You manage to shake the tail long enough to dash in and out of Best & Best. But with the goon patrol lurking about, Scottie doesn't leave your side. You return with a legal-sized manila envelope.\n\nNext stop, [[Hialeah Hospital.]]
Go-Kart Track. Miami, Florida. 1000.\n\nYour hands tremble, bouncing bagels against the walls of their bakery box. Peter, the front desk clerk, eyes you from the entryway.\n\n"You're late," says Peter. "How come you're only late when I'm hungry?"\n\nYou shrug. "Sorry."\n\nYou hand over the bagels and quickly turn to exit.\n\nBagel already in hand, Peter hollers, "Hold up, Sam!" He takes a bite and talks with his mouth full. "You still haven't done your laps."\n\nThen it dons on you--a few weeks ago, you bet Peter that you could best his single-lap track time.\n\nPeter sneers. "Or maybe you should go. Doubt you can beat my time anyway."\n\nYou:\n\ntell Peter to stuff it and [[hurry to your next delivery.]]\nsay, "Oh, [[it's ON]]!"
Peter leads you to the track and points out your go-kart. He hands you a helmet. You put it on as you lower yourself into the seat.\n\n"Ready?" asks Peter. He holds a stopwatch.\n\nYou nod.\n\n"Go!" yells Peter.\n\nYou punch the accelerator and rocket down the track, maneuvering with great speed and skill. As you pull up, Peter scowls. You've beaten his time by four seconds.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: SPEED DEMON BADGE! (You never back down from a challenge, and can back it up with a vengeance!)\n\nBeaming, you say, "Gotta run, Peter. Better luck next time."\n\nYou exit the track and [[hurry to your next delivery.]]
"I'll do it. Now, stay still...and try not to talk."\n\nAs you dial 9-1-1, Phister hands you a Kel-Tec P-32 semi-automatic pistol. \n\nYou've never handled a gun before. You:\n\n[[take the gun.]]\n[[step away from Phister and the gun.]]
Opa-locka Executive Airport. Miami, Florida. 0900.\n\nWith Scottie as your copilot, you ease Sally out of the Opa-locka parking lot. An ambulance, lights blazing, passes you as it races toward the terminal. You say a silent prayer for Mr. Phister. Your anxiety level eases just a smidge, that is, until a monster pothole jabs the pistol into your ribs.\n\nYour cell phone rings. You jump and swerve, nearly running off the road. It takes three rings to compose yourself and glance at your phone.\n\nYou cringe. Ms. Finagle of Finagle's Bagels only calls to chew you out. You sigh, but answer with a smile on your face.\n\n"Double Time Delivery," you say.\n\n"Sam. Where are you? I'm getting 'no-bagel' complaints from Mae West Imports and the go-kart place. Don't I pay you to deliver bagels?"\n\n"Sorry, Ms. Finagle," you say, dejected.\n\n"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, Sam. I need all of your remaining deliveries finished by 10:30 a.m., or I'm cancelling your contract!"\n\nYou:\n\napologize and [[promise to deliver the bagels on time.]]\n[[hang up on the wench.]]\n
You answer, "Double Time Delivery. How may I help you?"\n\n"Yes," replies a deep, raspy voice. "The name's Phister, and I need a pick-up at Opa-locka ASAP. How soon can you get here?"\n\nYou reply:\n\n"[[I'm in the middle of something right now.]]"\n"[[Uh, how soon do you need me?]]"
You hang up the phone and stomp on the gas. Within minutes, you've arrived at your next bagel drop, the Florida Department of Children and Families.\n\nAfter parking, you toss the pistol into your glove box, tuck Scottie under your arm and gather two bakery boxes.\n\nYou enter the building, passing through a metal-detecting security gate. The gate blares. Guards suddenly swarm you. They confiscate your bagel boxes, popping open the tops to inspect the contents. And they rip Scottie out from under your arm.\n\nThe guards eye you like a common criminal.\n\nYou:\n\npoint to the shiny buckle adorning your belt. Made of nickel and electroplated with brass, the buckle features three 12-gauge trapshooter shells. You say, "[[It must be my belt buckle]]." \npuff your chest and hold your ground. You say, "Come on! [[Don't you guys know me by now]]?"\n[[bat your eyelashes and flirt.]]
