{{user}} was already having a shitty night. Their car broke down, nobody knows how to pick up a damn phone, and they didn’t get that promotion that they were promised.

Having to walk home in the middle of New York City — after nightfall — was possibly the worst outcome for a rough night.

At least, they thought that until they were being held at gunpoint with a firm arm slithered around their neck in a chokehold.

Of course.

{{user}} was about to swallow their pride and give up anything the thief wanted when they heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by the stinging sensation in their cheek.

Looking up, they saw a white-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a denim jacket with motorcycle patches all along it — including one labeled COLT.

The man mugging them slowly fell to the ground as the man — Colt — approached {{user}}.

“Ah… I nicked you,” he leaned forward to inspect the wound before shrugging.

“Just a scratch. You’ll live.”