The wind caught the wings of the robbers and, though he was loaded down with bags of cash, it briefly lifted 24 off of his already wobbly legs. He cried out in pain as he was deposited back on the floor. Meanwhile, the umbrella scooted across the floor directly in 24's path. His foot got tangled in the wire struts and he went sprawling, as well.
By now, a few bank patrons were laughing.
21 began scrambling to pick up the money that had burst out of the bags, and was whipping around in the remaining wind.
"Screw this," said 24. "We got enough in one bag to stock up on ammo. Let's cut our losses and get out of here ... before things start getting weird."
"All right, fine, you big baby," 21 conceded. "Just let me say the thing."
"Whatever," said 24, hobbling out through the broken window.
"Citizens," 21 announced to the bank, "consider yourselves fortunate. The butterfly flapped its wings, and the weather changed for some, but not for you."
"YOU SUCK!" bellowed one man in the crowd.
"We suck only the sweet nectar of success, my good man," retorted 21, and he stepped out the window, and followed 24 into the air.