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"When faced with the unforeseen, we are often compelled to confront our resilience."

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It was nearing twelve o'clock on a Thursday afternoon, just ten more minutes to go.

"I'd like to open an account," I said to the teller, my eyes wandering to the clock as I waited for the hour to strike.

I was standing in a bank on Gerald Street.

This was the same bank, at the same time, where I had overheard Anakin speaking with my target, Sheev. I felt a nagging sense that I shouldn't be here; that this was a stupid move on my part but the entire situation made me feel uneasy and even scared for him. After looking into their recent activities, I discovered that most of the robberies had been meticulously planned—during quieter hours, on less busy days, and some even at night when they had to break in to get to the vault. But now, with Sheev's son missing, he was planning something at noon in a bustling part of the city on a Thursday? It didn't make sense; it was as if he wanted them to be caught.

I had no clue how they intended to pull this off, and my curiosity had gotten the better of me. Cameras were everywhere, and security guards were stationed all around—it seemed like a reckless move. I half-expected them not to show up at all, I had hoped for them not to show up at all.

She smiled at me, "If you could please take a seat in one of those chairs, a representative will be with you shortly." She pointed to a small waiting area filled with a few gray cushions and more than half a dozen cubicles.

"Thank you," I replied, moving to sit on one of the cushions, my eyes still glued to the clock. Any moment now, they could arrive. All I could think about was noon, unsure if it meant exactly that or just a rough estimate.

Would it be twelve on the dot? Twelve-thirty? Twelve-fifty-nine?

The seconds ticked by, each one stretching into what felt like an eternity. I sank into the cushion, its fabric slightly worn but surprisingly comfortable. The muted hum of the bank surrounded me, punctuated by the occasional rustle of papers and the soft click of keyboards. I could see a few other customers scattered around, engrossed in their own transactions, blissfully unaware of what may soon happen here.

The clock inched closer to noon, and I could feel my heart racing. I looked around the bank, noticing the security measures that felt almost over the top. Cameras were positioned in every corner, their lenses shining under the bright lights like watchful eyes. The guards, dressed in dark uniforms that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, moved with a practiced alertness, their eyes scanning the room for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

I wasn't even the one planning to rob this bank, yet my palms were clammy, and the collar around my neck felt like it was tightening, making it hard to breathe. I slipped my fingers between the fabric and my damp neck, tugging at it in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. Did they turn up the heat or something? It felt like the temperature had risen several degrees since I walked in.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A man's voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to see him standing by the thermostat just a few feet away, adjusting the dial with a frown. It shouldn't feel this warm if it was set to seventy-two. "I'm Robert," he said, extending his hand with a friendly smile. I stood up and shook it, offering my own greeting, trying to mask my unease. "I'll be helping you today if you'd like to follow me."

I followed him to his cubicle, which had a plaque with his full name and a collection of knick-knacks neatly arranged on top. There were miniature cars, a small globe, and a framed photo of a golden retriever that looked like it was perpetually smiling. Robert gestured for me to take a seat in the plush chair opposite his desk, and I sank into it.

"So, what brings you in today?" he asked, his tone warm and inviting. Though I noticed a small bead of sweat dripping down his neck—it appears I'm not the only one affected by the sudden temperature change. Almost as if the AC was shut off completely.

I returned his smile warmly, saying, "I'm here to open an account."

He shifted his attention to his computer, moving the mouse around as if searching for something important. "Is your current bank giving you trouble?" he joked. I watched him click and scroll, his expression turning serious as he furrowed his brows.

I chuckled lightly at his comment, "There are too many problems to list. Plus, I've heard wonderful things about this place and figured a change would be beneficial." I glanced at the clock; it was exactly noon.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, looking back at me. "Just a moment, please. It seems there's an issue with our system. Technology always seems to fail when you need it most." He dramatically rolled his eyes.

I rolled my eyes playfully in return, "You don't have to tell me that."

