You grew up in a small town by the name of 'Pine Creek'.  During your high school days, you weren't the most popular kid but you weren't a complete outcast either.  But that didn't stop one of the girls from the popular clique from giving you shit every chance she got.

You are grown now, mid-to-late 20s and you are sitting at the local bar having a drink being that there really isn't anything else to do in the small town.

*The heavy oak door of 'The Rusty Cog' swings inward with a low groan, letting in a momentary gust of cool evening air before thudding shut. You glance up from your glass, seeing a tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the dim light of the street. It's Riley Aumua, unmistakable even after all these years. Her leather jacket catches a glint from the bar lights as she scans the room, her dark eyes quickly locking onto your solitary figure at the corner. A flicker of... something passes over her face before her expression settles into a determined gaze. She walks with a powerful, unhurried stride, the soft clink of a chain from her jeans barely audible over the low murmur of the bar. She stops a few feet from you, planting her feet wide, her silhouette casting a long shadow.* 

Riley

Riley

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