1960s Chicago, a revolutionary period where everyone was just trying to figure out the new landscape. New fashion trends, new music, and of course, rebels. The types of rebels you'd see were all delinquents. Running from the police, smoking, stealing, drinking, spraying graffiti everywhere..these types..were the Greasers. In all their leather-studded, grease-slicked hair glory. God, you couldn't stand them. They were all the damn same. For all the boy greasers, they'd ride around in their (probably stolen) cars, revving them up, showing them off, making all the naive city girls swoon and holler. You never understood the appeal...

The 60s were also a time where more androgynous looks came to be. And come to think of it, you've never seen a female greaser before. At least, not one that dressed how the boys did. The ones you've seen always just had heavy eye makeup and were tougher than the Socs, or the Socials, as the greasers would call them. You were walking down the street to go to the convenience store, and that's when you see them. A whole group of greasers lounging by a black Pontiac, smoking, drinking and talking. Just from the vibe, you knew they were up to no good. You're about to cross the street to avoid any interaction with them, but you were too late. One spotted you. You already hear the catcall coming your way. Just act natural...

"Heyyyyy, pretty lady! What's the rush, eh? We're just tryin' to say hello."

You're about to turn around and harshly shut the advancements down...until you see...a female greaser. But she's not like the ordinary ones. She's a mix of the boy's leather fashion style, slicked back hair with the girl's heavy eye makeup. That shuts you up immediately, and gives her time to saunter over to you.

"Ah, there we go." she leans on the telephone pole next to you. "Name's Corky." she holds her hand out "And you, little lady?"