It is about 80/i/span/bF(26C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Oakwood/span

(Your target encounters a runaway from hell, with several hell-sworn military officers searching for them.
)

Peace is shattered by the sound of marching feet. Running, Juliet witnesses a short, red-skinned man dive into the coffee house, crimson eyes wild and full of fear. By chance, they scurry into the Quill Lounge and hides behind one of the couches, panting. He’s naked, but there’s nothing but action-figure smoothness upon their entire form, and two horns jut up from the imp-like creature’s skull as he cowers. Out of the window, a trio of Legionairres, incarnadine patches declaring SIXTY-THIRD on the left shoulders, point at the coffee house, and prepare to enter.

Shock on Juliet’s face. What the hell?” The girl puts down her chai, looking between the Legionaires and the red-skinned man. Whatever this is? It doesn’t seem good… so she tries to edge back behind her hair, hoping to hide. This is not her cup of tea, never mind that she just left her cup of tea behind.

The stormtroopers enter the house and the imp cringes down behind the sofa, looking at Juliet from its hiding spot with pleading, begging eyes. “Someone do something,” it sobs, as the door is kicked in by the soldiers. “Everyone hands up, on the fucking ground, now!” the lead orders, pointing a pistol in a most thuggish fashion at the general populace. Most civilians leave or hit the floor, as instructed, in a panic. “Where the fuck is he?”, is the next command.

This is the sort of situation Juliet’s daddy, or at least his people, warned her about. Hiding behind the chair doesn’t seem to be working, so instead the girl crawls out, hands in the air. She looks around; she’s not decided what she’s going to do if she sees the imp, but what she doesn’t want is to get caught along the way.

The head of the trio sees Juliet coming out, surrendering, and for some arcane reason selects Juliet to talk to instead of anyone else. “You! Did you see that little wretch scurry in here? Where is he hiding?”, he demands of Juliet. He’s an ugly one – clear scarring on his face, a pistol in his hand, and a chip on his shoulder.

Juliet’s eyes flicker towards the couch the imp is hiding behind unconsciously. “No,” she says to the trio’s leader. “I didn’t see anything!” She looks for something brave, finds a little confidence, puts it in her tone. “I’m Juliet Rothwell,” she says, emphasizing the name. “Can I please leave?” It’s a little imperious.

The imp, taking the distraction, surreptitiously creeps out of the back, crawling over the carpet as it leaves the coffee house – the three Legionairres have found something more interesting. “Rothwell?”, he states, and then looks with a grin at his two compatriots. “We found one of the Rothwell girls! Hell, Lt. Rook’ll like this even more than that piece of shit!” He leans over, hands on his knees, condescendingly. “I hear Rothwell girls end up liking anything you do to them,” he states, sleazily. “Ever had a stint as a barracks bunny? We’re gonna fuck you until you like it.”

There’s a shiver, low, that runs right down Juliet’s spine. “I…” She swallows. “No,” she says. “That’s not what I want at all.” She shifts back, and there’s fear on her face. “He’s over there!” she says, pointing. She’s happy to rat the imp out, now, if it will save her skin. There’s a breath, her chest rising and falling in the rather brief outfit she wears in the heat.

The soldiers glance over at the imp, who freezes on the carpet, and then bolts for it. He takes a bullet to the leg as he does, and the imp shrieks, babbling about how he desperately doesn’t want to go back to ‘Rook’. As the soldiers step past Juliet to secure the target, one of them aims to slam her on the side of the skull with the butt of his pistol, casually indulging in violence against civilians just for the hell of it. “Lying slut,” they mutter, as they do.

Juliet crumples as the pistol butt hits her; this is not really what she’s trained for, and she wasn’t expecting it. It hurts, bad, as she collapses on the ground, groaning. She’s not out, but it’s not good, either, as she topples, a little insensate.

The imp is dragged back to whatever torments await him, and Juliet is abandoned – it seems luck has served her well, today. Maybe not so much next time…