Bear with me, I'm a little rusty. I'm bored, though, and wanted to try and tackle one of my big sticking points back when I did write more -- suspense. Criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

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"Shit!"

"Sssh!"

"Shit." He whispered this time.

Two weeks of planning, four hundred thousand credits, five of the most skilled people in the business, eight minutes to get in and out, and eighteen million platinum on the black market.

It's funny sometimes, how things boil down to numbers.

Sort of like the twenty-eight guards in the building, the three security cameras in the room, the forty slender red beams shining through the smoke, and the two inches between Otto's face and the nearest one.

Up on the roof, Kelly and James held tightly onto the metal cord. James coiled some around his arm, for a better grip.

"We've-- unf," Kelly grunted audibly into her earpiece. The weight was putting a strain on her arms, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tightened her grip. "We've got you."

"The fuck was that?" Otto hissed. Even though the cameras were off, he kept his voice down. No use in bringing a patrol in here early. "Look, if you're trying to scare me, then bravo."

"The bleedin' cord snapped. We're, uh-- we've got you." James tried hard to hide the fear in his voice, but his eyes didn't move from the winch. Seven minutes.

"Fine, fine. Can you 'got me' a foot to the right, then? Our information is either old or bad, but this security beam layout isn't the one we were given."

Bracing his feet against the stone surrounding the glass dome, James looked uncertainly over to Kelly, who nodded, slowly letting go of the cord. He grunted a bit with the additional weight, but his brace kept him steady-- for now. Kelly quickly moved around to the other side of the winch, maneuvering the stand it was on.

"There, stop." Otto hissed. Kelly obeyed, and peered curiously down into the room where Otto hung suspended. "Now lower me eight feet."

"Um, Otto?" Kelly said nervously. "The cord. It's snapped. We don't have eight feet."

"Oh, for fuck's-" Otto was quite nonplussed at this reminder. Grimacing, he knew what had to be done. A glance at his watch only reminded him of the impossibilities of this new plan forming in his mind, but that same glance reminded him of the inevitability thereof.

Quickly, Otto started pulling at the fingers of his thin cloth gloves. "Alright, fine." He hissed. "When I tap twice on the microphone, I want you to drop me."

"What?!" Kelly gasped. A glance at James told her he was thinking the exact same thing. "Eight feet? How are you going to manage that without bringing the guards?"

"Don't question me, Kel. Six minutes." Getting his second glove off, he balled them both up in his hands as he explained, "There's not enough cord to get me back up. I'm going to have to improvise. Ready?"

The seconds of silence on the other end gave Otto his unspoken confirmation. Stuffing the gloves into his mouth, he bit down hard on the soft fabric. He reached a shaking hand up to the headset at his ear and tapped twice on the microphone.

In that instant, James let go of the cord, and started Otto in a face-first free-fall toward the museum's marble floor.

Stretching out his arms, Otto hoped to absorb most of the impact there, rolling the rest of his momentum forward. He underestimated the distance of the fall, though, and upon landing, a sickening pop rang out from his right wrist, causing him to cry out in pain, a cry only barely muffled by the wadded-up cloth.

Kelly looked down into the room with uncertainty. She heard Otto's muffled cry, and could see a figure sprawled out on the floor, but without any word from Otto, there was no telling what shape he was in. James peered over the edge next to her, asking, "Otto, mate, you alright? Come on, don't leave us in suspense here."

Otto lay on the cold marble, cradling his wrist in his left hand. He spat the gloves out, more damp from his nervous perspiration than saliva, and grunted into the headset. "My wrist... I think it's broken."

"Bloody good plan, that was. How do you expect to get the package now, let alone get out of there alive?"

Otto groaned lightly. Gingerly rotating his arm, he caught a glimpse of the face of his watch. "I've got five minutes. I'll work something out. You two get the gear and head to the rendezvous. Kyle will want to know about this little change of plan."

Kelly spoke up, nervousness pervading her voice as she nodded to James. "Fine. Be careful, though, please. I want to see you at the rendezvous alive, Otto."

Pulling himself up onto his knees, Otto grunted his acknowledgement. Fumbling with the toolkit at his belt, he pulled out the chipboard Kyle gave him, and started to crawl over to the case in the corner of the room.

In the transparent aluminum case, Otto could see the glinting of their prize -- the jeweled crown presented to Queen Bariv at the first coronation on Osiris. Priceless to most, but certainly not to them.

"Right, you. I sure hope you're worth the trouble." Otto growled, pulling himself up to eye level with the security panel on the case and prying it loose -- just like they'd practiced. Working quickly for having one good hand, he wired in the chipboard, overriding the circuit and raising the case.

'Right, step one: done.' thought Otto, as he hastily shoved the crown into the bag on his back.

'As for step two...' he fumbled with the holster on his right hip, unfastening the strap and drawing the YZ-181 pistol in his left hand. 'That's going to take a bit more imagination.'

Four minutes.

(NO EXCEPTIONS)