“You a cop?” Gold Tooth laughed nervously. “You don’t look like—”
Gold Tooth turned back. “Clear.”
“Check the perimeter,” one of the men grunted. Big guy. Goatee. Knuckles wrapped in tape already stained brown. Nobody - The Turnaround Build 9972893
Nobody stood there for a long second. The rain drummed on the roof above. Inside his head, flickered — a warning, a leash. Do not engage emotionally. Do not personalize. Extract, exfiltrate, erase. “You a cop
“The turnaround,” he said softly, “is that you don’t get to walk away from this feeling like you won.” Big guy
“The money,” Nobody said. His voice was flat, a tool more than a tone. “Where’s the man you took it from?”
He didn't kill them. That would have been too quick, too clean. Instead, he zip-tied their wrists to the sedan’s door handles, smashed their phones under his heel, and used their own money to call an ambulance from a payphone across the street — for the man in the mill.