Under The Lens

Plan is in motion with decisions set.
Beat in my chest is a thundering wreck.
Vest on my torso feels real snug.
Check of my rifle before I burst from the truck.

Cross the threshold and enter the room.
All tech jammed to make it high tech as a tomb.
Screams erupt to little effect.
Each person soon suppressed and thoroughly checked.

Countdown rattles off in our ears.
To be honest I wouldn’t call these civvies peers.
But when the vault opens whoops start to fly.
Nine steps in and we’re doing way more than fine.

Stash all bagged and loaded to go.
All that remains is the withdrawal so…
We make our move with a grand distraction.
No one will sus what it will be covering.

Pull out the structure and retreat to our ride.
In place of fear I begin to feel some pride.
Am I the villain or a saint is disguise?
When a bomb goes off my stomach flies.

I demand to know what the noise was.
Only to be told its above my cut cus.
Snarling I refuse to accept those words.
Bark, aim, fire cuts accomplices in thirds.

Van comes to a halt with only me still alive.
Sirens descend, I’m surrounded on all sides.
Offer no resistance as I surrender.
Before I’m taken I declare my badge number.

System checked, confirmed then I’m whisked away.
The bomb was a decoy, everyone’s ok.
Captains a little miffed I killed the crew.
To be honest I think it was way over due.

Ninety seven robberies over four months.
Made our force look like real chumps.
But tables turned now we have the dough.
Arranged an exchange to cut off the heads of the row.

Night of the meeting they arrogantly show.
Soon lost their cockiness when they went the way of the dodo.
Organised crime solved with case closed.
Guess that is sometimes just how it goes.