You duck out of the way. A storm of glass flies over your head. People scream. You keep your head down.
Three seconds later, a rough voice says, "Gotcha now, Brockner!"
You peep over the table and see that the coffeeshop is now in shambles. The manager is sandwiched between a riderless motorcycle and the front counter. He looks quite mangled.
Meanwhile, a big bald mountain of a man, clad all in black, has forced the trenchcoat-wearing stranger to his feet.
A moan of pain from behind you. It's a blonde college girl, her face bloody and peppered with bits of glass. You move to aid her, but the bald guy sees your movement and shouts, "Don't anyone move!"
You freeze. He turns his attention to the other man--Brockner, you assume--and rips the box off his chest. With a grin of contempt, Bald Guy carelessly shoves Brockner to the floor and turns away.
A surge of anger in your blood. You feel a raging impulse to leap over and punch Bald Guy in the brain!