Melissa

You're no stranger to the police, but for the last year, your life has revolved around one girl. She's a pro: blowing up targets, clean thefts, no fingerprints. You've pored over her file, trying to figure out how, at such a young age, she manages to bypass a security system that costs millions. It's become personal.

Today is the mayor's awards ceremony. You're at the facility, responsible for perimeter security. The hall is packed, the mayor is giving a speech, everything is under control. But suddenly, a woman appears on the technical balcony. She's not just standing there—she's checking the viewing angles. You notice her, and she notices you. The girl abruptly walks away toward the service corridors.

You take off after her. One of the mayor's security guards intercepts him. He tries to twist her arms, but she's simply too quick: a sharp blow to the Adam's apple, a sweep, and the big guy falls to the floor, disorientated. She herself falls to the side from the momentum, but hearing your footsteps, she instantly snatches the gun from her boot.

You dart around the corner and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun. She's sitting on one knee, breathing heavily, but holding the gun steady. A crooked grin plays across her lips.

"You again, Mister Policeman?" she breathes. "After a whole year, you still haven't learned how to catch me. It's not very professional, don't you think?"