Wolf ran across the pavement. His shot shoulder wasn't going to be the worst of his problems if he didn't get out of this. It was going to be his shot ass. Either way, he had to not get fucked as the bullet shots started landing near him. Dang, they were really packing rounds when fragments of concrete started flying in front of your eyes.

Wolf bounded over the railing and turned to a corner with the van nearby. It was just a couple yards away. Wolf couldn't believe he was only few breaths away from Hoxton, Houston, and Dallas; the pricks they were for leaving him alone but safety nonetheless, as well as the hard-earned loot bags surrounding them.

"Come on, come on! We're leaving now!" Dallas shouted.

"No shit, Captain Ob."

Wolf ran closer with fading breaths, the van a few feet away. It didn't matter now that his legs would be screaming for days after this ordeal, but his mail orders could not afford to be left alone again.

"Shit! They're here!" Houston yelled.

Then the van started to move.

"Hey *cough* don't *cough* leave* me *cough*," Wolf breathed on fading stamina.

"Just drop your gear and get in!" Dallas shouted, panic in his voice.

Wolf let his ammunition and unused grenades clatter around the pavement as he ran. His SMG and rifle soon followed.

"Wolf, just drop the loot! We can get some more next time!"

"NO!"

Wolf was not going to let that smug guard not regret his words, 'You choose the wrong career', and getting the server was going to make him eat his words, even if he is dead. He didn't care that there was rain out that could make him slip. He didn't care if there were bullets now flying past grazing his arms. It was Wolf's time to shine and he would not be shot down. Nothing could concern him now except for his body and the escape vehicle. Well, there were some things that could make him concerned, but how likely would he come into those predicaments?

"CLOAKER!"

Wolf just couldn't seem to catch a break. Surely enough, the dreaded blaring of the police CQC specialist found its way into earshot. Wolf's soul cracked in stress of this doom; and all the other sounds seemed to melt into the whine, rendering Wolf free of human logic. All he felt were the suit he wore underneath a chafing 6-piece armor set, the strap connecting to a weight on his back, the rain falling into the mask eyeholes, and this undesirable, indescribable fear. His mask made death a new face in the eyes of many cops, but it now only felt like a Halloween mask.

Wolf was starting to see the darkness in his mask surrounding his vision. As he got closer to the van, it seemed to smother all light he could see.

"Oh shit, he might make it!"

"But he's in the way-"

"We'll take our chances! We can't afford to lose Wolf at this point when he's already ran this far."

He couldn't see much, but his fellow thieves were much closer to him than ever. A sense of humanity crept into him as he closed the gap. He was getting closer to his brethren. Robbers who robbed with him. Crazy bastards with a common goal. Guys who just want their true Payday. Wolf was a yard away from the back of the van, but it was like fighting a storm at sea just to cover the extra inches. Slowly but surely, Wolf ran until he was a tantalizing foot close to home.

"Damn it Wolf, we can't reach you from here!"

For a moment, Wolf felt the same emotions that turned him to the dirty world of crime. 'I'm sorry, but your account balance is 0 and cannot allow any checks to be made in it…'The most disheartening words he had ever heard in his life coupled with the memory that his business went and flushed itself down the toilet hit his heart a little too hard. His strained endurance was taking a toll on his mental stability. But if anything Wolf knew that would always save him in this situation, it would be emotions. All of man's greatest endeavors had boiled down to it, and for him, it was some sort of excitement he felt that pushed him to effectively take down his obstacles or enemies.

Or was it the world's fault? He had to fight tooth and nail just to make a living, and now he has to deal with this frustrating shit. But was he supposed to be mad about that, given the chances where he could have stopped and turned around his life? Crime was meant to be a one-time gig, but it now seemed to be the entire world for him. It really was beyond him, and Wolf's psyche finally reached a paradox. How could he have kept working with Bain and the gang when his financial income was already worth millions? He knew it was for the delicious feeling of getting more money than the other guy, but to what end would it be enough? What else was making him keep skipping out from the law?

But as he was just about to realize a logical explanation for his sudden self-introspection, Wolf felt a collision from behind, painfully propelling his focus towards the rapidly approaching van. Intense pain strangled his nerves, his mobility and mental state stunned briefly for the 17th time in this heist. It was the Cloaker.

"Oh shi-"

It was already too late for Wolf to register his fellow heisters' faces as he flew into the van. His forehead collided with the roof of the van, knocking him with pain he regularly dealt with. Unfortunately, he wasn't conscious the moment after to deal with the pain and mishap that would ensue.

Hoxton fought for his life against the intruder. Damn driver should have stopped and let Wolf jump on. Now there's a Cloaker in the van beating the shit out of him with apparently all of his limbs in the small space. Shit and Bollocks. His defense was really good. Every underhanded technique he was using was beaten with some stupidly clever sleight of hand or confusing body maneuvering. All the guns were even thrown away from reach. All while a skin-crawling blare was ringing. An arm rammed into his face as Hoxton tried in vain to block.

