[center][h2][color=darkgreen]G R E E N  A R R O W[/color][/h2][/center][hr]
[right][sup]2:59:06 PM 
Orchid Bay, Star City[/sup][/right]

In downtown Star City, a black SUV rolled to a stop and parked in front of Weisinger, Papp, & Associates Tax Consulting and Accounting. Its tinted windows seemed to draw in the gaze of the afternoon sun and cast it back out in a brilliant, cascading display. Inside the vehicle sat four men in matching dark outfits, seeming to scoff at the summer heat that radiated against the vehicle.

In the passenger seat, a man of middling height and thin frame glanced at one of four wristwatches, a pair on each arm, and slowly counted down from three out loud. 

"Mark," the word was soft but firm as it passed his lips. In rehearsed synchronization, all four gentlemen pressed a single button on the identical silver watches adorning their left wrists.

The group of men stepped out of the SUV. Four sets of heavy boots created a dull rhythm as they marched together side-by-side across the unusually empty street. They moved with purpose, the firearms each held at the ready. The first among them to reach the marble steps leading to a wide, three-story building slowed down. The individual removed what appeared to be modeling clay from a satchel bag he wore and placed it in ten-foot intervals from the base of the stairs in a semi-circle stretching across the road.

Continuing past him, the other three reached the entrance of the centuries-old structure. The thin man from earlier strode straight through double-wide glass doors, his remaining two cohorts at his heel. A staccato of gunfire erupted from the Heckler & Koch G36 he had aimed at the ceiling. The echoes of the shots were immediately drowned out by the screams of panicked civilians as the Puckett National Bank became under assault.

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[right][sup]3:00:51 PM 
Westchester, Star City[/sup][/right]

A series of angry honks called out, joining the growing cacophony of frustrated drivers. The residents of Star City had become stuck in a sudden traffic jam affecting all of the lower downtown major arteries leading further into the city. Ten minutes previously, the roadways had been flowing well and quickly, but now for reasons unknown to any of the increasingly upset citizens movement had crawled to a literal stop. 

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[right][sup]3:02:28 PM 
Orchid Bay, Star City[/sup][/right]

"We're go in thirty." 

The four balaclavas-adorned bank robbers stood at the exit to Puckett National. One had his automatic rifle trained on the dozen prone and sobbing hostages across the lobby. Two of the others carried large, black duffles. The fourth, the only one to have spoken during the entire ordeal, held a finger to his right ear, eyes firmly locked on his left wrist. 

"Ready for extraction," he said into the earpiece. Lowering his right hand to his left wrist, he raised his voice for the benefit of his compatriots. "Three. Two. One. Mark."

Once again, four matching wristwatches, gold this time, were pressed in perfect synchronization. 

As if on cue, the wail of police sirens began to penetrate the thick walls of the bank.

The four men strode out of the building, back down the front steps, and took a sharp right walking away from the SUV they had arrived in. The sirens grew louder, reverberating between the multi-storied, marble buildings on either side of the road. From ahead of the men, a similar black SUV, equally tinted, emerged from a side street and idled up to them. As the foursome entered the vehicle, the screeching of tires could be heard as a patrol car raced down the street towards them. 

The thinner member of the group looked to another who nodded and quickly removed a thin, black device from a clip on his belt. On the apparatus, a dull green LED flashed to yellow, then red as the individual pressed his thumb against the single visible button in a series of five rapid clicks. Then it audibly toned after a final, three-second-long depression. 

The street behind them exploded in chaos as their first SUV detonated, followed shortly after by the street itself bursting in over half a dozen brief but violent little balls of fire. All of this happened just as the police car hurrying its way passed over. The rear of the vehicle erupted upwards, nearly being shorn off, as the momentum of the blasts carried the car end over end, careening down the street before abruptly wrapping around a telephone pole. 

The four men clad in black hopped into the waiting SUV, paying no mind to the wreckage fifty yards behind them. As they drove off towards lower downtown, a single word was spoken between them.

"Mark."