks forward, running low towards the man at the door. He turns back towards her and lowers his gun, but she meets it with a rising hand and shoves the muzzle above her shoulder, where it discharges into the upper wall, burning her hand.

She body checks him into the doors, shattering the upper pane of glass with his head and then juking through the slowly opening doors and sprinting for the train station.

"What the fuck is going on?" he exclaims.