The receptionist feigns concern. "I hope that wasn't important."\n\n"I'm sure it can wait," you say, offering a sheepish smile. "Was there life before smartphones?"\n\nAn influx of insurance-hungry callers disturbs your banter. Suddenly feeling awkward, you slink away. Your phone rings again.\n\nWalking toward the exit, you answer, "Double Time Delivery. How may I help you?"\n\n"Yes," replies a deep, raspy voice. "The name's Phister, and I need a pick-up at Opa-locka ASAP. How soon can you get here?"\n\nYou reply:\n\n"[[I'm in the middle of something right now.]]"\n"[[Uh, how soon do you need me?]]"\n
Miami Lakes, Florida. 0800.\n\nSun blasts your back as you breach the double doors to A-1 Insurance. You carry a pair of nondescript white bakery boxes, and as you enter, the cool air wafts the smell of freshly baked Finagle's Bagels into your nose. Ah...don't you just love the smell of fresh bagels in the morning?\n\nAs you inhale the sweet scent, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass. With one hand, you attempt to straighten the bottom of your crumpled t-shirt, which bears the logo of your upstart courier service, Double Time Delivery. At twenty-something, you are a thin, slightly disheveled, but good-looking:\n\n[[man.]]\n[[woman.]]
With a little guidance from Scooter himself, you spend all seven bullets. Luckily, Scooter sells replacements.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: NOT-SO-SHARPSHOOTER BADGE! (You emptied your P-32 clip at Scooter's Shootin' Range, but did you actually hit anything?)\n\nFeeling a bit more confident, you [[head back to Mae West.]]
You make a break for NW 135th Street, toward Amenable Ammo. Luckily, the traffic clears. In your rearview mirror, you notice a black sedan, which you think has been following you for at least a mile. You wonder if these could be the same guys who practically gutted Mr. Phister.\n\n"Humph," you scoff. "A late model black sedan...how original. Looks like the bad guys need an upgrade."\n\nTheir car may be faster, but you know Miami. Zigzagging like you're running from an alligator, you loose the tail.\n\nYou arrive at Amenable Ammo, where you pick up a large wooden crate, chocked full of 9mm Luger slugs and 12ga shotgun shells.\n\nIn less than 10 minutes, you pull into Scooter's Shootin' Range. After making your delivery, you:\n\n[[decide to test out the P-32.]]\n[[head back to Mae West.]]
"Well, if you're not interested in a $5,000 payday for a single delivery, I'm sure I can find another company," says Mr. Phister.\n\nYour jaw drops. Your business is so new, a $5,000 job could pay for some much-needed advertisement. You backpedal. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm very close to Opa-locka. What did you need?"\n\nMr. Phister says, "Get here as soon as you can. If you can deliver my package to Miami International by 12:00 p.m., I'll pay $5,000."\n\n"Okay," you say. "[[I can be there in less than 20 minutes.]]"
The receptionist's eyes sparkle. "I don't know. I still believe in love."\n\nYou shift uncomfortably under the receptionist's gaze.\n\n"So," you say, "it's really humid out there today."\n\nThe receptionist's eyes lose their shine.\n\n"What's with the dog?" asks the receptionist, pointing to Scottie.\n\nYou shake your head and say, "Long story."\n\nYou take a minute to catch your breath, thank the receptionist for vouching for you, and then [[head back to Sally.]]
"I can make it worth your while," says the mysterious Mr. Phister.\n\nYou:\n\n[[are intrigued.]] You ask, "Okay, you've got my attention."\n[[are disgusted.]] "Really, buddy," you say flatly.
