Run Away, Scene 2 - Casey Flip, Johnathan Strak... Apr 2026

Strak stopped five feet away. The distance felt like a canyon. "And the buyer? You told them I was coming?"

Johnathan Strak emerged from the shadows of Lane 24. He didn't walk so much as glide, his heavy trench coat trailing like a funeral shroud. Strak was a man of cold precision and whispered rumors—a "fixer" who specialized in making people disappear, one way or another. Run Away, Scene 2 - Casey Flip, Johnathan Strak...

The fluorescent lights of the deserted bowling alley hummed with a low-frequency dread. Casey Flip leaned against a chipped ball return, his fingers tracing the jagged edge of a neon-pink 12-pounder. He wasn’t there for a game; he was waiting for the one man who could either get him out of the state or put him in the ground. Strak stopped five feet away

Strak tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips. He reached into his inner pocket, but instead of a passport, he pulled out a silver lighter. He flicked it open, the flame dancing in his dark eyes. You told them I was coming

"Traffic’s a bitch when you’re avoiding the main roads," Casey shot back, trying to keep his knees from knocking. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a battered leather satchel. "I have the drive. Everything’s on it. The ledgers, the offshore accounts, the names of the board members who signed off on the 'cleanup.'"

He tapped a small black device on his belt. Casey’s heart plummeted. He looked toward the exit, but the heavy steel doors were bolted from the outside.