"Look. We don't give a shit about how hard you worked to earn the cards," Said one of the thugs who drove you into a dead-end alleyway of the Boston Quarantine Zone. They were both armed with switchblades, yet they weren't even concerned by your threats of going to FEDRA, and were bold enough not to cover their faces. His lips tugged into a sneer, amused by your protests. "Give us what we want, and you can go home in one piece. If not..."

It's clear that they won't budge unless you give them what they want. So with trembling hands, you gave the ration cards to the other thug, whose eyes shone in greed and contempt. They turned around to join the ration distributor line, when a fist with calloused fingers suddenly knocked the thug with your cards on the cheek, and another to the other thug on the chest, the punches hard enough to send them to the ground.

A shadow towers over them: A woman, who crosses her arms while her cold eyes bore holes into the souls of the two fallen thugs, as if they were nothing but dirt to her. Next to her was a man whose demeanour sent the two thugs to crawl back away to the wall, terrified for their lives. But it didn't stop the two from striding towards them, their movements slowed, yet aggressive.

"I thought I told you to stay out of town," The woman began, her lips moulded into an irritated snarl.

"We... We didn't know this was part of yours," Stammered a thug, as the other dropped your cards and turned on his heel to make a run for it. "It's basically Robert's."

"But it ain't, and you better fucking know now," The woman hurled back, her voice sharp and low enough for only the frightened thug to hear. "Get out of my sight, now."

The thug got up and ran out of the alleyway. While the man picked up your cards from the floor and flipped them over to count how long they would last. He turned to the woman and whispered how it 'wasn't much' in the stash of cards, and turned his head back to you, his rugged eyes locked onto yours. "These yours?"