He stood up and leaned over the small wall to check on the cubicle next to him. "Hey Jamie, are you having any trouble with your computer? I'm trying to figure out if it's my end or the WiFi."

I heard a sigh from the other side, followed by an elderly woman's voice. "It's not you, Rob. This computer won't do a damn thing. I've been stuck on the same screen for five minutes." I could hear her tapping on her computer screen in frustration.

That's when a thought crossed my mind, and I looked up at the security cameras again. The red light that had been on earlier, indicating it was recording, was now off.

The cameras were down. The WiFi was acting up. The air conditioning had mysteriously stopped.

Something was happening.

I glanced toward the entrance of the bank and noticed a few people leaving in frustration, one man even swearing about how they needed to get their 'shit' together.

There had been around thirty people in the bank, not counting the staff, but now only about a dozen remained, including me. All of them were the patient ones, waiting to see if the problems would sort themselves out. Well, they were the patient ones, while I had my own reasons for staying.

Robert sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh, trying to focus on his computer. He glanced at me and said, "I swear this has never happened before." His voice carried a hint of embarrassment. "If you'd like to come back another day—"

"Not at all," I interrupted, waving my hand dismissively. "I don't mind waiting. I have nothing else to do."

He nodded, scanning the room. "Let me see if I can sort this out. Feel free to wait here, and there's water over there where you were sitting if you get thirsty."

"Thanks," I replied with a smile as he stood up and moved away.

Of the dozen people still present, three more decided to leave, fanning themselves with envelopes as they exited, clearly feeling the heat of the room. This left me with eight others—seven adults and one child, along with two security guards and six employees. Seventeen people in total. One of the security guards stepped outside, likely informing others about the bank's tech issues, which made them turn away. Only one person came in and settled onto a cushion, another patient soul.

Eighteen people.

I pulled out my phone to check for messages, but noticed the lack of signal bars in the corner; a cell phone jammer was in effect.

After a few minutes of waiting, my attention was drawn to the double doors as they swung open. At first, I thought it was another person joining us, but then I recognized the familiar figure—the way he walked, the shoes he was wearing, and the dirty blonde hair peeking out from under his hood.

Piett... it had to be.

He shifted over to the cushions and settled into a seat, just two spots away from the newcomer who had arrived moments earlier. The figure wore a hood, hands tucked deep into pockets, head bowed low. Yet, I recognized him instantly—not just by his build, but those shoes were a dead giveaway. They were a battered and worn out pair I saw him wear every single day, marked with an A on the side—the initial Ahsoka had drawn one evening while I was with her.

I quickly averted my gaze and turned my body, hoping he wouldn't catch sight of me.

Minutes ticked by, and my heart raced in anticipation.

"This is ridiculous!" I heard a voice shout, and I turned my head to see Piett, the one causing the commotion. "It's my money, and I need it now!" He had jumped up from his seat, making a scene that felt rehearsed—he even quoted an old commercial, which I recognized but likely flew over the heads of others.

I was so engrossed in his outburst that I nearly missed two more people entering the bank.

Twenty people in total.

"Sir, I need you to calm down," the security guard inside approached him carefully, hand inching toward his taser.

Piett's face came into full view, revealing dark circles under his eyes, as if he had gone overboard with eyeliner or was trying to cosplay as the crow. If it weren't for those shoes, I might not have recognized him at all. "You don't understand," he began to sob. Someone should give this man an Oscar. "I need the money today, not tomorrow, not next week—today."

The security guard appeared to ease up when he saw Piett's emotional state instead of aggression. A clever move. "I understand this is frustrating, sir. They're doing everything they can to resolve the situation quickly."

Another left; nineteen. The guard from outside had also taken a step in to monitor the situation.

Piett nodded, wiping his nose, "My girlfriend is on my case, my mom is... dying from cancer." He hesitated for a moment there, "Everything is just falling apart, man." His voice rose, making some people inside uneasy. I recognized the tactic; he wanted to drive as many people away as possible by acting like an unstable lunatic, that can get just about anyone to leave, "You know what that's like, don't you?"

