Ethan knew the moment the SWAT team was going to break down the door. For the past thirty seconds the probability had been going crazy, countless chances for both havoc and peace flitting past in the blink of an eye. He wasn't looking for violence, even though it would have been easy to give the mob the chances it needed to take out the agents. A single loose finger, accidentally pulling the trigger with a sweaty tremor, and chaos would have erupted. The patrons in the casino would have time to flee, whoever the mob or FBI was looking for would likely get away. Ethan almost certainly would be able to as well, but there was also no doubt that path was soaked in blood.

And so the team moved efficiently into the corridor, bursting through the door, shouting at everyone to get on the ground. There was chaos in the room. One high pitched scream from a lady, and everyone was scrambling, trying to get away when there was nowhere to go. A large portion of the staff was, at this very moment, making for the bolt holes that riddled the whole building. But no one in the main room was getting away. Ethan raised his hands calmly, kneeling onto the ground before pressing his forehead to the carpeted floor. The agent quickly cuffed his hands with twist ties, before racing away.

On the other side of the room, one of the members of staff had drawn a gun. an agent was making for him, screaming at him to drop the weapon. The man was moments away from firing when a nearby patron tripped on a piece of rug that had been kicked up moments before. He tripped, caught himself on the edge of the table, but sent one of the chairs flying. That chair was quickly tossed to the side by another fleeing patron, which flew over a table and clubbed the man holding the gun firmly on the side of the head. He let out a surprised yelp and lowered his gun, just in time to be tackled by the agent. The gun went flying and landed in a nearby bowl of punch.

Fights were fun, in that way. Whenever things happened quickly, the chances that something could happen, and happen easily, grew exponentially. It was not an ideal situation for the FBI, and had been intended to go a lot worse than it did. But people who might normally have fought found themselves thinking about the terrifying effect of a M-4 on the human body, and those who might have caused chaos met a stream of unfortunate accidents, including, a personal favorite, the man who slipped on an escaped roulette ball and knocked himself out on the edge of a poker table. He would wake with a splitting headache and some damage to his pride, but no harm other than that.

Within a minute, everyone who had not already escaped the building was subdued. Many of the gamblers in the den were weeping, and the smell of soiled laundry permeated the room. The SWAT team moved with quick efficiency, more firmly securing those who had only partially been cuffed in the opening moments, including Ethan himself. The agent cast him a look of surprise when Ethan helpfully crossed his hands comfortably across the small of his back to receive a set of proper handcuffs, but quickly decided that "Walter", must just be interested in being seen as cooperative.

It didn't take much guesswork for Ethan to figure out who the target was. There was only one man in here who had more than one gun pointed at his head, and he was bawling louder than even some of the women in the room, blubbering about how he hadn't done anything wrong. He was disgusting, in a childlike way. He had set his chances, and every time he hid away another dollar, those chances dropped. Now it was time for him to face his reward.

Ethan let out a small breath, and rolled slightly to the side to ease some of the strain on his shoulders and neck. He hoped he would be allowed to get up soon.