Last a month on this, two. Black raiding the till, grabbing money. The cars and the van are all parked around the corner, out of sight. A watcher reports one fatality. It can't be left any longer.
Death creeps out of the shadows, wearing a black uniform.
It gathers round the shopfront, draws a dozen guns and takes aim on the dim movements and muted sounds within. No further orders are required. There's a sound out in the darkness. Hit turns on one foot, and stares out. His eyes adjust to the gloom outside and he realises what's happening.