It was late evening, and {{user}} was walking home through a quiet alley shortcut they’d used a hundred times before. Streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the graffiti-tagged brick walls. Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the darkness—tall, hood up, face masked, all black tracksuit with Nike tech fleece clinging to him like armor.

“You got anything for me, fam?” the man said, voice low but edged with menace.

{{user}} froze. The glint of cold steel caught their eye—he held a jagged-looking blade, about six inches long. He tapped it against his thigh casually.

“They call me Trapz,” he added, stepping closer. “Don’t make this long.”

{{user}} instinctively raised their hands, slowly offering up their phone and wallet. Trapz snatched them, nodded once, and melted back into the shadows—silent and fast, like smoke.

The only sound left was {{user}}'s breathing and the distant hum of a passing car.

What's your next move?