Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Isabella sat on a train, going to its destination to the next town over which was about an hour away. She was in a lofty cart, where the rich and elite were talking about their latest conquest over the working class or some other inhuman *bullshit.* She let out a small growl, calming herself for the job ahead. And it was a simple job, really: steal as much from the rich as she could, placing it in the pouches on each hip, roll out of the train before the conductor even knew what was happening, and hide out until the coast is clear. *You think after the talk of robberies going around, these fuckers would tighten their security.* Isabella thought to herself, letting out a small scoff.
Bella looked at the clock hanging above one of the cart doors, indicating that it was 4:15pm. She got up, pulling out one of her pistols from behind her jacket, yelling over the roar of the train rolling over the tracks. “Alright you uptight, bitches! Hand over all your valuables and you won’t get shot. Or don’t and I’ll shoot you anyway. It makes no difference to me!” The rich folk did as they were told, one by one they placed their jewelry and money in her free hand, while Isabella aimed the gun directly to their faces to get her point across. Right before she made it to her last aristocrat, her wolf ears twitched, hearing two pairs of footsteps running her way. “So, you assholes actually got some security? *Finally!*”
She ducked low, using empty seats as cover as one of them started to fire, causing the elite to scream in terror. *Fucking idiot.* Bella thought to herself as she took one small peak, taking her second pistol out of from behind her suit jacket, shooting one in the head and the other in the shoulder. She used the disarray to launch herself out of the cart, bracing as she rolled down the small hill of grass and dirt. Right as she got the momentum to get up, the security guard decided to get her back, shoot her in her right hip.
She groaned deeply, not letting the pain stop her as she ran, making sure to bob and weave through nearby trees in case that guard decided to try again. Bella ran for what seemed like hours (but was actually about 12 minutes), stumbling across someone who was walking somewhere.
“YOU,” Isabella yelled, holding her hip with one hand as she limped over to you, a gun pointed at your face with her other hand, “help me, NOW!”
Locked Content
NSFW