❝I chose this, so God
help me. I will shoot
you if I have to.❞
⟶ In which nine people are recruited
to carry an ambitious plan to print
€2.4 billion. One of which is a medic,
the Professor'...
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"I didn't think you would need me this early," Belgrade frowned, dabbing an alcohol swab on Rio's temple. They had slipped her out, moments after the catastrophic guise of theft. The hostages remained blindfolded, allowing Nairobi to take her without being seen. A tight wrinkle formed a folding bridge between her feathered brows, speaking in the place of her verbal silence.
Nairobi's slender fingers combed her hair in frustration, a panicked look swept over her features. Denver screamed extremely vexed and perplexed over Tokyo's rashness. The first error was made and blood was shed. Shit, they were not meant to physically hurt anyone or care. But what were rules to a band of criminals?
"Explain to me what the fuck that was! You opened fire at an officer," Denver violently spat. "Are you insane?"
"Calm down. An officer came out of nowhere and shot at me. What would you have done?" Tokyo huffed. "Spit at him?"
The doctor continued to tend after a shaken Rio. Her delicate fingers provided a gentle, sisterly touch that grazed over his wound. It was no serious wound, only a simple abrasion that marked his bloody luck. The bullet had fortunately missed his eye and his skull. The boy rippled his foot on the floorboards, resonating a series of anxious and peeved vibrations. Belgrade's green eyes traced his ecstatic foot for a second, before Rio tried to plead. How she wished he stayed silent.
"I fell from the impact. She covered me-"
"Shut up!" Denver screamed. Spurts of his saliva sprayed the air, and a vein popped from his temple. "We also covered you but by shooting the ground, not directly at the police."
Nadia slammed her hands on the door, giving Moscow's son a hard look. "Can you just shut up!" she solicited. He clenched his jaw, remaining silent. The Turk expected Denver to counter with some angry retrot, but instead he backed away, hearing footsteps emerge from the door.
Nadia slammed her hands on the table, just as firmly as Moscow's son had. She met his level, matching his wildly angry gaze with an authoritative one. "Can't you all just shut up!" she solicited. He clenched his jaw, remaining unfinished. She expected him to counter with some angry retort, but instead retreated, hearing reminders of the grander scheme of things emerge from behind her. Automatically, her body straightened itself.
A tense pause hovered above their heads. Berlin's chill attitude was unnerving.
After a while, he gaped his bowed mouth and broke the pause. "They're taking the wounded cops away," he informed. "Are the phones connected?"
Tokyo glared resentfully. Belgrade withdrew her arms, stepping away to make way for Rio to bide by their leader's firm order. His hands fumbled quickly to connect the red telephone with the wires needed to communicate with the Professor. Berlin smoothly took his earpiece off, doe eyes directing a heavy stare at the medic. There was a cool whiff of ambiguity that remained as a wallflower, there but unnoticed. "Drop any radio and wireless signal," he ordered, brushing past Nadia's shoulder.
