Kirill pulled a can of spray paint from the knapsack flung over his shoulder. Carefully he approached each security camera, obliterating their field of vision with $1.99 worth of black quick-dry enamel.

One less thing to worry about they had decided.

Ivan approached the terrified teller behind the safety glass, sliding a note through the small opening with his gloved fingers.

He watched as her quivering hands picked it up. She was slim, brunette, pretty he thought, not like the icy Russian beauties he was used to, but pretty enough. But that’s not what he was here for, he waved his piece. “Hurry up” he barked, trying to conceal his accent by adding a nasal American twang.

Dimitri had lined the hostages into a cowering cluster. “Quiet” he snorted, as their whimpering grew louder.

“Don’t even think about it” he screeched as he noticed a young well dressed man, slowly inching toward him. “no heroes today” He fired a shot mere inches from the man’s head, just to show he meant business, as screams exploded from the corralled crowd of everyday bank goers.

“But this says…” the terrified teller addressed Ivan, trembling.

“I know what it says, now do it”

She leafed through a thick binder and quickly jotted down information on a small post it note.

“This is his home address?” Ivan demanded.

“Yes…sir…the bank president’s”

“And now, keep going…”

She consulted the note.

Slowly she made her way into the large lobby, the thin safety glass no longer buffering her from the masked criminal. Ivan followed her to a large locked cabinet, and watched hawk-like as she nervously retrieved a set of keys and headed toward the small cavern of safety deposit boxes.

He jolted as the sound of approaching sirens wailed in the distance. It’s Ok they were right on schedule.

Ivan grabbed the keys from the tellers well manicured hand and scanning the myriad of boxes, found the match, opening it cautiously. He grabbed a DVD of the Three Musketeers and brown leather-bound notebook and stowed them both in the large pocket of his oversized sweater. It was all there.

“Ha! Spasiba” he cooed at the teller, unthinking. Her face was pale and bewildered in the harsh flourescant light.

The steady drone of the sirens were closer now and ivan could picture the bustle of police activity just outside on the crammed city street.

He nodded to Kirill and Dimitri and strode toward the entrance, his breath heavy through the stifling plastic mask.

With Dimitri’s brusque command, the three removed their masks, shielding their faces beneath the generous hoods of the sweatshirts they each wore beneath their colorful cardigans.

Dimitri had selected three male hostages, placing them apart from the others. He slipped a grotesque frosted mask over each man’s head and ordered them into the three sweaters. The switch was complete.

“You are surrounded” , a robotic voice echoed through the cavernous lobby.

The men unloaded their weapons, thrusting them empty into the hands of the three now-masked hostages, just as the doors flung open to a stampede of New York’s finest. A frenzy ensued, hostages jamming the revolving doors as they fled, screams reverberating through the marble foyer, the police presence trying to regain control.

No one is to leave the building”

But it was too late. A handcuffed accountant, podiatrist, and stockbroker were being read their rights as three students in NYU sweatshirts vanished into the gawking crowd.

The headlines would read,NYC Bank Robbed, No money Taken. The three men escaped with an address on a post-it, a classic movie, and leather planner. That’s all they were after.