Miami, Florida. 0945.\n\nDelivery made, you gun Sally and exit Mae West. Your next stop is a nearby go-kart raceway. But in this traffic, a 5-minute drive could easily take twenty minutes.\n\nYour phone bings with a text message. An urban farm has 12 Andalusian chickens to be delivered to El Hacienda, a local, Latin-flavored restaurant. Your portable chicken coop is still on board, and the entire run should take roughly twenty minutes. \n\nYou:\n\n[[decide to go on a chicken run.]]\n[[take your chances on the traffic.]]
Visions of a blood-soaked and pleading Mr. Phister fill your head. You made this man a promise, and you intend to keep it.\n\nYou turn to the bulldog-faced attendant. "I'm sorry ma'am. Could I see that dog again?"\n\nShe raises an eyebrow, but fetches the Scottie.\n\n"I don't know what I was thinking," you say. "This is definitely the right Scottie. My niece will be thrilled."\n\nYou thank the attendant and [[take the Scottie.]]
Hialeah Hospital. Miami, Florida. 1027.\n\nYou nestle Sally amongst a line of ambulances, parked near the Emergency Room. With Scottie under one arm and the manila envelope under the other, you cart two bakery boxes toward the entrance. You careen through the double doors.\n\n"Sam!" shouts the receptionist, who rushes to meet you. She reaches for the bagels. "Let me take those."\n\nYou relinquish the bakery box.\n\n"Ms. Finagle just called...asking if we'd received our delivery." The receptionist winks at you. "I told her yes."\n\nAs you walk to the reception desk, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.\n\n"I also have this," you say, presenting the manila envelope.\n\n"Dr. Rosen's final divorce papers. What a shame." Frowning, the receptionist sits the bagels down and clasps the envelope.\n\nYou say:\n\n"Divorce? [[I can't even imagine being married.]]"\n"How tragic. [[Does love even stand a chance]] anymore?"
You feel like you've been fighting traffic for hours. You're tired and your nerves are raw. But somehow you've managed to increase your lead on the goon patrol.\n\nYou keep your foot on the gas and forge ahead. You feel confident you and Scottie can make it to [[Miami International]] before noon.
Your eyes dart about. "Put that thing away!"\n\nPhister's eyes darken.\n\n"Don't underestimate who did this to me," says Phister. With a wince, he nods toward the gun in his outstretched hand. "Take it."\n\nReluctantly, you [[take the gun.]]
You find yourself wishing Sally had cloaking capabilities. After nearly twenty minutes, you finally trap the goon squad at a stoplight by forgetting that red doesn't mean go.\n\nNext stop, [[Hialeah Hospital.]]
While you're on hold with 9-1-1, Phister bangs his head against the stall wall. He makes such a racket, you're oblivious to the operator, who keeps asking if you're in danger.\n\n"The package! The package! The package!" Phister screeches.\n\nFlustered, you hang up and [[agree to deliver Phister's package]].
"Sorry, Scottie," you say, breaking free as the goon drops to his knees. \n\nYou careen towards Sally, bullets buzzing by your head as you move.\n\nUnscathed, you reach Sally, only to find her pinned by the black sedan. A stray bullet thunks into the top of the ambulance opposite Sally's passenger-side door.\n\nSquatting between the ambulance and Sally, you snatch the P-32 from Sally's glove box. Without thinking, you smash the butt end of the P-32 into the ambulance driver's side window. To your surprise, the window shatters. As you reach for the lock, you notice the keys are in the ignition...and the door is already [[unlocked.]]
Secret Agent Sam
Lights blazing and sirens buzzing, you snake your way toward Miami Beach. Drivers are finally getting out of your way, and the goon squad is nowhere in sight.\n\nYou stop at the Feel Good Company headquarters, near Olinda Park. Only a few eyebrows raise as you load boxes of cheaply made logo-imprinted water bottles and pedometers and ready-cut Thera-Bands onto the ambulance.\n\nFully loaded, you head for The Ritz-Carlton, South Beach, where you offload to many more raised eyebrows.\n\nHaving lost the goons, you feel confident you and Scottie can make it to [[Miami International]] before noon.
