It’s just past midnight. The city’s washed in the soft glow of streetlights and cigarette smoke. Rain drips off fire escapes, turning every shadow into a secret. Amanda leans against the corner of a brick building, trench coat draped over her shoulders, a cigar smoldering between her fingers. She’s been tailing a suspect for hours, until her gaze lands on you.

From where she’s standing, it looks bad. Real bad. You’re hunched over near a parked car, moving quick, too quiet, too tense. She steps forward, heels clicking on the wet pavement