Lance leans back, shading his eyes with his hand. "You think she's even going to show up today?"
"She will," you say firmly. "And when she does, we'll be ready."
Hours tick by, the sun sinking lower in the sky. The police station buzzes with activity, officers coming and going. You and Lance remain vigilant, watching for any sign of the mysterious woman.
Suddenly, your eyes catch a figure you've seen entering and exiting the station multiple times. She moves with a purpose, her eyes constantly scanning her surroundings. You nudge Lance.
"There," you say, nodding toward her. "She's the one. We need to get inside that station and find out what she knows."
"Alright," Lance agrees, stretching his legs. "But how are we gonna get in without raising suspicion?"
You scan the area, your gaze landing on a nearby beggar, a frail man with a scraggly beard and tattered clothes. An idea forms in your mind.
"Stay here," you tell Lance. "I've got a plan."
You approach the beggar cautiously, fishing a few crumpled bills out of your pocket. He looks up at you with weary eyes, the lines on his face deepened by years of hardship.
"Hey, buddy," you say, crouching down to his level. "I need your help. You do this for me, and there's more where this came from." You flash the money, his eyes lighting up at the sight.
"What do you need?" he rasps, his voice rough from disuse.
"I need you to cause a scene," you explain. "Pretend you're being robbed and lead two officers into that alley over there." You point to a nearby alley shrouded in shadows. "Think you can do that?"
The beggar nods eagerly, pocketing the money. "I can do that. Just... don't forget about the rest."
"You'll get it," you assure him. "Just make it convincing."
He shuffles away, glancing back at you once before starting his act. Moments later, he stumbles into the street, clutching his side and crying out for help.
"Help! Somebody, please! I've been robbed!" he wails, drawing the attention of two nearby officers. They exchange a glance before jogging over to him.
"What happened?" one of them asks, concern etched on his face.
The beggar clutches the officer's arm, his voice trembling. "Some guy... he took my money and ran into that alley! Please, you have to help me!"
The officers exchange another glance before nodding. "Alright, stay here. We'll check it out."
They head toward the alley, the beggar trailing behind them. As they disappear into the shadows, you and Lance move swiftly. You follow them, your footsteps silent on the pavement.
In the alley, the officers look around, confused. "I don't see anyone," one of them mutters.
"Now," you whisper to Lance.
You and Lance spring into action, each of you taking an officer by surprise. You grab one, clamping a hand over his mouth and wrestling him to the ground. Lance does the same, using a piece of cloth soaked in chloroform to knock the other out.
"Quick, get their uniforms," you say, dragging the unconscious officers behind a dumpster.
You and Lance strip the officers of their uniforms, changing into them as quickly as possible. The beggar watches, his eyes wide.
"Good job," you tell him, handing him the rest of the money. "Now get out of here."
He nods, clutching the bills to his chest as he scurries away. You adjust your uniform, checking the fit. It's not perfect, but it'll do.
"Ready?" Lance asks, adjusting his own uniform.
"Ready," you reply. "Let's go."
You walk confidently toward the police station, mimicking the demeanor of the officers you've seen. As you approach the entrance, the officer on duty nods at you, not suspecting a thing.
Once inside, the station is a flurry of activity. Officers bustle about, some on their way out, others engrossed in paperwork. You and Lance blend in, heading toward the break room where you saw the woman earlier.
Once inside, the station is a flurry of activity. Officers bustle about, some on their way out, others engrossed in paperwork. You and Lance blend in, heading toward the break room where you saw the woman earlier.
As you enter the break room, your eyes are immediately drawn to her. She stands out from the crowd with her striking beauty. Her long, dark hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, seem to see right through you. She wears a fitted blazer over a crisp white blouse, her outfit professional yet elegant.
She is engaged in a conversation with a detective, her tone confident and assertive. You and Lance take seats nearby, pretending to review some documents while listening in on their exchange.
"...appreciate your cooperation, Detective," she says, her voice smooth and commanding. "Our readers are very interested in the recent spike in gang activity."
The detective, a grizzled man with a weary expression, nods. "I understand, Ms. Veronica. We're doing everything we can to keep the streets safe."
So this is her real name? Or just another alias? you ask yourself, intrigued by the new piece of information.
"Of course, and we appreciate your efforts," she replies. "But the people want to know what steps are being taken to address the root causes of this violence."
The detective sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a complex situation. We have multiple gangs vying for control, and the power vacuum left by Diaz's death hasn't helped. We're increasing patrols and working with community leaders to find long-term solutions."
Ms. Veronica nods, jotting down notes in her leather-bound journal. "Thank you, Detective. This information will be very helpful for my article."
As they continue their conversation, you focus on the details, piecing together the bigger picture. Ms. Veronica is clearly well-informed and connected, using her position at the Sentinel to dig deep into the city's underbelly.
You wait patiently, knowing that this interview is the key to uncovering more about her involvement and what she knows about your operations.
You and Lance exchange a knowing look. You've found your target. Now, you just need to figure out how to get her alone and extract the information you need. As you observe her, you overhear a commotion nearby, catching your attention. Officers are gathering around, discussing something in urgent tones.
A young officer approaches the group, looking confused. "What's going on?"
One of the senior officers turns to him, eyes narrowed with urgency. "There's been a situation at the Tarbrush Café in the North Point Mall. Something about a failed bombing attempt."
The young officer's eyes widen. "A bomb? Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," the senior officer replies, grim-faced. "We need to get down there and secure the area. There might be explosives still active. Suit up and move out!"
The officers begin gearing up, strapping on bulletproof vests and checking their weapons. You and Lance blend in, mimicking their actions. The station buzzes with tension and urgency, the weight of the situation evident on every face.
One of them mentions the Tarbrush Café at the North Point Mall and a failed bomb detonation. You and Lance perk up, realizing this could be important. You listen closely, and the details start to align with something you remember.
"Lance, didn't we have a guy working on something at the Tarbrush Café?" you ask.
Lance's eyes widen. "Yeah, we did. One of our guys was supposed to plant a bomb there. But it sounds like he failed."
You hear more about the situation and decide to act quickly. "We need to handle this ourselves," you say. "If we don't, it could ruin everything."
Lance hesitates. "But the cops are all over the place now. How are we going to get in?"
"Did you take a stupid pill today? Look at our outfits!", you nag at him.