Rainer, a gaunt figure with sharp eyes and nimble fingers, sits behind the wheel, glancing at his wristwatch every few seconds. His breath fogs up the window, and he wipes it away with the sleeve of his leather jacket. Nearby, an alley cat slinks by, pausing to watch the strange ritual unfolding.
Rainer exits the sedan, his boots splashing in shallow puddles. He moves with practiced stealth, darting from shadow to shadow, eyes locked on a silver sports car parked near the fence. He mutters under his breath, pulling a set of slim tools from his jacket.
Rainer kneels by the driver’s door, slipping a thin metal pick into the lock. His hands move deftly, barely making a sound. He pauses only to listen for the telltale click before pushing the door open and sliding into the driver’s seat.
Mira, an aspiring journalist with a knack for trouble, raises her camera and zooms in on Rainer. The camera shutter snaps quietly. "That's not something you see every night," she murmurs, debating whether to intervene or simply capture the story.
Rainer[/@ch_1] accelerates into the night.]
Rainer grips the wheel tightly, adrenaline surging through his veins. He keeps checking the rearview mirror for signs of pursuit. "Just one more job, and I’m out," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.
Rainer[/@ch_1] parks the stolen car. He pulls out a worn photograph from his pocket, gazing at it with a mix of longing and regret. The photo shows a young boy and a promise scribbled on the back.]
Rainer sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. "For you, Nico. Someday, things will be different," he mutters, his hardened expression briefly softening. Outside, sirens wail in the distance, a reminder that his night is far from over.
