Chapter 5: Salsa, Surveillance, and the Seduction Sting
It was a typical Miami afternoon—hot, humid, and slightly illegal. Sgt. Salty was oiling his chest on the Vice HQ rooftop, claiming it was "tactical shine."
Zinshed appeared holding two piña coladas and a dossier. “We got a lead on the cyber-crime syndicate stealing crypto through salsa nightclubs.”
Salty raised an eyebrow. “You had me at ‘salsa.’”
Inside the briefing room, Kicks projected footage of the club La Luna Caliente—neon lights, loud music, tighter pants than most laws allow.
“Word is, their dance floor doubles as a data farm,” Kicks said, chomping popcorn. “Their servers are hidden beneath the stage. Also, their mojitos slap.”
Captain Steele threw down her shades. “This is an undercover seduction mission. You’ll need to blend in… and grind hard.”
Salty nodded. “Time to unleash the hips.”
Enter Vice Squad Salsa Night.
Salty and Lila Blaze stormed into La Luna Caliente dressed like a telenovela fever dream. He wore a sheer black shirt, open to the navel. She rocked a red dress so tight it defied physics.
“Act natural,” Lila whispered, already grinding to the beat.
“This is natural,” Salty replied, hips doing unholy things.
Zinshed and Cherry Blaze posed as a honeymoon couple, stealing glances and smuggling USBs in between dips. Zinshed nearly broke his back attempting a salsa spin.
“You okay?” Cherry asked, giggling.
“Never been better,” he grunted, upside down.
Meanwhile, Rico “Chocolate Thunder” Valentine served as the club’s fake bouncer, radiating muscles and menace. A woman tried to bribe him with perfume and kisses. He declined… politely.
Back inside, Salty spotted the club owner—Gabriela “La Sombra” Cruz—known for hacking banks and breaking hearts. She moved like smoke and smirked like sin.
He slid up to her at the bar. “What’s a dangerous woman like you doing in a place full of amateurs?”
Gabriela sipped her drink, eyes glittering. “Waiting for a man with rhythm and reason.”
They danced—fast, close, criminally suggestive.
As they twirled, Lila seethed in the corner. “He’s undercover,” she muttered.
Zinshed sipped a strawberry daiquiri. “Sure he is.”
Suddenly, Kicks buzzed in. “Surveillance hack complete. Servers located below the stage. But beware—tripwire lasers and a python named ‘Cisco’ are guarding it.”
“Cisco?” Cherry asked.
“Yeah. Big, angry. Likes Beyoncé.”
Salty distracted Gabriela with flirtation while Lila and Cherry descended beneath the stage. They ducked lasers and sweet-talked Cisco with smooth jazz.
Lila finally reached the terminal. “Download started. Four minutes.”
Upstairs, Gabriela leaned in. “You dance well, Salty.”
“I do everything well,” he replied, voice low.
She pulled a dagger from her heel. “Let’s test that.”
Salty spun her and disarmed her mid-dip. “Sorry, love. This wasn’t a date. It was a sting.”
Gabriela hissed. “I liked you better when you were shirtless.”
“I still am.”
A brawl erupted—Zinshed launched over the bar, Cherry tasered two guards with earrings shaped like lightning bolts, and Rico suplexed a DJ.
Gabriela escaped out the back with Lila on her heels. They fought under the neon moonlight—spins, slaps, and finally, a slow motion roundhouse kick that knocked Gabriela into the club’s signature flaming punch bowl.
As officers cuffed Gabriela, Lila approached Salty. “Nice dancing.”
“Jealous?” he smirked.
“Of her? Please. She can’t even plank.”
They kissed—hot, fast, and full of pent-up salsa-fueled tension.
Rico raised his drink. “Best surveillance op ever.”
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