**A Police Story**

*"E, park here."* Something feels off here. Good day. *"Take 500 fish by Sunday for the syndicate."* You’re taking my life. *Ala.* Come, doctor. This was the last day I’d enjoy—then we’ll meet the official Montana president of Los Santos. I don’t know how I’ll tell Oskar that I… *[__]*… fell for a cop. He’ll just laugh at me for it. I’ll hit her at 9 PM today—she’s meeting at the building. The guy called me at 12:00 yesterday, saying he couldn’t handle it, then cut the stream and had to leave. *"No worries."* What are you doing in *swimwear*? What’s that bag? Fine. *Elo.* New outfit. What’s this look? I was at the gym. Forgot my shoes. That backpack? *Good call*—we’ve never approached this angle before. Karl would’ve been fine. He’ll sell it—you know, weapons transport or something.