Pacific Bank covered less area than the players had imagined, but its interior design was quite understated and luxurious. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls and floors were beige. Venetian blinds adorned the windows behind the bank counters, ensuring ample light while preventing the staff from feeling too hot.
The players who burst through the main entrance of the bank still wore the guise of bank employees.
A tall, sturdy Black bank security guard, wearing a bulletproof vest and a holstered sidearm, greeted the four players warmly when he saw them. "Hey, guys, good morning."
"Morning."
Li Ang, playing the part of a bank clerk, smiled and waved. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the clock on the wall at the far end of the bank lobby: 8:55. Just made it. So, what about the next phase of the mission prompt?
The four players hesitated, slowing their pace. The Witch covered her mouth with her fist, feigning a cough, and whispered in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, "Maybe we should go behind the bank counter? After all, that's how we'd actually be starting work."
Makes sense.
Sunset Gold Slter nodded. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping the bank lobby, and quickly located the door bank tellers used to access the area behind the counter. He strode towards it.
Just as he reached the door, about to use a skill to open it, a muffled gunshot erupted near the bank entrance.
BANG!
An MPSAA-12 automatic shotgun: long-stroke gas piston system, tilting bolt, open-bolt design, long recoil distance. FRAG-12 high-explosive rounds. Within range, a graze would wound, a direct hit would kill.
The shot originated 1.57 ters from the entrance. The shooter was 1.79 ters tall, holding the gun with both hands, the barrel angled upwards and to the left.
This shot wasn't ant to kill; its primary purpose was intimidation.
Bank robbers? Sunset Gold Slter didn't turn, but a stream of data instantly flooded his mind.
He instinctively spun around. A whistling breeze gathered in his palm, condensing into a wind orb the size of a glass marble, ready to be launched in self-defense.
A hand gripped his wrist, stopping the wind orb from fully forming.
"Don't move yet."
Li Ang released his grip. Facing the bank entrance, he raised his arms high in a gesture of surrender, signaling he had no hostile intent. "Let's see what's happening first."
"Everyone, get down on the ground!!"
Along with the shrill ringing of the bank lobby's alarm, a gruff shout erupted from the entrance.
As the players were witnessing, Pacific Bank was being robbed.
There were four robbers, all dressed in suits and leather shoes, wearing ties and gloves. Each held a gun and had a large black cloth pouch hanging from their waist.
Each robber wore a rubber mask, the faces printed on them quite familiar: Washington, Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, Lincoln.
Indeed, they were the four United States presidents from Mount Rushmore in South Dakota.
The robbers' voices sounded oddly familiar, as if he'd heard them sowhere before. Li Ang narrowed his eyes, thinking to himself, Hmm... this bank looks pretty upscale. Judging by the stances and physiques of the security guards at the entrance, they're probably tough retired veterans. Looks like a shootout is about to happen.
CLICK.
To the players' utter disbelief, the six ard security guards standing at the entrance simultaneously unbuckled their holsters with smiles on their faces. They calmly raised their hands and leisurely lay down on the ground, offering no resistance whatsoever! Their surrender was so smooth and natural, it was as if they had practiced it countless tis.
???
The players were stunned to find that it wasn't just the bank security. Even the ordinary custors conducting business in the bank skillfully dropped to the ground. Several hunched-over, expensively dressed elderly ladies even found the ti to whisper amongst themselves while prone, continuing their discussion about inheritance tax news, completely unfazed by the fierce-looking bank robbers.
WTF?
The players, utterly bewildered, were a beat too slow in getting down on the ground.
The four robbers had clearly co prepared. "Jefferson" blasted the alarm bell on the wall with a single shot.
"Washington," brandishing his gun nacingly, rushed towards the players who stood out from the crowd, roaring, "Get down! All of you, get down!"
These players, averaging Level 15, had braved perilous journeys and faced countless horrors, their hands stained with the blood of demons. They were hardened individuals. How could they take threats from re ordinary robbers seriously?
"Please don't shoot!" Without a second thought, Li Ang was the first to lie down, assuming the sa posture as the other bank staff and custors.
The Witch, Sunset Gold Slter, and Dusk Knight exchanged glances and, following Li Ang's example, slowly got down as well.
"Hmph."
"Washington" snorted coldly, turned with his gun, and walked off. He didn't head for the bank tellers' counter but instead signaled "Lincoln" to toss him high explosives. He then walked straight towards the far end of the bank, apparently making a beeline for the vault.
Li Ang whispered to his companions, "The second phase of the mission objective isn't over yet. Let's wait a bit longer. By the way, Gold, don't you think Washington's voice sounds a bit familiar?"
Can you please not call
Gold? It always sounds a bit odd, like so strange health supplent, Sunset Gold Slter grumbled internally before asking softly, "Familiar? Are you saying this bank robber is also a video ga character?"
WHEE-WOO WHEE-WOO—
The approaching wail of police sirens cut off the two players' conversation. A black-and-white police car, driving recklessly, slamd into a streetlight near the bank's entrance, crumpling its hood.
But the officers inside seed unfazed. They kicked open the car doors, erged with handguns drawn and aid at the bank entrance, looking like they were facing a major threat.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A series of crashes echoed as, within a re five seconds, more than ten police cars had violently parked—or rather, smashed their way into position—at the bank entrance. All the police cars were battered and askew.
The thrum of helicopter rotors—an ard helicopter, by the sound of it—could even be heard from the sky.
"Listen up, everyone inside! You're surrounded!" a white police officer, who had exited one of the cars, shouted through a gaphone. "Put down your weapons imdiately and co out of the bank!"
"Crap!" Roosevelt cursed, speaking in the voice of a young Black man with a rap-like cadence. "How'd the cops get here so fast?!"
"Never mind that!" Jefferson spoke in a hoarse, middle-aged man's voice. "Just go help Trevor get the vehicle materials from the vault! It's almost 9:10. The Death Race will start then. We have the entry rings; a guide will co to pick us up."
Trevor? Death Race? Entry rings? Guide? The four players, still lying on the ground, exchanged glances, suspicions imdiately forming in their minds.
BOOM!
A muffled explosion rumbled from underground. Soon after, "Washington" and "Roosevelt" ca running, dragging a heavy tal box between them.
"Damn! I got it!" The robber wearing the Washington mask ripped it off, revealing the face of a fierce-looking, slightly balding middle-aged man.
It was none other than Trevor Philips, one of the protagonists from the ga *Grand Theft Auto V* (often abbreviated as GTA5).
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