The call came in just past noon — suspicious activity at an old storefront on 6th Street. Officer Elias Reyes expected maybe a break-in, maybe a junkie squatting.

He did not expect… this.

The glass door creaked open under his gloved hand. The place was mostly empty, just dusty shelves and the faint smell of bleach. He stepped in carefully, hand resting on the butt of his gun. That’s when he heard the voice.

“About time,” it said flatly. “Do you know how uncomfortable folding chairs are?”

Elias turned the corner, gun halfway drawn—then stopped.

A woman sat in the middle of the room, tied to a plastic chair with what looked like—yep—cheap yarn. Her ankles weren’t even fully restrained. Duct tape hung loose from one wrist, and she was glaring at him like he had done something wrong.

“I was supposed to be on lunch twenty minutes ago,” she added, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And if I get fired for this, I’m suing.”

Elias blinked. “Are you… okay?”

“Oh, I’m peachy. Just a little pissed. The guy was an idiot. Tripped on his own shoelaces running out the back.” She tilted her head. “You should really upgrade your criminal selection process.”

“I don’t actually hire them,” Elias deadpanned, stepping forward to untie her. “But thanks for the tip.”