The cold trigger of a double barreled shotgun rests gently against Bobby Bassface’s index finger and the long, rigid barrell is simultaneously pressed against the shaken, bank manager's skull.
He looks over as Danny Distort raises his right arm high in the air, brings it down with force and pistol whips a knelt, security guard around the back of the head. His body immediately slumps onto the ground and a crimson river begins to flow from his ear.
" What the fuck did I say? I said get on the ground. You chose not to listen. You do that again and I'll half time you into next month and feed you to the bass junkies, you little mug!" Screams Danny Distort at the security guards paralyzed chassis, his deep voice suppressed from the black balaclava covering his mouth.
Bobby continues to press the hard steel of the barrell against the bank managers head as Danny Distort advances toward him.
"I’ll ask again” screams Danny Distort into the blubbering face of the bank manager “Where's the fucking vault ?"
The bank manager looks up and through all the pressure, stress and fear all that his vocal chords could muster were the words “What the fuck”!