Attack the robber

Your hand closes over a glass bottle of ketchup while you steady yourself. The gun-toting robber hasn't seen you. Various options flash through your mind.

Sneakily, you tiptoe behind the villain and slam the bottle of ketchup into his head as hard as you can. It shatters.

"OW!" he screams and turns, pointing the gun at you. "What the fucking fuck?"

You put your hands up, still in your pristine white blouse and green plaid skirt. The robber's not so pristine. His t-shirt and jeans are covered in ketchup, and his hair is an explosion of bloody red.

An alarm starts blaring. The clerk must have pushed a button somewhere, and is nowhere in sight now.

"Fuck," the robber grabs your arm and pulls you along at a run. The ketchup on his arm smears red on your virgin blouse.