sheepshead denizens crisscross amok. people queue behind teller lines, taking care of business. mary takes her place. she glances at the bank clock - it's 10 o'clock.
same bank, same people. mary awaits service in the same line. a man ambles pass mary's line, up towards the front. he cuts off the person in front, an elderly woman.
behind the teller window is tom, assisted by a quite voluptuous employee - veronica, , with an iq to match.
tom is out on the floor, gun wielding. jerry #1 is with him, loot bags in hand.
jerry #1 is at the entrance - peering out at doom.
tom huddles by the entrance, gun smoking. cool and suave has succumbed to psychotic. the jerrys are nearby, nervous. as are the hostages, clumped together in fright.
tom and the jerrys stand shackled in their spots. their eyes wander about, lost in confusion. the whir outside subsides. stops. a loaded beat. tom, in mid-swallow, watches as a spectacular explosion of bricks sprays the air inside. a caped figure bursts into the scene amidst screams from clueless hostages. in the blink of an eye, hancock has jerry #2 by the collar. with a flick of the wrists, jerry #2 is a human projectile en route to the windshield of a police vehicle outside. jerry #1 opens fire on hancock. bullets careen off flesh of steel.
smoke and debris smother the air. and as they subside, all eyes fall on the caped figure that is hancock, erect in the rubble. mary can't believe her eyes. she surveys every inch of his frame, now clean-shaven, combed, comic book perfect. hancock scans the crowd of stunned hostages - his eyes pick out the women - veronica's wet smile takes him. a heartbeat.
the bank floor in shambles. no one in sight. but movement jars us to the back, where the bank safe is. we see hancock wade through rubble towards the open safe, a thick steel chamber of commerce. hancock arrives at the safe. confronts the object inside - tom.
on the bank floor, where a group of cops now huddle, we hear three shots - from the safe.