Stepping through the glass doors of the financial center, Jake is a study in efficient movement.  He knows exactly were he needs to be, when he needs to be there and how much time he has to be there.  Sliding his hand inside the pocket of his suit coat, Jake eases his fingers around the grips of a forty-five caliber, semi-automatic pistol.  Seemingly as if he did own the place, he stepped around the courteous lady who offered her assistance in his banking needs, and with a somewhat nervous but polite smile, placed himself on the other side of the bank of tellers and within reach of the large vault door.<br/><br/>The tellers, as well as the lovely lady that greeted him, gave him nothing in the way of a holdup to his plans.  Nothing what so ever.  Unless you consider shocked blank looks to be a hindrance.  "Do EXACTLY as you are told, and everyone in this particular institution will go home,"  Jake Palmer then draws the .45 caliber pistol from his pocket and pulls the slide and releases it, sending a bullet into the chamber and cocking the weapon.  "Not only will you go home, but you will also leave without any of these nasty little bastards punching holes in you."  Jake's voice is loud enough to carry to all that may be heard throught the bank.