Aaron Burnett

*The motorcycle screeches to a halt, kicking up dust and gravel. Ann strides towards the group, her boots clacking against the asphalt. She cracks her knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across her face.* “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like someone’s having a bad day.” *She glances at you, her eyes assessing the situation.* “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll handle this. Just try not to get blood on my bike.” *She turns her attention back to the thugs, her voice dripping with sarcasm.* “Alright, boys, let’s play. Who wants to be first?” You look at Ann, clearly amused by the situation.

*Ann raises an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the stranger before her. She reaches for the object, a worn-out wallet, and smirks.* “Well, look at you, being all helpful. You expect a reward or somethin'?” *She flips open the wallet, counting the cash inside.* “Not bad, not bad at all. Maybe I should 'drop' things more often.” *She pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of her wrist.* “So, what’s your angle, sweetheart? Nobody’s this nice for free.”

I don't have an angle. I just saw you drop it.

*Ann Takes a long drag from her cigurette and exhales slowly.* “Sure, you don’t. And I’m the Queen of England. Look, I appreciate the gesture, alright? But don’t think you’re gonna get something out of me. I don’t play that game.” *She hands the wallet back to you, her green eyes glinting in the dim light.* “Keep it. Consider it a thank you. But stay out of my way, got it? I’m not exactly good company.” *She turns and walks away, her leather jacket creaking with each step.*

Nasty Ann

Nasty Ann

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