You earn $25,000, but as soon as you exit the airport, CIA agents wrap you up like a burrito.\n\nAgent de la Cruzar appears with the sleek Eastern European woman, now in handcuffs. \n\n"You chose poorly, Sam," says de la Cruzar. He holds up the Scottie. "This little doggie's belly contains a 2TB USB thumb drive full of classified weapons schematics."\n\nYou're not sure what's more impressive, military schematics or a 2TB flash drive.\n\n"Let's see," says de la Cruzar. "Right now, you're looking at the wrong side of an international spy charge. Plus, grand theft auto for the ambulance. And since Phister bled out on the way to the hospital, I'm thinking we can get you on accessory to murder, too."\n\nYou pass out cold.\n\nCARE TO TRY AGAIN? Press the Omega 13 and [[withhold Scottie from the woman.]]
Irene, the flirty, ruby-lipped receptionist, greets you with a smile.\n\n"Morning, Sam," she says.\n\nBeaming, you hand over the bagels. "Morning, Irene."\n\nGiving you a wink, Irene takes the two-dozen bagels. Before you can respond, your smartphone rings. You momentarily wonder if there was life before cell phones as you:\n\n[[excuse yourself and take the phone call.]]\n[[look at the number, dismiss it as unknown and continue flirting.]]
Sitting in traffic, you notice the return of the black sedan. Your head nearly explodes, and you resort to deep breathing exercises.\n\nAn explosive crunch of metal and broken glass sounds behind you. Two cars have gotten into an accident. The black sedan is blocked.\n\nYou shake as you [[pull up to the go-kart track]].
You avoid capture. Whizzing bullets quicken your pace as you make a break for Sally.\n\nUnscathed, you reach Sally, only to find her pinned by the black sedan. A stray bullet thunks into the top of the ambulance opposite Sally's passenger-side door.\n\nSquatting between the ambulance and Sally, you snatch the P-32 from Sally's glove box. You're about to smash the butt of the P-32 into the ambulance's driver-side window, when you notice the keys in the ignition. You try the door. It opens, [[unlocked.]]
But you make it less than three feet before the restroom beckons your name. A barricade blocks the entrance to the ladies' room. You deduce that Phister isn't likely hiding out there, so you [[pop your head into the men's room.]]
"Good," says Phister, exhaling with relief. "I'll be inside the terminal waiting for you."\n\nYou step out into the sunshine. As you make your way toward your delivery van, you mutter a quick "okay" before hanging up.\n\nYou pause in front of your van, Sea Foam Sally, a 1998 sea foam green Dodge Caravan. She's not pretty, but she gets the job done...mostly. \n\nSally's door opens with a groan, and as you get inside, the smell of baked goods covers you like a blanket. You still have four bagel deliveries to complete, but with $5,000 on the line, you make haste to Opa-locka.\n\nAs promised, you arrive at Opa-locka in less than 20 minutes. You search up and down the terminal. Mr. Phister is nowhere to be found, and asking about "Mr. Phister" mostly garnishes looks of disgust. Meanwhile, your daily 60-ounce, high-octane wake-up soda is catching up to you. Then it hits you--you haven't checked the men's room for the elusive Mr. Phister.\n\nYou:\n\n[[pop your head into the men's room.]]\n[[cross your legs and head for the next bagel delivery.]]
Miami International Airport. Miami, Florida. 1205\n\nYou are mortified. Despite the benefits of lights and sirens, gridlock snared the ambulance. Now, you're late. And you hate being late. Worse, the goons are closing in. You can practically feel their eyes burning into your back.\n\nThankfully, airports employ better security than Hialeah Hospital. You walk by a large potted plant. Eyes narrowed, you freeze. With the goons just out of reach, you toss the P-32 into the plant.\n\nYou scream, "A gun! A gun!"\n\nPeople scatter, but you've caught the attention of several TSA officers. Cautious, the goons stop. You point to the buzz-cut pair.\n\n"These men! I saw these men throw a gun into the plant!"\n\nTSA officers converge on the goons, allowing you to slip to the Central Terminal E baggage checkroom. By the time you arrive, you've lost another 10 minutes.\n\nA sleek, Eastern European woman approaches you.\n\n"I give you $25,000 for dog," says the woman, her heavily accented English broken.\n\n"Come again?" you ask.\n\n"The dog," says the woman, "I pay $25,000."\n\nYour jaw drops open. $25,000 could take your business to a whole new level.\n\nYou:\n\n[[turn Scottie over to the woman.]]\n[[withhold Scottie from the woman.]]
