Glass broke. The gloss shook. Neon flared. People screamed. Then they fled. Naomi was left wondering, was her cover blown. But no one seemed to be paying her any mind.
Still she slid her service weapon from her holster, and clicked the safety off. Finger off the trigger, she crept to the corner and looked around. Nothing. Just steam from the vents and the cries of people as they ran.
But from where, from what raced through her mind.
The rain started again. Acidic and warm, it did little to dampen Naomi’s heightened awareness. It was just a nuisance. She moved out of the building to get a view down the street. The now empty street. The only movement coming from the lights as they sputtered and hissed under the onslaught from the weather.
She caught a glimpse of movement. Nothing overtly dangerous. Could just be someone else checking to make sure it was safe. Something was off though. There were no reflections on them. Everything else was hard to see through the endless maze of windows and signs, each reflecting the other in turn. But here, now she could see him.
He stood there in his trench coat, ignoring the rain, gun still in hand. Before him lay a body, a woman, strewn across the concrete amidst the spectacle of glass and garbage that ran into the gutter. He looked up. Saw Naomi, and holstered his gun.
Then the sirens kicked in, and backup was on its way.
Today’s art is courtesy of Eve Ventrue from Zurich, Switzerland.