Damn this cock knows wrestling better than I do, Hoxton thought.

Hoxton was seeing red already. Angrily, he gripped his fists together and tried to hit the bastard in the gut. Sneakily, the spook moved to the left and let his hands break the window.

"Arrrrrrrhhhh!"

Wet blood ran down Hoxton's hands. There was that losing feeling again. Like bar fights at the pub, he knew well when the tables turned on him. He was about to be knocked down and the rest of the crew out on the floor. The van was too cramped with loot bags for him to be moving around to dodge. He pulled his hands out of the glass and quickly grabbed a flying baton. The spook was about to slam his head into submission, but he luckily grabbed both of his hands to prevent the bastard from using them for more harm. The van suddenly swerved to the right, and Hoxton slid sideways on the metal floor, losing grip colliding with the van wall. The spook's fingers squirmed in his hands, before attempting a head-butt. Hoxton moved his head out of the way and struggled to stand on the now-wet van floor. Still, despite the forces that be, the combatants grappled for control over the baton.

Hoxton stared into his opponent's eyes and tried to think of what to do in this situation. He could use the wet floor, but the spook seemed slippery enough. The loot bags could pin the bastard down, but he would just throw them back. However, he was using his legs too much. Hoxton looked to Dallas; stuck under the weight of KO'd Wolf, but with hands free enough to grab something.

"Dallas! Grab one of his legs!"

The spook realized his mistake and tried to change position, but the van suddenly braked. Hoxton and his adversary slid rapidly towards Dallas and Wolf and collided hard enough with the loot bags to daze the law enforcer. In the collision that occurred between them, Dallas gripped the Cloaker's left boot. It struggled furiously like a python in his hands, but he held tight. The van then quickly accelerated. Hoxton quickly grabbed the Cloaker's right foot and let his body slide to the back. A free baton flew towards his face, but missed after an audible pop was heard.

Hoxton smiled to himself. At this point, the spook should have realized that all the martial arts in the world couldn't prepare him for what was coming. Clenching his left hand, he swung down towards the spook's lower region. It came down hard and fast, and the Cloaker could do nothing but grunt in pain. The Cloaker fell forward in seemingly silent, yet endless pain with a dull thud.

They could only hear the sound of rain, speeding wheels, and the still active blaring of the Cloaker radio. Dallas pushed Wolf's body over with a final heave and moved over to Hoxton. Wolf slowly woke up cradling his head and looked over the subdued law enforcer.

"Nice one Hox!"

"Nothing to it."

"Turn that thing off Wolf!"

A baton flung out of the blue and struck Hoxton in his crotch. The Cloaker quickly pulled back his legs and slammed them onto Hoxton's chest. Hoxton, out of breath and peace, fell over in an angry whine, holding together his manhood the best he could.

"FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!"

Dallas threw himself and grabbed the Cloaker, pinning him down. The Cloaker 'stabbed' his baton onto his back, but Dallas held firm. Wolf quickly looked around for a weapon. There wasn't a gun in sight and only loot bags. Deciding brute force was the only option; Wolf quickly grabbed his server bag and chucked it at the Cloaker's head. Instead of directly thumping the forehead, the server inside the bag crushed the Cloaker's windpipe, causing a violent halt in circulation. The Cloaker limped over, the whining sound deactivating.

"Guys, what happened?", Bain finally speaking in their earpieces.

"A Cloaker got into the escape van. Lost some blood, but nothing a doctor can't fix," Dallas answered.

"Yeah, a doctor can fix my bloody balls after what happened!-Shit! This bloody burns!"

"Don't worry Bain, we got this handled! The driver got us away in time. We got all the liquid nitrogen and experimental magnets you wanted us to get from the Magellan Facility! For whatever we need that stuff for."

"That's good, Dallas. But I am more concerned about the Cloaker."

"Yeah, it was chasing Wolf when he got in and it landed with us. I think we're going to drop it off in the nearest dumpster and leave it there."

"Wait, no! This...is exactly what I needed for this heist! Instead of hacking the FBI and ATF for their rosters, which would require another heist from you guys, we can use the radio the Cloaker has to help me target police personnel in the next place you rob."

"So do we just take the radio and dump the body?"

"No! Not yet anyway. We need to know how the shit actually works. I can access files and schematics on the tools the force use against you, but I don't know how these Cloakers' radios work. It's like their radios can operate in a frequency I can't reach in any spectrum!"

"Okay, so just take the Cloaker back to the safe house?"

"Precisely."

"Yeah Bain, but this one put up a fight, and I don't think it's going to want to give up info at all!"

"I don't know how you're going to do it, but you have to do it. Unless you can find undercover cops in an auditorium filled with investors easily."

"Eh...okay, Bain. What are we going to do that involves that many people?"

"Let's just say, we're going to steal a billionaire using his own money."

"No seriously. What are we going to do?"