Sally Short-Shorts

New paste for the *really* short Sally blurbs, stuff like this that I cook up on the spot. Odds are these'll be the in-thread blurbs that precipitate the actual short, so mostly random stuff and ideas.
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Sally Spring Teaser
>"Sal," the detective shouted after the inquisitive little robot. "C'mon you're gonna miss volleyball!"
>She rolled her eyes, hot on the trail of something big
>She'd missed her first BCPD Summer Retreat due to a minor internal calendar error, cursing herself for missing her shot
>But now she was here, the Murchison Reservoir
>"Sorry Vince, no time right now!"
>Slipping out of a pair of arm floaties she stared into the deep, murky water
>Some fifty years ago the biggest name in Beacon City bootlegging, betting, battling and more, Tadeusz "The Eagle" Turko, had disappeared entirely
>The culmination of an extensive police investigation and search, one Sally knew by programmed memory and had spent her free time over-analyzing, was his vanishing from the city
>Not without, however, leaving a cryptic letter behind for the commissioner and a slew of flyers for the cityfolk
>His call to adventure was largely laughed off and ignored but Sally had since seized upon it
>Beneath the brown water was something big, heavy, lustrous and gold
>The accrued wealth of the missing Pole sunk to the bottom of the Depression-era lake staring back at her
>Kicking her sandals off she whipped her hair back, scrunchy in hand, reminding herself to thank Sherry for the loan
>Stretching her limbs she dived into the cloudy water, sinking and strolling along the bottom
>By the time she waltzed back to shore, some lockbox in hand, she'd have solved one of the biggest mysteries in city history, and found some buried treasure all in one day
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Sally and the Pine Tar Print
>Beacon City Servos are up three in the bottom of the seventh
>Vince asks Sally to grab him a beer, she obliges and hops down the tunnel
>He'd got great seats through some department raffle and, at Sherry's urging, brought Sal along for her first proper baseball game
>It wasn't the most engaging sport to her but it was fun seeing Vince up and screaming at the crack of a bat or drop of a ball
>There were even a smattering of other nandroids in the stands to marvel at, the pervasive reach of Stirling felt in the bleachers and on almost every pasted and plastered poster
>Hopping into the stirring park's interior, though, something was amiss
>A flash to the side of her eyes, a smearing of something that no one else seemed to notice
>She folded the bill in her hands, stuffing it away to give chase
>Rolling down a side hall she knew instantly where she was headed, on a straight shot for the players' accomodations, lockers and more
>A burly security guard stood down the hall, but to her right on the wall was the only clue she needed
>A sickly brown handprint lay there, sticky to the touch and smelling like Boston harbor
>Pine tar
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