“What have you got, Julio?” Detective Arlen Mills asked, meeting the officer at the top of the stairs. Julio Mendez fell into step beside him.

“A hotel maid heard gunfire coming from a room on the end. Called 911. I’ve never seen anything like this, sir. Based on the coke and cash we’ve recovered, it looks like your typical drug deal. Something must have gone wrong, though. Everyone pulled a gun.”

Mills cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds standard so far.”

“I think you should just see for yourself, sir.”

Mills nodded at the officer standing guard at the door and stepped inside.

Six men stood frozen at various spots around the room, faces contorted in anger, each with a pistol in hand. One man’s gun appeared to be stuck in the process of firing, muzzle flash attached to the end of the barrel, paused as if in a video game. Bullets hovered in the air, one an inch from a man’s face. Mills cautiously approached a suspect, waved his hand in front of the guy’s face. No response.

“Julio… what the hell is going on?”