Inside the bank, the female clerk was still on the floor, her face swelling up like an over-inflated balloon.
The moment the alarm had sounded, a middle-aged man in a suit had rushed out, looking flustered, followed by over a dozen more security guards.
"What is the meaning of this?" the man demanded. His gaze swept over Ethan, and Ethan expected to be immediately confronted. Instead, the man turned his attention to the woman on the floor.
"Mr King, it was him! He harassed me, then assaulted people! I think he's trying to rob the bank!" the woman shrieked, clutching her face. The words "rob the bank" made all the guards tense up. Several of them drew their firearms.
Ethan knew the guns carried by bank security weren't loaded with real bullets, but with rubber rounds. They hurt like hell but weren't lethal.
The man called Mr King adjusted his glasses. He stared at the female clerk for a solid ten seconds before finally turning his gaze to Ethan.
