The robbers, to their credit, had also stopped being brave.
Whatever fire had been in their eyes when they stormed into the club with guns and threats had completely vanished.
They sat still, heads lowered, enduring the occasional shove or verbal lashing from the crowd without a word of protest.
Even the short, calm one kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor whenever Stan walked past.
Stan moved through the space methodically. Checking the restraints on the robbers, checking pulses on the two guards laid out near the entrance.
Pressing a folded jacket beneath the head of the one who looked worst off. He had already made the necessary calls, police first, ambulance second.
Now it was simply a matter of waiting, and he didn't have to wait long.
