They stormed into the bank with masks over their faces and carried what he thought were Uzis. A shorter one told them all to get down on the floor in a line, and he put zip ties and had them cuffed with plastic zip ties. “Count off, you’re one.” He was lucky number 13.
The cops came and surrounded the building after the manager hit the panic button under his desk when they first stormed in. The robbers didn’t care. They wanted an audience for what they were about to do.
“Number 13,” a big one dressed all in black said, and motioned for him to get up with his gun. “Come forward.”
The short one – they called each other “Johnson” – pulled him up by his jacket and shoved him over toward the window. “It’s your lucky day. We’re going to let you go.”
“Because, we want you to tell them there will be no negotiating.”
The short one pushed him out of the door then retreated inside. A guy dressed in body armor and with another machine gun pulled him away from the building, then over to the guys in charge. They asked them if they said anything?
“They said was there will be no negotiating.”
As soon as he finished giving the officers the news, the windows blew out and an explosion busted his ear drums. One minute the bank was there, the next minute it was gone.