Another left: eighteen. Nineteen if we include Piett.

The security guard began to gently pat Piett's shoulder, "How about we sit down and—" But the guard's words trailed off.

A few gasps echoed in the room as Piett pressed a gun under the guard's chin, his other hand swiftly grabbing the guard's own weapon. "If anyone screams, it'll be their job to clean this man's brains off the ceiling." His tone was unnaturally calm, yet chilling. It was as if a different person had taken over.

In one quick motion, he snatched the gun from the guard's pocket and struck him on the head, knocking him out cold. A scarf pulled up around his neck concealed half his face. Honestly, he was nearly unrecognizable; I might not have known it was him if I hadn't been watching him so closely for months and if he didn't wear those damn shoes.

The next events unfolded in a blur. The shades were drawn. The other security was taken hostage by the very man who was seated two positions away from where Piett had been sitting. Two others, who had seemed like ordinary civilians moments before, suddenly revealed their masks and weapons. I tried to identify them, but I couldn't; they were strangers to me. They brandished large machine guns, appearing ready to fire at anyone who dared to move.

A new figure stepped into the bank, and the doors slid shut behind him. "Everyone stay calm; no one needs to get hurt," he announced. I recognized that voice immediately—it was Anakin. "I need all employees and everyone else to move to the edge of the room, away from the door," he continued, his gaze shifting to the two tellers behind the bulletproof glass. "That includes you two. And don't even try pressing that little button you have behind there; it won't do you any good, we turned it off."

There were twenty of us in total: six bank employees, two security guards, five robbers, and seven civilians, one of whom was just a child.

One of the masked men had the security guards' key card and used it to reach the two tellers. He yanked them out, brandishing his gun and threatening them. They stumbled forward, tears streaming down their faces, and fell to their knees in fear.

"Everyone else, get moving!" Piett yelled. "We know how many are here, so I expect to see you all on your knees in the next twenty seconds. If not, I'll come looking for you, and I won't be gentle." Is this really the Piett I know? Is this his true self, or does he become someone entirely different with that mask on? The distinction feels hazy now.

Panic spread as everyone rushed to the center, hands raised, tears glistening in their eyes. A mother held her confused child tightly against her, trying to shield him from the chaos.

I could no longer stay hidden; they were bound to spot me. All I had to do was act as frightened as everyone else. I could manage that. I could cry. There was plenty to cry about.

I thought of something truly sad to bring tears to my eyes and moved closer to the group, keeping my head down.

I knelt beside Robert. "You probably don't want to open an account anymore, do you?" I looked at him in disbelief, and he quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I joke when I'm nervous."

"Shut up." One of the strangers I didn't recognize said, hitting Robert on the back. It looked painful, but he didn't fall.

I glanced up at the one who struck him, and he narrowed his eyes at me, challenging me. He pointed his gun in my direction and made a fake gunshot sound before lowering it and walking away. I looked back down at the floor, trying to shield my face for as long as possible.

Why the hell did I come here again?

"Is this everyone?" Anakin's voice broke through the tension.

I heard Piett counting as he moved around us, "six, seven, eight—" He paused and I noticed a pair of feet in front of me. Slowly, I looked up to see his darkened eyes wide, "Nine." He whispered, and I made sure to look as terrified as possible. I didn't want him to realize I recognized him. Instead of finishing his count, he quickly walked away, stopping at Anakin's side. "We have a big fucking problem."

"What?" Anakin sounded annoyed, his gaze shifting to the entrance of the bank where two men stood in security guard uniforms. They had clearly stationed their own detail outside to keep anyone from entering or acting suspiciously. Quite clever.

'Technical issues' they're likely telling everyone.

Piett's voice dropped low, and I couldn't catch his words anymore, but I knew what he was telling him. Because moments later, Anakin's body stiffened, and his eyes locked onto me.

I played the victim and quickly looked away, gaze to the floor and closed my eyes.