The man sat anxiously in his car.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel rapidly, keeping a tight grip on it, as if he would collapse without its support. His pistol was next to him, in a compartment just beneath the door handle. He placed it there for easy access. You never know when you might need it.
He checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. They had 3 minutes left.
“C’mon, c’mon you fucking retard” he mumbled to himself.
He had parked the sedan on the fifth basement floor near the lift as he was instructed. They had to go in and get out fast. He would come down from the elevator and they would drive away in time. There was no time for taking the scenic route.
His phone burst out in song. “Move bitch” exploded out.
The man grimace in annoyance. Without picking it up, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and raced away. If he’s calling him, it could only mean one thing. He knew what to do. But he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
The other man was running. His posture was perfect. His back was rigid, his legs taking nearly identical strides. His steps had a strict rhythm to them, his arms swung to symmetrically, his legs almost leaping with each movement. If someone made a repeating gif of his sprint, it would be near identical to his actual movements. He was like a cyborg. Like a program. Looking at him run was like watching a Tom Cruise movie.
He was wearing a large leather jacket and thick trousers. Inside the sports bag behind him, was a lightweight medium-sized rifle. Rounds of ammunition rattled inside a smaller plastic bag inside. The laser sight and telescopic scope were still attached to the gun. It had been used recently and hastily stuffed back in.
He knew that plans always go wrong. Years of experience had taught him that he could never rely on a plan or a schedule, as they would never work. He would always have to improvise.
This plan was one of them. There were complications. They had been stalling him. They knew what he was going to do. They knew all along.
Fortunately, he had expected it. He was ready. The instant he got out, he sprinted as quickly as he could. He told his accomplice to park around 10 minutes ago. That gave them 15 minutes to exit the building. Plenty of time. He arranged him to wait at the bottom floor of the building, so he could pick up the package from that weird guy who set up a stall in the basement. He didn’t think it was even allowed. But it didn’t matter anymore now. There had been a change of plans. He thought to himself. He swiftly grabbed his phone as he sprinted across to the glass rotating door.
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