Times Like These

Jessica Sennett, clacking her pointed-toe Prada heels against the cobble and puddle of London, in a black fitted turtleneck and a dark maroon leather jacket draped over hear shoulders, as she headed home for the night. She looked down as she walked. Not sad, but lost in thought.

Residue

Meanwhile across the Thames, George Patel managed to sneak into The Minster Building. His target - the Private deal “Data room” archive. The building was heavily guarded, with an annoyingly elaborate camera system.

At 20:15, between after hours and the quiet phase, he walked in among the staggered employees ending their shifts. He nodded to the people he vetted as important enough within the company to not know him, and made his way ahead to the elevators.

Jezebel

Jessica pushed the glass bar door with her forearm, sighing a deep breath of tiredness. It in fact was a long, long day. A nice Manhattan on the Rocks, would help, it had to.

She sat at the bar, setting her Mulberry Bayswater on the bar counter, illuminated by the red blown-glass lanterns hanging around her and the yellowish glow that covered everything in the place. "What a fucking life" she thought, looking at the bartender who was, in fact, looking at her, awaiting her order.

Huevitos Fritos - SSSLIP Remix

He thought he knew everything he could possibly know about the security measures this company's system relied on, but when reaching the 2nd floor, he was met with a floor-wide lockdown. Unexpected, but not unprecedented. He'd bypassed enough security bullshit in his life to slide his was through this, surely. But still, a tension tugged at his shoulders as he mapped out the network.

The Church of What's Happening Now

She was slumped over the bar, head resting on her arm, scrolling phone gallery pictures of her old life. Once in a while she would catch a glance at her cocktail glass, and depending on the look of it, either downed the whole thing or asked for a refill. Again, not sad, she's not that type of person. "Just lost in thought" she'd say, with a salty tear sliding down her cheek.

Es Dios bueno o sólo es poderoso

As he managed to push in an override, all the lights went out. Leaving him in darkness, illuminated only by the faint moonlight coming in through the windows. The lockdown was lifted, but the time to do what he needed to do had just got dangerously thin.

He made his way to the main office, but before he could get much deeper, he stepped on a weird texture. Hair, someone laying on the floor... dead. Blood was exploded against the wall, and a lone gun laid beside the person. "Here! He's here!" he heard from the hallway. Panicked, he tensed as the rattling of guns rang through the walls. In the rush of adrenaline he looked around for an exit, but one thing kept tugging at his mind like a whisper. The gun. He had to take it.

Jeanne

What if she was never meant to be a detective, and her getting fired was just life showing her the consequence of mistakes. What if her mother was right, and moving all the way out here, alone, "independent"... She closed her eyes. Even in the drunkest moments - 4 seconds in... hold for 4 seconds, breathe out... "I'm not a quitter" never was. The only way out is through, even if it kills her.

BROKE BITCHES FREE$TYLE

He made it through the Court, sliding across the glass roofs and landing down on his feet so hard he felt his jaw crack. He looked back and saw a row of windows lined with masked officers pointing guns at him. He ran, with blood running down his neck, as bullets shattered the stone tiles of the sidewalk behind him.

CORLEONE

She opened her eyes, she saw the moment a young man in black ran across the side window of the bar, with blue and red lights illuminating the street behind him. "Where would he run to" she thought to herself, breaking a drunken smile at the situation. An ex-detective, still trying to meddle even when she can't form a proper thought. "The warehouse party that I can hear all the way from here" she thought, "hiding there would be like hiding a grain of salt on beach..." And the realization that turned the idea into a plan, made her eyes widen. She sat up, downed the half-full glass of Manhattan on the table and sped out the door.

I Luv U

He found himself at a warehouse rave. He tried to calm himself, loosen his pace, blend in. But the blood that was staining the collar of his shirt, brought in stares. He couldn't remain out here in the open. He glanced up and saw an empty balcony section, hidden from the pulsing lights.

Planetary Relocation Psychosis

Whether it was the alcohol catching up to her or the anger at her life, it made her move like a snake hunting it's prey. Slow and methodical. She noted his face, and more importantly, a very clear injury. Fear and hasty decisions are easy to spot when you know what to look for. And she knew. She noticed the same balcony George saw, and the same injured man that ran in the streets a moment ago.

Fraud

He saw a drunk woman come up the steps, looking at him through her eyebrows. "I'm.. waiting for someone, this is taken" he said to her. In the same moment, she pulled out a small gun from a pocket of her jacket, "Why are they looking for you?" she asked. He pulled out the gun he stole from the offices and reciprocated the gesture. "Are you the police?" he asked.

"Not anymore." and the gun fired.

A Glitch In Marie

She knelt next to him and noticed a carving on the gun in his hand. "Your turn" it said. And as she picked it up, and ran her fingers across the carved letters - in a sense, calling for her to take it.