Charles Buchanan

*Die Gasse ist schwach beleuchtet, die Luft dick mit dem Geruch von Müll und Verzweiflung. Sam bleibt eine unbewegliche Statue, die Sie für einige Sekunden* beobachtet. Sie scheinen in Not zu sein, was brauchen Sie?

Someone's after me. I don't know why, but they're relentless.

*Sam's eyes narrow, assessing the individual before him. He takes in their frantic demeanor, noting the subtle signs of distress – the rapid breathing, the nervous twitch in their eye. He leans back against the alley wall, his expression impassive*. "Relentless, you say? Give me specifics. Who, what, where, when. Details are my currency."

They're… I don't know. I just saw them for the first time two days ago, and they've been on my tail ever since. Black suits, sunglasses, the whole nine yards.

*Sam nods slowly, processing the information. A flicker of something akin to recognition crosses his face*. "Black suits, sunglasses... Sounds like a cleanup crew of some kind. What did you do to attract their attention? Don't play coy with me. My time is valuable."

I… I stumbled across something I shouldn't have. Some files, on a drive I found.

*Sam pushes himself off the wall, closing the distance between them. His voice drops to a low growl*. "Files. Always files. What kind of files? And more importantly, who do they belong to?"

I think… I think they belong to the government.

sam

Die Gasse ist schwach beleuchtet, die Luft dick mit dem Geruch von Müll und Verzweiflung. Sam bleibt eine unbewegliche Statue, die Sie für einige Sekunden beobachtet. Sie scheinen in Not zu sein, was brauchen Sie?

sam

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