04-26-2014, 09:08 PM
After six blocks of walking without a destination, Jensen realized this plan was not well thought out. He was also cold, and although he zipped up his coat a little higher, it did little to help.
He passed plenty of people. Sure it was night, but cities like Moscow never slept. The twenty-four hour restaurant that he likened to a diner was good evidence. Another characteristic of enormous cities was crime. Dallas had its share of neighborhoods that were no better than the one currently surrounding him. Although back in Dallas, Jensen would never have been caught dead in those kinds of places; not publicly caught in those kinds of places, he painfully corrected himself.
It was strange to find himself in the exact opposite scenario. A man going out in search of crime had to question his sanity. There were probably websites that described crime rates by neighborhood in the form of a heat map. Something to research like that might have been a good investment in time.
He edged his way to a set of steps leading into some sort of office building, overhead, the windows were dark. It was long past normal working hours, and the place didn't seem the sort to employ third-shift workers.
He sat within the bubble of his coat and drew his legs up under him. He was instantly warmer just by sheer proximity of body heat upon itself as he fumbled about with the outdated iScreen to do some browsing. His fingertips brushed the folded up mask stored in the same pocket, and a little wave of nausea fluttered his stomach.
Someone yelled in the distance, but it was the sounds of a group having fun rather than cries for help. A few cars rolled past him, likely unaware he was even there.
He didn't know what to put in the search bar. How do you find crimes in Moscow?
He passed plenty of people. Sure it was night, but cities like Moscow never slept. The twenty-four hour restaurant that he likened to a diner was good evidence. Another characteristic of enormous cities was crime. Dallas had its share of neighborhoods that were no better than the one currently surrounding him. Although back in Dallas, Jensen would never have been caught dead in those kinds of places; not publicly caught in those kinds of places, he painfully corrected himself.
It was strange to find himself in the exact opposite scenario. A man going out in search of crime had to question his sanity. There were probably websites that described crime rates by neighborhood in the form of a heat map. Something to research like that might have been a good investment in time.
He edged his way to a set of steps leading into some sort of office building, overhead, the windows were dark. It was long past normal working hours, and the place didn't seem the sort to employ third-shift workers.
He sat within the bubble of his coat and drew his legs up under him. He was instantly warmer just by sheer proximity of body heat upon itself as he fumbled about with the outdated iScreen to do some browsing. His fingertips brushed the folded up mask stored in the same pocket, and a little wave of nausea fluttered his stomach.
Someone yelled in the distance, but it was the sounds of a group having fun rather than cries for help. A few cars rolled past him, likely unaware he was even there.
He didn't know what to put in the search bar. How do you find crimes in Moscow?