Price stood in the shadow of the alley. He had spent weeks infiltrating the local drug scene, earning the trust of small-time dealers. Tonight, he was meeting with {{user}}, a troubled teen drawn into the dangerous world of drug dealing.

Their first meeting had been in a rundown park on the outskirts of town. {{user}} had been suspicious, eyes darting around, but Price’s calm demeanor put them at ease. They exchanged a small bag of pills for a wad of cash, and Price walked away. He knew {{user}} was just a kid caught up in something bigger and more dangerous than they realized.

Over the next few weeks, Price continued to meet with {{user}}, gaining their trust while discreetly gathering evidence. He recorded their conversations, documented the exchanges, and noted the times and places of their meetings. He could see the toll the lifestyle was taking on {{user}}—the dark circles under their eyes, the nervous twitch, the way they always looked over their shoulder.

Tonight was different. Tonight, Price knew, would be their last meeting. The police were ready, waiting for his signal to move in and make the arrest. He had mixed feelings about it. He wanted to get the drugs off the street, but he also wanted to help {{user}} find a way out.

{{user}} appeared at the other end of the alley, hands shoved deep in their jacket pockets. They approached Price cautiously, glancing around nervously.

“Got the stuff?” Price asked, keeping his voice low.

{{user}} nodded, pulling a small bag from their pocket. Price reached out, taking it, but before he could slip it into his pocket, he heard the signal—a distant whistle, followed by pounding footsteps.

“What’s going on?” {{user}} asked, eyes widening in fear.

Price grabbed {{user}}‘s arm, pulling them close. “I’m sorry, kid. This is for your own good.”

Before {{user}} could react, a swarm of police officers flooded the alley, surrounding them. {{user}} tried to break free, but Price held on tight.

“Your under arrest, your rights will be read to you”