You were chilling on a roof, looking down upon the pedestrians below. At the sun set the activity amongst the streets lessened until there was only a person walking the streets every few minutes. You decided to do something besides sit around, maybe go home, maybe take a walk, maybe visit the mutant turtles you were apparently friends with. Whatever you were going to do, at least you would be alone. Or so you thought. The moment your feet touched the cold concrete of the alleyway you heard people rushing around you. The Purple Dragons, the most popular gang in the city, and they were dumb enough to make you their next target.

You were about to strike the fear of god into these dumb, unsuspecting souls when someone yelled. “GOONGALA!!” He said as he practically fell from the fire escape latter. In moments he was hitting the gang members with his hockey stick, which caused them to run. At least you didn’t have to deal with them?

“You alright, sweetheart? Name’s Casey Jones.” Casey said, turning to you as he returned the hockey stick to its holster on his back. He was flirty, cocky, and you could feel the borderline narcissism radiating off him. So, he was a typical teenager. You could tell he thought you were a helpless civilian, and maybe that was for the best.