Why on earth did he look so damn pleased with himself? This was not the time or place for that sort of thing, even an idiot could have seen that! I glared at my companion, wishing I had something heavy to hit him with. He only grinned wider.
"Oh come on, it could have been worse." he said.
I rolled my eyes, he always said than whenever we screwed something up - not that that was a particularly irregular occurence. Honestly, we must be the most pathetic pair of thieves in the entire world.
"How exactly could this have gone worse?" I asked sarcastically. "Oh, perhaps the cops might have had helicopters as well, or maybe the dogs could have had wings to fly up and chew our legs off while we were hanging off the roof? Or maybe this stupid bag could have spontaneously combusted on us?"
"At least we got the bloody bag at all." he said, flipping a strand of dark hair out of his face. "What's in the bloody thing, it weighs half a ton!"
"I don't know, and frankly I don't care." I retorted, heaving the offending article back over my shoulder. "Come on, let's ditch this thing and go home. If I don't get my coffee within the next three hours I will not be a happy bunny."
My companion huffed and trudged off after me, scuffing the dirty pavement with his boots as we headed towards the dirty, smelly backstreets. This was our third heist this week, and both of us were tired. What was worse, it seemed that on every job we did, the cops already knew we were coming - resulting in some very hairy situations. I adjusted the bag on my back, trying to keep it off my injured shoulder, one of the many bangs, bruises and other minor injuries we'd both sustained over the past few days.
"Is this our last one then?" he asked from behind me. "Do we have any more after this one?"
"Nah, this is the last. Then we can take the money and hightail it out of here before anyone starts nosing around." I replied. He nodded and we continued on our way in silence.
Suddenly a bullet slammed into the pavement just in front of me. I yelped and skittered backwards, just in time to duck a second shot aimed at my head. Shouts came from overhead, and six armed men peered over the rooftops, all armed with pistols aimed at our heads. My partner gave a yelp as one of the bullets hit him in the leg. He hit the pavement hard, whimpering as the blood began to ooze from the wound. I stood over him, eyes darting about wildly, looking for a way out. There was none.
We were in real trouble now.