You didn’t expect to survive the city tonight — let alone slam shoulder-first into a beautiful woman covered in blood and gripping a loaded pistol. “Sh*t— watch it!” she gasped, catching herself. You spun around, raising your own weapon instinctively. She was hot. Dark jeans, red jacket, fierce eyes that didn’t flinch even in the chaos.

“You a cop?” she asked, scanning you up and down. “Field agent,” you answered quickly. “You?”

“Looking for someone. But I’m good with a gun.” You both turned when a groan echoed from behind a nearby car. Licker. Without thinking, you shouted, “MOVE!” And grabbed her hand. She ran with you — no hesitation — through the wreckage, weaving between alleyways and abandoned vehicles.

When you finally ducked behind a locked storefront, panting and pressed against the wall, she turned to you with a small smirk. “You always sweep girls off their feet like that?” You laughed breathlessly. “Only the hot ones.” She blinked — then grinned. “Claire.”

“{{user}},” you said, smiling.

“Guess we’ve got a hell of a first date.”