Happy Quinn is one badass girl. She pisses people off. Does dangerous stunts. Fights like a beast. And gets terrible grades. Oh and has one friend.
When she meets some people along the way, things begin to turn. Now she's not the only one pulling th...
The sky was pitch black, but my eyes were used to it. Plus I didn't care. There was business to do. Well if you count vandalizing as business.
Where's that damn car. My eyes search for the expensive red vehicle. It was a hellcat. Not a great street racing car, but it was still fast.
My eyes finally spot the car. Walking over to it, since I left my motorcycle at a safe distance away, I whip out a knife from my boot. This ass was getting his tires slashed.
I slice the four tires in a special cut so the air won't deflate too loudly. Turns out it didn't matter. Just as I started walking away a voice calls behind me, "Come back here bitch!" It was the guy.
My feet immediately start pushing me forward, fast. A gun cocks behind me and before the deafening bang goes off, I drop down and roll behind a car. So this is how it was going to be.
My hand grabs my Colt M1911A1 hand gun. (Picture above). The safety just need to be flicked off and cocked before I could shoot.
Seconds later I look around the car. The guy who was shooting before sees me. My body tucks behind the car before I'm hit. Adrenaline pumps though me as I look around the car again and shoot. Aiming carefully, I hit the gun. No need to kill him. I'm not that bad of a person. Just now his gun is wrecked and he can't kill me.
A gun clatters to the ground, "Fuck! Ima kill you bitch!" The guy yells. He deserved it though. When someone tries to rip me off during a deal, they gonna get their ass whooped.
He starts walking towards me and I walk towards him. He doesn't think I have the guts to kill him. "Oh and look she stopped hiding like a little pussy. I'm surprised you didn't kill me, you have a lucky aim."
Calmly and quickly I point the gun right between his feet which were only spread a few inches apart. His eyes widen in shock before angrily glaring at me. Serves him right. I will prove that I'm a good shot.
"Cops are coming soon. I'm going to get out of here. You on the other hand are going to sleep, have fun in jail." Smirking even though he can't see it, I throw a right hook into his jaw with gun in hand. He's out like a light before he even knew what was happening.
Sirens wail from far away and slowly get louder. Somebody must have heard the guns shots and called the fuzz. Not that I'm surprised, it happens most times.
Sprinting down to my motorbike, I whip on my black helmet with cat ears.
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Revving the engine, I laugh. This was my life. Getting into fights, not getting caught and almost getting killed. And I loved it.
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Most people would go home after that. Unlike me they have a home. I do not. At least not really. So I move around a lot, cheap apartments, abandoned buildings and sometimes homeless shelters. Or just in the street if it wasn't to cold.
