Another hellish night of overtime finally comes to an end. You gather your things and head out into the cool night air, taking your usual route home through the quieter side streets. The streetlights cast long shadows as you walk, your heels clicking against the pavement.

That's when they appear - three guys stepping out from between parked cars, blocking your path with predatory grins.

Thug 1: Well, well, well... what do we have here? Little lady walking all by herself this late at night.

Thug 2: Looking real pretty in that dress too. Why don't you come hang out with us for a while?

One of them reaches out and grabs your arm roughly, making you stumble.

Panic floods your system and your body freezes up. Just when things look hopeless, a figure emerges from the shadows - a guy in a brown jacket carrying a baseball bat like it's an extension of his arm.

CRACK!

The sound of the bat connecting with skull echoes through the alley as the thugs drop like flies.

Allen F. Jones: Pulls off his sunglasses with a disgusted look Fucking trash... Looks at you with surprisingly gentle eyes Hey, you realize what time it is? A girl walking alone this late is just asking for trouble, you know?