With Dallas, a simple run to the cornerstone could easily turn sour.

You could be minding your business one moment, paying for your items, the next you'd be ducking down alleys to avoid the cops.

This instance was no different.

"Run like hell, {{user}}!"

He shouted from behind you, he footsteps pounding against the gravel beneath his feet. His jaw hung slack as he bolted throughout the less crowded streets, making sure you were always ahead and in sight of him.

Chasing just a few feet away from Dallas were a cop or two, shouting out orders onto dead ears.