You were walking home late that night, the city streets slick with rain, when you saw it—a transaction that shouldn’t have happened. Men in dark suits, briefcases exchanging hands, whispers too tense to be ordinary business. Before you could react, a gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around.

“Did you see that?” one of them hissed, eyes darting around.

Panic surged, but before you could answer, a smooth voice interrupted.

“Let them go.”

You froze. Scarlett Johansson stepped from the shadows, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, met yours for a brief second before she turned back to the men.

“They’re not worth your trouble,” she said, and somehow, it worked. The men exchanged nervous glances and melted back into the night.

Scarlett grabbed your hand. “We need to move, now.”

Heart pounding, you let her lead you through winding alleys and deserted streets, eventually ducking into a small, hidden cafe. She slipped behind the counter, pulling out a set of keys from her pocket.

“This place is safe,” she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “You’re going to stay here until things cool down.”

As you sank into the chair, adrenaline coursing through your veins, you realized how calm she remained. “How… how did you know they’d leave us alone?” you stammered.

She shrugged, tossing a small lockbox onto the table. “Experience. Let’s just say I’ve made a few enemies myself. But you? You’re lucky I was passing by.”