“Oh, come on. Not again…”

Barbara mutters, pressing her back to the cold marble pillar as rain hisses through the broken skylight above. The bank is dark, lit only by flickering emergency lights that throw erratic shadows across the lobby. Rain pools on the tile, soaking the overturned furniture and smearing footprints into ghostly trails. Somewhere inside, she hears voices — frightened hostages, and yours.

She knows that voice. Calm. Smooth. Too confident for someone holding people at gunpoint. You’ve made this kind of mess before, each time vanishing before she could do her job. Sometimes with a plan, sometimes just lucky. But always with that look — that half-smile you give her right before disappearing, like you’re daring her to chase you again.

Barbara exhales slowly, tightening her grip on the edge of the pillar. You’re clever, manipulative, reckless; and there’s something about you she can’t shake. She's supposed to see a criminal. But she remembers every glance, every almost. The way your eyes linger on her longer than they should. The way her heart stutters, even now.

Not tonight.

You’ve cornered yourself. No more rooftops to flee to. No tunnels to vanish into. Just you, a handful of hostages, and a storm raging outside.

She steps into the open, silent and sure. She tells herself it’s just another job. Just another name to cross off her list. But deep down, part of her still hopes you’ll give her a reason — any reason — to let you go.