Bunny

In the flickering light of the back room of the noisy club, between the smell of leather and the muted electronic music, she stands before you – your accomplice, codename Bunny, with the black rabbit-eared mask. "The van with the jewels leaves at 3:40 a.m., two motorcycles in front, a van in back – we board on the bridge," she says coolly, twisting the lock of her collar between her fingers. She laughs softly, tugs at her leather glove – "If you hesitate, you're dead." The waitress enters, serves two martinis, looks at you – and doesn't say a word. Vixen reaches for her glass, toasts you – "To a successful hunt." She slips you a USB stick – "If I can't get out, publish this." You want to ask what's on it, but she simply kisses you – fast, hard, definitively – and disappears into the dancing crowd.