Thanks reviewers! To those who asked don't kill Don… sorry can't promise anything (snicker) – no, just kidding. But stay tuned! Much more angst to come.

Pretty please review! Suggestions and constructive criticism welcomed

In an instant, the two gunmen had seized as many bags as they could carry, and took off for the front door. As he ran, Steve turned and fired several rounds off into the atmosphere, not aiming particularly but arresting any thoughts of getting up, of running, from the hostages. They lay huddled on the floor, too scared to move. Charlie, near the door, had the best chance of escape – but Don wasn't going anywhere, so neither was Charlie. He had a good view of the door, and watched as the two thieves reached the glass entrance doors, yanking them open.

The second the doors were open a fierce gun battle erupted. Within seconds, several rounds had shattered the glass doors, and shards of glass scattered across the marble floor with a loud, tinkling sound. Several screams echoed from the hostages, as another fierce burst of gunfire sounded. The two thieves were retreating back towards the bank under a hail of bullets, when Steve reached out and grabbed the young teller, who was hunched in the corner beside the doorframe, shielding her head with her arms. She gave a despairing cry, as Steve shoved her in front of him, creating a human shield. He pressed the gun to her temple.

Instantly the gunfire from outside stopped. The two men backed slowly through the shattered remains of the bank's glass fascade. The bags of money lay abandoned in the piazza in front of the bank.

"You!" Steve's friend pointed at two men huddled near the counter. "Pick up those tables in the office and put them in front of the doors. No funny business, or Steve shoots her!" The teller couldn't have been more than twenty-one. She had tears running down her cheeks, and her face was screwed up in fear and pain. Steve had his arm tight around her neck, and she grabbed at it, trying to free herself. Steve didn't even seem to notice.

The two men slowly got to their feet, with a nervous glance at Steve. Charlie was half afraid they would make a run for it, and the teller would get shot. But the two men opened the door of the office, and then stepped back, gasping with shock. Charlie could see through the doorway, and felt his stomach drop. The bank manager was slumped over on his desk. A round bullet hole was clearly visible in the centre of his forehead.

"DO IT!" Steve's friend was starting to look unhinged. He cocked his own weapon, pointing it at the two men, who quickly ran in and grabbed the empty desk from the room. The fear was clearly evident in their eyes as they approached the empty doorframes. Charlie didn't blame them. The police might mistake them for the thieves, and shoot them on sight.

But nothing happened. They wedged the desk up in one of the empty spaces then returned for the other desk, gingerly easing it from underneath the body of the manager. Once it to was in place, Steve's friend ordered them down onto the floor, and then Steve let the teller go with a shove. She stumbled away, and sank down against the wall, trembling visibly.

Charlie felt shaken, and as the shock and adrenaline ebbed away he felt shivery and weak. He looked down at Don, who was awake again.

"S'okay… Charlie…" Don's speech was faint and ragged, but his eyes were clear.

Charlie nodded.

Now Steve and the other robber engaged in an earnest discussion, muttering quietly to each other. Their voices were soft, but they were so close to Charlie he could hear every word they were saying. He bowed his head, listening with all his might.

"What happens now, Mitch? We can't do the getaway we planned…"

"They'll call, we'll start negotiations."

"Can we get out of this?"

"There's always the hostages – that's our trump card. They aren't going to put them in unnecessary danger; they might even let us get away to avoid us hurting them. We need to show them we mean business"

Steve nodded, and then grinned wickedly. "I know just the thing"

He stepped forward, surveying the hostages, who stared at him warily, or looked away. His gaze fell on Charlie, eyes lighting up.

"You."