The guards are not impressed. They start inspecting Scottie. You panic.\n\n"It must be my belt buckle," you say, pointing to the shiny buckle adorning your belt.\n\n"Probably so," says one of the guards. He motions for you to pass.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: TOUGH GUY BADGE! (You sure showed them who's boss.)\n\nYou smile. At least something good came out of your belt buckle/trucker hat phase.\n\n"Actually," you say to the guards, "can I leave the bagels with you? I really need to run."\n\nThe guards nod, and you rush out.\n\nOn your way to Mae West Imports/Exports, the next bagel drop, you experience heavy traffic. Stuck on Le Jeune Douglas Expressway, your phone rings. \n\nAn ammo shop needs you to deliver supplies to a nearby gun range.\n\nYou:\n\n[[figure a delivery will take you out of the traffic jam]], so you take the job.\n[[politely decline]], stating you are under a tight deadline.
But the black sedan is back. You resume your zigzagging and ditch the tail...again.\n\nAnd even better, the urban farm has already packed the chickens into a new portable carrying crate. You quickly exchange your empty crate for the chicken-loaded crate, and then make your way to El Hacienda, where they graciously let you leave the entire chicken-packed crate.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: BRINGER-OF-EMINENT-CHICKEN-DEATH BADGE! (You delivered 12 free-range chickens to their eminent demise. Arroz con pollo, anyone?)\n\nYou can hardly believe the day you're having as you [[pull up to the go-kart track]].
YOU HAVE ACHIEVED: BOLD NATURE CALL BADGE! (Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go!)\n\n"Mr. Phister?" you ask, voice shaky and muted.\n\nWhile stepping inside, you hear a groan. A shadow dances beneath a stall door. You open the door. A man sags against the toilet. His eyes are closed and a large gash splits his belly. Blood pools beneath him.\n\n"Mr. Phister?" you ask. Your phone is in your hand, and you don't remember getting it out. You kneel by the man and take his pulse.\n\nThe man opens his eyes. He notices your shirt.\n\n"The package," says the man. "Miami International. Noon."\n\nShocked, you say, "We need to get you some help."\n\nPhister tries to move. "You need to get the package. I left it at lost and found...just in case."\n\nYou:\n\n[[tell Phister to stay still and call for help.]]\nask Phister [[about the package.]]
Of course, you immediately regret hanging up. After all, you have plenty of time to deliver Scottie by noon, even with dropping your four remaining bagel deliveries. Plus, you can't exactly afford bad press. So, you pick up your smartphone and redial Ms. Finagle.\n\n"I hope that was an accident," she says, voice oozing with distain.\n\n"I'm so sorry, Ms. Finagle," you say. "I accidentally dropped my phone."\n\nAfter a typical Finagle tongue lashing, you [[promise to deliver the bagels on time.]]
"Go on," you say.\n\n"I have an urgent package for delivery to Miami International Airport," says Phister. "$5,000 is yours if you can get it there on time."\n\nYour eyes widen. Though you still have several more delivery runs for Finagle's Bagels, Opa-lokca is very near your next stop.\n\nYou respond:\n\n"[[I can be there in less than 20 minutes.]]"\n"[[Uh, how soon do you need me?]]"
Phister shifts again, and fresh blood seeps from his abdomen. \n\n"Stop moving," you say as you dial 9-1-1.\n\nEyes pleading, he looks at you. "The package...please." He reaches and grips your arm.\n\nYou meet his intense gaze. "Tell me [[about the package.]]"
