This story , Thieves like us. By Kro has taken months of planning be warned ฿༄λ´αזเ༩αן₪ལའ༄༼༽࿂༥༦༣༤༡༄ ༕༴༄
Two minutues later "Two minutues till motti's due at the main enterance, come on con, fix up the geek and lets get going!" patch hissed "Who's motti?" "Sh, you will all find out in the due course" She gave him a sticky yellow ampuole. "back up" she said, and they ran.
Ten minutues later "Ok jonah, let me have that ampuole i gave you." con said Jonah looked between her and the main doors. Then he smiled, reached out his hand... Shut his eyes and threw the cap down at her feet. He heard patch swear. Con shouted as she jumped back and crashed into the reception desk. But jonah was already running for the doors. "Sorry," he called "but you did say life was all about oppotunitys." Heart in his mouth, jonah slung open the doors. He felt the night cold air on his face and a moments euphoria. They'd wanted him to go with them, and he had - as far as the exit. Now it was time to make his own chances. The yard outside was dark and silent. a white van nearby - had to be con and patch's friend. Backing off round the side of the reception building he'd never make it past the guards on foot, but there had to be another exit - He gasped as something fell onto him from above, knocking him too the ground - or rather, somebody. Before he could catch his breath, he was dragged to his feet and shoved against a wall by a tall, rangy guy with balck hair pulled back in a ponytail and a razor cut goatee. The guy's hand closed threateningly on his throat. "Going somewhere jonah?"
"S'pose not" Jonah said, and the pressure on his throat relaxed a little. The guy was maybe twenty, sounded american. His fierce scowl would have been more intimidating if his round-rimmed glasses hadnt fallen loose in the tumble - the left lens was now perched on his nose. "You must be motti, the boss man." "Boss man? Him? " jonah turned tifind patch and con slipping through the shadows towards them, laughing like a drain. "Wait till Coldhardt hears!" Jonah frowned. "Coldhardt?"
"S'pose not" Jonah said, and the pressure on his throat relaxed a little. The guy was maybe twenty, sounded american. His fierce scowl would have been more intimidating if his round-rimmed glasses hadnt fallen loose in the tumble - the left lens was now perched on his nose. "You must be motti, the boss man." "Boss man? Him? " jonah turned tifind patch and con slipping through the shadows towards them, laughing like a drain. "Wait till Coldhardt hears!" Jonah frowned. "Coldhardt?"
"Shut your dumb mout patch," motti hissed, quickly straitening his glasses. "What gives with the geek getaway con? Losing your touch?" "He's got more nerve than we thought." Con shrugged.