Mouse stood, shoulder to the door, waiting for the go. His heart was pounding and the mask made it hard to breathe. Calming himself was necessary, but he still allowed himself some nerves. Now was a better time to have them. The walls, the guns, the bullets - everything was fake. He and the rest of the team were standing in a warehouse on the edge of town rehearsing.
His role was to breach and clear. On go he slammed through the door. He swept the room and watched his corners. Mouse moved in time with his partner Weasel. First one would cover a door and the other would move down the hall. Then they’d swap roles.
Once cleared the rooms were locked behind them. And they did this for three floors, while other teams made their way to the target. A big honking safe, that sat squarely in the middle of the pretend bank. Only unlike normal safes this one was not a slab of shiny metal.
It was glass. Or something approximating glass. So that all could see what was going on in the safe. Apparently the real thing would frost over when someone was accessing a safety deposit box but for the sake of the exercise it didn’t.
Mouse’s job, once he and Weasel made it to the safe, was support. He was just supposed to look tough. As fierce as one can wearing the mask of a little rodent. In his off hours, Mouse had been practicing his body language. Trying to figure out what cut the most imposing form. His gun and assorted military-style apparel helped. But it was all about conveying to others that he was in command of the situation.
Mouse and Weasel were done with their section of the bank and moving towards the vault when an siren went off. Weasel stopped immediately and spat, “shit!”
“Who fucked up this time?”
“Sure as hell wasn’t us.”
“Reset” - came the call over the intercom.
“Goddamnit,” said Weasel as they trudged back up the stairs, opening doors as they went along.
Mouse smiled under his mask and said, “At least we look good. That’s what matters. And what’s a little more rehearsal time before the big event?”
“Yeah, yeah,” groaned Weasel, “I know. And at least we’re getting paid for these days too and not just the shoot.”
“See! All’s good.”
Today’s art is courtesy of Tyler Ryan from Quebec, Canada.