Deep rumbling reverberates through the walls of the bank. It’s much like thunder, but something’s different; something’s off. The crowded room falls almost silent. Almost. One man remains unperturbed. There’s an explosion, reducing the entranceway to ash and rubble.

    Everyone panics, running chaotically with nowhere to go. As others search for a place to hide, the man sighs. ‘What now?’ he thinks. Somewhat annoyed, he turns back to the counter. “Miss? I still need to make my deposit,” he says.

    “What the hell are you doing?! Get down!,” The bank teller whisper-shouts at the man, barely peeking over the countertop. 

    “W-what she said! Get down, or I won’t hesitate to shoot!” The man glances tiredly at the supposed “leader” of the ragtag gang of villains. Judging by his poor stance and shaking hands, this is clearly his first time.

    “You won’t do it.”

    The whole room looks toward the small voice. To everyone’s surprise, it belongs to a young girl, about 6 years old, who is standing beside the stoic man. His daughter. 

    “Like hell I won’t! What would you know, anyway?!” The villain’s gun trembles, matching the rhythm of his quivering voice. 

    “Well, for starters, your safety’s on.”