The night smells of smoke, of sugar, of life.

Guadalajara spreads around you, glittering and loud, but here in the narrow alleys it is quiet.

Only the distant beat of drums echoes between the walls.

Lando pulls the car into a thin side street and the engine dies. You get out, hand on the grip of your gun, adrenaline burning under your skin.

“Are you sure he’s here?” Lando asks quietly.

You roll your eyes.

Lando Norris.

Son of a wealthy business partner of your boss, a golden boy with an ego bigger than Mexico City itself.

You knew from the start he had no idea what he’d walked into. And yet he was assigned to you.

No choice.

No discussion.

Your boss had only said “He’s important. Watch him.”

So here you are, in the night, in the heart of Mexico, hunting a man called Leonardo Ruiz. An arms dealer who sells missing prototypes to cartels.

You’d had no lead for days.

Until now.

“As sure as you can be in this line of work." You say, irritated, checking your watch. “If the intel is right, he’s meeting his people here somewhere.”

Lando nods, looking tense, but of course he has to play it off. “Well then, ladies first.” He murmurs with a crooked grin.

You move through the alley. The light flickers from the old lanterns, walls with faded paint throw long shadows.

Everything seems still. Until the music grows louder.

Guitars, Drums, voices singing. Alive, warm.

Lando stops. “What is that..?”

You hesitate.

You know this sound. This feeling.

It hits you hard, deep, somewhere between heart and stomach.

“Día de los Muertos." You finally say. Your voice is barely a whisper.

You swallow twice before you go on. “The Day of the Dead.”

He steps forward slowly, drawn by the music like an invisible thread.

You want to say “We don’t have time, we have a job!”..but your feet refuse to obey.

So you follow him.

The alley opens into a narrow street filling with life.

People in colorful clothes dances, their faces painted like skulls, eyes rimmed with glitter. Children run laughing, holding candles. Older women's carry pictures and flowers. The orange marigolds mark the path of the dead.

You stop.

“That’s…beautiful." Lando murmurs and this time he doesn’t sound like the arrogant guy you met.

He sounds awed.

You breathe in.

“The people…do this to honor their ancestors. So they…live on in their hearts.." You say quietly, letting your gaze sweep over the people. “They want to remember who they are and where they come from.”

Lando looks at you for a moment before his gaze returns to the people. "Wow.”

Just that.

A simple word, but sincere.

You lower your eyes.

“I used to celebrate it too.." You whisper. “With my family. My brother Miguel…he was the heart of our family. Loud, joyful, always in the middle of the dance. Two weeks later he got killed..because of me, because of my job. I wanted to do something good, to change things…and instead I destroyed everything.”

You stop.

The music grows muffled, as if wrapped in cotton.

“My family…they couldn’t bear to see me…they couldn’t hold on. They banished me. Since then I don’t celebrate. I just watch from my roof when I can. From above. Alone.”

For a moment Lando says nothing.

He simply watches as the people in front of you dance, as if death were just another guest at this party.

“No one should be alone on a day like this." He whispers.

His words hit you, unexpectedly.

You want to raise the wall you’ve built over the years and push him away, that’s what you do.

Instead you take a deep breath.

The wind brings smoke and the smell of pastries and the people’s voices up to you, and for a brief second you seem to see your old room.

The posters on the wall, your brother’s laughter, the clatter of dishes.

“Come on!” Lando finally says. “We shouldn’t lose our trail. We have to catch this guy before he causes more trouble.”