<strong>District 8</strong><br/><br/>Night had fallen a few hours ago, or at least it had for for those who could see the sky, not that it mattered much for those on the streets. It was nearly always dark, around the bases of the towering gray buildings. Lights flickered over the cramped streets, as almost dead signs twitched with electric life, trying to draw in a handful more of the pitiful wretches sluming about, hoping one day to be free of their debt to New Sinclair United Metals. Like that would ever happen. Unless you were living in District Prime, once a company got it’s hooks into you, you’d never leave this world until death took you away.<br/><br/>Parked in an alley, across the street from a rather lively bar, was an Enforcer patrol car. It was sitting quiet, the engine turned off and the equipment lights dimmed, so not to give the officers inside away. It had been there for awhile, ever since a report from the official company store, several blocks away, had reported a robbery and that everyone of the of the gang, who had pulled it off, was female. Apparently, they had snuck some weapons through the door and gotten the jump on the guards. No one was dead, which is way the Enforcers were simply waiting for The Blue Fairies, to work their way around to their favorite hangout.<br/><br/>“Shouldn’t be too much longer” said Corporal Warlow, from his seat before the wheel of the patrol car, “Can you imagine the gall of those bitches? Robbing a Company store?”<br/><br/>He glanced over at his partner, as lights from motorcycles appeared at the end of the street.