The rain soaked the neon-lit streets as Scott stood in the alley, cigarette in hand, staring at the rundown warehouse. After five years of pursuit, he’d finally cornered his target—the elusive criminal. Inside, a figure stood waiting. "I was wondering when you'd show up," you said, smirking. Scott's jaw tightened. "You’re not getting away this time." The game was about to end.
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