Agent Zealah

“You look as though you’ve played this game before…” Welch says, his upper lip curling up into a sly grin. His eyes were a grayish blue, and they dared me to blink as I stare at him from across the wooden table. His skin was a pale indigo, almost scaly in appearance and his cheekbones rose high on his face, sucking in before forming his chin. He was a walking skeleton, the long brown coat he wore hanging from his body as if fitted ten sizes too big. The game-room noise doesn't bother me at all. I glance out of the ninth-floor window behind Welch. We're high up in a casino on the planet Nar. I'm far from home and I'm the only red-haired cream skinned Taninavian in the room but I'm dressed like the rest. I should stick out like a sore thumb but I don't. This casino's an intergalactic diamond mine. Every crook, gambler and thief in the galaxy is here. And I knew, with luck, I'd run into Welch.   
“Hit me,” I say, not losing the straight, blank expression I started with. I was unfazed on the outside, allowing not one of muscles to move. He slips a golden card from the stack, the long blue claws he used for fingers carefully piecing the thin paper in-between his jagged nails. He pauses, holding the card up for himself to glance at first, then swiftly tosses it to the green-covered base of the table. “Fezened,” a term that means he’s think he’s won. He smiles, his thin, arched black eyebrows lowering into a mischievous stare.
Only then do I allow my lungs to over intake, and my red-painted lips pry open a tad. I’m sure my shock amused him. “I’m sorry,” he lies “it seemed you’ve been… out played.” I stare at him through narrowed eyes, my lungs moving my chest forward and back, the strapless red dress I ware becoming tighter. He leans into the desk and gathers the silver coins in his hands, sliding them towards his side of the table. His eyes flooded with greed. He reaches for the precious rose rube of Dian and I slap my hand over his.
“No,” I say. And his eyes widen as he takes his oh so delicate fingers away. “The rube stays with me... you cheated.” 
His jaw tightens as he stands up straight. His height should intimidate me, a seven foot Suladian (sue-laid-e-an) from the land of Zed. But he’s the one with widened eyes. “Oh did I,” he tries to play it off. But the jug is up. I’ve caught him red-or should I say blue- handed. I reach into the silver cloth belt tied around my waist and pull out a golden star with the incrusted letters AGP, Armed Galactic Police, attached to a black hand-held plaque.
His face drops. My mouth curls into a smile. I love my job. Our eyes meet and I can read him well. He’s contemplating it. How far could he get? How dangerous am I, really? Then his face changes, something sour and hardened. He lays his hands flat on the rings of the table and in a blink of an eye, he hurls it. Pieces fly everywhere and I’m knocked off my feet. The table weighs on me like a trap on a Helenian earth-rat. It crushes me against the wall and I struggle to lift it. I manage to pry it a bit and it lands with a thud next to me. I scan the game-room. Persons from all over the galaxy stare, the ones that saw me anyway. I catch glimpse of the corner of the room where a metal door marked STAIRS closes. The Airways, or course!
I leap to my feet racing towards the stairways. The golden watch on my wrist blinks green and I press the button on its side as I run. “Commander!” I say, because automatically I know it’s him. 
“Zealah,” his voice is deep but excited. Zealah is my name, Agent Zealah. The screen is blurry and breaking up with a grey static. “Welch, he’s-”
“I’m on it chief!” I tell him flying down the cement steps. FedBug! Who makes these anymore!? I can hear the faint steps of Welch down the steps but I can’t reach him. My dress is handicapping me!
Then the sound of a door slamming echoes through the air. I lean over the balcony to see which floor he’s stopped at. Floor 5.
“Zealah you must-!” the commander starts up again but I can’t speak with him now.
“I’m sorry, have to go!” I shout so he can hear me and click the watch off. The screen goes black. I’m on my own now, which is fine because it’s how I work best. I race down the steps and yank open the metal door to floor five. I pull my ray gun from its holder on my right thigh and point it in front of me. Silence. Floor five’s a residential hallway, with doors at equal intervals facing the wall before me. I scan from left to right. It’s vacant.
I lower my weapon. He couldn’t have gotten that far. My heart pounds and adrenaline fills every vain in my body.  A low and faded creek comes from somewhere under my feet. I freeze. Welch could be anywhere. The creek comes from my side and I turn. A bolted door stands not a foot away from the stairways. How could I have missed it?! It’s marked for employees only. I grab the handle. Locked. I don’t have time for this. A mastermind criminal is getting away. I back up until my back is touching the residential wall and raise my weapon. I take aim and BAM! The lock denigrates into a million tiny pieces. I waist no time kicking in the door and barging through. Welch has gotten away once, but not this time.