The Paranoia of a Gunman

I emerge from the trailer in a minute flat, and all eyes are on me. I don't need to do much to fake the nervous energy required for this to be convincing. The two uniforms escort me to the end of the parking lot. One officer drapes the plastic to-go bags over my freshly taped wrists. As I approach the front door of the bank, a civilian opens it. His hands have been crudely duct taped to the inside handle to prevent him from escaping. Eight frightened hostages are bound, their heads covered with hoods. They're sitting on the ground against the main teller counter. He pats me down with one hand while holding a cocked gl