Yurt 17

The tires of the police cruiser squealed as it rounded the corner. It took off down the otherwise empty road, sirens shrieking.

Cruiser 17, responding to 10-31 at Crane's Pub!

Officer Martinez dropped his radio in his lap and kept driving. In the passenger seat, Officer Williams was loading her pistol.

"Who the hell robs a pub? Not even a good pub, at that."

"I think you just have bad taste."

Williams shoved the pistol back in her holster and tightened her vest. The sleepy town didn't see much action, and she savored the few opportunities to do her job.

"What's the situation?"

"Three suspects, at least one armed. Call came in from a tea shop across the street."

"Should we call for backup?"


The cruiser spun around another corner and slowed to a halt in front of a small pub. The door was ajar, and the cracked glass proudly read "CRANE'S PUB!". The ruckus inside could be heard even from inside the car.

Martinez stepped out of the driver's seat, Williams following behind. He drew his gun before dashing to the door. Pressing himself against the door, he peered inside.

A green ghastly glow filled the interior of the eatery.

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