"It's a little stuffed Scottie," Phister says. "And it's imperative it gets to the Miami International Central Terminal E baggage checkroom by noon."\n\n"Can't this wait?" you ask. "You need help!"\n\nPhister shakes his head, coughs with a wince, but then continues. "Drop it under the name Oscar de la Cruzar."\n\n"If I agree, will you let me call for help?"\n\nPhister nods.\n\nYou:\n\n[[agree to deliver Phister's package]], and then call for help.\n[[disregard Phister's wishes]] and call for help.
You sit in traffic for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly, the black sedan that was twenty cars away 10 minutes ago is now two cars behind you. You wonder if these could be the same guys who practically gutted Mr. Phister.\n\n"Humph," you scoff. "A late model black sedan...how original. Looks like the bad guys need an upgrade."\n\nYou catch a break as several tractor-trailers change lanes, blocking Sally from the black sedan's view.\n\nBy the time you arrive at [[Mae West]] Imports/Exports, your already-frayed nerves are exposed and raw.
Taking an alternative route, you avoid the still-clogged Le Jeune Douglas Expressway. The gun range helped calm your nerves, and you're even more relieved as you ease Sally into the [[Mae West]] Imports/Exports parking lot.
"Probably so," says one of the guards. He motions for you to pass.\n\nYou smile. At least something good came out of your belt buckle/trucker hat phase.\n\n"Actually," you say to the guards, "can I leave the bagels with you? I really need to run."\n\nThe guards nod, and you rush out.\n\nOn your way to Mae West Imports/Exports, the next bagel drop, you experience heavy traffic. Stuck on Le Jeune Douglas Expressway, your phone rings. \n\nAn ammo shop needs you to deliver supplies to a nearby gun range.\n\nYou:\n\n[[figure a delivery will take you out of the traffic jam]], so you take the job.\n[[politely decline]], stating you are under a tight deadline.
The V8 engine roars to life, and you peel out of the parking lot. But the goon patrol follows in the black sedan. You turn on lights and sirens, which are ignored by practically everyone. Exasperated, you shout, "Doesn't anyone know what flashing lights and sirens mean anymore?"\n\nYou press the gas and honk the horn. A bleep from your pocket makes you jump. You extract your cell phone to see a calendar reminder, "Feel Good Company wellness conference delivery--Miami Beach."\n\nYou say:\n\n"[[Miami Beach, here I come.]]"\n"I don't think so." Instead, you plan on [[losing the goon squad on your way to Miami International Airport.]]
The woman pulls a gun. Tired and angry, you head-butt the woman to break free. You scramble into the baggage checkroom, where CIA Agent Oscar de la Cruzar awaits your arrival.\n\n"Sam?" asks de la Cruzar.\n\n"How do you know my name?"\n\n"I'm CIA," says de la Cruzar.\n\nDazed, the woman, gun drawn, stumbles into the room. Springing to action, de la Cruzar disarms and cuffs her. He holds an arm out to you.\n\n"The dog," says de la Cruzar.\n\nYou hand Scottie over.\n\nAgent de la Cruzar holds up the Scottie. "This little doggie's belly contains a 2TB USB thumb drive full of classified weapons schematics."\n\nYou're not sure what's more impressive, military schematics or a 2TB flash drive.\n\nAgent de la Cruzar reaches into his inside jacket pocket and extracts a small, thick manila envelope. He offers it to you. "I think you earned this," he says.\n\n"Is this what I think it is?" you ask.\n\n"Only if it's $5,000," says de la Cruzar. He reaches back into his jacket and hands you a business card. "Thank you for serving your country well today. And if you ever rethink the courier business, consider the CIA."\n\nWith the mysterious woman in tow, de la Cruzar turns to leave.\n\n"Agent de la Cruzar?" you ask.\n\n"Yes?"\n\n"What happened to Mr. Phister?"\n\n"He's doing well. We expect him to make a full recovery."\n\nYou ask, "And the ambulance?"\n\nAgent de la Cruzar grins. "We'll take care of it."\n\nYou're left standing alone in the baggage checkroom. As you look from the envelope to the business card, you can't help but crack a smile.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: UNSUNG HERO BADGE! (Great job! You're a hero. Too bad no one will ever know about it...not that they'd believe you anyway.) \n\nCARE TO TRY AGAIN? Press the Omega 13 and [[turn Scottie over to the woman.]]
