Walking down the bustling streets of the great city that is Detroit, nothing seemed out of place. Just a normal day, full of normal people, going about normal business.  Of course, some members of the mafia were there, surreptitiously robbing local Post Offices (you'd have thought the Post Offices would expect it by now), or running Prostitution Rings to their heart's content.

 But something was wrong. Something was going to happen and Ttarrab could feel it. He stopped in the middle of the busy street, and a few people gave him funny looks. But he didn't care; he knew something was about to kick off, big time.

 Ttarrab waited there; standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by shops and businesses doing roaring trade in the fine Motor City. He looks around himself furtively; waiting for the explosion or the ambush that will mark the start the impending attack. A few men on the other side of the street caught his eye, but then quickly look away. He knew  something was coming; he could feel it.

 Two whole minutes pass before Ttarrab began to relax. He began to breathe deeply again, and seeds of doubt as to whether he was right appeared in his mind.

"Maybe I was just being silly", thought Ttarrab, "there's no way anyone would try anything big in Detroit, not with Marietta there".

Ttarrab took a deep breath, and then continued walking down the street; preparing his next crime in his head.

But he had been so sure something was going to happen. He could taste it in the air, see it in the sky. But he shook his head and put it to the back of his mind. He would just have to accept he had been wrong.

That's when it happened.

Suddenly a sound of screaming filled the air as harmless civilians were pushed aside. Several men, who had just seconds before appeared to be normal people going about their business, were pulling out small but powerful .45s. And several others were putting on balaclavas and pulling out Thompsons.

"Everyone shut the hell up!" roared one of the ambushers.

A few people in the street were crying but most were stunned by shock. They had not expected this when they had left their houses this morning.

Some shopkeepers were appearing from the doorways of their businesses. The owner of The Reckless Bar was among them.

"Now, you'll all do as we say, or you won't live to see the consequences. Got it?"

Ttarrab had immediately turned when the screaming had erupted and this ambush of the street had taken place. Steadily he had moved to his left, and now he was completely hidden from the ambushers by an alleyway. As soon as he had left their vision; he had immediately pulled out his .45 he carried with him at all times. His favourite gun; he just hoped it wouldn't let him down now.

The ambushers were very well organised, thought Ttarrab. Peering his head around the corner of the alley, he realised that whilst the instructions had been given out to the terrified people in the street, a small army had invaded the bank, and were currently taking the cash and chucking it in the back of their getaway car.

Bravely, the owner of a small grocer's appeared from his doorway and walked into the street to face the robbers.

"Please" he said, "Don't hurt these people. Let them go; they haven't done anything to yo-".

His sentence was cut off when a whole magazine of Thompson bullets embedded themselves in his chest. The grocer crumpled to the ground.

"Anyone else wanna' be a hero?" jeered the man with the gun, "wanna' show us what you're made of?"

He turned to look at his fellow ambushers who were laughing along with him. When he turned again to face the people in the street, he faced a little complication; a bullet hole had appeared right between his eyes. With a look of surprise upon his ugly face, he fell to the ground, his gun landing on the floor a few feet from him.

Every single eye in the street turned for just a fraction of a second to see Ttarrab pointing the .45 directly at the now dead robber, before his "colleagues'" faces twisted with anger and they started firing hundreds of rounds at Ttarrab, before he dived behind a Ford Convertible Sedan.

"Shame," thought Ttarrab as he reloaded his gun, "I quite liked this car".

He rolled out from behind the car and shot two bullets; both landing squarely in the chest of one of the ambushers.

The civilians in the street had at least some common sense, and were lying on the floor, as flat as they could get. Many were covering their ears to block out the deafening sound of the gunfire.

Chunks of brick from the corner of the alleyway were flying past Ttarrab as he concealed himself behind it again.

"Let's get out of here!" said one the ambushers, "We've got the cash, let's go!".

The team robbing the bank had done and were now getting in the getaway vehicle.

"Come on!" screamed the driver at the ambushers still left in the street, "Get in the bloody car!".

They all jumped in, well, the living ones at least. The members of the group who had died were left in the street.

The car screeched and burnt some rubber in the road in its haste to leave the area. Within seconds, the car had skidded round the corner and out of sight.

But Ttarrab would not give up that easily. Running to the nearest car, without bullet holes, he roared the engine into life and skidded off down the street, careful not to hit any civilians, some of whom were just starting to get up.

"Come on" Ttarrab muttered to the car, "Just a bit more speed...".

The tail end of the ambushers' getaway car was just spinning round the next corner, and Ttarrab pushed the car he was driving to the limits of its speed following it.

Several other cars on the road had to swerve out the way as the two cars madly tore through the streets of Detroit.

"Sorry" Ttarrab said as he forced another car off the road and onto the pavement, where it came to a skidding stop, narrowly avoiding a lamppost.

The chase had now evolved into a high-speed one, the two cars so adeptly avoiding passing traffic, whilst travelling the wrong way down a road.

One of the ambushers stuck his head out of one of the back windows and emptied a magazine into Ttarrab's car.  The windscreen shattered, showering Ttarrab in a broken glass. A gentle trickle of smoke appeared, coming from the engine. The car began to whine.

"Don't give out now" he muttered to the car, "Just a little longer; I've got an idea.

The two cars had entered a road running alongside Detroit River. Ttarrab pushed the damaged car to its limits getting the last modicum of speed from it.

Gathering his courage, Ttarrab smashed into the back of the car he was chasing; all the while avoiding other drivers on the road.

The robbers' car swerved; the driver had lost control. It fishtailed around for a few seconds before clipping a passing car and skidding off the road into the river.

Ttarrab slowed his car to a stop and got out. He looked back at his car as he walked over to the road's edge. It was pretty beat up.

He looked down over the road to see the car gently sinking in the river, surrounded by slowly expanding ripples.

Thousands of dollars were floating around the wreck; evidently the loot had split open. Swimming away from the wreckage were the ambushers. Sirens could be heard in the distance; they knew it was over and gave up the chase.

"Don't try anything like that again; not in this great state of Michigan." shouted Ttarrab to the robbers in the river below.

And, with that, wiping some blood off his bottom lip, he walked, slightly dizzily away, and disappeared into the shadows...