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No Rest For The Wicked
#1
She’d been busy the last few days. It had been about a week since she’d been caught breaking into Oslov Corp and she had yet to call Sarkozy back. Not for the first time in the last couple of days, Zoya eyed her wallet. The item was currently resting on her desk, facing upwards brightly displaying the date and time. It was a Friday afternoon, and she should have already left the CNC. Instead, she remained at her desk sorting through emails and articles concerning the city’s new reclamation project.

An old Soviet era factory in the outskirts of the industrial side of town was being cleared out and torn down in favor a more modern facility. Supposedly, after shutting down, the building had served as a storage area for toxic chemicals until they could be properly disposed. Now, the city was trying to clean it up, but something didn’t sit well with her. She’d spoken to some of the people that worked there and heard alarm bells go off in the back of her mind.

Some of the men had been getting sick. A couple mentioned having had to clean up a spill that was dismissed by the higher ups. Apparently, they also hadn’t been issued proper equipment to work with. It seemed as if the contractor hired for the job was cutting corners, and in the process, risking the health of the public and their workers.

One of them mentioned to her that some of the stuff was being transported to the Moscow underground. If something happened, there was no telling how much harm that could cause. It was no secret that some of the poor and immigrant population hid there, along with a long list of the city’s undesirables. Should something go wrong, then large amounts of people would be at risk exposure.

She at the time displayed on her wallet yet again. It was 6:30 in the evening. Likely, the factory was empty by now. Most people would have gone off to enjoy their weekend. If she went alone, the chances of getting discovered due to someone else's mistakes were minimal. The night of her arrest wasn’t the first time she’d picked a lock or two, but it had been the first getting caught.

It didn’t take long for her to slip on her jacket, and wrap her scarf around her neck. Picking up her gloves and wallet, Zoya made her way out of the main office; ensuring, of course, to turn off the lights and lock up.
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Messages In This Thread
[No subject] - by Zoya Bocharov - 06-17-2014, 05:16 PM
[No subject] - by Zoya Bocharov - 06-20-2014, 05:34 PM
[No subject] - by Zoya Bocharov - 06-20-2014, 10:36 PM
[No subject] - by Zoya Bocharov - 06-21-2014, 02:02 AM
[No subject] - by Hood - 06-21-2014, 01:43 PM

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