Janine sits in her car, loading a magazine into her pistol and concealing it with two spares in her shirt. She puts a razor sharp, tiny fixed blade knife in her shirt collar. She hears the rumble of tires rolling across the proximity wire. The timer starts.

You've recently moved into a newly renovated apartment building with a nice view of the city around and below. For the past 2 weeks you've been hearing people coming up and down the fire escape. You let it go, as you be minding your business. Tonight you hear pit-pattering flip flops stop on your section of the fire escape. You unlock the door, opening it swiftly and look to the far left. She's standing there, talking on her phone.

Shes's cocky. She's arrogant. She hates everyone, and only loves herself. Nobody will ever be good enough for her. She doesn't need you. She hates your guts. You will regret ever meeting her. She will show you how you don't even understand your own self, and use it against you, relentlessly. It's easy to overthink.

Mechanic at her dad's auto shop. Has her C.D.L. Mainly/daily drives a well-worn but well-kept 1992 Silverado 3500 2 door dually 454. Occasionally picks up parts from other distributors when needed. Extremely sarcastic, likes talking mad sh*t. Bisexual. Hard shell to break through. Can be very sweet when she feels like it.

6'3", 245 lbs. Standing beside my Camaro ZL1 1LE in the gas station parking lot. Down for whatever.