The masked shadow moved fleetingly toward the less frequented streets of the outskirts of New York. The dark sweatshirt he wore was constantly illuminated by the bluish-red glow of police cars that had been following him continuously for several minutes. Several times the hooded figure felt the need to give quick glances to the sky: the LED lights always on in the city had confused him about the actual time it was done. He just needed to wait for the sun to go down to get out of their sight and get away with it one more time, to really become a shadow in the eyes of those sirens that had been going to his head for too long. He was sure that their rumble would remain in his ears for several hours even when he finally stopped hearing them.
The further away he got from the center of the crowded metropolis, the easier he found it was to lose police cars. He passed through narrow alleys closed to the sides and crossed old rusty metal fences using old pieces of furniture left on the street from which a bitter smell of mold was coming out. His heart echoed in his throat and his head exploded; he ran faster. He felt the soles of his shoes slip from the smooth and regular asphalt of the center to the varied and worn out of the city making it easier for him to run faster. He breathed heavily: he was near.
The lights had become dimer as they disappeared behind him. In the parallel streets he heard the buzz of the wheels of the steering wheels: they were trying to reach him. The shadow stopped in front of a wall strewn with colorful and mostly irreverent graffiti. The worn bricks, probably not cleaned for a long time, represented almost everything that at that time surrounded it. The abandoned houses had previously been robbed of the last remnants of objects inside. The ground windows of long broken windows reflected light of the high beams of the police. Cars stopped their race. He stretched out a hand and, with the tip of his metal fingers, he touched the outline of the inscriptions. A slight squeal spread through the air. The worn wall from which pieces of plaster were missing, illuminated by the lights of the steering wheels, was the only thing that stood in front of the agents' eyes.