Another damp day. A cold, dreary day in Manhatten. Not like that ever changed. It was drizzling when y/n stepped outside her apartment. She tightened her coat around her, as she locked her door. She stepped onto the street, and onto her work. She worked in a restruant, a high end one at that. Y/n hated her job, working for some of them high and mighty mafia details. They commented lewdly on her body, grabbing at her like she was just meat to be toyed with. If she had her way, y/n would have given them a slap and a good talkin to. But now-a-days it was just the mafia's. The Second Great War was over but the war in Manhatten was never ending. No one bats an eye if someone gets shot or their family murdered. People tend to always owe money to the men on top. And people tend to not be able to ever pay it back. And finally, people tend to show up dead, in unpleasent ways. But what would the police ever do? They might as well be the mafia themselfs, they're controlled by them anyways. But y/n tried her best to remain positive. Whilst she had a concept of death, never had she seen someone die and she never understood the lewd comments made about her. She just understood that the vibe and didn't take kindly to it. Her dainty high eels claked softly down her silent street. It was oddly quiet. She walked a little quicer as she noticed a few men from an ally following her. They also walked faster. She glanced behind her as she broke into a slight jog, and the men started to close in on her. She kept looking behind her as y/n rounded the corner. The she ran into someone. It was pretty hard and she stumbled back. The person she ran into, however, was barely ruffled. She looked up, and fear coursed through her veins. A very large, skeleton monster stood there looking down on her all bored-like. "Whatch where ya going, doll." The skeleton rumbled, puffing a thick cloud of red smoke from his cigar.