"Oh, come on guys. It's just me," you say, adding a sultry bit of singsong to your voice as you playfully tug the edge of your t-shirt.\n\nThe guards blush slightly and look away.\n\nYOU HAVE ACHIEVED: RELENTLESS FLIRT BADGE! (You're such a shameless tease, but at least it keeps you working and under the radar.)\n\n"Um, yeah. It's probably just your belt buckle anyway." One of them acknowledges and waves you to pass through.\n\nYou smile.\n\n"Actually," you say to the guards, "can I leave the bagels with you? I really need to run."\n\nThe guards nod, and you rush out.\n\nOn your way to Mae West Imports/Exports, the next bagel drop, you experience heavy traffic. Stuck on Le Jeune Douglas Expressway, your phone rings. \n\nAn ammo shop needs you to deliver supplies to a nearby gun range.\n\nYou:\n\n[[figure a delivery will take you out of the traffic jam]], so you take the job.\n[[politely decline]], stating you are under a tight deadline.
Hope drains from the receptionist's face. You're oblivious.\n\n"What's with the dog?" asks the receptionist, pointing to Scottie.\n\nYou shake your head and say, "Long story."\n\nYou take a minute to catch your breath, thank the receptionist for vouching for you, and then [[head back to Sally.]]
Before passing out, Phister urges, "Be careful."\n\nThe gun is surprisingly light but feels odd in your hand. It's small but scary--kinda like your Aunt Betty. Unnerved, you tuck it into your belt, making sure your t-shirt hides it. \n\nYou convey the situation to the dispatcher, who assures you that help is on the way. Next, you make your way to lost and found, where a bulldog-faced lady hands you the plush Scottie dog.\n\nUnder your breath, you whisper, "Aw, a Scottie dog. What's next? A blue dress and a basket?" But flashes of Mr. Phister's blood sober you. You reach for Scottie, but hesitate for a second.\n\nYou:\n\nshake it off and [[take the Scottie.]]\ndeclare that [[this Scottie isn't yours.]]
Miami, Florida. 1005.\n\nSally flies out of the go-kart parking lot, taking care to avoid the traffic jam. You only have 25 minutes to make your last bagel drop at Hialeah Hospital.\n\nLike a recurring nightmare, the black sedan reappears. You receive another text, from Best & Best, Attorneys-at-Law. They need you to deliver documents to Hialeah Hospital. Best & Best is only five minutes away, but you still need to lose the tail.\n\nYou:\n\n[[make a run for Best & Best.]]\n[[head straight for Hialeah Hospital.]]
Jessica Van den Ancker
Arnold, the flirty, chiseled receptionist, greets you with a smile.\n\n"Morning, Sam," he says.\n\nBeaming, you hand over the bagels. "Morning, Arnold."\n\nGiving you a wink, Arnold takes the two-dozen bagels. Before you can respond, your cell phone rings. You:\n\n[[excuse yourself and take the phone call.]]\n[[look at the number, dismiss it as unknown and continue flirting.]]
Mr. Phister says, "Deliver the package to Miami International by noon, and I'll pay you $5,000."\n\nYour jaw drops. Your business is so new, a $5,000 job could pay for some much-needed advertisement.\n\n"Okay," you say. "[[I can be there in less than 20 minutes.]]"
As you exit the hospital, two buzz-cut, impossibly thick-necked goons lunge at you. They may be big, but you're nimble. To avoid capture, you:\n\n[[spin and dodge.]]\n[[whip Scottie against one of the men's crotches.]]