Dylan cringed at Per's reaction to him. Day 102 and the girl he was hopelessly head over heels for was still terrified of him. 

"How about instead I take this salt shaker and shove it so far up your ass you'll taste it?" Orren snarled. "I'm not some kind of fucking crime fighting slave. Or maybe you could at least tell us where the hell it is." He grumbled as he pulled out his own little alert device to check the status of the robbery. The crooks were now in a police chase down Main Street. He looked over at Dylan, who was still wearing only a pair of stupid clown pants, not even remotely ready. Dammit.

"Per, why don't you come? Dylan probably won't be ready for another nine hours." The clown only grinned as he piled some eggs onto his plate. Orren pulled his mask out of his pocket and put it on, his eyes behind it turning bright red. He pulled his hood up, ready to go.