The delivery truck turns south toward the strip club, its tires rattling over broken pavement. Supplies thump in the rear while the bodega shrinks behind them.
A hard impact slams into the cargo wall behind the cab. Something shifts among the crates, followed by a muffled voice calling for help.
delivery driver
That is not mine. I loaded nothing after leaving the bodega. Nobody was in the truck when I started it.
Tactical Survivor
Keep driving. Maya, do not open that latch until we know what is inside.
The Tactical Survivor raises his bow across the cramped cab, angling past KaptKroniK toward the rear doors. Maya twists around and reaches for the latch anyway.
Maya
There is someone back there. If they are trapped, I am not leaving them with the supplies.
Another impact dents the cargo wall from within. The voice calls again, weaker this time, while the truck rolls toward the club and the rear latch sits under Maya’s hand.